Darkness Unleashed

by McKenzie Hunter

  “I can say the same thing,” Ethan shot back, the sharp edge remaining in his voice.

  Cole seemed to enjoy his disdain. Once again, I drew his attention, and he leered at me for no other reason than to provoke Ethan, which he successfully did. Ethan was on him, face-to-face. Cole met his primal rage with a relaxed smile.

  “Ethan, you seem insecure. If she’s with you, my looking at her really shouldn’t bother you. After all, she’s yours. All I can do is look, right?”

  I hated the “yours” and “mine” they used so flippantly. It made me feel like property, not a person. But that was the least of my worries. Ethan’s anger had escalated and I didn’t see it ending well. The last thing we needed was infighting while trying to deal with everything else we were facing. Slipping between them, I placed my hands on Ethan’s waist and steered him back a few feet. He would have to get past me to get to Cole.

  “Go home, Cole. Your pack would be better served with you there, not here,” I said, keeping my focus on Ethan.

  Cole’s lips parted, but the words were lost. Does he think I enjoy his presence?

  After several moments, he finally spoke. “My pack will be best served knowing they won’t be exposed soon. I’m here to make sure it doesn’t happen.” He backed away, unconcerned with modesty. “The Red Blood has been aggressively following several members of the Midwest Pack. Instead of romantic evenings, perhaps you should be using that time ensuring we stay hidden. Do your job, Ethan.” And with that, Cole returned to the house.

  With a great deal of effort and a lot of coaxing from me, Ethan returned to his car instead of going after him. I wanted this to be over and Cole gone.

  “Let’s do the full moon at my house, not with the pack,” Ethan suggested as we drove away. I enjoyed the camaraderie of sharing the full moon with the pack—it promoted a connection I appreciated—but if Cole was there, I’d prefer to share it with just Ethan.

  CHAPTER 13

  If anyone had told me I’d feel an affinity for the full moon, I wouldn’t have believed them. Now it was different—it called, and I didn’t have a problem answering. The moon wouldn’t be full for hours, but I felt its presence as I drove to Ethan’s house with several boxes of my belongings stashed in my car. I was really moving in with him. Hours of debate last night had ended in a stalemate, with me agreeing to split my time between his home and mine. He would give me the key to his elusive office. The promise of having access to years of his research might have been the reason for my anticipation. I felt like the clear winner, even after agreeing to accept a job with Josh on a temporary basis.

  I had every intention of working for a day, enough to keep my end of the bargain, and then finding a different job. One brother at my house—or me at his—and the other at my job wasn’t a great idea.

  Glancing at the office key connected to my keychain, I grinned, thoroughly distracted by the prospect of the information I’d find. More about the Faeries and maybe even information about the Mouras, who were tasked with guarding the protective objects. I nearly crashed into the cars stopped in front of me. People were working on what looked like the battery. There was just enough space for me to get around them. I began to maneuver past but was immediately pinned in by another car. Andrew from the bar was driving it—this wasn’t a coincidence. I looked forward, preparing to ram my way through, only to find the barrel of a shotgun pointed at me.

  “Get out of the car!” the man holding the shotgun demanded, his voice as gruff and coarse as the rust-colored beard that covered his face. Stout, he was solid but not muscular and didn’t move like someone trained in combat or self-defense. He did, however, appear confident in his ability to use his weapon. “Get out of the car!” he barked again. When I didn’t move, he repositioned the gun to my head.

  His heart was too steady. He was calm, probably more than ready to use the shotgun. A man beside him held what looked like a tranquilizer gun. It was unsteady in his hand. His lack of confidence was likely due to his young age or inexperience. His snarled face didn’t match his warm, brown eyes that watched me with immense curiosity. His erratic heartbeat was distracting, and he was holding each breath for too long as if he warding off a panic attack. Determining who was more dangerous was difficult: the man who definitely knew how to use his gun or the young ash-blond guy whose nervousness might get me shot by accident.

