CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Zander.”
The whisper snatched him out of sleep a few nights later. Zander blinked. There was no one there, except for the female sleeping peacefully at his side. Still, tension began to creep into his muscles. Something felt . . . wrong. Like the air was charged with something.
The sound of fast footsteps was quickly followed by knuckles rapping on the door. “Zander, we got company coming our way,” warned Derren, urgency in every syllable.
Motherfucker. Zander shot out of bed and reached for his jeans. “Ally had a vision? What did she see? Moore?”
“Shifters. Lots of shifters.”
Zander stilled, frowning. “Shifters?” Fuck.
Gwen’s eyes flickered open. “You okay?” Whatever she saw in his expression made her bolt upright, fisting the bed sheets. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
“No,” said Zander, watching as she practically leaped out of bed and yanked on a tee. “The bastard must have hired shifters to do his dirty work for him again.”
“Z, we have to go,” Derren called out.
Gwen swallowed. “I’ll be okay. Go.”
He could hear in her voice that she didn’t want him to go, but she wasn’t going to ask him to be something he wasn’t and remain behind. He couldn’t leave his pack mates to face the trouble alone, but he didn’t want to leave his mate either. His instinct was to stay with her, protect her. His wolf felt just as torn.
Gwen tugged on her jeans, noticing that Zander was staring at her, jaw hard. “Really, I’ll be fine.” Snatching her handgun from the top drawer of the dresser, she said, “I have claws of my own, remember.”
Hooking his hand around her neck, Zander pulled her close and skimmed his fingertips along her jaw. She meant fucking everything to him, more than he’d thought anything could. “You know what to do.”
“I know.” They’d been through the plan countless times, and Gwen hadn’t forgotten.
He gave a short nod of satisfaction. “Be safe for me, yeah?”
“If you get hurt, I’ll be super pissed. Just note that.”
He kissed her, clasping her nape tight. “I’ll be back.” Since he’d be shifting soon, Zander didn’t bother dressing. He just headed out into the hallway, where his pack mates and the Phoenix Betas were waiting.
As they crossed to the staircase, adrenaline spiked within him, and his pulse began to quicken. He was ready for this. Wanted it over and fucking done with. “Did anyone wake Yvonne?”
“I knocked, but I didn’t get an answer,” said Jaime.
“Gwen says she often takes sleeping pills,” Zander told her. Marlon was staying at his boyfriend’s house, so that was one less person for Gwen to worry about. “What breed of shifter are we dealing with, Ally?”
“Multiple,” she replied. “Seems like Moore hired himself a group of mercenaries. In my vision, they were coming from the east.”
As they hurried down the stairs, Dante said, “Then we go east, cut them off.”
Their priority was to make sure the trespassers didn’t get near the house. Gwen and Yvonne would be hiding in the attic. But if any shifters got into the house, they would be able to follow their scents up there; they’d find them eventually. Zander needed to be sure that didn’t happen.
He yanked open the front door, and they all filed outside onto the porch. The night air was cooler than usual, and a mist was rolling along the river. “How long do we have before they cross onto the land?” Sometimes Ally’s visions were of something that would happen only minutes later; sometimes it was longer.
Ally pursed her lips. “I can’t be sure, because—”
A loud rumbling sound seemed to vibrate through the air, and then . . . boom, followed by a pained roar. Which meant someone had set off one of Donnie’s traps.
Harley hissed. “They’re here.”
As one, they shifted and ran toward the trespassers.
Stomach knotted, Gwen shifted from foot to foot as she stood in Yvonne’s doorway while the woman quickly dressed. She flexed her grip on her Glock, finding comfort in it. She wanted to pace and curse and fidget with nerves, but she needed to keep cool. It was damn fucking hard.
The house was so deathly quiet that she could hear the explosions, growls, roars, and gunshots—which meant Donnie had clearly joined the fight. Her stomach churned. Knowing Zander was out there, fighting for her, maybe even bleeding for her . . . it was hard to keep calm.
“Yvonne, we gotta go. Now. Come on.”
Yvonne placed a hand on her stomach and followed her out of the room. “I didn’t think the Moores would be stupid enough to do this. The shifters will eat them alive. Literally.”
“Ezra hasn’t come. He sent a bunch of lone shifters.” Fucking coward. Somehow, Gwen kept her shit together as she led Yvonne down the hallway. A smashing of glass from somewhere ahead of them made Gwen grind to a halt. Her pulse skittered. “Someone’s inside. Must have broken through a terrace room.” Shit.
