Immortals of New Orleans Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Kym Grosso

  Mira beat the floor with her fists, “No, no, no…this is my pack. You can’t do this!”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Mir. It’s already done. Do not challenge me further, or I’ll take drastic action. Now get up off your knees and get out of my sight. Declan, assign guards to Mira. She’s no longer Lyceum Wolves. As such, she’s not allowed to leave her cabin or interact with the others.”

  “Yes sir,” Declan nodded.

  “Logan, find out who Mira spoke to from the Wallace pack. See what she knows and then meet me over at the jet. I’d do it, but I swear I might kill her. Honestly, my wolf is demanding no less than her death, but she’s been with us forever. Goddess help me, I’ve got to show her mercy.”

  A frozen glare glossed over Mira’s face as Declan led her out of the room. Pack members looked away, incredulous that she’d deliberately bring strangers into their sanctuary. It was a miracle no one else had been taken or killed. Tristan, aware of how his anger had affected them, concentrated on sending an air of repose into the otherwise distressed crowd.

  “My wolves,” he addressed them calmly. “Keep diligent watch until I return. Willow’s in charge while I’m gone. I’m asking that you stay indoors, no running until we’re sure the situation in South Carolina’s been contained. Understood?”

  With a nod toward Willow, Tristan pounded out to his car. He’d expected that Mira would have been hurt by him taking a mate, but never had he anticipated such treachery. She’d put the entire pack at risk out of some misguided sense of loyalty. Unforgivable, yet he couldn’t bring himself to mete out the deserved retribution; death. Hoping she’d find peace in a new pack, he fired up the car and let his thoughts drift back to Kalli.

  Instinctively, he assumed Gerald would keep her alive, perhaps torture her, rather than kill her. Reports indicated that there were only two females left in the pack after he’d killed them off, one by one. No pups had been listed, although Tristan suspected that they could have somehow gone undetected in the flyover. Eleven remaining males kept court at all times of day.

  Now that Kalli could shift, she’d have a fighting chance of staying alive. She was strong and intelligent. If an opportunity for escape presented itself, he was confident she’d take it. Rubbing a hand over his face in frustration, he considered how they would have transported her. Drug or silver would be the easiest way to ensure she couldn’t shift. Surely they would have flown Kalli out of Pennsylvania, realizing he’d tear the state apart looking for her? Glancing over to the clock, he saw it read seven o’clock. If they managed to leave within the hour, they’d arrive by ten. Every muscle in his body tensed. Blood boiling, he was ready to embrace the retributive justice that would come at his hands tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kalli vomited onto the floor, unable to control the nausea. Unsure of what drug they used, she thought it had to be some kind of an animal tranquilizer. Wiping the spittle from her lips, she cracked her eyes open, trying to assess her surroundings. The irrefutable smell of human urine and feces permeated the small cemented room in which they’d placed her. Her wrist burned as the silver handcuff, attached to an old metal cot, cut into her skin. The threadbare mattress chafed at her legs, but at least they hadn’t entirely restrained her. She struggled to sit up, but managed with a sigh, as she leaned against the cold concrete.

  Although it was dark, her eyes quickly adjusted to the light. Taking in the barren accommodations, she noticed a small square window in the wall half way toward the ceiling. More of a hole really, it left no room to escape. The one foot by one foot portal was missing its glass, allowing a cool mountain breeze to seep into the room. Sniffing into the air, a stir of painful memories told her exactly where she was. Wallace pack. Heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains; spectacular waterfalls, scenic vistas, wild flowers. Yet the only thing this place held for Kalli was a lifetime of abuse and torture.

  Heart racing, she struggled to remain calm as the door to the room flew open. And although the ray of bright light blinded her, she’d never forget the horrific scent of Gerald or the smell of whiskey on his breath. Telling herself she was stronger this time, she fortified her mind, readying for his attack.

  “Look who the cat dragged in. Our little hybrid slut thought she’d hide from us. We always find what’s ours,” he cackled as he approached her, shining a spotlight into her face. “Old Morris lucked out, didn’t he? Thought he’d find something up in the big city. We was lookin’ for some bitches to bring back here. We’re low, ya see. But we knew there’d be plenty of girls we could take. Big city won’t miss ’em. Little did he know he’d find you.”

