“No,” Ryenne ground out between her teeth, struggling against the ropes. She’d rather die than be turned into a shifter.

Steven stalked toward her, one side of his mouth twisted into a perverted version of a smile. He shook his head and his teeth elongated into fangs.

Ryenne pushed herself as far into the pole as she could, moving her head around to the side, as far out of reach as possible. Which wasn’t very far.

“It is such a relief to have all our secrets out in the open,” he said. “I hated being stuck in my room after Kyeri’s death, but I could not risk Lucien recognizing my scent.”

A thought hit her, then. “You killed Kyeri, your best friend.”

He nodded. “I did. Such a shame. He was a good man.”

“Then why?” she whispered.

“I needed to demonstrate to you the problem we were facing and I came across Kyeri on his way home. He was perfect because no one would suspect me of killing my childhood best friend.”

Ryenne swallowed past the fear. This man wasn’t just vicious, he was unhinged.

She struggled against the ropes again, knowing it was futile, but hoping she could loosen them enough to protect herself. She tried to grab her watch and one of the useful tools inside its band. To cover her movements, she asked another question.

“Why did you hire Lucien as well as me?”

“Mr. Lord wanted me to hire you both. I still do not know his plans for Monsieur Malraux.” He stepped even closer. “Now,” Steven said, “enough talk. I will turn you into a shifter and you will join us.”

Us?

Steven opened his mouth. His fangs glinted in the light from behind her.

A blur of gray shot into the circle of light and bounded into Steven. Steven sprawled on the ground. A wolf growled above him.

John approached them, a gun held in front of him.

“No!” Ryenne screamed.

A shot rang out and the wolf whimpered, falling to the side, blood blossoming on the fur of his back.

“Lucien!”

The wolf slowly shifted back to human, but otherwise remained motionless.

A glint of silver caught Ryenne’s eye. The dagger—her dagger—was at her feet. Steven must have dropped it when Lucien pounced on him.

Steven wobbled to his feet, gesturing for John to stay back, and approached Lucien who was curled on his side. His chest rose and Ryenne nearly cried out with relief.

There was no time to celebrate. She had to get them both out of here.

She skimmed herself down the pole to the ground and slid out her foot to retrieve the dagger. She didn’t have much range of motion, but there was enough give in the rope to reach the dagger. Once her foot covered it, she kicked it toward her hands, holding her breath that the men wouldn’t hear her.

Steven kicked Lucien’s motionless form and Ryenne forced herself not to react, to focus on freeing herself. She managed to get her hand on the tip of the blade and pulled it the rest of the way toward herself. The blade sliced her palm and she winced.

But she had it. She had the knife.

She sliced at the ropes until she could pull her wrists apart. Then she freed her ankles.

Steven took the gun from John and pointed it at Lucien’s head.

She surged up, dagger at the ready. Throwing herself at Steven, she had only one thought. To save Lucien.

With a shout, she connected with Steven and knocked him sideways. A bullet bounced off the ground behind Lucien.

Steven landed on the floor with a whoosh of air, Ryenne on top of him. Before he could regain his wits, she used the handle of the dagger to knock the gun out of his hand. It skittered across the floor, into the shadows.

She raised the dagger above her head.

Suddenly, her arms were yanked behind her back, wrenching her shoulders, and she was pulled into the air. Kicking backward, she connected with a thick thigh, resulting in a satisfying grunt. But the grasp on her didn’t weaken.

John held her against his solid body while Steven staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth. He must have bitten his lip with one of his fangs when he fell.

“You bitch.” Venom dripped from each word. “I could kill you for that.” He punched her in the stomach.

Her core crumpled but she was still held upright by John.

“But I can’t kill you,” Steven muttered through gritted teeth. “Mr. Lord only wants me to turn you. Nothing more.”

He punched her again and her breath whooshed out of her.

“So, I will have to be satisfied with this.” He punched her again. “For now.”