Present

Waking to her mouth tasting like ass and her head stuffed with cotton, Dallas groaned. The rattle of a chain splashed cold water on the fuzziness of her memory. Forcing her eyes to open, she stared blearily around the empty room. The walls were comprised of thick tree trunks stacked one atop another and sealed. The floors were raw wood, and dusty as hell. Dust particles danced in the light spilling through a window.

Pushing away from the floor, she scowled at the dizziness swimming through her. She made it upright despite the links of chain keeping her from extending her arms fully. Slumping against the wall, she took a moment to do inventory. Drugged. That was certain. Likely the same shit she’d earned from the Chinese.

Great…that crap screwed up the senses and took a while to wear off. It was why she liked having access to it. Organizing her thoughts, she shoved the wandering ones away. Drugged. That was bad.

Still dressed. That was good.

If she was injured, she couldn’t really feel it. Slot that one into the plus column.

The air tasted of dust and cold. Not much to go on there, when she could see the dusty room around her. Knowing where she was would be more helpful, but she’d get to that. They’d taken her on a helicopter—Chrystal.

Dallas squeezed her eyes shut and searched her fragmented thoughts. Arkady had come for them, exactly as she’d told Julian he might if Mason and the others gathered for a meeting—and boy had he. It was like being in a war zone. They’d been holding their own, then they’d appeared with Chrystal and a blade to her throat. Dallas didn’t give a hot damn what happened to her as long as they let Chrystal go… they’d pulled her onto the helicopter.

The drugs had already been working, but she didn’t care. She managed to loop the chain around the neck of one of Arkady’s goons. Using him as leverage, she’d kicked the door open and shoved Chrystal out.

Panic had been in her eyes—panic for her mother. She’d tried to fight, too. No—Dallas exhaled her relief.

Chrystal had escaped. They hadn’t been that high yet, most wolves could handle that much of a drop. Dallas might have rolled out after her, but Arkady punched her in the head.

Lifting her chained wrists, she searched along her hairline until she located the lump. He’d punched her a couple of times. That was the last thing she remembered. With the drugs in her system, they could have been traveling for hours. Irritating as hell to not know for how long.

Without knowing what side of the cabin she faced, she couldn’t pinpoint the time either, other than it was during the day. Early? Late? Mid?

Who knew?

Leaning her head back against the wall, she concentrated on getting her breathing under control. If she planned to escape her dusty little cell, she needed all her wits and her wolf. The drugs in her system would slow them down.

A little over an hour after she woke, she’d managed to clear away the cobwebs in her brain. Her spit was still in short supply and her throat dry, but she’d been in worse situations. It had been a while, but she’d been in worse. The hour also gave her time to armor herself. No matter who wore the shackles, she wouldn’t beg, plead, or show weakness. They didn’t have Julian or Chrystal. Her family was safe. Everything else was window dressing.

The door rattled, then opened, allowing Montague to enter carrying a single chair. He was alone, and she didn’t see anyone standing on the other side of the door—a door which led to another empty room. Afterward, he set the chair down and took a seat.

He wore a very elegant suit. His slacks were pressed and his shirt almost stark white, offering a contrast to his tanned skin and light brown hair. His scent filled her nostrils, cloying and kind of irritating. It left her eyes watering and, even more than the dust, gave her the urge to sneeze.

Top notes of tart apples, above hints of irises, geraniums, and a woodsier base of oakmoss filled the room. Even if she didn’t already know he was British, she would have known he didn’t belong to one of the American or Russian packs. Personally, she preferred the dust of disuse to his scent.

“Hello, Monty,” she managed, even if it came out hoarse. “Long time, no see.”

“You cut your hair,” he said by way of comment. “That would explain the difficulty with facial recognition.”

“A girl’s got a right to change how she looks.” She’d also gained a little weight in the last few years. Motherhood had matured her looks, but eating next to nothing while making sure Chrystal was fed hadn’t done her any favors. She’d been underweight and not at her best the last time she met him.

“You remain glib as ever, Miss Dalton. I find your particular flavor of sarcasm to be one of your less attractive qualities.” He crossed one leg over the other, as comfortable as if they were having tea.

“Well, I’m just broken to fucking pieces over that tidbit.” Resting her shackled wrists on her knees, she raised her eyebrows. “Did you have something in particular you wanted to discuss with me?”

His eyes were pale green, almost too pale. It was like all the color leeched out of them. Was he sick or just some unhappy genetic occurrence? Apprehension coursed through her as he fixed his gaze on hers. She might still be a little numb, but not so out of it she couldn’t feel his presence in the room.