  “I’m not who you think I am,” she protested.

  “Oh, yeah, I know who ya are. Fancy degrees, I hear ya made a drug to hide your wolf,” he laughed. “Worked real well too. Dumb ole Lyceums didn’t know we was even there. Well, now that we got ya, you’re gonna make more of those pills. We can sell ’em on the streets. Got big plans for ya, you know?”

  Overwhelmed by the odor, Kalli cringed in his presence. As if she were in a swamp at night with gators, she could see the red flecks of light reflecting off his cold black eyes. She wanted so badly to shift, but as long as she was silvered, she couldn’t. If somehow she could get the cuff off, she could summon her wolf. In her mind, she’d made the decision to die fighting. Dying seemed a preferable option compared to a lifetime in Wallace. No matter what happened to her, she wouldn’t let him manufacture the CLI. He’d never be able to do it without her.

  “I don’t belong to you anymore,” she spat at him. “My mate. He’ll come for me.”

  He ran a finger down her neck. Linking a claw into the rim of her t-shirt, he tore it open, revealing Tristan’s mark. “Claimed, I see. But mated, not yet. I can tell a mated bitch, and you’re not one. Close but no cigar.”

  Refusing to give quarter, Kalli defiantly sat with her bra exposed, refusing to let him see how terrified she was.

  “My mate will come for you. You’ll be dead by morning.”

  “Maybe you’ll be the one who’ll be dead after I let a few of my men go at ya. Not many bitches around here. Now here you are, fallin’ into our laps.”

  He ran his hand down her chest, but when he attempted to paw her breast, Kalli struck him between the eyes with the palm of her hand, ramming his nose.

  “Fucking bitch,” he screamed as blood spurted from his nostrils. In response, he struck Kalli across the face with the back of his hand. Her head smashed into the cinderblock with a resounding crack.

  She saw stars as the pain radiated throughout her face and then through the back of her head. Feigning unconsciousness, she kept her eyes closed. It wasn’t hard to fake given the injury to her head. She sighed in relief as she heard the door slam as he left, leaving a string of curse words in his wake.

  Racking her brain for a way to escape, she needed to get out of the cuff. She was no Houdini, but she’d watched plenty of television shows where people unlocked their own handcuffs. What did they use? A credit card? No, that was for doors. Come on Kalli, think. A paperclip? A pin? Where the hell would she get a pin? Her hair, still in a ponytail, only had a rubber band in it. She still had on her shoes but they only held laces. Then it occurred to her that she was wearing a wired bra. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of stripping inside of her hellhole prison but if she could get the cuff off, she’d open the door, shift and wouldn’t need her clothes.

  After managing to unhook her bra, she bit at the fabric with her teeth until a small hole emerged. Threading the wire out, she bent it back and forth until it broke into two pieces. She proceeded to shim the lock by inserting the small wire between the notches and the ratchet. Within a minute, the lock clicked open. Smiling to herself, she had her own plan for Gerald, and it involved him and a dirt bed.

  Challenging the Alpha while silvered may not have been the brightest idea she’d had, but damn if she’d deny her mate. Tristan was coming for her. Released from the poison shackle, she could feel it in
her blood. Her wolf called to the surface, and she swore she could sense him on the land, in the air. She was certain, in that moment, that Gerald would, indeed, end up a cadaverous, lifeless piece of flesh by sunrise.

  Locked and loaded, Lyceum Wolves hit the ground. In a smooth landing, the plane taxied onto the private airstrip nestled on a small strip of land within the mountains. As soon as they came to a grinding halt, Tristan, Logan, Declan, Gavin and Shayne poured out of the plane into two waiting SUVs. Tristan could feel her as soon as they hit the rocky soil. The smell of blood hung in the air, and he swore he’d have vengeance.

