Breaking Free (City Shifters: the Den Book 6)

by Layla Nash

  Breaking Free

  Layla Nash

  Copyright © 2017 by Layla Nash

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Resplendent Media

  Contents

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-one

  22. Chapter Twenty-two

  23. Chapter Twenty-three

  24. Chapter Twenty-four

  25. Chapter Twenty-five

  26. Chapter Twenty-six

  27. Chapter Twenty-seven

  28. Chapter Twenty-eight

  29. Chapter Twenty-nine

  30. Chapter Thirty

  31. Chapter Thirty-one

  32. Chapter Thirty-two

  33. Chapter Thirty-three

  34. Chapter Thirty-four

  35. Chapter Thirty-five

  36. Chapter Thirty-six

  37. Chapter Thirty-seven

  38. Chapter Thirty-eight

  39. Chapter Thirty-nine

  40. Chapter Forty

  41. Chapter Forty-one

  42. Chapter Forty-two

  43. Chapter Forty-three

  44. Chapter Forty-four

  45. Chapter Forty-five

  46. Chapter Forty-six

  Epilogue

  Connect with Layla

  Also by Layla Nash

  Chapter One

  Lacey

  I never liked the massive throne at the end of the long, overly-ornate audience hall in the center of the hyena den. It was too gaudy for my taste, and uncomfortable besides. Sitting in it too long stole the feeling from my ass and legs, and then I looked like a fool when I tried to stand or I spent the whole time fidgeting. And I couldn’t put a pillow on it because then I’d look weak.

  Looking weak would get me killed. Even looking strong hadn’t protected me from the challenges and backstabbing typical of a hyena cackle, even one that wasn’t a dysfunctional as mine.

  I leaned back in the throne and drummed my fingers against the gilt arm, frowning at the rest of the room as I pondered. Being queen of the hyenas was about as much fun as a root canal, which didn’t seem fair when all the other shifter alphas in the city looked happy as hell every time I saw them. Assholes.

  My phone rang and I glanced down at it, ready for a distraction from the business at hand. And my best friend was the best sort of distraction. “Hey Eloise.”

  My second-in-command, Savannah, shot me a dirty look from where she sat against the wall, but I ignored her. I was the queen, and I could do whatever the hell I wanted. That was tradition.

  Eloise took a quick breath and then a torrent of words poured out of her, as if she’d been saving them up all week. “Jesus Christ, Lacey, I’ve gotta get out of this apartment. These teenagers are driving me fucking crazy. Hormones. So many goddamn hormones. Even the nice ones are getting on my nerves, and that doesn’t even touch how infuriating Anais is just by breathing. I know you’re a big shot now, but are you free? Can you get dinner or drinks or something?”

  I blinked as I tried to process, and fiddled with a loose ruby on the arm of the throne, right where my hand rested. Her half-medusa personality occasionally ratcheted up the craziness around Eloise, whether she meant to or not, and having her cousin Anais materialize out of the blue a couple of months earlier had only increased the chaos. I cleared my throat and adjusted how I sat, crossing my legs. “Sure, El. I have one little thing to take care of. I’ll give you a shout in about an hour. Can you meet me in the city?”

  “I’ll meet you in fucking North Dakota if it means I can get some wine and half an hour of adult goddamn conversation.” Something crashed in the background and Eloise shouted at her mate, Benedict, to stop horsing around and do his chores.

  I snorted with laughter but covered it with a cough when Eloise returned to the phone with a barked, “Are you laughing at me? Was that a laugh?”

  “Never.” I worked to keep my expression impassive, one of the hardest parts of being Eloise’s friend as well as the hyena queen. “I’ll call you in an hour. Try not to throw Benedict out until after I get there, okay?”

  “You better get here fast.” Another crash, some howls of glee, and a lion’s grumble had me pulling the phone away from my ear, and Eloise shrieked. “I just told—” before the call cut off.

  I set the phone aside and sighed, for a brief moment wishing I had Eloise’s problems to deal with—a loving but goofball mate, a handful of adopted kids, a beautiful apartment, and a mission in life. A purpose. She helped people through a network of shelters and soup kitchens for battered women and homeless families, and had moved so far past her history as an illegal runner for my mother’s criminal enterprise that I almost didn’t recognize her anymore. I felt left behind, despite the twists and turns my own life had taken.

  My purpose seemed like it was just to deal out brutal justice, executions, and an iron fist of control.

  Which was exactly what brought me to that damn throne on what looked like a fine summer evening.

  I studied the woman who kneeled on the unforgiving slate floor of the judgment hall, her hands bound in front of her. Blood streaked her face and her teeth as she bared them at me, and yellow-cream fur sprouted on her forearms as she tried to shift to her hyena form. I leaned into the alpha’s magic to keep her human, and bared my teeth in response. I might not like being the hyena queen, but I damn sure wasn’t going to tolerate challenges to my authority.

