Sadie Hart

by Cry Sanctuary

  He took a step back and waited for the silver to work.

  It didn’t take long, between the blood loss and the silver rotting in his veins, Caine Morgan passed out. Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead, and his breathing became ragged, unsteady. Dean leaned down to check the pulse, still toying with the unsavory bit of information the wolf had laid on him. If they really knew who he was, they had a bargaining chip with Bosley. He hated to leave the dog behind. He was a good dog, a loyal companion. Liked to work, loved to hunt.

  His throat tightened and Dean bared his teeth into the wind. He should have taken the dog with him today. Bos had wanted to go, but he hadn’t wanted the dog riding in the car if things went sour with the alpha. Muttering a curse, he wrapped the man’s wounds with gauze to stop the bleeding.

  “Time to go,” Dean whispered, lugging the man up in a fireman’s carry. He needed to get this one stabilized, keep him alive.

  Holly would still give him the hunt he craved, but there was no reason the alpha had to die.

  Chapter Twenty

  Pain woke Caine, a vicious throbbing in his shoulder, and he blinked into the darkness. The familiar scent of wolves drifted through the air, and Caine frowned. There was a hazy outline of a couch, a coffee table. Heart pounding, Caine sniffed quietly. They were at his house. In the middle of Sanctuary Falls. He was propped up against a wall, and not only were his arms in agony, he could feel poisons quietly, stealthily eating away inside him.

  The back door swung shut, bringing with it the scent of an autumn forest. Caine gave a sharp bark of laughter. “I won’t run. You’ll just have to shoot me.”

  The Hunter paused in the hall between the kitchen and living room, a dark silhouette at the edge of the room. He lounged against the wall, eerily calm. Too calm. The Hunter leaned over and turned on the small lamp by his recliner.

  “They know who you are,” Caine repeated, and the man just smiled.

  “But they don’t know where I am.”

  The silver eating through his veins made Caine dizzy as he swayed there on the floor. His arms were tied behind his back, tight enough he couldn’t feel his hands anymore. The Hunter strode across the room, his boots making quiet thuds on the hardwood before he knelt. “Just going to make sure you don’t mess anything up before I get a chance to finish what I need to finish.”

  He slipped a gag out of his back pocket and Caine felt his heart pick up speed. He stiffened, a growl rumbling out of him, and the Hunter just smiled. Mocking almost. “Don’t hurt them,” Caine said. “You have me. I’ll run. I’ll give you the best damn hunt you’ve ever had.”

  Interest flared in the other man’s eyes, but not enough to sway him, Caine realized. The Hunter shook his head. “I’m sure you’d give a good run, but not the best. I’ve been working too long to create the best.”

  Ollie. Panic roared through him and Caine jerked his head back to howl, to scream, something, but the gag slid in his mouth and snuffed out the sound, strangling his urgent, desperate efforts. Caine twisted to break loose, but the gag tightened around his head, unyielding.

  “Don’t worry,” the Hunter whispered. “I’ll give her a chance to save you.”

  With a quiet whistle the Hunter rose, dusted off his pants, and headed out the front door. There wouldn’t be anyone out in the pack tonight, no one to see the monster backing down the driveway. No one to stop him before he killed again.

  ***

  Ollie had just loaded the golden retriever into one of the Hound squad cars when her phone rang. With a glance at the caller ID she saw Caine’s name glaring up at her from the screen. She waved to Brandt and made a gesture at the phone. “I’m going to take this.”

  Brandt nodded and she slipped behind the squad car. Caine wouldn’t call unless he had something important. “Everything okay?”

  “Do you want to see your precious wolf alive?”

  It should have sounded cheesy, but dread filled her when she heard that voice, the cold edge to it. A killer’s voice, not Caine’s. She started to turn towards Brandt, to signal for a phone trace when the Hunter tsked softly on the other end of the line. “Don’t call for help.”

  “Are you here?” Her voice trembled a little over the words, adrenaline and fear kicking into overdrive. Ollie spun, slowly, trying to see if he was watching them. Had seen everything.

  “Walk slowly to your car, bring my dog, and go home. Come up with a believable excuse. Anyone follows you, and the alpha dies. Understood?” His dark voice was nothing more than a whisper over the phone.

  She didn’t dare say anything but what he wanted to hear. “Yes.”

  “Then meet me there. Alone. If you show up with anyone else, I’ll kill them all.” Ollie felt her heart clench, fear a heavy, cold knot in her belly. “And don’t think I won’t, Holly. They’re not the main course tonight.”