  The Wallace compound was set against a mountain face, with a myriad of trails leading into the dense brush. They’d parked about a mile outside of the perimeter. Nearly midnight, the waning moon lit the forest floor as they stealthily navigated the terrain. As they neared the housing complex, Tristan signaled to Simeon to take the highest point. Simeon, a former Navy SEAL, was a precision shooter. Aware that the Wallace wolves had a proclivity toward weapons, Tristan had instructed Simeon to pick off any wolf brandishing a gun. But not Gerald. No, Gerald was Tristan’s only.

  Holding a hand up, Tristan pointed to the right, around the large dilapidated structure. Scenting Kalli, he could tell she was close, within a hundred yards at the very most. Logan, also catching her scent, had been assigned to take Kalli to safety. As beta, he was the only wolf Tristan trusted to ensure her rescue. No words were needed to convey his meaning as they exchanged glances. Furtively, Logan took off with Gavin around the building, as loud music whipped a cadence into the night.

  Tristan’s primary mission was to annihilate Gerald. The man was a menace who needed taming. In a deliberate manner, with his usual confidence, Tristan strode up to the front door. Armed with silver bullets, Declan and Shayne flanked him. Like a homing missile, Tristan kicked in the door and strode into the melee. The sounds of bullets breaking the windows resounded, while Tristan shrewdly assessed the wolves around him, searching for Gerald. Shayne and Declan started fighting as soon as they entered. Shifting into wolf, the fur literally started to fly. Five wolves fell to the ground in a pool of blood as Simeon carried out his orders.

  Tristan’s eyes locked onto the stocky wolf crouched in the corner, growling as each of his wolves hit the ground. Intrepidly approaching the wolf, his feet never stopped moving. Images of Toby lying dead in the ground ran through his mind followed by his mate, abused and nearly broken, at the hands of the monster before him. Tristan didn’t want to kill Gerald quickly; he planned on making him suffer the way he’d done to the others.

  “What you want wolf? Can’t you see here that we’re just enjoying a drink?” The words had barely left Gerald’s mouth before Tristan had him by the throat.

  “Gerald? Alpha of Wallace pack?” Tristan asked with a snarl.

  “Yeah, what’s it to ya? This is my land, here. Ya need to get off.”

  “Where are the women and pups?”

  “I got a bitch downstairs if ya want her, but we don’t got any others right now. We’ve been pickin’ them off up north,” Gerald freely admitted, not recognizing Tristan as Alpha of Lyceum Wolves.

  “Declan! Downstairs, now! Make sure Logan’s got Kalli out of here,” Tristan shouted.

  Furiously shaking Gerald by the scruff of his shirt, he jammed him up against the wall. A tiny red dot appeared above Gerald’s brow as Simeon’s laser locked on the broad prominence of his forehead.

  “Stand down, Si,” Tristan instructed, holding two fingers into the air. A bullet to the brain was too good for Gerald; too easy. After all the pain and suffering he’d inflicted on men, women and children over the years, he’d go down old school. Tristan, not one to be accused of going outside of pack protocol, sought to have him submit as wolf, and die as wolf. There was no other way that would make amends for the bloody atrocities the man had caused to so many.

  With a grunt, Tristan threw him clear across the room where he slammed into a pile of aluminum chairs. Aside from the sound of scraping metal, Gerald’s heavy panting was the only audible sound. Dead Wallace wolves, well departed from life, provided a macabre background to Gerald’s impending demise. Tristan smiled coldly as he noted that Morris, the wolf who had helped to kill Toby, lay among the dead, a silver bullet to his head. Simeon had picked him off; still dressed, the wolf gripped a small handgun. Giving the lifeless body a nudge with his boot, a small bottle of pills spilled out of his front shirt pocket. CLI. Never taking his eyes off Gerald, Tristan effortlessly scooped up the bottle and tossed it over to Shayne, who’d shifted back to human.

  Disgusted by Toby’s needless death and Kalli’s abduction, Tristan stalked toward Gerald, who was eyeing a Glock that had fallen into the debris. Kicking the grey metal out of reach, Tristan stood towering above the seething brawny wolf. With an ominous delivery, Tristan informed him of his death sentence as if he were a judge in a courtroom. His menacing stare bored into the malevolent creature who’d taken his mate.

