Avery
When in doubt, throw a flashbang.
I think I read that advice off a fortune cookie once. Or maybe it was my cell wall at juvie. Those little buggers had saved my ass more than a few times—both before and after turning werewolf.
So when one of the werewolves broke from the group fighting the surfer werelock to lunge in my direction as he saw me fishing through my bag, I grabbed the next best thing to the fresh clip I’d been searching for, pulled the pin, and threw the stun grenade at him before closing my eyes and plugging my ears at the last moment.
I was on my feet as soon as the flash behind my closed eyelids settled. I opened my eyes as the same werewolf stumbled into—onto—me, swearing his annoyance at the effects of the flashbang as he knocked me back to the ground. I jerked my knee into his groin at the first opportunity, but he still managed to get a decent, if awkward, hold on me. I had the right angle and leverage to head-butt him in the throat, so I went for it, but my head met cool air as he was torn off me.
“Someone needs new moves.” The surfer werelock was standing above me, wearing an affable grin as he extended a hand to help me up. “You’re kinda predictable.” He tilted his face in profile, showcasing an earplug he was wearing.
“Sonofa—”
Two huge, growling wolves jumped onto him before I could finish that thought. They looked like they were fresh to the party, too, not at all disoriented by my stun grenade like the rest of the group in the alley was—aside from the cocky surfer, of course, who had just morphed into a giant, black and white wolf.
I grabbed my bag and ran while I still had a chance. I hadn’t sprinted more than thirty feet before a bullet whizzed by my head. I threw my shoulder into the next building rear door I came upon, intending to cut through whatever business or residence it might be. The door didn’t budge. I tried kicking it in. No dice. Fuck. Since when had RiNo become a secure, safe neighborhood?
Another bullet hit the brick wall next to me. I bobbed and proceeded to sprint, weaving an unpredictable pattern as I went. I was almost to the next block, where I’d be able to slip down another street. But as I reached the corner, a muscled forearm came out of nowhere and hooked around my waist.
Before I could give in to my instinctive response to kick and fight free from whoever had grabbed hold of me, a bizarre nothingness encompassed me. Literally, my form ceased to exist. I was nothing but air, surrounded by darkness, lacking even the lungs to scream my panic.
But in the next moment, I was standing on Blake Street—two blocks from where I’d been grabbed.
Jesus Christ. That had not just happened.
What had just happened?
“You okay?”
I gulped air into my lungs and swayed on my feet as the arm released me. I inhaled the faint aroma of sea salt and surfboard wax. And … magic—a rare fragrance I recognized only because my daughter carried a similar, albeit more faint, underlying scent.
“This the right parking garage?”
Wide-eyed, I met the nonchalant features of the surfer-boy werelock standing next to me. He jutted his chin at the parking structure beside us—as if this were all perfectly normal and he’d just transported me here on his skateboard rather than by violating the laws of matter and energy.
I was in deep shit. I had to get away from this guy.
Unsure of how I should answer, I simply shook my head and went with, “I don’t know.”
“You got a ride somewhere on Blake Street, though, right?”
Again, I shook my head. Who was this superbeast? How did he know?
“Who are you?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking aloud.
“I’m a friend,” he said with a smile. He sniffed the air and squinted up at the structure. “I think there are a few more up there.” He scrubbed a hand over his chin. “I’d tell you to wait for me, but I know you won’t.” He glanced at me, then up at the structure, like he was deliberating something. “Okay.” His eyes leveled on mine. “Watch your back in there. I’m gonna take care of the ones left in the alley. Then I’ll be back to help you clear the structure, all right?”
In the next breath, he was gone—vanished into thin air.
Maybe there’d been a hallucinogenic in my eggs Benedict.
I shook my head. It was all crazy. But so was my life. I didn’t have the luxury of time to wonder why.
I entered the structure and ran inside the nearest stairwell. Taking the steps four at a time, I didn’t scent anything beyond urine-soaked concrete until I was racing up the last flight before level three. Shit. Why hadn’t I inserted a fresh clip when I’d had the chance?