  The phone clicked off. Dead. Ollie stood there, listening to the dial tone. With one gesture she could have the whole pack here, everyone ready to go meet the Hunter, ready to catch this bastard. But something in his voice told her he wasn’t bluffing.

  “Ol, you okay?” Brandt asked and she nodded.

  “It was just Caine. If we’re all good here, I want to check something back at Enforcement.” The words felt stiff, foreign, and she forced herself to breathe. To smile. Even if it felt fake. “Might as well take the dog in while I’m at it. Save Havers a trip.”

  Her brother stared at her for a moment, watchful, but he gave a slight nod. “Call me if you come up with anything.”

  “I will.” It took everything in her to keep from breaking as he turned and walked away, trusting her.

  Darkness had just begun to fall. They’d spent most of the day casing the Hunter’s place, digging through every nook and cranny in the house. Looking for clues they hadn’t found. He didn’t keep logs or take souvenirs, and whatever gun he used, he didn’t keep it here. They had a BOLO out on his truck, but they’d turned up no hits there either. The man was a freaking ghost.

  And she had a lead now.

  A chance to save everyone.

  Ollie took a deep, steadying breath and stepped towards the squad car. She called out to the slim man heading its way. “I got it. Gotta run back to the office anyway.”

  The man nodded and turned back for the house. There was still plenty left to do. Ollie slid inside, felt the cold press of a dog’s nose against her neck. His tail thumped the seat happily behind her, and she turned, running her hand over the rust-colored muzzle. “You’re a good boy,” she whispered, pain making her breath faint.

  Her chest felt too tight, as if the skin had constricted. There wasn’t enough air in the car for her to breath. She turned the engine over and rolled down the front windows, cracking the back for the dog. He knew. Knew she had his dog, knew they’d figured him out.

  This had to be the endgame.

  He couldn’t afford to play anymore. Bosley tilted his head and one floppy ear fell against her hand. She rubbed it, gentle. “You’re the only chance we have,” she whispered.

  Because apparently he was going to bargain for his dog.

  Soulful brown eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, the retriever’s mouth opened in a doggie grin. Not at all concerned. None of this mattered to him. The repercussions of failing tonight meant nothing to the dog. He didn’t know how many people his owner had killed, how many more could die.

  The Hunter had been nice to him. Maybe even, if he was capable of it, had loved the dog. She gave the dog one last pat and turned her attention to the road, trying to plan, but she didn’t know the game. This wasn’t like any other night of the full moon. He’d called her. Had Caine. Dean Winters had something else planned, something she couldn’t even begin to guess at, and it left her cold with fear. Raw.

  By the time her house appeared in the headlights, twilight had given way to darkness. Her phone buzzed and she saw Brandt’s name flash on the caller ID. She left it in the car. If she took too long, he’d get desperate, trace it
. It might still be too late, but it was better than nothing.

  Parking in the drive in front of her house, Ollie turned off the car and stared out of the windshield. The cool autumn wind cleared her head a bit as she scanned the area around her house, the trees dark sentinels against a starlit sky. There was no one inside; the lights were all off in the house. No one standing, waiting for her with a gun.

  “Stay here,” she murmured to the dog and slipped out of the car, the blackness of night wrapping around her. Followed closely by the sickening scent of blood.

  “I’m here,” Ollie called out, her voice shaky. “Alone.”

  Silence answered her, and she stepped away from the car, moving towards her house. The scent of blood touched her nose, and she froze, panic swelling in her chest as she recognized the scents. Caine. The Hunter. The smell of gunpowder still lingered along the scene, and she knew it was Caine who had been shot. Multiple times, if the amount of blood was anything to go by.

  “I’m here,” she called out again, fisting her hands at her sides. Her palm brushed the butt of her gun when a voice finally answered her.

  “Bosley?”

  “In the car, windows cracked. I’ll trade him for Caine and the Carsons.”

  A sharp laugh sounded, broken and brittle. “No. I don’t think so. Put your weapon on the ground, and your backup piece as well. Leave them by your car.”

  Her body jerked at the sound of the Hunter’s voice. Dean Winters. The knowledge of his name gave her power, made her stare into the shadows stretched between the trees, searching. He laughed, a dark, rusty sound that grated along the nighttime quiet spilled out of the air. “Now, Holly.”

  A low grunt sounded from the forest line, followed by a pained hiss, and Ollie recognized the man behind it. Caine. “Okay,” she called out, taking a step back towards her car. With one hand lifted to show she meant him no harm, she used the other to slip her gun from the holster and slowly lowered it to the ground.