“I tried to have a conversation with you once before, but you rushed away before we could finish it.” Not even a hint of a smile touched his thin lips.

“Really?” She didn’t attempt to disguise her skepticism. “You spent all this time, and resources—oh, and lives—because I declined to provide you with paperwork to get into the States? Well, golly-gosh-darn, Monty, I’m so not sorry. I wish I knew half as much about you before I met you in Mexico than I know now.”

Rising, he crossed to her with such speed it took self-control to not response. The open handed slap across her face stung like a bitch, but pain brought a measure of clarity with it.

Scarier than the slap was the absolute lack of emotion in Monty’s expression or his scent. He paused a moment to straighten his cuffs as he stared at her.

“That penis envy of yours appears to be troubling. You should see someone about that.” When he swung at her face this time, she pulled to the side, and his hand impacted the log wall. It drew blood, because she tasted the copper in the air. Seizing her hair, he hauled her back, and she raised her chin. “Go ahead, show me what a big boy you are. Hit me like a girl again.”

The third slap set her face on fire, but she only laughed at him.

A fresh pair of blows left her lip split and blood trickling from her nose. But she still managed to smile as he paced away. The fidgeting with his suit returned until he paused on the other side of the chair.

“You won’t break easy,” he commented, sounding exceptionally matter-of-fact.

“At least we agree on something.” She wouldn’t break at all.

“I wish I’d known about your daughter sooner.” He left the chair and paced to the window. “We could have had this conversation years ago.”

What did he want her to say to that?

“You are probably wondering what my interest in you is?” No, he definitely wasn’t talking to her. He stared out the window.

As the silence dragged on, she tested her split lip with her tongue. The slaps had also woken up her ability to drool and her wolf roused, still slow, but there. Pain sucked, but it could be useful. “You could say the thought crossed my mind.”

Apparently, he’d awaited her response, because the ugliest smile she’d ever seen appeared on his face. Looking at her, he said, “Good.” Then he exited the room, taking his chair with him.

Left alone once more, Dallas turned the conversation over in her mind. Sociopath didn’t begin to cover the man’s attitude or behavior. Even when he was hitting her, he hadn’t smelled of aggression or anger. It was as though he went through the motions, at least until the last couple. Those hadn’t been necessary, but he seemed to have trouble stopping once he started.

Years before, he’d lured her into a trap and she’d escaped. Now, he’d left a trail of bodies in his wake to get his hands on her again.

Why?

Her wolf rubbed against the inside of her skin. The animal’s stumbling sense mirroring her own frailty. They needed to get the drugs out of her system—then she was going to shift and get out of these fucking chains.

Why didn’t matter. Surviving did. Killing Monty did.

Julian. Her wolf’s whisper bolstered her. She wasn’t wrong. Julian would come for her. He’d spent years looking for her.

He wouldn’t stop now.

The cold feeling in her gut turned to dread once more. Monty might have left Julian behind, but he’d done that on purpose. Was that why? Had he wanted to force Julian to come for her?

To face him alone?

Not now. Closing her eyes, she used the pain of her face to focus on even as she sank her teeth into her split lip. The aggravated injury grounded her further and granted her more lucidity.

She might be in chains, but she didn’t bow to any wolf. It was time to educate Monty that when she said no, she meant it.

Julian intended to leave immediately, but found his progress impeded by the cleanup of the remaining Volchitsa, then a very upset Chrystal. “I want to help.”

Schooling himself on patience, he lowered his cell phone. He’d memorized the registration number on the helicopter, then sent it to all of his contacts. They were tracking where it came from, and where it might have gone. Southwest left too much open territory.

The cut on her neck hadn’t healed fully, though it had already begun to knit back together. Omegas didn’t always heal as well as other wolves. Flanking her was her mate. His injuries had been far more serious. The healer had wanted him to stay put, but he refused to be away from Chrystal—and Chrystal, apparently, wanted to talk to him.

“You should rest,” Julian told her, girding his voice to keep his tone even. The armor, which shielded him from the rest of the world, had been dented severely, but it was still functional. “You should both rest.”

“That bastard took Dallas.” The language coming out of her shouldn’t make him want to laugh, but for the first time in the hours since the helicopter disappeared, he smiled. Chrystal’s eyes narrowed, and she growled. “You’re happy about it?”

“Sweetheart,” Dylan murmured as he slipped a hand around her nape. “Easy.”

“I’m not remotely happy about your mother being taken by Arkady, however,” he said, then held up a hand silencing Dylan as well as Chrystal. “Your mother surrendered herself to save you. Do you really think she’d be pleased if I put you back in harm’s way?”

