Bret wasn’t used to sitting at a bar that wasn’t his own, and he knew he was stalling on the return trip from the pack house. It had been a long time since he had been interested in a woman, and he honestly didn't know how to handle it. His bear didn't have any such problem, but go figure. The beast never had doubts or fears.

Ours.

At the growled claim of possession that flashed through his mind, he froze. Thinking he has fallen for her was one thing, but mate?

You are not helping my frame of mind, he growled back.

She's ours. I don't see what the problem is.

Sometimes Bret really hated having arguments with his bear. He never won against the animal’s logic.

Ignoring him, Bret took another swig of his beer and stood up, tossing a few bills on the scarred counter. The bar wasn't packed, unlike his own, and with that in mind, it was time to return and face her—face his feelings and his bear’s insistence that she was the one they wanted.

He walked out of the bar, and within seconds, he was drenched. Standing in the rain for a moment, he shook his head and headed for his truck.

The ride home was slow going, as the rain, the first downpour in months, made visibility difficult, and the bright lights behind him didn’t help. Bret’s eyes narrowed on those lights, not taking anything for granted. With everything going on, he was surprised the son of a bitch hadn’t tried anything before then.

Hands tightening on the wheel, he reached over and pulled his pistol from the glove compartment, sitting it in his lap. It was late, after two in the morning, but he hadn’t managed to get out of meeting with Travis, and considering his Alpha wasn’t pleased with Nikki or her refusal to hide out at the pack house, he hadn’t had a choice.

Besides, he had figured it would give him a chance to reflect on his growing feelings for the blasted woman, a woman he barely knew.

He put those thoughts on the back burner as the lights of the vehicle behind him crept closer. He slowed to see if they would go around him, but they kept pace.

Okay, asshole. You want to play? Let's play.

The coarse hair of his bear broke through his facial skin, and his claws grew just as his vision sharpened. The senses of his bear heightened his human abilities, making it easier to see past the thick curtain of rain that continued to hammer his drive back toward town.

Suddenly, the vehicle rammed him just as another pair of lights swerved to his right. He jerked the wheel to the left as the first bullet hit his passenger side window.

Ducking, he hit the gas, swerving back onto the blacktop. Bullets flew, shattering his windshield and back window. Swerving again, his muscles in his arms bunched with the effort to control the vehicle, and with the butt of his pistol, he knocked the pieces of glass out of the way in front of him. Taking aim, he fired just as another ram from behind had him jerking forward, his shot going wild as his seat belt halted the forward motion of his body.

Grunting, it took all his strength to keep the truck on the road. If it wasn’t for his current situation, the downpour of rain would have been a welcomed relief from the humidity and drought plaguing the state.

His claws slicing through his knuckles shredded the fabric of his wheel as he tightened his grip more. He didn’t bother to glance down at his gage. The night passed in a blur as his foot pressed the gas against the floorboard. He didn’t know what the fuck they were driving, but his truck couldn’t keep up. Another ram sent his truck off the road, and he flew.

Fuck!

Just as the cuss word crossed his mind, the front end of his truck hit the ground, but it wasn’t enough to keep his tires straight. He felt himself roll and then...nothing…

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but the dim voices drew him back to the land of the living. Groaning, he came to, and through the blood running down his face into his eyes, he spied the lights coming toward him, the motion letting him know the bastards were on foot.

His truck on its side, the spinning tires let him know it hadn’t been a long blackout. With a push and part of his bear’s strength, the door of his totaled truck flew open, and he released the seat belt.

Almost falling, he caught himself on the broken glass of his door window and pulled himself up and out just as the voices got closer. Jumping to the ground, he quickly shifted and took off for the trees a few yards away.

Ducking behind the first tree, he watched as the dark shadows of the bastards surrounded his truck, their exclamations of his disappearing reaching his ears.

“What the fuck do you mean he's not there?”

“Just what I said! The truck is empty!”

“Where the fuck could he go that fast? Spread out, damn it! Search the woods, and find him!”

If it hadn't been dark and raining, they would have seen his large body behind the tree, but thanks to the concealment, he was at the advantage.

As he turned to disappear in the woods, the two bastards coming closer, a shrill ring broke the silence.

“Yeah? The woman’s left? Good. Get her. We’re on our way!”

Bret froze, terror slicing through him. They were talking about Nikki. It was the only logical explanation.

Son of a bitch!

Why the fuck did she leave the apartment?

And where the hell was Zach?

Nikki made it to the bus stop, but the bitter taste of fear tightened her throat. Bret had insisted on paying her a wage, so she figured she had enough money to take the train as far away as possible, and that was the plan.

She refused to put anyone else in danger. They didn't know what he was fully capable of, but she did. The pictures had been a clear threat—a threat she wasn't going to ignore.

