CHAPTER 17
Atticus closed his eyes, preparing to shift, his anger nearly boiling over.
“Ah, ah, ah,” said Lucas, still pointing his gun.
Atticus and Tessa felt the touch of cold, sweaty hands upon their arms.
“I know all about your powers, my friend,” said Lucas. “And I want you to make a quick estimate about your odds. There’re about twenty of us, and two of you. Now, you might be able to get a few of us with those big bear claws of yours, but can you do it before we kill her?”
Her pointed the gun at Tessa.
Atticus’s jaw clenched as he stared Lucas down. Realizing that Lucas was right, Atticus stopped his shifting process.
“What is this?” Atticus demanded.
“Why, this is me taking back what’s mine, of course,” said Lucas, flicking his red-lined eyes towards Tessa.
“Fuck you,” said Tessa, spitting her words. “I’m not yours.”
Lucas shrugged, as if considering the point.
“Well, they say ‘might makes right,’ and this is definitely one of those cases where I think that’s true.”
As Lucas spoke, Tessa couldn’t help but notice the drastic change that Lucas had gone through since the time that she saw him last. His face was gaunt, his skin looked sickly, and his eyes were red and bloodshot. It looked to her as if he were on day ten of a non-stop drug binge, a shadow of his former handsome self.
“Where are my men?” demanded Atticus.
“They’re out,” said Lucas. “We created a little distraction to keep them busy; probably won’t be back for a while…if they come back.”
Rage boiled in Atticus. The idea that this man would simply storm into his home, threaten Tessa, put his men in danger- it was something he couldn’t abide. But he knew Lucas was right, making a move wouldn’t work out well for him or Tessa, not with every one of the scuzzy meth-heads armed and with an itchy trigger finger.
“And you might want to take a look at your security,” said Lucas, his voice both anxious and cocky. “Impressive set-up, but nothing a few highly-motivated tweakers couldn’t figure out.”
“If you don’t leave right now, I swear I’ll kill you and every last worthless member of your pathetic gang,” said Atticus, his voice a growl.
“That’s…not what’s going to happen,” said Lucas, rising from his seat and walking around the room with a cocky stride. “Here is what is going to happen. I’m going to take my girl back from you- my wife, I should point out- then I’m going to leave you here with some men of mine. They’re going to, well, work you over until you give up the access codes to the little fortune you Swift boys have stored away. Then they’re going to kill you.”
Atticus didn’t want to hear another word. He burst from the grips of the meth heads who were holding him in place and rushed towards Lucas, ready to shift his hands into claws and carve open his stomach.
But Lucas didn’t seem fazed by this. He simply gestured to the men holding Tessa and gave a quick nod. Atticus heard the cocking of two pistols sound from behind him as he closed the distance across the living room, the sound stopping him in his tracks. Turning, he saw that the two men were holding guns to Tessa, her face red as she wept in fear. As he looked at her, Atticus realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he felt such anger.
“You might get me,” said Lucas. “But you definitely won’t get them before they put a couple of rounds into that pretty thing. I may want my wife back but I want my revenge even more.”
Atticus froze in place, the feeling of impotence driving him to heights of anger that he never thought possible. He watched as Lucas strolled across the debris-strewn floor of the living room and over to Tessa. Once he stood in front of her, he placed his hand on her cheek, wiping away her tears.
“Don’t worry, Tess,” he said, his tone a mockery of sympathy. “I’ll get you away from these…freaks of nature, and back by my side, where you belong. There’s money in meth, a lot of money. I’ll make sure you never want for anything ever again.”
Tessa said nothing. Instead, she whipped her head back and spit in Lucas’s face.
Lucas took in a slow, deep breath, pulled his hand back and struck Tessa across the face.
The cracking sound echoing through the living room, Atticus felt himself boil over with rage. Only the last shreds of self-control that remained allowed him to prevent himself from shifting and carving every last man in the room to pieces.
“You’ll pay for that,” Atticus said, his voice a roar.
“Not likely,” said Lucas.
He slipped the shiny, chrome body of his pistol into the back of his beltloop and turned to address his men.
“I think it’s time to get going, everyone,” he said, his mouth curled into a smile. “But as for my little werebear friend, I’m going to leave a few friends of mine here to keep an eye on you. And just so you know, their guns are loaded with silver-tipped bullets, a material that I’ve heard your kind isn’t exactly fond of. Anyway, these men are going to make sure that you transfer all of the money in your family accounts to ours.”
“And why the hell would I do that?” demanded Atticus.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill Tessa.”
Atticus said nothing, instead breathing heavily through his nostrils, his animal form only barely kept at bay.
“And the rest of my crew should be returning with what remains of your pack before too long. They’ll stick around to make sure the transfer goes off. Then, once you’ve done it, they’ll kill you.”
“Then why would I help you?”
“You and the pack die either way,’ said Lucas. “You’re all simply too much of a threat to my little enterprise. But if you transfer the money, I can guarantee you that Tessa will be safe. Well taken care of, in fact.”
He cast another lecherous look at Tessa, who seemed to be partially in a state of shock.
“So! You have 48 hours from right…now,” he said, setting the timer on his phone. “Don’t disappoint me.”
With that, Lucas and his crew left, leaving a few men in the room with guns trained on Atticus. He stood with his shoulders hunched, a defeated feeling gripped his body as he considered the tragedy that had just befallen him.