My hand dove frantically into my bag just as I reached the third floor landing. But a heavy boot landed a kick to my stomach as a male werewolf burst through the open entryway to the parking area, sending me flying backward down the stairwell.
My body smacked hard against the concrete landing below. Pain radiated through my hipbone that had borne the brunt of my fall. My eyes shifted; my claws emerged. Don’t shift. Don’t shift.
The guy who’d kicked me called out, “I’ve got her.” He had an accent. European. German maybe. “Get the van!”
So they wanted to take me with them. Alive or dead was the critical question. I placed my bet on alive and rolled the dice.
“My knee,” I cried out. “I can’t move it.” I groaned and made a show of being injured as the booted beast jumped to the landing next to me. I scanned his body and caught sight of a weapon strapped to his midsection, beneath his left arm. Booyah.
“Don’t hurt me, please,” I said in as frightened a voice as I could manage, casting my best helpless girl eyes up at the beefy blond stranger looking down at me.
His hard blue eyes softened just a fraction. I scented no magic on him like I had on the surfer guy, so he was likely a normal werewolf. He looked young. And uncertain—like he was suddenly unsure of his mission or why I was his prey. He probably wasn’t that bad of a guy when it came down to it—just another rogue hunter blindly following his pack leader’s marching orders.
But that was enough for me. It was his life or Sloane’s.
I shifted my hips and cried out in agony, curling inward and clutching my leg just above the knee. “I think it’s broken.”
When he foolishly crouched down next to me, I made my move. Pretending to be terrified, I shrieked, “Don’t hurt me!” and jerked my body away from him, leading him to lean in closer, at which point I flailed forward again, head-butting him in the nose, grabbing the gun from his holster, and shooting him twice in the chest and once in the leg.
Despite his injuries and the shock of my attack, he fought back, clawing at me as I put him in a chokehold, flipped him over my shoulder, and hefted him up and over the open outer concrete ledge of the stairwell, letting his big body drop to the sidewalk several stories below.
I wiped his fresh blood coating my hands on my jeans so that his gun wouldn’t slip from my fingers, checked my new weapon’s bullet count, grabbed my backpack, and headed back up the stairs, prepared to take on whoever he’d told to get the van as tires screeched to a stop inside the garage.
The ache in my hipbone from my fall was bad. Even the adrenaline fueling me didn’t prevent me from hobbling a little as I went, hugging the wall and holding my gun at the ready as I approached the entryway door to the parking area. I’d be in trouble if I needed to run.
I heard a car door open and steadied my grip as I listened to the footsteps coming closer. One guy. Was that possible? It seemed too easy. Unless I was missing something? They seemed to want me alive based on the other guy’s reaction. But that didn’t mean this guy wouldn’t hesitate to injure me—especially when I attacked.
The footsteps stopped. I heard the metallic click of a magazine locking in place. Shit. Do or die, Avery.
I was about to go for it when the surfer werelock materialized out of nowhere, his broad back facing me and blocking the doorway I’d been about to charge through.
“Hey, bro,” he greeted whoever was on the other side.
The sound of a semi-automatic weapon firing was instantaneous as bullets blasted my would-be savior werelock’s chest and strays nicked the doorframe. I ducked and backed up so fast I nearly fell backward down the stairwell again. After what seemed like forever and a gratuitous number of bullets, I heard the inevitable empty clicking sound, signaling that the attacker was out of ammo.
Surfer boy didn’t miss a beat. “Got any jumper cables I can borrow?”
I heard the sound of metal clanking to the concrete, followed by rapid, retreating footfalls.
“Aw, seriously? Why would you run? I just asked for cables,” the indestructible werelock taunted from the doorway. Then he turned and threw over his shoulder at me, “Don’t get any ideas. You and I need to talk.”
Awesome. He was warning me not to run. Of course, I’d figured all along I was the prey that he was ultimately after when he’d first shown up and interfered in the alley fight. But his warning caused my heart rate to skyrocket nonetheless.
