Terrified of Serena and her Hellhounds discovering she had escaped because of some sort of trigger given off by the mark on her hand, Odessa kept to the shelter of the trees as she made her way toward the house. She figured getting back there was her best hope of finding one, or all of the brotherhood. Even, possibly, getting back to Lowell. Her heart gave a hopeful bound at the thought. Reality swiftly kicked in at the memory of him crumpling to his knees following the blow to his head.

What did you do to him, Serena? She knew Lowell and his fellow brotherhood members had been granted a favor by the goddess during the fight against Fenrir when she allowed them to shift away from the light of the midnight sun. But that ability came at a price. It meant they were vulnerable. Lowell was susceptible to the same dangers as other werewolves. He could be killed by a silver bullet or blade followed by burning or decapitation. Her thoughts skittered wildly away from those images. I can’t be too late. I can’t have found the man I love only to lose him this way.

She was scared to move too fast. Her senses were on high alert and every sound appeared magnified. Every rustling leaf had acquired the same consequence as a bear crashing through the undergrowth, every light breeze felt like an attacker sneaking up behind her and breathing on the back of her neck.

As she reached the house that was farthest from her mother’s she paused. Had she really heard a faint groan, or was her overactive imagination playing yet another trick? She paused, straining to catch any unusual sounds. There! She hadn’t imagined it. It was coming from the crawl space beneath the front porch of the house.

Odessa bit her lip. Her first impulse was to investigate, but she was afraid it might be a trap. Instinct told her Serena was less about subtlety and more about confrontation. Besides, she believes I’m still stuck at the bottom of that well, so why would she need to set a trap? As these thoughts were flashing through her mind, one other was competing for her attention. It could be Lowell.

That was the clincher. If there was the remotest possibility Lowell was under that porch and he needed her, Odessa wasn’t walking away. Dropping to her knees, she ducked low so she could slither the top half of her body into the crawl space. Her mother’s dire warnings about the creatures that lurked in dark spaces chose that moment to surface and she banished them with difficulty.

“Lowell?” she whispered into the utter blackness.

There was no response, but the smell that greeted her told its own story. Odessa recoiled, placing her hand over her nose and mouth. Her reaction to silver was even stronger than most of her kind. Unlike town-and city-dwelling werewolves, she hadn’t been exposed to silver as she was growing up. Living here in the forest, she hadn’t had the chance to develop the skill of covering up her aversion. Consequently, just a whiff of its foul odor made her gag. If a woman in the same room was wearing silver jewelry, Odessa would have to spray perfume on a Kleenex and hold it to her nose. If she was at a party where a number of people were wearing the obnoxious element, she had to leave the room at regular intervals so she could draw deep, cleansing breaths of air. To Odessa, silver smelled of death. It smelled like someone had mixed ammonia and verdigris with all the worst bodily emissions.

“Shit.” Yeah, silver smelled a lot like that, too. She whispered the word into the darkness.

The tiniest of movements came back at her. It was enough for her to push on past the eye-watering stench. Reaching out a hand—praying the source of the movement was of the human or lycanthrope rather than the snake or rat variety—she groped around in the darkness. And encountered a foot. A foot that moved weakly in response to her touch. By its size, she judged it to be a man’s foot.

Hauling herself farther inside the crawl space, her stomach heaving at the smell, she followed one of the feet upward and found the foot led to a bare leg, a towel-covered lower body, and a naked chest. She was intimate enough with Lowell to know this wasn’t him. Her initial lurch of disappointment gave way to a new realization. The towel meant this was one of the other brotherhood members. As her hand continued on upward, it began to tingle and a curious sluggishness assailed her limbs. She guessed she was getting closer to the source of the silver. She was right. As her fingertips lightly brushed the man’s head her hand burned as though she’d placed it in an open fire and the shock waves shot all the way up her arm.

Up on that ridge, Serena’s Siberian helpers had struck Lowell over the head with a rock then placed a silver-embroidered cloth over his head. That must be what she was touching now.