The dark pressed in on her as she stood on the platform, a small bag at her feet. She hadn’t had much but a few clothes Sam had bought her.

She looked around, her eyes alert for any movement. The train wasn't due for another hour, and the station was deserted. She sat on the bench at the edge of the platform, tense, her body straight as a board, stiff. Heart pounding, she waited.

She felt the eyes, felt herself being watched, and her breathing stuttered, ragged, her chest moving fast.

Please hurry, she begged silently, just wanting to get as far away as possible.

She had left a note back at the apartment on the bed so Bret or the pack didn’t think she had been kidnapped, but it was the only way. They had already killed her brother. No one. She wasn’t letting anyone else die because of her.

Choking back a sob, tears burned her eyes just as a light rain fell.

Suddenly, she felt it.

Something dug in her back, and she squeaked just as a picture from a gloved hand came around her shoulder. The tears fell harder as she saw Travis’s family smiling in the courtyard, the baby in Vanessa’s arms. It had to be recent. They looked so happy...

“Come quietly, or they die,” the dark growl said in her ear.

Nodding, she stood up, her bag forgotten, and the gun pushed her forward off the platform and toward a black car parked at the curb a few feet away.

“You’ve caused the boss a lot of problems.”

Thrust into the back seat, she didn’t bother to answer as she caught herself from falling to the floorboard. Straightening and sitting up, the man got in the passenger seat, and dark eyes met hers in the mirror just as the doors locked.

Gulping, she closed her eyes. She was such a fool. Every decision she made only made everything worse.

She lost track of time, of where they were. But she knew where they were going, and once inside the mansion, she wouldn’t make it out alive. The two men were driving her to her death.

The dispassionate stares looking straight ahead weren’t going to help her. They worked for her husband and his sick, twisted agenda.

Her shoulders slumped as defeat overwhelmed her. Bret flashed across her mind, his smiling eyes and gentleness. His large frame was deceptive. He looked rough and mean, but he was actually a loving man, showing her in more ways than she could count that he was different, that he would never hurt her. She hadn’t admitted it to herself, but his distance over the past week had actually hurt her.

She hadn’t blamed him though. She had more than the normal baggage of a damaged woman, more than most men could have handled. Her own brother had tried to save her, tried to handle it, but it had ended up killing him.

Maybe this is best. No one else has to die because of me.

They pulled up to the dock and the private boat that floated gently in the water, and her throat went dry. In minutes, they were on board and coasting to the small island Edward owned, returning back to the hell from which she had so briefly escaped.

Within an hour, the car was approaching the large gate at the entrance, and she straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

They pulled in and stopped at the gate. The driver rolled down his window to push the talk button to be let in, and everything after that was a blur.

A thick arm entered the window, and a strangled scream erupted. Glass broke from the other side as a gunshot split the air. Her door opened, and she stared up at Bret’s furious face.

Fascinated, she couldn’t breathe. She saw the coarse hair covering his handsome face, his shredded shirt revealing the bulk muscles of his animal. At the moment, he was half man and half bear, but her fear was gone.

“Bret,” she whispered, more thankful than ever before to see him.

He didn’t answer her as he pulled her out of the back seat.

“Let’s go, Travis!” he yelled over his shoulder.

Travis jumped in the driver’s seat of a truck as Bret pushed her into the middle of the bucket seat before getting in beside her. The door hadn’t even closed yet as Travis hit the gas.

The truck jerked, tires squealing as he did a U-turn in the middle of the street, heading away from the mansion. Nikki started to turn and look behind her, but Bret’s dark growl stopped her.

“Don’t.”

She obeyed more out of habit and turned back around, taking his advice that it was something she didn’t want to see.

Feeling something wet on her face, she lifted her hand, almost in a daze, and pulled her fingers away.

Blood. She was covered in blood. She stared down at the blood coating her skin as thick fingers with bloody claws covered her hand.

“It’s okay. They deserved to die,” Bret growled.

She looked up into his eyes and saw the rage still visible, but buried beneath the rage was something she hadn’t expected to see.

Fear.

For her, she realized, shocked.

Bret dropped her hand and faced forward, his hairy face hard.

She watched, mesmerized as the coarse hair retreated, revealing his skin once more. The bulk of muscles that had shredded his shirt thinned to reveal the fine muscles of the man, leaving him in a tattered shirt and ripped jeans.

No one spoke. The silence was thick and tense as the nightclub came into view. Travis parked in the back in front of the stairs, and she saw Zach on the porch, his glare aimed at her.

Well, damn.

She must have muttered it instead of only thinking it because as Bret opened the passenger door, he finally spoke, his words directed at her.

“Yeah, he’s pissed.” Bret turned away sharply without looking at her and marched toward the stairs.