Snarls echoed behind Rayven. Hot, fetid breath burned at the back of her neck. Despite her terror, she couldn’t force her legs faster any more than she could sprout wings on her boots and fly.

One way or another, they would catch her.

They always did. It was only a matter of time.

How many attacked her and how severe her wounds would be depended on how hard she fought back. She quickly learned the alpha’s personal team found more sport in trying to put her in her place than batting around her curled-up body. While the humiliation shredded her soul, the quick drop and curl without a sound as they beat and kicked caused her attackers to lose interest.

They wanted her legacy and humiliation, not her death.

Still, Karndottir goaded them. Taunted them. But by his own rules, her death would mean theirs. The worst they could do was hurt her.

Rayven wrestled through the memories, for she knew that was what they were. But the grunts and snarls sounded real, the cloying scents too visceral, each scrape and grab inciting a response to fight back.

Let go, just let the dream go. Coming slowly awake, she gasped and stilled her mind, eyes clenched. Her breath rasped from her lungs, and she held it for a moment, hating that she shared air with those beasts responsible for her most vivid nightmares.

Unable to force her eyes open, she lapsed back into other dreams.

Hot, sweaty, she still couldn’t stop the images from playing in her head.

Ten years old and not old enough to shift, she heard the high-pitched, terrorizing howl of a beast—a wolf—one with great power and not bound by her clan. It whipped through the air around her and lashed as if the wind had a tail of fire, but she huddled beside the shed near her mother’s cabin, waiting.

Birds stilled and the wind died to nothing as a chill crept in an invisible mist across the late summer grass.

“Never play along the borders, child. The alphas play games no one should see or hear.” She’d laughed at her mother’s word. Mimicked them even as she wondered, staring across the great lake that separated her home from the wicked alpha to the south. Because everyone knew Alpha King had attacked his only son and sent him away.

The snarl ripped again, nothing like her father’s hoarse grizzly roar. Her thoughts scattered as she ran and hid high in a nearby pine tree. Her muscles shook and her bones ached hearing the sound, and a command pulled at her with strength she’d never experienced. But every bit of her resisted.

She wrestled in pain and shrugged away the dream for a moment. As a full-grown woman, she considered the alpha war cry a fabrication. A story meant to scare children into obeying their parents. She’d witnessed firsthand as crybabies scampered home when their parents tested their bravery, tested their need for comfort and warmth by pretending to issue the call. But safe arms clasped those children tight against the night.

Rayven’s mother hadn’t given her warmth. She hadn’t beguiled her with useless ploys to tempt her to behave. She’d given her wisdom worth more than hugs and kisses.

Love didn’t come from a test or a ploy. Life was hard. Her lineage demanded she didn’t fall for silly childhood tricks. Her mother had ingrained those precious skills from a young age.

Her flesh burned and her body ached, but she sank back into the nightmare that was her past.

The sound whirled around her as she watched Corbin King breach her father’s territory. A wolf the size of the boathouse stalked forward with a wrapped bundle in his jaws. Eyes darker and brighter than blood with teeth suitable for large blades, he waited a few feet away.

Karndottir slunk toward the challenger, his bear’s shoulders sagging, his head nearly bowed—to a wolf? But she knew her alpha. All his signs indicated he was looking for a vulnerable spot to strike.

Then King shifted into his human form, placed the cloth on the ground at his feet, and stepped back. “This will end. Now! One more child, one more female brutalized on my borders, and I will bring my people in a swarm across your lands, eviscerating every male I see.”

Her father’s bear shambled forward and sniffed the bundle, moving the cloth and revealing an infant. One that didn’t move. He growled out his words. “A female.”

“A child! A valuable asset in our territories. You didn’t need her to spread your seed. She could have worked loyally within your clan. You stole one of mine to create her, and you destroyed others to salve your weaknesses. Now you have one less being to serve you. But I’ve lost much more. Would you rather we be crushed by the humans we abhor?” King strode forward, and her alpha flinched. “No more deaths. Not one. Not from a female of mine or yours.”

Karndottir shifted to human, his look petulant and scornful.

Rayven twisted, yet she couldn’t move. How did she know how he looked? As a child, she’d feared and never questioned. But now…

“Unless you are willing to follow through on your threat, leave.” From behind her alpha, two dozen wolves advanced, and Karndottir stepped backward, surrounded by protection.

However, King stood tall and alone while her father’s teams stood ready to die in his place.

“None,” repeated King. He gestured toward the wolves. “I will know. Then others will know. Then my maker will come. Do not push me on this.”

With a twist, he turned and sprang into the wind, and then there was no sign of him. Only a tingling tug in her chest.

* * *

The sweet scent triggered an onslaught of reactions—disbelief, rage, confusion. Breslin pushed harder to put more mileage between him and Jacob’s team while his cougar clamored for him to stop and check on the prisoner.