No way in hell Julian planned on taking her. If it meant getting the healer to knock her and her mate out, he would. Mason wouldn’t object—if he did, too damn bad.

“I just got her back. I don’t want to lose her again.” Tears welled into Chrystal’s eyes. “I should have fought back more, but when they tried to shoot Dylan...”

Julian glanced at the whelp. The other man shook his head. “Just grazed me. It was the bastard with the metal rod who tried to cave my skull in. I’ll live.” He glanced at his mate. “Julian is right; you need to stay here. We have no idea where she was taken, and Julian has every Enforcer in the country on the lookout. We’ve notified the other packs…”

“So what? You’ve all been looking for the Volchitsa for months, and you couldn’t find them. We didn’t even know about them working for this Arkady, and you think you’re going to be able to find Dallas before he kills her?”

“First,” Julian said, firming his voice and capturing her gaze. Her gifts never seemed to affect him as it did the others. Though, truthfully, she’d developed a spine over the course of their acquaintance, so perhaps his flaw was his stubbornness. “You will stop panicking. It is good for no one. Second, you will tend to your injuries and to your mate, then you will see to your pack. There were many wounded today, and your alpha was in the middle of it all—fighting for you. Fighting for your mother.” Fighting for Julian. But he didn’t need to list that off for her.

Chrystal’s lower lip trembled, but the tears in her eyes didn’t fall. They remained pure gold, though, as he had both her attention and that of her wolf.

“Your mother was out here fighting, too. You are the only thing she would tear the world apart for. She went into those shackles willingly…to save you. Let her do that and trust me. I will find her.”

Sniffling once, Chrystal wiped at her face, then she gave him a look so filled with challenge, his wolf rose on point. “You couldn’t find her for more than twenty years until she wanted to be found. What makes you the expert this time?”

“Chrystal.” Reprimand rang in Mason’s tone as he approached, but Julian shook his head.

“Let her ask the question. She’s not wrong.” The ferocity she displayed—it was her mother. A gentler, more innocent version of her, but she reminded him of Dallas when Dallas first arrived in California. The world was her oyster, and she would live her life how she damn well pleased.

“Why you? You told me once you wanted to kill her. That you thought about killing me.” The statement cut him, but he couldn’t deny the veracity. Tension wound through Dylan, but neither he nor Mason stepped in. “So why are you the best person? You convince me that you care enough to find her and bring her home, then I’ll do as you ask.”

His little girl wasn’t a little girl. She’d grown into a fantastic little wolf, impulsive and a little reckless like her mother, but with a huge heart. Bigger than either of her parents ever possessed. “Because I love her.”

No one moved. Chrystal blinked, and a single teardrop escaped. “What?”

“I love her.” He repeated the phrase, and his wolf stretched. It was about damn time he admitted it. “I would have traded places with her if the bastard would have let me. And how am I going to find her? When I couldn’t all these years?”

She nodded, then swiped away another tear. Mason stared at him, his expression inscrutable but Julian didn’t need it to know he was starting to put the pieces together. “How?”

“Easy,” he said, confidence growing with every word he spoke. “The person who took your mother is nowhere near as talented as she is.”

With a small smile, Chrystal released a humorless laugh. “Dallas is really smart.”

“Yes she is. You got that from her.” The urge to push the dark hair away from her face raked through him, but he didn’t. Not yet. He was still just the Chief Enforcer. The boogeyman who scared her. When he brought her mother home, maybe it would help build the bridge he could cross from threat to friend—then they could work on family.

“If you love her…why were you hunting her?” The question put him publicly on the spot.

He no longer cared. “Because I wanted to win her back, and I don’t know how to do that anymore, but I won’t give up.”

Wearing a small frown, Chrystal locked her gaze on his, searching. Though it was never in his nature to allow vulnerability, he let her. Whatever she found, she must have approved, because she threw her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. Uncertain, he glanced at Dylan who just chuckled and shook his head. Carefully, Julian returned the embrace, filling his lungs with her scent. She carried no mark of his—though beneath it all, he could still scent a hint of Dallas beneath her own.

No, she possessed a scent unique to her with elements of her mate, and her pack.

“Whatever you do, after you find her,” Chrystal said, her tone intense as her earlier expression. “Don’t try to win her. She’s not a prize. She’s a person. She’s given up a lot for me, and I don’t know all the whys behind it, but I want the chance to find out. Maybe if you both stop trying to control everything, maybe if you can surrender to her and her to you, then you can both be happy.” Pulling away, Chrystal put a hand on each of his biceps. “And if you have trouble convincing her, you bring her to me and I’ll talk until she has no choice but to give in.”

