by P. Jameson
It was a feeling I was getting used to.
No. It was a feeling I was beginning to like. Having someone to watch out for besides the clan.
No. It wasn’t that either.
A bond. You enjoy the growing bond.
No, goddamn it. No.
I refused to admit that the foreign beast inside me was growing and beginning to bond with her. I couldn’t let it happen. Nothing good could come of it.
Near the stairs, I spotted Fang. He looked less drunk than normal. Probably a result of our nightly parties getting cut out since the Dolls moved in. I probably should be pissed about it, but I wasn’t.
I stopped him with a sharp whistle, and ducked close to keep what I was about to say between the two of us. “There’s a package on Mama Kitty’s desk. Get rid of it. Quietly.”
He frowned, but I didn’t give him a chance to ask questions. Instead, I turned to hurry to my room.
“Got it, boss,” I heard him say.
At my door, I took a moment to catch my breath. It wouldn’t do for me to come in like a raging bull. Skye didn’t react well to temper, I’d noticed. But the worst part was her fear turned me on.
It was so sick. I knew that.
But I couldn’t help what I was, what I responded to. I didn’t make myself. If I had, I’d have chosen different.
And she had made me hate it again, the way I was. I’d thought I was over hating myself for things I couldn’t help. Turns out she was able to bring all that shit back. She made me wish I was different.
It’d been a long damn time since I wished I was born anything else besides an Alley Cat. A messed up fucking shadow shifter.
But the truth was I would never be right. When the witches cursed me, they didn’t leave an out-clause like they did with the others. Because the only way out was to get right. For one like me, that was impossible.
So I stand at a crossroads, wanting to be something I can never be, and knowing it’s hopeless. Yet I stand here, waiting.
What the fuck am I waiting for?
Easing the locks open, I slipped into the dark room. Only the small lamp on the dresser was lit. Skye was already curled into the bed, blankets pulled up to her chin. She was fast asleep. Probably had been for a while now.
I looked around the room. It was spotless. Not an article of clothing out of place. No dust bunnies or streaks on the mirror. She’d been cleaning again. Said it made her feel better to clean up messes.
So I let her.
Left my shirts lying around. My boots in the floor. My toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom. She probably thought I was a slob. I was a slob. But giving her something to do made me feel less shitty about keeping her locked away.
Besides, I was starting to like finding the extra little touches she added to the place. Like when she’d rearranged my closet by shade. I could finally see the difference between the gray t-shirts and the black. Not that I cared which color covered my scars.
What would it be tonight?
Quietly, I moved around in the dim light, looking for whatever she’d changed while I was gone. Noticing the way the couch was made up, I stopped there. A crisp white sheet was draped over the back and tucked into the cushion. My pillow was covered in a matching case, fluffed and waiting for me at one end, while new blankets were folded neatly at the other. A slip of paper rested on top of the pile, and I reached to pick it up.
Thought you might like fresh blankets, it read.
My heart thundered in my chest. So loud in my ears, I could hardly hear my own breath.
She’d made my bed. Made me a place to sleep. Carefully tucked the sheet in tight. Folded my blankets. Like… well, shit. Like I was worth the effort. When I wasn’t.
I swallowed the odd pain in my throat, staring hard at the note written by her hand. I wanted to keep it forever. Treasure it the way Skittles did that goddamn picture. No one would have to know. And even if someone found it, they’d never know what it meant to me.
Folding it carefully, I slipped the paper into the pocket of my vest and reached for one of the blankets.
And that’s when the beast inside jerked to attention, sending off all kinds of warning signals.
Fucking hell.
I stared at the blanket, realizing with horror that it hadn’t come from my room. And… and the sheets. I didn’t own white sheets. Which meant…
I snapped my gaze to the bed, staring hard at Skye. Had she left the room today?
No, the locks on the outside of the door were in place. But how did she get this bedding?
I checked the window to make sure it was latched. It was. And the bars on the outside hadn’t been touched. How? How would she get out of here with the door and window locked?
My eyes landed on the air vent above the couch. It was large and industrial sized like everything else in this building, but… she couldn’t have…
Staring at it, I noticed one of the screws was loose, hanging half out of the metal grate.
No way.
Getting closer, I noticed none of the screws were attached very tightly. Tugging at the cover, it came free with hardly any effort, pulling away to reveal a narrow rectangle of duct work.
Motherfucking hell.
Did she crawl through here? And where did it lead?
This meant… this meant she could have left at any time but she didn’t. I’d locked her in here to keep her safe, yet she’d been sneaking out when I wasn’t looking. This meant she wasn’t really any safer after all.
I found her across the room, sleeping soundly in my bed.
Clever, rebellious mate.
It meant that she had a way out of here, but chose to stay. Instead of finding one of the others to keep her safe, she had returned here. To me.
It meant she trusted me. And that did so much for my busted-up insides that I could hardly keep my shit together.
Somehow, my hands moved to replace the vent cover and push the screws back into place before I found myself standing over the bed staring down at my girl.