For the first time in nearly a century, he questioned what to do. Dizzy from the blissful scent, he struggled to remain rational. Calm, calculated responses had kept him alive. But the more miles he put between himself and the compound, the stronger his cougar tugged.

Not happening. He controlled his beast, not the other way around.

No matter how fiercely his animal wanted out, they had a mission. One complicated enough for him already without some female demands thrown into the mix.

With an iron will, he opened the window to erase the scent. After several more miles, he was pushing as fast as he dared without causing an accident.

A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed Jacob’s teams still littered the hills and tree line of his route. So far, he’d spotted wolves at several crossroads and one of the petrol stations three miles back.

They hadn’t cared less when he’d arrived. Now they seemed damn interested in watching him leave. The inevitability of an ambush had him reevaluating his route home.

Ahead lay a long, winding stretch of road with sheer drops and high cliffs. The terrain ran parallel to a river with few viable pullover locations and offered a perfect place to waylay him. But if the wolves wanted the woman in the back dead, they could have killed her themselves. While it was easier to blame Deacon for her death, Breslin refused to make it easy for them to pin the blame on his clan or his alpha.

Displeased with the situation, he’d nonetheless quickly come to terms with his current predicament. His issues with Gauthier’s death, he’d resolve later, after he officially handed Rayven Karndottir over to another of Deacon’s teams. For now, he owed his time and attention to his alpha and, to some degree, Vendrick. One held his blood oath, the other had pulled him from certain ruin. For good or bad, both had molded the creature he’d become.

Until something changed his circumstances, the prisoner would live. He didn’t have to like it.

The road curved and rose straight and narrow before him, but a modest pull-off sat on the side, sheltered from the hills above by an overhang of trees and brush. It looked like a good spot for him to easily check ahead and behind him for an attack.

He pulled over, checked his phone, and tapped in a text message to Deacon confirming the pickup. Not waiting for an answer, he exited the vehicle, leaned against the side, and took his first full breath since he’d left the compound. The spicy smell of fir filled his nostrils, clearing out the distracting scents from the vehicle.

Taking his time to scout the road behind and the surrounding hills, he popped a stick of gum in his mouth and let the overwhelming taste of cinnamon wash the remaining flavor of honey from his taste buds.

The result wasn’t as pleasing as he’d hoped.

He glanced toward the rear window and, seeing no flicker of movement, sucked in his annoyance. She was a stubborn one. Not one word in the time he’d been driving. Hell, he’d expected her to bargain for water or ask for a bathroom break, and he’d force the purest bottled water down her throat before he let her accuse him of mistreatment.

Claws and shift threatening, he pushed away from the vehicle and stalked toward the rear. She didn’t move when he raised the hatch.

He froze as he realized why. The sight of her bound in coiled chains weighing twice what she did sickened him. Diminutive in stature and curved in all the right places, she wasn’t moving. At all. Not even a breath.

Thinking back, he realized he hadn’t heard her boots shuffling or any comments when she was taken to his vehicle. The farce of her resisting had been enough for him to lose interest. He’d been too self-absorbed. Another slip like that would get them both killed.

He reached for her neck, half-prepared for her to lunge at him, and faltered at the faint, too faint, tremor there. A snail would have more of a pulse than what registered beneath his fingertips. Her midnight-colored hair lay in sweaty tangles around her face. Her torn clothes bunched between the chains, exposing translucent skin. And while he was momentarily distracted by the generous swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, he winced at the vivid blue and purple marks over her abdomen and up her rib cage. Her sleeves were in shreds, clearly displaying the bruises on her arms.

For some reason, seeing her abused this way struck deep at his core hard enough that he grappled for sanity.

What is happening to me? The cougar snarled again inside him.

Turning away in disgust, he swiped his hand over his head, unable to decide what bothered him more, his revulsion at her injuries or his indecision as to whether she deserved help.

A glance back confirmed a bloody smear across her temple. He brushed her hair away from her face and winced at the open gash along her hairline, her swollen eye, and the bloody lip. Lush red lips that should never be damaged, except swollen from kisses.

He spun on his heel and fisted his hands. Focus! This is all a ploy.

Yet when he glanced over his shoulder at her, she hadn’t even twitched.

A trick?

He leaned close to her cheek and sniffed deep. Damn. She was the honey. Everyone thought bears were the ones who coveted honey, but any shifter who loved fresh air, cold nights, and hot biscuits over an outdoor grill adored honey.

Right now, he craved honey.

Moving away, he stared at her without blinking. He couldn’t get a break with this mission. The last thing he needed was—a damn evil woman who ruined his plans.

Despite that thought, he found himself unable to resist cupping her cheek. He brushed his fingertips across her skin. Hell. She was burning up. He lifted an eyelid, saw the whites of her eyes and her pupil—violet. Like pansies in spring and a midsummer night, her eyes were deep, mesmerizing violet.