  And my cousin trying to kill me when she thought I was distracted counted as a challenge.

  Savannah cleared her throat and leaned forward a little to catch my attention, her eyebrows raised. “We can deal with it, Highest.”

  “I don’t require others to take out my trash.”

  The cousin on the slate, Ulrika, hissed and growled.

  I pointed the phone at her and she silenced abruptly, then I leaned forward as I forced her to meet my gaze. “You want to be queen so badly? You think there is something to envy in this throne?” I knocked my knuckles against the cold metal, grateful for the flare of pain. Sometimes pain was the only thing that made me feel alive.

  Ulrika found her voice, though it sounded like gravel pouring on concrete. “Yes. I deserve to be queen. I will rule and bring us back to glory.”

  “Great,” I said, sighing. Everyone had the highest hopes for their own rule, and yet none of them knew a damn thing about budgets and living arrangements and treaties with the other shifters. “And yet you couldn’t even assassinate me. So how the fuck do you expect to stand in the Alphas Council with the bears and lions and wolves and hold your ground? Where’s the glory in tripping over your own feet and ending up chained and on your knees?”

  Ulrika growled more, once more trying to rise so she could lunge at me. Savannah jumped up as if she meant to beat our cousin back d
own, but I waved her off. I rose and the half dozen other hyenas in the room inclined their heads as I stepped down from the throne. I set aside my phone and carefully took off the engagement ring I still wore, a year after my fiancé had been killed. I handed both to Savannah, whose alarmed expression would have been comical if I felt like laughing. I was so tired of all the bullshit and theater. I was tired of the fighting and the pompous titles and people whispering when I walked into a room.

  I wanted a normal life. I wanted Cal back, and I wanted the adventurous life we’d dreamed of in Europe and Africa and anywhere else the wind took us. I never wanted to be queen. I tried to give it up, over and over, but my mother had been right about one thing: I was the strongest of her daughters, and the most dedicated to doing things right.

  “Very well, Ulrika. Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll give you a gift.” I tilted my head to the side to crack my vertebrae, then shook out my shoulders and arms as I walked around her in an appraising circle. “You’ll get a shot at me. We fight. See if you can take the throne.”

  She looked up at me, the blaze of overzealous confidence nearly blinding, and opened her mouth to shout insults or challenges or whatever. But I leaned down and grabbed the front of her shirt, yanking her up to get her attention, and dropped my voice until it matched the growl my hyena felt. “You can’t steal it. You have to earn it.”

  Ulrika snarled. Maybe she thought she understood what I meant. Maybe she believed she had earned it, bowing and scraping along behind my mother for years and years—cleaning up her messes, doing her dirty work, getting rid of her enemies, burying her scandals. Half the cackle felt the same way. That didn’t make them ready to be queen.

  I shook my head as I retreated a few steps, then gestured for Savannah to release Ulrika’s hands. No point in making the fight less fair overall. I kissed the medallion around my neck—a gift from Eloise—and tucked it under my shirt as my cousin and opponent leapt to her feet and got ready to fight.

  If I lost, chances were I wouldn’t make it to dinner with Eloise. I’d probably end up in a body bag outside the den. My hyena side knew we wouldn’t lose, but part of me hoped Ulrika would win. Everything would be easier if someone else was queen.

  Chapter Two

  Nick

  Nick slid through the crowd in the dingy bar, searching for someone he was pretty sure didn’t want to ever see him again. The Russian owner’s eyes narrowed when he saw Nick, but the man was smart enough not to say anything. The Russians had had a tough couple of months in the city after being caught mixing with the evil wolf pack outside the city. BadCreek used them for human trafficking and drug-running and all the other nefarious activities the mobsters were already involved in, but involving the wolves brought the Russians to the attention of the rest of the shifters. And none of them tolerated that kind of shit.

  Nick ignored a half-naked woman as she purred and tried to grab his arm, and instead focused on a table in the very back of the bar, near the emergency exit. This was the closest he’d been to a real mission since being tortured and left for dead by BadCreek. Being undercover for so long messed with his head even in the best circumstances, but having his sister nearly killed and one of his partners, Ragnar, executed on the street had shaken Nick to his core. His wolf still rode close to the surface, ready to take control again if things started going sideways, and Nick struggled every day to stay human. To stay himself.

  Most days it was just easier to be the wolf. The wolf didn’t give a shit about anything but protecting his sister and what remained of his pack.

  Which meant protecting Smith.

  The old bastard hadn’t been seen or heard from since he disappeared with the BadCreek alpha, almost half a year earlier. For the ErlKing not to at least send them a sign meant something must have gone wrong. If he chose to leave the city and his friends behind, then Nick wanted to hear that from him directly. Unfortunately, Nick couldn’t enter the Betwixt and ask the fae himself, since shifters couldn’t pass the barrier between the worlds, but he knew a few people who could.