  Debating whether my car could plow through to freedom in either direction, I looked in my rearview mirror. Andrew got out of the car, knife in hand, and took that decision away from me by stabbing the blade first into my rear left tire then into the right. He moved closer to the door. “Get out.” The man with the shotgun moved to the side, keeping the gun trained on me.

  I quickly thrust the door open, shoving it into Andrew and throwing him off-balance. I lunged at him and wrenched the knife out of his hand. My left hand caught him by the throat and the right held the blade under his chin. I pressed hard enough to draw blood, a warning that I wasn’t playing. “Drop the gun and the tranq,” I demanded.

  The scruffy man with the gun choked out a laugh. “I don’t care what you do to him. That guy’s too fuckin’ bossy in the first place. He’s the reason you’re alive, missy. When I see a wild animal, I kill it. And from my understanding, I got a wild animal in front of me.” He pulled back his lips in a cruel smile. “We’re about to prove that supernatural creatures exist. Our source says you’re a wolf, and dammit, seeing you move the way you do, I know something isn’t right with you.”

  “I’m not sure what delusion you’re under, but it’s going to get you arrested or killed.” I narrowed my eyes, tamping down my emotions as much as I could. The last thing I needed was for my wolf eyes to show.

  “I have a gun, you have a knife. Who do you think is likely to die?” he challenged, his finger steady on the trigger.

  “I’m not sure what delusional BS you’ve been fed, but you’re mistaken. Whatever you’re looking for, I can assure you, I’m not it.” My voice was steady as I pleaded my case. I couldn’t quite figure him out and didn’t know what approach to take. Denial was my best bet. “What do you know about your source?” I pressed the knife a little harder; Andrew lifted his head to avoid it going too deep.

  “I met him once and knew right away he wasn’t all there. You had to have sensed it, too,” I guessed.

  Mr. Shotgun kept an unwavering eye on me and the look of derision and revulsion didn’t falter either. What evidence had he seen that was so convincing? Was Dexter that persuasive? He was quite the provocateur; he’d convinced the previous Creed and others to help him with his assault against us, which had led to many of their deaths.

  “He’s many things, but he’s not crazy. I’ve heard rumors for years. I’ve seen a man run into the woods and a wolf come out. People thought I was crazy, seeing things, on drugs. I know what I saw. I can guarantee I’m seeing one now. We will prove it to everyone. People will know that animals are walking around pretending to be human.” The look he gave me made it clear he believed I was just an animal masquerading as a human, and he wanted to treat me as such.

  “You’re making a mistake you’ll live to regret,” I warned.

  The young man with the tranq gun was moving, trying to get a better shot. I kept stepping out of his line of sight, bringing Andrew with me as a shield.

  Mr. Shotgun cursed and groused, “I have to do everything.”

  My eyes went from the kid back to him. He dropped the shotgun, snatched a concealed tranq gun from his belt, and shot. The dart stabbed me in the arm. Another one in the leg. The medicine coursed through my body, numbing but not enough to take me down. We didn’t respond to medicine the way others did, but I couldn’t let him see that. He retrieved the shotgun, trigger-happy and looking for an excuse to kill. As I fell, Andrew turned out of my hold. He immediately knelt beside me and checked my pulse. “She’s alive.

  “You know I don’t really care.”

  “I can’t believe she turns into an animal. S
he doesn’t look like it.” A new voice, probably the younger man. I smelled various scents. I lay as still as possible, using my other senses to get an idea of where everyone was. I needed the man who’d shot me closer. He was the most dangerous one. The rest I could handle.

  “Remember what he said. They are deceptive-looking, like the man on trial. He doesn’t look like a killer, either,” Mr. Shotgun said from afar, voice eased. “Get her in the truck. You’ll see what she is in a few hours when the moon is full. Everyone will.”

  I couldn’t let them take me. But if I reacted they’d know the tranquilizer was ineffective, and they likely had more, enough to disable me. If I fought Andrew and the young man, I’d still have Mr. Shotgun to contend with. They just wanted to see me change, but I wasn’t about to let them. That’s the only thing that would work—proving them wrong. I hoped not changing would convince them were-animals didn’t exist.