Dear Goddess, what would she look like when she was conscious and healthy? Because, despite what they’d done to her, she had all the makings of a rare beauty.

With a sigh, he concentrated on being less enamored and more attentive, but he couldn’t control the hardening of his body with arousal or his beast’s clamor. And he suddenly had a very bad premonition of what was driving his mood swings.

No. He refused to go there, if for no other reason than Jacob’s team would wait only so long to find out why he hadn’t driven out the other side of the canyon.

Ignoring his cougar’s anger, he carefully checked the rest of her body for injuries. One arm lay at an unnatural angle. A spiral break—one guard to hold her down and another to inflict wounds. Grumbles started in his chest.

Cold and factual, he continued his assessment, the only way he could shut down his reactions to the numerous injuries he cataloged on her body. Bruises covered her in the places he could easily see. When he moved the chains binding her, he snatched back his hand with a hiss.

Inlaid with silver?

He flipped the chain over and picked it up, scrutinizing the thin silver wires soldered to the inside of the chains around her wrists. A brief check confirmed the same treatment for the bindings around her ankles, neck, and the chain wrapped around her hips. They’d tortured her and ensured she couldn’t shift to heal by sending her animal into hibernation with silver. Of course it was hardly a surprise they’d also kept the key, thinking he couldn’t release her.

Intently aware of the time slipping away while he’d been checking his charge on the side of the road, he looked at his phone. Twenty minutes.

Jacob’s scouts would already be on their way.

Bracing his shoulders, he crouched beside her. Enemy or—well, something more dangerous—a few things needed to change.

First, he needed to deal with the chains. He whipped out a short, thin wire hidden inside his belt and went to work picking the lock.

The chains fell away.

Then he lifted her broken forearm in his hands. He never would have believed he’d show compassion for a Karndottir. But, logic countered that a battered body could sway the tribunal in her favor. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Yes, go with that bit of fiction, because you can’t handle the truth.

He gripped above her wrist and at her elbow and clenched his teeth. This was going to hurt like a son of a bitch. And while he might still harbor feelings about vengeance, he’d prefer his target be whole, healthy, and fighting back if he took her as his consolation trophy. His cougar grumbled again.

Shut up.

With a fast yank and a slow, methodical twist, he aligned her bones. She twitched and her lips parted, yet no moan escaped.

That didn’t ease his conscience. Her ability to endure pain hinted at a prolonged familiarity with abuse, but he didn’t have time for pity.

Glancing behind him, he scented for intruders. He needed to get them far away from here. Picking her up gently in his arms, he carried her to the second full seat, placing her in the middle. Protocol nagged at him enough that he secured zip ties to her wrists, but he left her hands in her lap and secured the seat belt around her.

With a frustrated snarl, he gave in to his cougar’s demand and checked to make sure the belt wasn’t too tight over her certainly broken ribs.

Muttering under his breath for showing such compassion, he slid into the driver’s seat and whipped the SUV back onto the road. His phone vibrated, but he ignored the call, focused on the road before him. The unconscious woman behind him still held half his attention.

That was his last thought as a remote click followed by a barely perceptible whine registered through his open window. Shit. A sniper’s shot. He flicked a glance in the rearview mirror. His passenger was still where he’d left her, sporting no fresh blood.

Pushing the vehicle as fast as it would go, he raced for the bend ahead that would shield them from the next shot. He gripped the steering wheel tight as a dull hiss echoed, followed by a soft pfffft. The back end of the SUV skated from one side of the narrow cliff road to the other.

Breslin cursed as he tried to bring the vehicle under control and slow his speed. But the sniper had hit more than one tire, and slamming on the brakes would only add to the problem. It didn’t matter. Jacob’s team wasn’t getting Rayven back. His growls reverberated throughout the chassis as he hunted for a solution. Too late, he realized this stretch of road provided the perfect setup.

The roadway a few yards back had trees that would have at least cushioned their impact, but in front of them—empty sky and a long drop into the rushing river swollen from recent torrential rains.

Unable to wrestle control without ripping the steering wheel from the dashboard and aware the vehicle was skidding toward the edge, he did the only thing he could.

With one click, he released his seat belt and punched his foot into the floorboard. Twisting with shifter speed, he vaulted into the second row of seats and covered Rayven Karndottir with his body, his frame wedging her as carefully as he could, while holding tight to the seats on each side of her.

The vehicle pitched into the ravine and somersaulted.

He had one long second to turn his head and stare into his prisoner’s shocked violet gaze before they crashed into an outcrop.

Glass fractured. The SUV bounced against another rock face. Then the windows on one side crumpled and broke away.

Moments later, they screeched to a sliding halt.

Her breath brushed down his neck, and she blinked as the vehicle groaned and swayed. “Can’t…”