How did one run from a person capable of disappearing and reappearing themselves in places?
“Come on, man, let’s see what you got for me,” he called out to the fleeing werewolf.
Swallowing my inner panic, I stood and followed him at a cautious distance as he strode into the parking level, past an abandoned van and the discarded M16, until we were standing near the center of the dimly lit lot.
Surfer werelock did no more than crook his fingers, and the dark-haired werewolf sprinting for his life across the half-empty parking garage levitated in the air and floated back to us. The werewolf shrieked in panic, his arms and legs flailing wildly.
Fuck. Me. How was I supposed to fight this guy?
“I don’t know anything!” the terrified werewolf shouted when he was a scant few feet away from the werelock who was somehow holding him levitated and immobilized at whim.
I cringed internally. I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pity for the werewolf—even knowing he probably would’ve blasted me to pieces with that semi if given the chance. At the same time, my self-preservation instincts kicked into high gear. I scanned the sparsely filled lot and spotted the black Audi A4 parked about forty feet to my right, in the opposite direction from where the werewolf had run.
“Perfect,” the cocky werelock responded with a laugh, “because I wasn’t planning to waste time interrogating you. I’ll just ransack your memories.”
“Wait, no—no, I do know things.”
Ransack memories?
The man fell to his knees—whether by force of magic or of his own volition, I couldn’t say—and proceeded to desperately babble and bargain. The surfer whipped the threadbare T-shirt he was wearing over his head and held it up for the pleading man to see how well the front had been riddled by bullets.
“You ruined my favorite T-shirt. I’ve had this one forever. And you weren’t planning on being very nice to my friend here, either.” As he said it, he stepped aside, allowing the kneeling werewolf an unobstructed view of me.
“No—no, I wasn’t going to hurt her. I was sent to capture her.”
“And bring her to Alessandra Reinoso,” the shirtless werelock concluded, turning around to me to ensure I’d heard that part of the plan.
I stared blankly back at him as his captive blathered on in confirmation. My eyes lowered to his shirtless chest. Surfer werelock was ripped. More importantly, he hadn’t sustained so much as a scratch on his chest despite his bullet-ridden T-shirt.
“Okay, we’re done talking now,” he announced, turning his attention back to the ill-fated werewolf on his knees. “I’m interested in seeing the things Alessandra didn’t allow you to remember.”
“No, no, please, not my mind—”
The werewolf’s pleas were cut short and his eyes rolled back in his head as the werelock’s own eyes closed in concentration.
This was some serious, creepy shit.
I inched a side step to my right, then another.
I had to make a run for it. Even if I didn’t get far, I had to try.
And I didn’t get far. Because a force of gravity knocked my ass to the petroleum-stained concrete two retreating steps later.
My lungs felt compressed and I struggled to take in air as I witnessed the scary-powerful werelock employ some sinister, invasive magic to seemingly pull information from the werewolf’s mind.
The surfer werelock’s face was a mask of concentration, until suddenly his mouth broke into a devilish grin, and he muttered, “Oh, hel-lo.”
I suspected he’d found whatever secrets he was looking for, because in the next moment, the werewolf made a terrible sound of agony and clutched his head with both hands before collapsing face first to the dirty concrete. Dead.
His silenced heartbeat made my own racing heart sound that much louder.
The gravity force that had been holding me down and constricting my lungs abated as the shirtless werelock turned to me with a smile, shaking his head and tsking. “I told you we needed to talk.”
Hellfire, things were dicey. He hadn’t even broken a sweat this whole time, and I was still panting on the ground, covered in blood and filth, my hipbone throbbing.
I jumped to my feet and took a step back. “Who are you?” When all else fails, keep the enemy talking.
“Told you, I’m a friend.”
I retreated another step. “Right. Where I come from a friend is someone you know, not a scary stranger you just ran into in a parking garage fight.”
“What?” He made a mock pouty face. “I get no brownie friend points for saving your life, Avery?”