  My arms and legs were secured with both zip ties and cuffs. They didn’t handle me all too gently, either, complaining I was heavier than I looked as they eased me into the car. After what I thought was twenty minutes of driving, they carried me down a flight of stairs. Eventually, I was resting on my back on a hard floor. The ties were cut off and the cuffs removed. I heard several voices. There were at least four people. Then a very familiar voice spoke—one that made it difficult not to jump up from my position and snap his neck.

  “I can’t believe you pulled it off,” Dexter said.

  “This one is a wolf,” said another strange voice close to me. His breath smelled like smoke and coffee, and I didn’t like the way he hovered over me. He brushed my hair away from my face. “She’s pretty. Very pretty.” When his hands brushed across my breast the first time, I thought it was an accident; the second time was definitely on purpose.

  “Yeah, but she’s a dog. Are you attracted to dogs?” asked Mr. Shotgun.

  “Right now, she’s a woman, Barry,” he said, tugging at my shirt inappropriately. As soon as he was close enough, I thrust my forehead into his nose. He yelped in pain. My next strike was to his throat, making it even harder for him to breathe. Tear-filled eyes distorted his vision, and he easily tumbled to the ground when I swept his leg from under him. I rolled to my feet, placed my foot on his upper arm, and twisted his forearm until I heard a crack.

  “Don’t touch me,” I gasped, moving away from the body when I heard the cocking of a gun.

  I was surprised to find Andrew was the person aiming it at me. “Thomas, get out of there.”

  Thomas whimpered, his arm secured against his body as he stumbled out of the cage they had put me in.

  “I told you they were strong and prepared to defend themselves. Whatever injuries you acquired, I’d say you deserved them,” Dexter taunted as Thomas stumbled away and lumbered up the stairs.

  Someone followed him, leaving six people in the room as far as I could tell. Everything still had a hazy filter on it, and I wondered what they’d injected me with. I had a feeling Dexter had something to do with it and its potency. I blinked several times to clear my vision.

  What would Thomas tell the nurses and doctors at the hospital? There was no way he’d tell them his arm had been broken by a woman he’d groped when he’d thought she’d been unconscious.

  My vision had cleared a great deal, but there was still a light fuzziness layered over everything. It could have been the drugs or my body’s response to fighting the moon. After a few more minutes, I got a better view of Andrew, who had moved away and was seated in a chair to my left. A surly-looking woman with dirty blonde hair whose scornful look pulled her lips into a thin line was perched on a stool next to him. She wasn’t unattractive, but the twisted look on her face made her appear harsh and bitter.

  “You think she’s a werewolf?” she asked skeptically. Her dark blue eyes bored into me, summing me up and quickly dismissing the idea that I was a predator.

  “Don’t let her appearance fool you,” Andrew asserted in a low voice. His lips lifted into a faint smile. “Your eyes. At the bar, they did the same thing as Steven’s did in the video.”

  He moved from the chair, taking a detour to a camera pointed at me before coming toward me. “And in an hour, no one will dare mock me when I bring up werewolves,” he said through tightly clenched teeth.

  “They’ll be visiting you in prison,” I shot back, walking around the small cage. “You drugged me, kidnapped me, and locked me in a cage. How exactly do you plan to get out of this?” Then I looked at Dexter. His smug look made me want to grab him and smash his face against the bars.

  “Do you think people will even consider arresting me once they find out what you are? After tonight, people will pay us bounties to capture more of you.”

  “Drew,” the woman said in a cool, commanding voice. “You need to calm down. Five years you’ve been at this without success. I really hope you’re right this time.”

  “Without success! We had a chance for success but you let him go.”

  “The full moon came and went and nothing happened. I believe you, but I won’t go to prison for you. We were lucky nothing came of it.” His friend was a reluctant supporter. She’d probably known him so long that it was hard for her to believe he was crazy enough to think that people turned into animals when the moon was full. Maybe they’d captured a were-animal, but a Felidae who wasn’t forced to change until Mercury rose.

  Andrew moved even closer to the cage, but he stayed out of arm’s reach. He walked around it, assessing me like the animal he thought I was. “Do it again,” he said. “Do it again!”

