Tamed By The She-Wolf. Kristal Hollis
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been a while. Did he take a wrong turn somewhere?”
The muscle in Lincoln’s jaw twitched. He lifted his sorrow filled gaze. “Died in the line of duty.”
Angeline’s stomach dropped, a sick feeling rose in her chest and her heart hurt as if it had broken all over again. Not for her loss but for all those who’d lost loved ones, living and dead, to the Program.
Dogmen turned their backs on everything and everyone they’d ever known. All communication with family and friends ceased. No one ever knew what became of their loved one unless they received a death notification or an injury forced the soldier into retirement, like Lincoln soon would be.
Long simmering anger ignited Angeline’s tongue. “Instead of eating and drinking with the dead, maybe your sympathies should lie with those he abandoned when he became a Dogman. And, for what? To feed his ego and die who knows where without regard to those he left behind?”
“Angeline—” Lincoln began.
“Have you called your family? Do they know what happened to you? Do they know you’re even alive?”
His guilty look answered for him.
“Unbelievable!” Angeline barely managed to keep the shriek out of her voice.
“They’re better off not knowing.”
“That’s a lie Dogman tell themselves to keep their consciences clear. Speaking from experience, it’s not better. It’s far worse than any nightmare you’ve ever had.”
Though angry and hurt by Tanner’s rejection, Angeline didn’t immediately stop loving him. Not knowing his whereabouts or his situation had been an unrelenting torture. Until one day when a sharp pain sliced all the way to her soul. In that moment, she knew Tanner was dead. He would never come home to her. He would never come home to anyone, except in a box.
Despite Lincoln’s request for her not to leave, Angeline walked away and collected the drinks from the bar. Delivering the beverages to appropriate patrons, she caught a glimpse of Lincoln making his way to the exit.
Good riddance, she thought without truly meaning it. Neither Tanner’s choices nor his fate were Lincoln’s fault.
A deep part of herself compelled Angeline to apologize for her behavior. Another part of her refused.
As a Dogman, Lincoln represented the very ideal she hated. She’d lost her first love—her only love—to the Program, and it destroyed the life they should’ve had.
Lincoln slipped out of the restaurant and Angeline’s heart clenched, a phantom ache that his ridiculous homage had resurrected. It had absolutely nothing to do with the devastated look on his face when she’d left his table.
And if she told herself that enough times, by the time she got off work she might actually believe it.
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