“How do you know me?” I asked before my rattled brain had a chance to realize my mistake. “I mean … how do you think you know me?” I stupidly corrected, knowing from the smile growing on his face that he wasn’t buying any of it. “You have the wrong person. My name’s Cynthia, not Avery.”
“Well, Cynthia,” he played along, stalking closer and extending his hand out to me in offering, while I continued my awkward retreat, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Raul.”
I didn’t take his hand. It took the last shreds of my floundering dignity and the logic that it wouldn’t help me anyway to stop myself from continuing to back away.
“How’d you do that? How’d you kill him? How’d you survive those bullets?” I pelted questions at him. “What do you want from me?”
Wow. I so needed that silencer. For my mouth.
“May I have your backpack, please?”
“Huh?”
“Your backpack, Avery.”
“You want to rob me?”
He laughed. There was a warmth and sincerity inherent to the sound that I’d not expected as it echoed through the parking structure. “Nah, silly,” he teased as if we truly were old chums. “I want to program my contact information into your phone in case you need to reach me.”
“For serious?” I squawked. “You did all that because you wanted to give me your number?”
“Will you hand me your phone already? Please?”
With fumbling fingers, I rummaged through my backpack and managed to locate my new phone for him. Then I stood staring like a mouth-breather in headlights as he thumbed in his information.
“There. I’ve programmed myself under both ‘Scary Stranger’ and ‘Friend’ so however you choose to remember me, you’ll have my digits.”
I accepted the phone back with a bewildered, “Right.”
“If you need me, I’ll be a phone call away. Anytime. Anywhere. Understand?”
I knew I should just shut up and be thankful he hadn’t killed me with that silent mind death trick yet, but my willful tongue often had designs of its own.
“How’d you move without moving before?”
He opened his mouth to reply, then paused before answering, “Let’s just say I’m a student of Darwinism.”
Clearly. “Caught that much. Why’d you help me?”
“Because some would say I’m also an active proponent and purveyor of Darwinism.”
I shook my head. “A true proponent of Darwinism would have left me to fend for myself. Natural selection and all that.” Why was I arguing this point?
“Look, Avery …” He exhaled, and a deep, disconsolate chasm creased his brow, making him suddenly seem far older than his otherwise youthful appearance. And making me curious to know the hidden pain that had etched its way into this man’s soul.
“I know who you are and what you’re hiding. I understand better than you do the odds you’re up against, because I know the rogue hunter who’s coming for you. The one your friend Wyatt told you about. Milena Caro-Reinoso.” His features contorted as he forced out the last three syllables of the Alpha female’s hyphenated surname, saying “Reinoso” like it was a disease. “You need to understand, Sloane is in grave danger.”
My pulse sprinted at the mention of first Wyatt’s and then my daughter’s name—at the realization that this powerful stranger knew far, far more about us than he should. I knew he heard it, but I schooled my features nonetheless.
Muttering a dismissive, “Thanks for the tip,” I turned my back on him and headed for the rental car. Whatever his game was, he didn’t want me dead. Least not yet. Or I would’ve been dead already.
“I’m the only one who can stop her,” he called out from behind me. And then he was standing smack-dab in front of me, blocking my path.
“Jesus!”
“Milena’s not like the other rogue hunters you’ve taken out,” he proceeded calmly while I stood clutching my backpack to my racing chest. “You won’t win this fight. Not alone.”
I couldn’t suppress the growl that escaped me at his rude assertion. “Are you finished?”
“Don’t let your pride dictate your daughter’s fate.”
“Pride?” Oh, that got my canines out. Claws as well. “My pride has nothing to do with this. This is about me protecting my child from hunters and supernatural opportunists alike. I will die before I tell you where she is, so either kill me or get the hell out of my way, pretty boy.”
He stepped aside, making a sweeping, gentlemanly gesture with his arm for me to pass.
I did. Maneuvering around him as quickly as possible.