  A smile tugged at my lips. “Do what?” I inquired docilely.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “What, being locked in a cage?” I shook my head. “But I guess you’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

  “Not the cage. When you change into a wolf. Does it hurt? Is it true you heal faster? Are your senses heightened?” He knelt and pulled a knife from an ankle sheath. “If I cut you, how long will it take to heal?”

  I moved away from the bars, feigning intense fear.

  “Don’t you dare,” the woman commanded. Andrew looked over his shoulder at her, calmly, and reclaimed his seat next to her.

  The situation was out of control, and I had Dexter to blame for it. I started to count backward from a hundred and thought of anything that would help me control my anger. My thirst for revenge was sweeping through me like a tsunami, and I couldn’t give in to it.

  Dexter could obviously sense my rage and it amused him. A deviant smile curled his lips. I glared at the person responsible for my imprisonment.

  I surveyed the room. Andrew had four co-conspirators. Barry, Mr. Shotgun, was a believer; I couldn’t sway him. The two leaning against a wall seemed on the edge between hope and skepticism. And the blonde woman would have to see me turn into a wolf to believe. I would make sure she didn’t. She struck me as the type who could convince the others it was all fantasy.

  “I will admit, Dexter, you have a way of convincing people to do things that will ultimately get them jailed or worse.” I moved my attention to the others. “Did Dexter tell you how he knows me?” I asked and stepped back, easing into an unassuming manner and giving them a full view of me. The woman looked more unconvinced that I was a vicious predator, and for the first time, I appreciated how innocuous and meek I looked to others. Chris often said it was my wide doe eyes, so I widened them as much as I could. I probably looked like a Blythe doll. “He’s convinced you that werewolves exist. Did he tell you how he knows me?”

  I had their full attention and hoped any doubt they possessed had intensified. “He was convinced he could make were-animals, and he tried.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but he’d have to convince them otherwise. He knew me, and there was no doubt about that. “My friend was one of his victims. We rescued her, but we couldn’t rescue the other people he’d experimented on. She’ll never be the same.” There was some truth to that. Kelly would never be the same—she
was a were-animal now.

  Dexter attempted to maintain his composure, but he appeared to find it increasingly difficult under the weight of his accomplices’ anger and intense scrutiny.

  Throwing fuel on the fire, I added, “The people he recruited for his past project didn’t fare well—only he did. This time, he’ll probably walk away unscathed. His money will protect him. What about you?” I looked around the room. They likely weren’t thinking about me being a wolf anymore, but about how they might have gotten in over their heads.

  Barry, eyes ablaze, snarled, “You better hope she changes.”

  I hadn’t thought it was possible, but he had doubts. His stance promised a violent response if he was wrong. Dexter’s self-assurance faltered for a mere moment. He glowered at me and pulled back his lips in a snarl that could rival any were-animal’s.

  Any further response was cut off by the thunderous sound of wood breaking and heavy footsteps pounding upstairs. It sounded like the entire pack had come. I was grateful for the rescue, but I hoped they were able to control their eyes. The last thing I needed were humans with feral animal eyes glaring at people I was trying to convince that were-animals didn’t exist.

  Barry ran up the stairs, gun in hand. More crashing. Plaster drifted down from the ceiling. Barry tumbled down the stairs and landed at the foot of them on his back, his body twisted in an odd position. He was breathing and looked broken, but not enough to keep himself from using his elbow and right foot to scoot away from the people descending the stairs.

  “I’m fine,” I said in a calm, soothing voice, hoping Ethan would understand we needed to be that way. Sebastian, Ethan, and Gavin came down with the graceful agility of trained fighters and not necessarily of predators. Ethan was calmer than I’d expected him to be when he saw me in the cage.

  Andrew’s friend reached for the shotgun next to her and cocked it, aiming it at Ethan and Sebastian. I’d seen them move unnaturally fast. If she hit one, she would definitely miss the other, no matter how sharp of a shooter she was. Andrew pulled his gun again and aimed it at me. Ethan stopped advancing. I could feel his anger, the increase in his heart rate, his readiness to strike.