“Wait here.” Even as she said them, she appreciated the foolishness of the words. The helpless man she was talking to was unable to go anywhere. His head was encased in the most poisonous substance known to a werewolf.

Wriggling back out of the cramped space, Odessa quickly found a short forked stick. Making her way back under the crawl space again, she groped her way along the man’s body until she reached his shoulder. Then, using the stick in place of her hand, she hooked it under the silver cloth and flicked it aside. To her relief, the strategy worked and she felt the man next to her begin to move. He jerked convulsively, then sat up.

“What the hell?” It was Sebastian’s voice.

“It’s Odessa. We are under the porch of one of the houses. You had a silver cloth over your head.”

“I remember now. Bastards came up behind us. Where’s Vigo?”

Odessa could still smell the silver cloth and feel its effects, but she slithered farther into the low space, feeling her way. Sure enough, she soon encountered a solid object. “He’s here.”

Hopeful, she continued searching, but there was no sign of Lowell. There were only two brotherhood members stowed under this porch. Odessa’s heart sank. Serena had taken Lowell somewhere else.

Unlike Sebastian, Vigo was completely unconscious. Even when they removed the cloth from his head, Odessa and Sebastian had to drag him out from under the porch. It was no easy task and by the time they had him fully out in the open, the three of them were grimy, sweaty, and panting.

“How did they get you under there?” Odessa asked, eying the two muscular men. It had been difficult enough getting them out.

Sebastian’s lips thinned. “Chastel.” It seemed to be the answer to every question that involved the performance of a seemingly impossible feat.

“Let’s find the others.”

* * *

Serena, Chastel, and their companions passed within a few yards of the crouching brotherhood members. They were so high on their power-snatching plans that they didn’t notice. Lowell watched as they made their way into one of the derelict houses. Clearly they had set up camp there. He was just about to get to his feet when another sound reached his ears. The faintest hint of branches breaking underfoot. Just how many people were out and about in this remote forest on this particular night?

His heart gave a joyful leap as he caught a hint of Odessa’s scent. Beside him Samson made a low, rumbling sound. “Sebastian and Vigo are close.”

Sure enough, seconds later, the three of them came briefly into view in the moonlight. With Sebastian and Vigo looming protectively over Odessa, they were making their way toward Emina’s house.

Over here, to your right.

Sebastian’s head jerked abruptly round as he heard the telepathic message. He murmured a few words to his companions and, switching direction, they made their way across to join Lowell and the others.

Lowell gazed at Odessa in wonder. She was almost unrecognizable under a thick layer of grime. Her hair was wild, her hands and feet scratched and bloodied. Her lip was split and there was dried blood mingled with the dirt on her face. She had never looked more beautiful.

She didn’t allow him more than a few seconds of gazing before she hurled herself into his arms, bursting into noisy tears. Since Serena and her henchmen were still nearby, he decided the best way to silence her would be to kiss her, in the interests of ensuring Odessa’s crying didn’t draw attention to the group. And ensuring his own sanity remained intact because he would go mad if he didn’t reassure himself that she was real . . . and holding her in his arms, kissing her, murmuring her name—over and over—seemed to be the only way of doing that.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, when he raised his head and smoothed her hair back from her face. “I don’t do crying.”

“Of course you don’t.” He smiled down at her, aware that the others had faded tactfully into the forest.

“I don’t,” she insisted. “It’s just that I didn’t know what had happened to you and”—she drew a deep breath—“I love you so much.”

His arms tightened around her. “Say that again.”

“I didn’t know what had happened to you.”

He growled. “Not that bit.”

“I love you so much? It’s true. I swore if I ever got out of that well I would tell you.”

“You were in a well?”

She nodded. “It’s a long story.”

“There are a few of those, and the night isn’t over yet.” He tilted her chin so the moonlight turned her eyes to clear blue chips of ice. “But for now the most important thing is that I love you, too, my beautiful Siberian.”

“Kiss me again before we find Serena and kill her.”

“Are you sure kissing doesn’t hurt your lip?”

“Not kissing me might hurt other parts of your body.”