Laughter escaped him, because he believed her. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, go and rest. Take care of Dylan. Take care of you.” He touched a finger to the underside of her chin. “I will get your mother.”

It had been the right thing to say. She gave him another hug, then flitted away with her mate’s arm wrapped around her. When they were out of sight, he glanced at Mason.

The Willow Bend alpha stared at him, the speculation in his eyes undeniable. “Chrystal’s yours, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” he said, turning and locking gazes with him. “That stays between us, am I clear?”

“Giving the orders, are we?” No heat marked Mason’s words. After the battle, they’d all been running on adrenaline and quiet fury.

“On this subject? Yes, I am. Don’t fuck with me on this.” Dealing with alphas had been his job for years. He’d seen good ones and he’d seen bad ones. Mason belonged in the former category.

Julian’s phone rang, and he put it to his ear. “Talk to me.”

“The helicopter registry was for a small airport in Northern Illinois.” Hadley didn’t bother with pleasantries. Thank God. “The helicopter was returned about two and a half hours after the attack.”

He didn’t curse. She wouldn’t sound so excited if that was all she had.

“I sent Angus, because I’m still in Washington. Angus just called me back. He got a look at the security cameras at the airport. They offloaded a trunk from the helicopter—plenty large enough to carry Dallas in it. They carried the trunk to a small plane and, yes, he did get the serial numbers. We’re running flight plans right now. We have it narrowed to Colorado, not sure which airport yet.” Colorado.

An image flashed through Julian’s mind. A log cabin on a remote range, isolated. Fuck. “I know where.” Every instinct in him screamed and his wolf was ready. They needed to go. There were only two ways into that cabin—flying in and overland hike.

“Don’t hang up,” Hadley ordered. “I have one more piece of information you need to know.”

“Then spit it out.” It took physical restraint not to crush the phone in his hand.

“Angus recognized your Montague Arkady—Monty’s really is first name, but the Arkady bit is an alias. He’s Montague Stafford, fourth Earl of something weird. The point is, he’s also an alpha.”

“An alpha?” He didn’t give a rat’s ass about his name. He was about to be the dead Earl of something weird.

“Yeah, most of his pack either deserted or died. It was some kind of scandal like when God was a boy.”

“Seventy odd years ago?” He barely recalled the fight in Rome. It hadn’t been one of his fondest memories. Five full-grown male wolves assaulting a scrawny kid wasn’t a fair fight, either.

“Yeah, it’s like World War II era crap. Anyway, the point is, the pack was decimated when they lost their alpha and several key lieutenants during the war. The alpha’s family went bankrupt, and a huge section of their territory was absorbed by other packs. They have like a sliver of land and only got by on charity, but the current alpha is the old alpha’s son. This putz of an Earl has apparently been investing steadily for years and amassed quite a fortune. The scandal is he kept turning out his own wolves, and he has maybe a handful that even follow him anymore.”

“Good work,” he said, owing her something. “Get in touch with Salvatore and Margo. Tell them what you told me. I want this ended. If he has even a single pack member willing to continue this vendetta, it needs to end.”

“Dude, I will so go to England for you.” In the background behind her, John spoke in quiet murmurs. “Oh, that’s right,” Hadley continued. “We pulled the rest of the Volchitsa landing spots from our guests. One of them was Three Rivers. They were trading on a past relationship with Luciana. They swore she had no idea what they were up to, but after we blockaded the town, they had to find other ways in.”

“Whatever,” Julian said. “We’ll deal with her later. I’m going.”

“Do you want backup?” The question came from both Hadley and John.

“Not this time. This is my fight. I know what he wants.” And why he took Dallas. Disconnecting the call, he met Mason’s level stare. “I don’t have to tell you to stay out of it and not tell Chrystal, do I?”

“Nope. I got it. Go—get your Rogue back. Then we’ll deal with Three Rivers, and Julian? You know we’re all going to need to talk about this, right?”

“I don’t care.” For the first time in his life, he meant that. He’d needed the laws after the war. He’d needed the structure and the routine.

Now? Now all he needed was Dallas.

“Good hunting,” Mason said, with a flick of a salute, but Julian was already on the move. His plane was at the Willow Bend field. From there, he could head to Colorado—then overland to William’s old place. It was the best hiding spot in the country, the only other wolf who knew about it was Julian.

I’m coming Dallas. Stay alive.

Her death was not an option.