  “Gerald, wolf of Wallace. Consider yourself informed of my challenge to your pack. From this minute forward, any females or pups you’ve hidden will be placed under my protection. I command you to shift. In front of my wolves, we will do this challenge,” Tristan demanded, with a cool demeanor. It had to be done this way. The respect of his own wolves was as important as eradicating Gerald. Wolf versus wolf, it was how he was raised, and how he would die.

  Tearing off his shirt and pants, Tristan transformed to wolf within seconds. Gerald’s husky brown wolf charged at him, jaws snapping, but Tristan sidestepped the attack, snarling in response. Standing proud, the black Alpha wolf circled around the brown, eyes locked on his. With his ears forward and tail lifted, Tristan bared his fangs. His wolf demanded the death of the one who’d dared to challenge him for his mate. Eyes wild, threatening and locked onto Gerald, Tristan’s wolf kept low to the ground, readying for attack. Taking flight, he rushed Gerald, and in a submissive move Gerald took off out of the building. With his prey on the move, Tristan gave chase; a rush of adrenaline flooded his system, anticipating the kill.

  Gerald only made it a few hundred yards before Tristan pawed him downward, dragging him to the leaf-covered ground. Engaged in a ritualistic combat as old as time, Tristan pinned the brown wolf with his forepaws, exposing his vital areas. Unwilling to submit, Gerald continued to fight, biting a small gash into the black wolf’s back leg. With an arched neck and bared fangs, Tristan seized Gerald’s vulnerable soft throat, tearing out a huge chunk of fur and flesh. The smell of fresh blood spattered the woods. Furious and violent, Tristan tore apart the brown wolf’s neck until the head dangled by a single vertebra.

  Tristan. Kalli felt him the instant he landed on the mountain ridge. His unique scent, carried to her on the wind, provided a renewed energy. She hoisted herself to her feet, but wavered. Overwhelmed with dizziness, she fell back to the dirty cot. She thought she should shift, but her head pounded in protest. Reaching her hand into her hair, she felt the large knot of swelling on her skull. I need to shift. But then a rustling outside her window called her to the night. Feeling as if she’d faint, she grunted, pushing onto her knees until her fingertips felt the rim of the small window.

  “Tristan!” she screamed over and over, praying someone would hear her.

  Her breath hitched as a hand found hers. Unable to see, she desperately grabbed onto it.

  “Kalli!” Logan yelled into the small dark cavity. He could barely make out Kalli’s face through the mask of blood; tendrils of black curls adhered to her skin. As he peered in further, he swore. Tristan was going to kill Gerald a thousand times over for attacking his mate.

  “Logan. Please,” Kalli coughed. Between vomiting and screaming, her throat was raw. “Door’s locked. There’s no way out. I need to shift. My head.”

  Logan looked to Gavin. “Kalli, this here’s Gavin. He’s ours.”

  Gavin knelt down next to Logan, and allowed Logan to put his hand into Kalli’s.

  “Take
his hand. It’s okay. He’s gonna stay with you. I’ll come round to get you. I’ll be right there. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Tristan? Where is he? Please, nothing can happen to him,” she cried.

  “Trust me, Kal, Gerald’s the one who’s got to worry. Tris will be fine. Just hold tight. I’m coming.” He heard her give a small sob at his words. She might have been strong, but he could tell she was on the verge of breaking.

  Without a doubt, Tristan was going to go ballistic when he saw Kalli’s face. His Alpha, a well-oiled killing machine, didn’t need yet another reason to rip into Gerald. Fearing the sight of her could distract him in his quest, Logan took off in a full sprint. Once he found the back entrance, Logan heard growling followed by an eerie silence emanating from another room. Staying focused, he made his way to a staircase that was tucked into an alcove in the kitchen. Making his way down the steps, he found himself in a complicated series of tunnels.

  Taking a minute to sniff the dank musty air, he caught her scent. In the dark recesses, he heard crying, voices of children and women. Exploring the cavernous passages, Logan swore, realizing this was some kind of underground prison. He’d need to work on freeing these wolves, but Kalli’s injuries warranted his immediate attention. Finally arriving where he believed she was being held, he pulled on a rusty doorknob. Locked. A noise alerted him that someone was close behind. Relieved, he found Declan’s wolf padding toward him.