The sun hadn’t even risen, and already Caine was deeply annoyed. Not that he could see the sky right now, since he’d made the homeowner close all the drapes in his office before Caine would even enter it. Why did these local shifters never understand security? Or discipline and patience, for that matter? If they did, he wouldn’t be forced to come and clean up their messes.
Really, what was about to happen was their own fault.
“What do you mean, ‘Mr. Holt couldn’t make it?’” the homeowner asked, sitting behind a polished mahogany desk, like it was his own little island of power. He reminded Caine of a professor in a movie, with a scarf draped around his neck and a sport coat that had actual elbow patches. The professor flashed an exasperated look at one of his cronies, as if he couldn’t believe someone hadn’t jumped when he’d wanted.
If Caine were a typical dominant wolf, that entitled attitude would have grated. Instead, he found it pathetic and small, like the male delivering it. He didn’t even deserve the minuscule courtesy of Caine using his name. None of them did. Not even in his own mind.
“I already told you, my employer had other business to attend to.” As if Holt would waste his time visiting this backwater. This territory’s remote locale was the only reason Holt and Apex were interested in it. It certainly wasn’t for the culture or stimulating company.
“That’s unfortunate,” the professor said, after a sip of coffee. “I always prefer dealing directly with the person I’m doing business with. But I’m sure you and your soldiers are up to the task.”
Caine grinned at the absurd statement and the other werewolves in the room stiffened. Pulling a cell phone from his pocket, he called up some information and set the device down on the desk. “An example of our work.”
He turned away to prowl the room, picking up knickknacks here, touching an antique there. The trinkets of people’s lives baffled him. Why on earth would they fill their dens with such flotsam?
A truncated gasp, followed by several other sounds of distress drew another smile. He knew what they were looking at. He had taken the photographs, after all.
The first was a picture of a man. His throat was a hollowed mess, showing the spine. His head was twisted too far to the right to be natural, and the visible side of his face was grotesquely swollen and bruised. Intestines spilled out of his abdomen to drape onto the blood-soaked floor.
“There’s more,” Caine said, waving his hand absently at the phone. They really should enjoy the full show.
The next picture was a group shot of a woman and young man in the same room as the previous guy. Both were bloody and obviously dead. The woman’s clothes were not just torn, but ripped away to reveal her body. It had been a nice body, too. From the obscene way she was positioned, they would surely understand she’d been raped prior to death. Another swipe would show a close-up of the woman’s beaten face and bloody blond hair. Next, the young man. His mouth gaped open, exposing jagged, broken teeth. There were several more pictures in the gallery, cataloging the gruesome accomplishments of Caine and his men.
He was quite proud of his collection. Much better than some old clock or gaudy lamp.
The scent of fear drenched the room with its smoky-sweet perfume. Caine looked around at the assembled shifters. Couldn’t they control their emotions even a little, instead of giving it up like a human?
The professor alone had the balls to look him in the eye. The male picked up his coffee mug and sipped. Interesting. Did he really think what he had was so important he was safe?
Please. The moment the professor or this territory became more trouble than they were worth, Caine would burn it all down.
“You’re very thorough,” the professor said.
Caine inclined his head and strolled over to the display of several framed photographs lined up on a cabinet. He picked up a group shot that included the former Beta and Alpha, Darren Ellis and Greg Wyland. “You were at the top of the male hierarchy,” he said to the professor. “Holt was under the impression that the Alpha’s son was not active in the pack.”
“He wasn’t,” the male said, with no small amount of bitterness. “Luke’s activities kept him out of town for the most part.”
“And yet...” Caine spread his scarred hands. “It’s been over a year since your Alpha and Beta were killed. Why are you not in control yet?”
One of the lesser wolves stammered, “We couldn’t—”
The professor cut him off with a look. “It’s complicated. I wasn’t in a position to fight Luke Wyland for Alpha. As I told Holt, I was injured. Asking to postpone the challenge would have given me away.”
Caine regarded the male. “Interesting.” The professor bristled, but before he could speak and waste any more of the day, Caine said, “Your Luna is a problem. I know you hoped to spare Clarissa Townes, but she’s stuck her nose where it doesn’t belong. We’ll have to deal with her.”
One of the cronies sighed, but the professor said, “Agreed.”
“What about the sheriff? Has he come around?”
“Ellis won’t be a problem,” Crony One said, finally having recovered himself.
“Like Alan Branson wasn’t a problem?” Caine asked, his voice a quiet growl. “That was very messy, sabotaging a helicopter. Messy and attention-grabbing.”
The crony puffed up. “We thought it was the best option for deflecting blame if someone discovered our business relationship. No one would believe we’d destroy our own helicopter.”
“You thought?”
The idiot nodded.
Caine bared his fangs. “Who told you to think? You were supposed to quietly get rid of Branson. Now the human government is involved. Then, to make matters worse, you gave Wyland and the sheriff all the evidence they need to tie the county clerk’s death to Branson’s.” When they all stared at him like the idiots they were, he added, “The citronella. It was used at the clerk’s disposal site and the mechanic’s.” He loomed over Crony One, who recoiled. “Don’t. Think. Again.”
Caine stepped back, cracked a kink in his neck, and looked at the professor. “And what of the Alpha and his Beta?”
The professor blinked. “Would tomorrow be too soon?”
“No. The question is, can we hit all the targets in one location, or will the healer and her pups still be staying in your den?”
A tense silence stretched in the room. “Pups?” Crony One asked. “You’re going to kill Sarah and Dean’s sons? They’re just babies.”
“Is that really necessary?” the professor asked.
Caine sighed. “There is no room for sentiment. Children who are given a pass simply because of their age eventually grow up and become nuisances. Look at your Alpha’s mate as a prime example. If the soldiers who staged the coup on the Chicago pack leadership had the balls to take her and her twin out when they were supposed to, Miss Meyers wouldn’t have been here to so skillfully land the helicopter you went to all that trouble of sabotaging. Nor would she have been able to kill one of the men you hired. See? Why go through the hassle of letting them grow up?”
The professor nodded slowly. “The sooner we eliminate Luke and the others, the better.”
“Wyland and his supporters won’t be a problem for you after tomorrow,” Caine said. “Now, I’d like to clarify something.” In a flash of movement, he grabbed the least of the wolves in the room, a paunchy male with an unfortunate appreciation for onions, and snapped his neck. Before any of the others could move, he extended the twist to completely sever the spinal cord. Werewolves were hearty creatures. But not even one of the goddess’s own could come back from having their head attached to their torsos by nothing more than a bit of skin.
Caine allowed the wolf to enter his eyes and voice. “You do not work with Holt. You serve him. It’s in your best interests to remember who your master is.”