  His wolf side growled quietly as Nick approached the table and its single, sour-faced occupant. Hugo’s long white fingers drummed on the table as he waited for Nick, and the leprechaun killed his drink by the time Nick stood in front of him. “Took you fucking long enough.”

  “Good to see you, too, Hugo.” Nick didn’t worry about the ill-tempered asshole’s vitriol, most of which derived from dealing with being a real leprechaun in a land that celebrated a comical, toothless version of a hard-drinking and treasure-obsessed fae. The wolf didn’t mind the fae, after so long around them, but the feeling wasn’t reciprocated by most of the Fair Folk. “How’s the treasure hunting?”

  “Not as lucrative as it used to be.” Hugo gestured for another drink, and told the waitress to just bring the bottle, since his friend would be picking up the tab. The leprechaun eyed Nick sideways as he lit up another foul hand-rolled cigarette. “Was surprised to hear from you. Heard you’d lost your mind for a while there.”

  Nick eased into a chair next to Hugo and folded his hands on the table, trying to sort through the myriad smells in the overcrowded bar to see who else haunted the up-and-coming dive. “The rumors were somewhat exaggerated. I ran into a bit of trouble, that’s it.”

  “A bit of trouble to you is near-death for the rest of us, mate.” Hugo seized the bottle of whiskey from the waitress and winked at her, though the young woman only rolled her eyes and sashayed off. The leprechaun made a face. “Fucking children, all of them. These humans get on my nerves.”

  “Then let me give you an opportunity to get away from them for a while.” Nick leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, attention drifting to the various Russians throughout the bar. He hadn’t been in contact with any of his countrymen in years, until his sister fell in with a bunch of werebears and one of them turned out to be a crazy Siberian bastard. Sasha wasn’t a bad sort, so long as his mate was around to settle the crazy out of him, but Nick hadn’t let him see any of the tattoos that marked his back and shoulders.

  The leprechaun flicked his fingers against the bottle of whiskey and sparks illuminated the inside for a brief second. His eyes flashed green as he glanced over at Nick. “Oh?”

  “Aye.” Nick leaned forward on the table so he could lower his voice and still be heard through the booming music and shrieking humans. “A friend of mine has gone missing on the other side. I’d like to find him and bring him back.”

  Hugo’s dark eyebrow arched. “Easier said than done.”

  “Which is why you’re my first stop,” Nick said. Like most of the fae, Hugo could be manipulated with some targeted ego-stroking, but if Nick went over the top, it would just piss him off and shut down any conversation with the leprechaun for at least a couple of months. The wolf didn’t mind a good stalking, but they needed to chase Smith and get him back sooner rather than later. “If anyone can locate him, it’ll be you.”

  “I don’t fall for that bullshit, Faolan.”

  The wolf growled in the back of Nick’s head. Hugo never used his name, just called him “fway-lawn” or some other gibberish in his old language. There was something about the fae and proper names. Nick still hadn’t figured it all out. “It’s not bullshit. This is high profile and I know you work quietly. I also figure you won’t sell me out.”

  “Never say never.” Hugo’s teeth flashed in a smile, and under the strobe lights, they looked far pointier than Nick remembered. He wondered if leprechauns were one of those fae who ate people in the darker story tales. “Who are you looking for, and how long has he been gone?”

  “It’s been six months,” Nick said. He poured a little of the whiskey into a glass he stole from a passing waitress’s tray, and sniffed it before he sipped to make sure the leprechaun hadn’t done anything weird to it. “And I’m looking for the ErlKing.”

  Hugo snorted, shaking his head and getting to his feet. “And now I know you’re out of your fucking mind. Not in this life,
Faolan.”

  “He’s not as bad as you remember,” Nick said. But still the leprechaun looked like he’d leave, so Nick pulled a pouch out of his jacket pocket and tossed it on the table. The warm clink of gold coins stopped Hugo in his tracks, and he glanced back with a fierce hunger in his eyes. The bastard was addicted to gold in any form, and Nick had used it to his advantage before. “Maybe just locate him for me, and then we can talk about how to get him out.”

  “Maybe I haven’t been back in a while,” Hugo said. He focused on the bag of gold, and his fingers twitched as if he’d reach out and snatch it off the table. “It could take a while.”

  Nick picked the bag back up and started to put it away. “I need this soon, mate. I’ll find someone else.”

  The leprechaun growled in the back of his throat and sidled up to Nick, his green eyes narrowed into slits as the pupils turned vertical. “You think you’re clever, Cu. You have not learned this lesson yet.”

  Nick knew what Cu meant, and the wolf didn’t appreciate being called a hound. “Can you find him or not?”

  “I’ll look,” Hugo said, and took the gold. His eyes remained in their sinister form, though, and the wolf started paying attention. “I make no promises.”