“Go up,” urged Yvonne. The attic had a secure door and, even better, a decent-size fire exit.
Heart pounding, Gwen grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the staircase. But they didn’t make it. One of the bedroom doors swung open, and a heavy weight crashed into Gwen’s side, tackling her. She landed awkwardly, wincing as pain struck her shoulder.
The male rolled her onto her back and straddled her, and it was only then that she realized it was Thad. His big, beefy hand snapped around her wrist and bent it awkwardly, trying to make her drop the Glock. She balled her free hand into a fist and slammed it into the bridge of his nose. There was a nauseating crack, and he bit out a harsh curse as blood dripped from his nose.
Yvonne came up behind him and yanked so hard on his collar that it dug into his throat. Making choking sounds, his hands flew to his collar . . . releasing Gwen. She dug the Glock into his chest, right above his heart, and fired. He paused, eyes widening in shock.
Gwen propelled herself upward, shoving him out of her way, and scrambled to her feet. Bile rose in her throat. She’d never killed anyone before. Shot them, sure, but never killed. Maybe she’d feel bad about it later, when adrenaline and panic weren’t feverishly racing through her system. For now, getting Yvonne to safety was her priority.
“Let’s go.” Her hand hurt like a bitch, thanks to Thad, but she kept a good grip on her Glock as she ran for the staircase.
A door from downstairs crashed open. “That shot came from upstairs,” said a familiar male voice.
A gasp flew out of Yvonne. “Ezra,” she whispered shakily.
Yes, Ezra. Looked like he’d come, after all. He’d probably taken advantage of the moment when Zander and the others had hurried out of the house to face the trespassers.
“We have to keep moving,” Gwen said.
She and Yvonne raced up the stairs to the third floor. They arrived on the landing just as Gerard came skidding out of the room near the smaller staircase that led to the attic, pistol in hand. Raising her Glock, Gwen squeezed the trigger twice, wincing as the flexing of her finger sent pain radiating through her hand and wrist. She’d aimed for his head, but the bullets collided with his arm and shoulder. Dammit. Still, the pistol slipped out of his fingers and fell to the floor—that helped.
Hearing footsteps stomping up the stairs behind them, Gwen dragged Yvonne toward the smaller staircase. She dragged too hard. Yvonne stumbled, falling to one knee on the first step.
Something wrapped around Gwen’s ankle, and she looked down to see that Gerrard had crawled toward her. He tugged hard, but she gripped Yvonne’s shoulder to steady herself and pulled the trigger. She’d aimed for his head again, but the bullet hit him in the throat. That would do. “Go, go, go.” They climbed two steps when a series of bullets thudded into the wall and the painting above their heads.
“Don’t move if you want to live!”
Gwen didn’t freeze—she was too hyped on adrenaline to do anything except run. But then the bullet-ridden painting fell off the wall and crashed on top of her and Yvonne. Glass sliced into her face, and the Glock went flying out of her hand as she and Yvonne ungracefully crumpled to the floor and, of course, went rolling down the stairs. Fuck, that hurt. Sprawled on her back, she instinctively looked for the gun and spotted it a few feet away.
“Don’t even think about making a dive for it,” warned the same voice that had ordered her to freeze. Rowan’s father, she realized. “Stay exactly where you are,” he barked.
“Now that’s unfair, Nelson,” said another voice she recognized. “You can at least let them move that painting out of their way.”
With an inward hiss, Gwen watched as Ezra climbed the last few stairs at a leisurely pace, wearing that slimy smile. Shoving the painting aside, Gwen spoke without moving her gaze from him. “You okay, Yvonne?”
Yvonne’s chuckle was short and a little hysterical. “I’ve been better, sweetheart,” she replied as she and Gwen slowly got to their feet.
Itching to act, Gwen spared her Glock the briefest glance, fingers flexing.
“Don’t be stupid now, Gwen,” Ezra cautioned.
Coming up behind him, Moira snorted. “I’m not sure she can help it.”
Awkwardly walking beside Moira, using crutches, a massively bruised Brandt scowled at Gwen. Damn, he looked bad. Black eye, broken nose, split lip, swollen jaw, bruised cheekbone, a bandage around his head.
If he were anyone else, she’d have felt at least a little sorry for him.
Ignoring them both, Gwen spoke to Ezra. “How the hell did you get a bunch of shifters to fight for you?”