My girl.
Skye.
Number Four.
Broken and fragile and stronger than I ever could have imagined. She trusted me. Me, the asshole of the whole place. The savage heart. The shittiest of all the shitty males in this clan. And she fucking trusted me.
I couldn’t breathe.
Mine.
This changed everything. Or maybe it didn’t change anything at all. Because I always would’ve chosen this path. The one that put me in front of her, a shield against an evil that was somehow, miraculously, more wicked than myself.
Bastian. He wasn’t going to stop, and Skye trusted me to protect her from him.
I was going to make sure she had nothing to worry about.
I finally knew exactly what had to be done. The bastard had to die, and I was going to be the one to do it.
Claim. Mine.
I was going to claim her, but not in the way anyone might have expected. I was going to claim her in a way that would keep her safe. Because… shit, I loved her.
This I knew, deep in my gut. No one else had to know. It would be my forever secret.
Love her.
I love her when she’s weak. Because that’s when she’s the strongest. I love her for making me weak. Because it taught me true strength doesn’t come by force. Not like the knives in my skin.
Those bled me and made me so hard I was a monster.
But her cuts showed me how to feel. How to heal, even just a little. How to love and be loved.
Even if it kills me, I will love her.
I watched her sleep, so at peace in a monster’s lair. She’d been among monsters for too long. She was too comfortable with them, with me.
It was time to do something about it.
Yessss, the beast inside groaned. It’s time.
Skittles’s words rattled around in my brain until they were all I could hear. He’d found his home, and fuck, I guessed that was good. But I… I’d found my fucking he
art. And she was as savage as they come, ripping me up inside, relentlessly rearranging me until I didn’t recognize myself.
But it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to.
She was soft and brutal all at the same time. And she didn’t even know it.
My sweet little piece of heaven. My flicker in the darkness. I’d never get to claim her the way I wanted but I was going to claim her in the ways that mattered most.
I was going to free her. Make her safe from the bastard who had tried to ruin her. And I would die doing it.
With a fucking smile on my face.
Because for the first time ever, I… Felix fucking Kennedy… loved something enough to set it free.
Set them all free. My brothers. The Dolls. The young that were coming. My shadow clan.
Slowly reaching forward, I let my fingers play over her soft cheek. One touch. Just one. So I could know what precious felt like.
Mine, but not forever.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open but not all the way.
“Felix?” she slurred.
“Shh, it’s all right. Go back to sleep.”
She let off a long sigh, snuggling deeper into the pillow. And after a beat or two her breath evened out to let me know she was asleep.
My heart. She would never know what she meant to me. She was never meant to know. I would take that information to the grave.
And I wasn’t fooling myself, that’s where I was going. Bastian wouldn’t go down easily.
This was our end, but it wasn’t hers. She would go on forever and ever. Even past her time. Because her love was powerful. It changed things. Affected things. Altered things.
She’d altered me, and there was no going back.
This was my end.
Chapter Twenty Six
Skittles paced the lower level of the warehouse, waiting for word from his mate. She had kicked him out of their room while she worked on hacking Bastian’s final thread of accounts.
He shook his head. Kicked him out. Said she couldn’t work with him looking over her shoulder.
The fuck was his life coming to?
But he couldn’t help the grin that curled one side of his lips. He wouldn’t trade a moment of it for fucking anything. He loved his life now.
He would love it more when Bastian was gone and they could all breathe.
Step by step, Nyla’s plan had been put into action, starting with a tense meeting with the Junkyard Dogs.
Their alpha, Rigor, wasn’t so happy about being the fall-guy for the Dolls’ rescue. But Ratchet knew how to speak the man’s language, and after shifting into something the wolves had never seen before, the attitude changed. A burning lion, a little fire-breathing, and the alliance was sealed.
Rigor was rough around the edges like they all were, but he was a smart man. And if Skittles read him right, there was an ounce of relief that someone was finally making a real move against Bastian.
Next, they’d broken Bastian’s ties to law enforcement. Nyla had dug up so much dirt on the police chief and other higher-ups that the district attorney was having to call in help to prosecute the cases. The city was in an uproar, and demanding justice. Needless to say, no one would rub Bastian with a twelve-foot pole. He still had connections with the FBI and Homeland Security, and Nyla couldn’t touch them. Which made it even more important to eliminate the rest of his assets.
That was why the clan was gathered in the warehouse, just waiting for her to give the word before they raided his mansion and ran him out of town.
Or not.
It was his choice.
Doesn’t deserve a choice, the Firecat snarled.
Skittles’s animal didn’t have the qualms Felix assumed it did about killing Bastian. But he wasn’t worried about the thing. Because it wasn’t coming from a place of evil like his former animal did. It wanted to kill Bastian out of concern for the others.
And it bowed to Skittles will. He knew that now. The werecat wouldn’t act without his approval.
Skittles would give Bastian the choice the Dolls never had. It felt important to do that, to be better than that monster was. And he knew the others agreed.