“You’re still limping from a fall you took a full ten minutes ago,” he pointed out, raking my last nerve as I fished through my backpack, willing the car keys to materialize. “I took at least eighteen bullets to the heart five minutes ago, and I’m standing here without a scratch.”
“You want a fucking ribbon?” I threw back over my shoulder. Ass.
He laughed. “I want you to understand that we’re on the same side.”
I kept walking. Where the fuck were those keys?
I heard a throat clear behind me, along with the sound of keys jingling. I stopped. My eyes shifted, and I had to take a calming breath before turning to face him.
He was grinning from ear to ear as he tossed me the car keys. He looked more like a harmless, prankster frat boy than the dangerous supernatural killer that I knew him to be.
“Sorry, swiped ’em for fun. Figured a woman with your juvenile rap sheet would’ve caught on sooner.”
Nice segue. He’d read my criminal file. Those were sealed records. Wyatt’s father had seen to it. But I supposed nothing was off-limits to a guy who read minds. Which made me wonder …
“You read that wolf’s mind back there?”
He nodded.
“Have you read mine?”
“No.”
“Would I know it if you had?”
He hesitated before answering, “Most humans and werewolves don’t remember. I’m careful to cover my tracks and erase the memory of my invasion.”
Or simply kill them. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because I don’t know the answer, Avery. I can’t access your mind like I can other werewolves. If I could, I wouldn’t be standing here, because I’d already know where Sloane is.”
My stomach flipped. He was telling the truth. I could smell it. It made the reality of his words scarier, and yet reassuring. “What makes me different?”
His brows shot up, and he laughed like it was an absurd question. “What makes you different?” He shook his head. “Oh, I dunno … everything? You gave birth to the Rogue of rogues.” His gaze was assessing. “I don’t believe fate picked you by accident, either.”
A chill swept over me. It was the adrenaline rush letdown. And the fact that he for sure knew as much as I’d feared.
He took a step closer and stage-whispered, “Don’t think it’s escaped my attention that you have no scent. I’m assuming it’s the same for Sloane?”
I didn’t respond. But my heart rate answered for me despite my intentions. I needed to get home to my daughter. Without him following me.
“So how’s this gonna work?” I cut to the chase. “You’ll pretend to let me go so you can follow me?”
A slow, easy smile spread across his face. “I think I like you, Avery.”
“Enough that you won’t melt my brain and leave my body in a parking garage?”
He chuckled. “Odds are definitely in your favor on that.”
“Yay me,” I deadpanned. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and crossed my arms over my chest. “Again … how’s this gonna work?”
“I am going to let you go. And I won’t follow you … if you agree to one condition.”
“Ah, this should be good.”
“Pick any other car in this parking lot and let me start it for you. I’m not okay with you taking one that Wyatt secured.”
“Seriously? You think I can’t hotwire a car on my own? I’m offended.”
“How many times have you been attacked in the past six hours? Think about it. Your attackers were one step ahead of you every single time. How often has that happened before today? What’s the common thread?”
I raised my pointer finger at him. “No dice, mind-bender.”
“Wyatt. You know that it’s Wyatt.”
I rolled my eyes and turned on my heel, heading for the Audi.
“Look, I’m not claiming Wyatt has or would betray you on purpose. But his mind has been compromised by a powerful enemy werelock: Alessandra Reinoso. He no longer has a choice in the matter.”
I kept walking, even though I scented no lie in his words, clicking the unlock button on my car key. Raul materialized in front of my ride as I approached it, leaning against the driver-side door.
“Trust me, I know her well.” His smile was bitter. “Know firsthand what it’s like to be seduced and manipulated by her without the added use of mind control that she’s employed with Wyatt. Lessa is a conceited, power-hungry, opportunistic bitch, Avery. She’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants. And right now your daughter is the trophy she’s set her sights on.”
Fuck. Lessa. The chill in my veins turned to ice as the pieces clicked into place.
Alessandra Reinoso, Alex’s sister—the werelock Wyatt had mysteriously forgotten about—and Lessa, the needy new fling Wyatt was so smitten with, were one and the same bitch.