Still smiling, Ezra said, “I didn’t. Our new friend Rory did.”
Rory? Son of a bitch.
“He saw his brother haul Aidan out of Half ’n’ Half and made it his business to find out who Aidan was,” Ezra continued. “It became apparent that me, Aidan, and Rory have some common enemies, so Aidan passed Rory’s contact details on to me. He and I had a very nice chat and came to an agreement that would be beneficial for us both. Rory hired the shifter mercenaries using my money. All he wanted in exchange was a shot at his brother . . . and for his brother’s female to be killed.”
Moira glared at her, eyes fairly sparkling with hate. “We’re more than happy to see you dead.”
Ezra nodded, chest puffing up. “Then justice will have been done.”
Gwen couldn’t help snickering. “Justice? You don’t even know what that is.”
“Look at what they did to me!” spat Brandt. “You think this is bad? They beat me and then healed me . . . just so they could do it all again. Over and over. The last time, they only healed me enough that I could stand up and walk out on crutches.”
“You don’t even see it, do you?” Gwen shook her head at him. “They gave you the same injuries that you gave Andie, only worse.” When Gwen had helped the cougar reach her house that awful night, she’d had to support Andie’s weight as her leg had been fractured. “It’s called karma.”
Brandt snickered. “Well, now you’re about to know how karma feels. This happened to me because of you. Now you’ll pay.”
“But first,” began Ezra, crossing to her, “I’ll take out some of my rage on Yvonne here.” His cruel smile was replaced by a glower. “I’ll beat the shit out of her right in front of you, just like your stepfather did to your mother.”
Fear scuttled down Gwen’s spine. Fear for Yvonne. Pain, Gwen could take. But knowing that Yvonne was in pain? Seeing Yvonne in pain? Hearing it? Being able to do nothing about it? No. That couldn’t fucking happen.
“Yes, Aidan told me about your childhood,” continued Ezra. “He’s been in my pocket for a long time. Sells me the secrets of those he counsels. I have a great deal of blackmail material, thanks to dear ol’ Aidan.”
As much as Aidan was a little weasel, it actually surprised Gwen to hear he’d stooped that low. She hated knowing that these people knew some of the dark facts of her childhood.
“If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t want to tell me anything about you. In fact, he even lied at first that he knew nothing at all. But once he saw you with that shifter, he snapped. Coughed up your secrets.” Ezra tilted his head. “But I’ll bet there are more. Tell me, Gwen, did your stepfather ever turn on you? You said no to Aidan, but I’m not so sure. Tell me.”
She didn’t respond. Just glared at him.
He lifted a reprimanding brow. “You need to be cooperative, Gwen, if you want your death to be a quick one.”
She gave him a mocking smile. Maybe if she pissed him off, his focus would remain on her and he’d forget about hurting Yvonne. “Oh, you’re waiting for me to be scared and start to cry? You should have packed a lunch, Moore—this is gonna be a long night. Although I might have taken you more seriously if you hadn’t raised a kid that tempts me to OD on birth-control pills.”
Pain exploded behind her cheekbone as he slapped her hard enough to send her head whipping to the side. Brandt laughed. And for a reason that she couldn’t explain, Gwen laughed too . . . which sort of cut Brandt’s laugh short.
The lights flickered, and floorboards creaked. Nelson’s eyes widened and darted around, searching for the source of the noise. The others looked just as uneasy. Ha.
“Kenny won’t like this, you know,” said Gwen.
Alarm briefly flashed in Ezra’s eyes. “Yes, he made that clear. I agreed to leave you be. He’ll never know it was me.”
Was he for real? “He’s gonna guess, Moore. It won’t exactly take detective work to figure it out.”
Sidling up to Ezra, Moira snorted. “It’s not like you and he are close.”
“But I’m still his daughter. He warned you to keep away from me, didn’t he, Ezra? Warned you to keep Brandt away from me. So this . . . yeah, he really won’t like it.”
“Who’s ever going to believe that I would work with shifters?” Ezra shook his head. “No, Rory will take the blame . . . though he doesn’t know it yet.”
“Rory didn’t tell you anything about himself, did he, Moore?” Gwen gave him a look filled with pity. “He won’t let you live to tattle on him. He won’t honor any agreements he made with you. In fact, he’ll probably kill all of you and any mercenaries who survive so he can then pocket your money and whatever else he can steal from you. The guy is fucked in the head . . . a little like your son, actually.”