“In that case . . .” Lowell obliged with such enthusiasm it was some minutes before they joined the others. “Where is your mother?” he asked.

“She is still in the well from which I escaped,” Odessa said. “I know it seems harsh, but for now I think that is the safest place for her. I don’t want her caught up in any fighting. She would be the weakest person, and from what you have told me of Chastel, he would exploit that cruelly.”

Lowell could tell from her expression what the decision to leave her mother in that cold, dark place had cost her. He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “As soon as we have dealt with Serena and Chastel, we will free Emina.”

The group huddled together as Lowell gave his orders. “From what we’ve seen there are Serena, Chastel and three others. Those three look like Siberians, but that could be another of Chastel’s illusions. If they are Siberians, we are up against four werewolves plus Chastel. He is our problem. We have no idea what tricks he has up his sleeve.”

“And we don’t know if there are other Siberians hidden away somewhere,” Samson said. “Plus, we heard Chastel talking about his Hellhounds.”

“Exactly. We have to be prepared for anything. Our first task has to be to take out Chastel. He has a reputation for being a coward. If we corner him, he’s likely to run.” Lowell’s expression was grim. “So we don’t give him a chance to run.”

“We go in hard?” Wilder sounded hopeful.

“Hard and fast.” Lowell looked around the group. “You don’t need me to tell you what to do. Odessa, do you want to be part of this?”

Her face reflected the same determination as the rest of the group. “Try and stop me.”

“Then let’s take these bastards out.”

* * *

Odessa guessed this was not the time to confess that she had never fought as a werewolf. Oh, she had taken part in combat exercises with her father’s Siberian fighters, but she had never faced another werewolf and drawn blood using her teeth and claws. Could she do this? She summoned up an image of Serena’s smile, and pictured her mother waiting patiently at the bottom of that well. Hell, yeah, just let me get my teeth near that bitch.

Closing her eyes, she sought the animal within. She focused her mind, feeling the familiar tug of her inner wolf. Around her, the Arctics completed their own transformation, yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight, white coats vivid in the darkness. Odessa’s own black fur made her almost invisible in comparison. The werewolves stretched their altered muscles before dropping to all fours and crouching low, teeth bared in readiness for the attack.

They moved effortlessly through the forest, leaping over logs and swerving between the trees, blending in with their surroundings. The Siberian female relished the dank scent of mud and the feel of wet leaves beneath her paws. The night breeze whipped against her face, bringing the scents of the woodland to life. This was her place, her world.

When the eight werewolves burst into the derelict house, they used the front and back doors at the same time, catching the occupants unawares. There was a flurry of movement as Serena and her own werewolf companions realized what was happening. Even before they started to shift, the snarls and howls of the invading werewolves rent the air, heightening the sense of menace.

The female knew the focus. Find Chastel.

It was obvious right from the start that wasn’t going to be easy. Within minutes every occupant of the house had shifted. There were no remaining humans. She heard Lowell snarl in frustration. More Chastel sorcery? Had he disguised himself as a werewolf? Or had the bounty hunter outwitted them and already left?

The first thing that was obvious was that that Serena had more Siberian bodyguards than the three they had seen. It was unclear how many, but, within the cramped space, the Arctics were outnumbered. There was no time for questions, no time for anything except action. While concentrating on her own fight, working her way relentlessly toward Serena, Odessa’s human retained an awareness of what was happening around her.

Lowell fought like a demon. With a furious snarl, he lunged at the first Siberian to approach the Arctics. They rolled together across the hardwood floor, fighting for dominance. Lowell’s claws ripped into the tender skin of the other wolf’s abdomen, causing the animal to yelp as the sharp talons sliced through fur and flesh. The Arctic werewolf flung his opponent across the room, sending up a cloud of dust. Lightning fast, Lowell lunged, throwing himself on top of the Siberian. The other wolf tried to fight back, desperate to regain a measure of control. It was a futile attempt. The Arctic pushed down hard on his rib cage. The sound of bones crunching under pressure was sickening. The Siberian drew back its teeth and a howl of rage echoed through the house.