Nyla appeared at the top of the stairs, her expression excited yet anxious. She found his eyes and locked onto them. “It’s done,” she said.
“You cleared the accounts?” Felix confirmed, and she nodded.
“Bastian is officially broke.”
“Broke.” Felix seemed unsure.
“As a joke.”
The cat nodded slowly, looking satisfied. “All right, then. Only one last thing to do.” He looked around at the clan. “Shall we?”
“We fucking shall,” Fang hollered and the rest of the men threw out a roar of approval.
“Head out.” Felix growled, emphasizing the command with a whistle.
As the others loaded up, Skittles met Nyla at the base of the stairs. “Wait, where is everyone going?”
“To raid the mansion.”
She nodded, drawing in a sharp breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“No. You’re staying here.”
Nyla frowned, cocking her head in that sassy way that made his cock go hard. “The hell I am. I’m going with you. No me without you.”
Skittles struggled not to roll his eyes… or crush her close. “Mate, you can’t use that for everything.”
“Yes, I can. It applies in like, every situation. Besides. You’re not my boss.”
She pushed past him, heading for the door while several of the other females snickered and the leftover males murmured their surprise.
Damn her. She was making him look bad.
But the truth was he hardly cared. As long as she was happy.
In this case, though, her safety was too important. She wasn’t going.
He grabbed her wrist, to stop her and pulled her hard against his chest. “No,” he said, staring down into her expressive eyes. “You stay here, where it’s safe.”
She softened against him, but the fire in her gaze told him she wasn’t going to obey.
“I need this,” she whispered. “I need to see this end. I need the closure so we can move on. I want to be free. Completely.”
Goddamn it, he understood. She was free of Bastian in so many ways. He didn’t invade her mind anymore, and he certainly didn’t have control of her heart. But she needed to make right the things she had done wrong. And making sure he couldn’t hurt anyone else was the only way for that happen.
“Shit, female,” he rasped. “How will I be able to let you walk back into that place?”
She took his hand in hers and threaded her fingers through. “Like this.” She smiled softly. “Hand in hand. Side by side.” She lifted up on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. “I know you won’t let anything hurt me.”
Of course not. He’d die for her. But it was going to put him in a bad place to see her in that mansion again.
He sighed. How could he deny her this thing that she said she needed?
“I’ll go too,” Vegas spoke up. “I can protect her if anything happens.”
Monster scowled. “No, mate.”
“I want him to see me strong,” Vegas argued. “I want him to know that he didn’t break me.”
“Vegas.”
“I…” She straightened her shoulders, tipping her chin high. Stubborn. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Everyone waited for Monster’s answer, but he was in the same predicament as Skittles. They couldn’t go against their mates’ wishes.
“Well fuck me with a chopstick,” Felix muttered. “Any other females wanna go hang out at Bastian’s?” He turned to where Marlee and Janet hovered on the fringes. “Anyone? I’m sure it will be a killer party.”
Marlee rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. “I think I’ll stay.”
But Janet seemed to think about it. Before she could answer, Smokes sauntered over, waving the air to clear the evidence of his cigarette. “You’re not going,” he said.
Her f
orehead wrinkled in a confused frown.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, eyes falling to her middle and then back up to her face. “You’re not going.”
Janet’s mouth opened and closed, coming up with nothing as she stared at him. Eventually, she answered Felix, deadpan. “Guess I’ll catch the party next time.”
“Perfect,” he snapped. “Now let’s go.”
With that, he strode from the building. Gripping Nyla’s hand, Skittles followed him.
It was time to finish this once and for all.
***
Nyla squeezed Skittles’s hand. She hadn’t let it go the entire ride from the warehouse to the mansion. She could feel his nervousness mixing in with hers through their bond. And now, Fang maneuvered the truck to park in the front driveway while Smokes took one last puff of his cigarette and tossed it out the window.
It wasn’t hard getting onto Bastian’s estate. The gates were practically wide open, waiting for them. As she’d known they would be. He would want answers. Want to know where his money was. And he’d want to make a deal to get it back.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
She had wired it to safe holding account until she could decide what to do with it. She wanted it to go to a good cause. Maybe an organization that helped trafficking victims. Or maybe… maybe a portion of it should go to the Lost Daughters. The ones like Vegas who had been on the run for so long. Maybe it could be split between both causes.
Whatever the case, Nyla wasn’t keeping it. She wanted nothing to do with money laundering ever again. She would find other ways to support herself. Maybe even… well, maybe she could make art like she’d always wanted to do. Or go back to writing songs. Some sort of outlet for her creativity would be a wish come true. Dreaming up scenes from her imagination, bringing them to life, and then sharing them with others. Yeah. That would be amazing. Making people happy with her creations would be medicine to her soul.
She tucked that dream away to think about later.
Felix, Ratchet, and Monster with Vegas at his side, exited the truck beside them while several other men she still didn’t know did the same on the other end. They didn’t move forward. Instead they were to stand guard it looked like, outside the mansion.