Moira slapped her, sneering, “Don’t you talk about my boy. Because of you, he’s in absolute agony as we speak.”
Cheek stinging, Gwen sighed. “Moira, I’m gonna have to ask you to turn down the neurotic thing you got going on just a bit, okay. Seriously, there are such things called consequences. Brandt faced them for what he did. He was punished.”
“Well, now you will be too,” she spat. “You’ll be punished for betraying your own kind.”
As long as it wasn’t Yvonne being hurt, Gwen could take it. Zander would come soon. He’d help her. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What is this? Is it that you want to die? Is this, like, a suicide mission? Because I can get behind that.”
“Shut up,” Moira hissed.
“If you hurt me, you will die. Zander will never let it go. He will hunt and track and rip you into little pieces.”
Ezra scoffed. “He won’t live through this night. He’ll be killed by his own kind, just like my son was betrayed by his own kind.”
“Are we still on that? I didn’t betray anyone’s kind. I told the truth. You should try it some time.” She tensed as Ezra raised his hand, but he didn’t slap her this time. “Seriously, you really haven’t thought this through, Moore. Let’s say your plan works, all your mercenaries earn their pay, and you manage to kill me. Do you honestly think that Zander’s pack and their allies won’t retaliate? They will kill you. All of you. Every. Last. One.”
Unease rippled across Ezra’s face. “If they come for anyone, it will be Rory.”
“No, Moore, because they’re not stupid like you.”
Brandt snarled. “All we’ll have done is killed two measly humans. You and Yvonne are no one to them. They won’t bother avenging you.”
“Yeah, little boy, they will . . . because I’m part of the Mercury Pack now too. I mated Zander.”
Ezra’s face went slack. “That’s a lie.”
Gwen smirked. “No, talking bullshit is your thing. I wear his mark. He wears mine.”
Nelson hissed a curse. “She’s no better than one of them now, Ezra. Let’s get this done. We need to get on with this and leave. If she’s telling the truth, he’ll feel her pain through that weird mating-bond thing. He’ll come for her.”
Very true, and that made Gwen smile.
“I’m not rushing this,” said Ezra.
“Then we need to go down to the second floor and do it there,” insisted Nelson.
Ezra’s face scrunched up. “Why?”
Nelson’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t like it up here. I heard the third floor is haunted.”
Ezra snickered. “Don’t be so ridiculous.” But his eyes darted around, wary.
Gwen hid her smirk, but Yvonne didn’t as she said, “He’s right, you know. This floor sees the most paranormal activity. Didn’t you notice the lights flashing on and off? Don’t you feel that draft? I don’t think the ghosts like what you’re doing.”
“Ask them for me after we kill you and you join them,” Moira snarled. And then she backhanded Yvonne so hard that the woman almost fell back against the wall.
Without thought, Gwen lunged for the bitch, but Nelson wrapped his big, thick arms around her and pulled her out of the way.
“Now you get to watch as they hurt her,” Brandt said with a cruel smile. “You get a front-row seat.”
Ezra’s boot slammed into Yvonne’s stomach, and Gwen tried lunging again. She failed again. One of Nelson’s arms released her, and cold metal dug into her forehead.
“Try that again, and I’ll shoot you right now.”
Fuck.
The wolf clamped his jaws around the leg of the barely moving cheetah. He spun the cat, sending it sliding into the murky river. Then he stood, sides heaving. His fur was matted with blood, mud, and the odious marsh water. His injuries burned, but the wolf ignored the pain.
The mercenaries were strong. Fast. But they did not work as a unit—not like the wolf, his pack mates, and the Phoenix wolves. That made the mercenaries vulnerable.
Sharp teeth dug into his rear leg. The wolf whirled hard enough to dislodge the attacker. The fox tumbled, rolled. The wolf pounced, biting down on the fox’s neck and raking open its stomach . . . watching as the life left its eyes.
At the sound of a roar, the wolf snapped his head up. A lioness was charging through the high grass, eyes blazing. The wolf braced himself, snarling.
Gunshot. The lioness stumbled. Staggered. Crumpled to the ground.
A shadow fell over the wolf. The human. Donnie. The wolf approved of him. He was fierce. Bloodthirsty. A predator.
“I don’t know if you can understand me, but a few other wolves are trying to take down a grizzly over there. They may need your help.”