Lowell gave a single warning bark. Back off. It was a clear message. He would allow the wolf to live if it stayed out of the rest of the fight. The wolf growled in response.

The brotherhood didn’t give second chances. Lowering his snout to the other wolf’s throat, Lowell bared his giant canines. Using his teeth swiftly and efficiently to tear into the exposed flesh of the other wolf’s throat, he ripped into muscle. Blood flew in an arc and splattered up the wall. Odessa saw Lowell raise his head and watch for the moment when the life left the other wolf’s eyes. It wasn’t pleasant. But it was quick. One down.

Nudging the lifeless body aside, Lowell moved onto the next attack. Rearing up on his hind legs, he caught another werewolf and wrestled it to the ground, his claws slicing through the thick fur. Snarls sounded nearby as more werewolves descended upon them. A few Hellhounds joined the fray, but humans had no place in this arena. The brotherhood was a fighting machine. They might be outnumbered, but the Arctic werewolves plowed relentlessly into their opponents, slicing and clawing until the room began to resemble a scene from a horror movie.

Odessa kept moving, allowing the carnage to take place around her, keeping her focus on Serena. The other female Siberian was hanging back, remaining in a corner near the door, allowing her guards to do all the work. You can’t hide from me. You are mine.

Around her the fight continued. Samson caught an attacking wolf in midair, a sickening snap filling the room as his teeth closed on its neck. He cast its body aside like a limp rag doll. Jenny moved like a whirlwind, wrestling another werewolf to the floor and scuffling with it. When she lifted her head, her jaw dripped blood and her victim lay lifeless at her feet. Wilder and Madden worked like a tag team, harrying their opponents, confusing them until they didn’t know where the next snap of teeth or swipe of claws was coming from. Vigo had a Siberian werewolf by the hind leg and was dragging it across the room, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. As Odessa passed Sebastian, a werewolf landed on his back and he shook it off with a furious howl. The Hellhounds were in retreat, scattering and running for the doors, leaving the werewolves to fight it out. It seemed safe to say this was already a win for Team Arctic.

When Odessa reached her quarry, Serena crouched low, drawing back her teeth in a snarl. She made a move toward the door, and Odessa lunged, blocking her exit and pinning her down on her back. You want my place as leader? Stay and fight for it.

Serena’s agonized whine sliced through the air and her long talons dug into Odessa’s side as she attempted to throw her off. Odessa extended her own claws in response. She swiped at Serena, slashing down the other werewolf’s face. Blood spewed out of Serena’s open mouth. A ripple of triumph swept through Odessa as she saw fear flicker in the depths of her opponent’s eyes. She used it to her advantage, gouging again.

With a surge of strength, Serena pulled herself up on her hind legs, drawing Odessa with her in a deadly embrace. Teeth snapped and claws slashed as they writhed, both determined to gain the upper hand. Fighting to keep Serena’s fangs from closing on her neck, Odessa let out a yowl of pure agony as razor-sharp claws pierced the soft flesh of her belly.

There was a commotion in one corner of the room as the Siberian Vigo had been dragging by its hind leg transformed suddenly into Chastel. The realization hit Odessa. Chastel must have disguised himself as one of the werewolves, but, having decided the fight was too much for him, he now clearly wanted out. In human form once more, he appeared to be getting away. Lowell and Samson turned on him in one swift movement.

Distracted, Serena let out a howl of fury that her ally was deserting her. The interruption gave Odessa the advantage she needed. While Serena was preoccupied with what Chastel was doing, Odessa raised a paw and swiped it across the other werewolf’s face. Blood welled in a line down the center of Serena’s snout, spraying across both their faces. Seizing her chance, Odessa drove her opponent to the floor, pinning her down on her back once more.

Canines bared, she struck without hesitation, tearing deep into the flesh of Serena’s throat. The warm copper flavor of blood flooded her mouth, dripping down her chest as the werewolf beneath her struggled and thrashed. Odessa shook her head violently until she heard the loud crack of Serena’s neck breaking.