The wolf did not understand the words. But his inner human urged the wolf to head in the direction that the human was pointing. The wolf ran, leaving prints in the mud, splashing the water pools.
Soon, he heard the distinct booming roar of a bear. The wolf skidded to a halt. Two of his pack mates were charging at the grizzly from either side—clawing and biting. The bear batted them away with its large paw, but it was bleeding heavily. Tired. Weak.
The wolf charged at the bear’s front and leaped. Hit it hard. Sank his teeth into fur and flesh. The grizzly batted him away. The wolf hit the ground, but the mud cushioned his fall. He stood, shaking his head.
A margay dropped down from a branch above them and landed on the bear’s back. The bear arched with a roar, and the wolf knew the margay had raked her claws down its back as she slid down to the ground.
The grizzly whirled to find the margay, who had jumped to expertly miss the human’s trap. The bear did not see the trap. It fell right into it and disappeared into the pit. Its agonized roar told the wolf that the grizzly had fallen onto the bed of spikes.
The wolf turned. Looked for more enemies. There were many dead bodies. He could not see or hear—
He froze as hate rushed through him. Hate and fear. Echoes of his mate’s emotions. Heart racing, the wolf whirled and ran for the house. He tasted his own fear. Fear for her. Fear of losing her.
As he neared the house, he heard human cries of pain. Female cries. But they were not coming from his mate. He knew through their bond that she was not hurt.
The wolf ran for the steps that would lead to the porch. A hard weight barreled into his side, sending him sprawling. The wolf crashed into the truck. Spots dotted his vision.
Rory stood over him. “Hello, brother. You’re supposed to be dead by now. Shame. But I don’t mind taking care of that problem.”
The wolf growled. He did not understand the words, but he heard the cruel intent in them. The wolf stood, snarling. He did not care that the male was his sibling. He wanted him dead. Wanted to taste his blood. Wanted to watch the life leave his eyes as he had with the fox.
“I didn’t want it to come to a fight between us. You’re my twin, after all. We’re part of each other in a weird way. Right? All you had to do was give me what was mine. I told you what would happen if you didn’t. I warned you. But you didn’t listen. You brought this on yourself, Zander. And now your little human will die, and so will you.”
Rage exploded inside him—the emotion came from the man within the wolf.
“I can smell her on you. Your scents have mixed. Congratulations on your mating. A pity you had such little time to enjoy it.” Rory lifted a gun, pointed it at the wolf. “I told Ezra that I’d let him have her, but . . . maybe I’ll claim that pleasure myself once I’m done with you and—”
Another wolf launched himself at Rory, knocking him down. The gun slid under the truck. Zander lunged for the surface so hard that the wolf did not have the opportunity to fight him for dominance.
Standing, Zander glared down at his brother, nostrils flaring. “You’ll never touch her again.” He signaled for Jesse’s wolf to back away from Rory—this was something Zander had to do himself. Jesse’s wolf let out a disgruntled growl as he moved aside. Zander rolled back his shoulders. “You want to fight, Rory? No, I won’t give you that. People fight to win. I don’t want to win. I want to kill you. You know I can.”
Rory staggered to his feet, putting a hand to the claw marks on his side. “You’re bleeding—”
“Now, so are you.” Not near as badly as Zander, but bad enough. “And how fucking typical is it of you that you wouldn’t attack until you thought I was too weak to beat you. I’ll always beat you, Rory. Every time. Because you’re the weak one. You always were. A part of you even knows that. You’ll just never face it because, as I said, you’re weak.”
Rory sniggered. “Not so weak that I didn’t get dear old Mom and Dad to leave me everything.”
“And what was it you thought I wanted from two people who were as equally pathetic as you? Abusive people are weak, and that was what Pearl was. Dad wouldn’t stand against Pearl, not even to defend his own kids. He was spineless, like you. So, where’s your victory?”
Rory’s mouth bobbed open and closed. “You’re saying I’m weak?” Nostrils flaring, he took an aggressive step forward. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be on dialysis—”
“This again? Honest to God?”
“That infection almost killed me!”
“Yeah, almost. Right now, I’m wishing it had, because then it wouldn’t have come to this. Now, I’m done listening to your shit.” Zander shifted just as his brother clawed off his clothes and then did the same.
The identical wolves circled each other, ears flattened. The only difference between them was the scar on the face of Zander’s wolf.
The scarred wolf pounced. The other lunged. And they clashed, clawing and growling.