  Her tongue made a wet line over her lips. Facing this man unarmed wasn’t her smartest idea, but she couldn’t let him hurt Caine. No more than he already had. You know him, a small, niggling voice in the back of her head reminded her. She lifted her pant leg and withdrew her backup weapon, leaving them both in the moon-touched grass by her feet.

  Both hands raised, she stepped closer to the forest, toward the sound of Caine’s ragged breathing. There was a scuffle from the forest line and she saw a shadow move, and a second shadow struggle before yelping in pain.

  “Follow.” That one word held all the weight of a command, one she didn’t dare disobey.

  “Okay. Just don’t hurt him. And what about Bosley, you don’t want to leave him in the car.” Ollie headed towards the scuffle, using her nose to track the two men’s scent as the Hunter dragged Caine deeper into the forest.

  “It’s cool out. He’s fine.” Caine grunted again and her heart squeezed. Please don’t hurt him. She picked up speed, hoping to close the distance between them, when Dean laughed. A thick, throaty sound.

  “Not too fast,” he called out. “I’ll shoot him.”

  “And then what?”

  “I shoot you and go back to my regularly scheduled entertainment.”

  Ollie swallowed back the familiar lump of fear in her throat. He still had other hostages, still had a woman and child they needed to save. Even if she were willing to risk Caine’s life to try... She slowed her pace, careful to keep her distance. “You can’t get away with this, Dean.”

  A growl snaked out of the darkness, low and menacing, and Ollie jerked to a halt. Caine grunted from somewhere in the darkness, and her eyes strained to see what was happening. A faint glow of light appeared in the forest, breaking through the shadows, and Ollie took a cautious step towards it. Then another. She recognized the area now, the old, broken down forts she and Brandt had played in long ago.

  The same place Caine had taken her for their first date.

  Her heart squeezed. So. The Hunter had been there that night, too.

  “You have a choice,” Dean whispered as she stepped into the light. “Cooperate and you can save everyone but yourself.”

  His wolf-bright eyes met hers, and Ollie recognized the thrill in them, the excitement of a hunt running wild in his blood. He was ready, eager. “Run,” he whispered and her heart picked up speed.

  Ollie shook her head. “No.”

  He needed her to run, needed to chase her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction now, not after everything. Her gaze skimmed down to Caine and fresh panic pricked at her heart. The black barrel of the gun pressed into Caine’s temple, hard enough she could see him flinch as Caine held her gaze. He shook his head, just the barest inch, but she knew what he wanted. Don’t, his eyes screamed at her.

  The Hunter slid his finger down over the trigger. “Run.”

  The scent of rot filled the air, burned at her nose. Blood stained the front of Caine’s shirt, leaving a coppery tang in the air, one that melded with the metallic scent on her tongue. She could smell the silver working its way through his body, eating through his veins. Exhaustion had left dark circles under his eyes.

  “Don’t,” Caine whispered, pleading. He knew as well as she did what running meant, and in the end the Hunter could still choose to kill them all anyway. Giving him the hunt he craved, it might not make one damn bit of difference.

  But he’d already killed so many, broken into her home, made it personal...

  “Run or I’ll kill him and go on with my original plans for the evening. I still have a hunt waiting.” Dean Winters looked up, excitement burning in his eyes. “You two are nothing to me. Run or don’t. Die or don’t. I’ll have fun either way.”

  “This kill won’t mean anything.”

  The gun pressed harder into Caine’s temple, drawing a pained hiss out of him. The Hunter cocked his head then pulled the gun back, just enough to angle it down Caine’s back. “What if I just hurt him more? Let him bleed out.”

  “He needs me to run. You know this, Ollie.”

  “Holly,” Dean chided, his voice thick with a laugh. Mocking. “I don’t want him to run at all. I want you to run. He’s just the bait. Disposable.”

  The gun cracked, a sharp burst of sound that made her cry out, step closer, but the gun was already pressed back against Caine’s head. Caine’s breathing had turned ragged, low, shallow gasps as he tried to breathe through the pain. A fresh line of blood trickled down his shoulder. Dean glanced up at her, solely the Hunter. Any part of the man that had been good, that had been able to waltz his dog into hospitals and act friendly, was all gone now.

  Evil stared back out at her as his lips curled into a feral smile. “Again?”

  “No,” she whispered, her eyes on Caine.

  His lips were pale, too pale. Heart twisting, she took a step back. “You kill him and I won’t run. I will sit on the ground out there and make you shoot me without ever moving a goddamn muscle.”

  Dean curled his lips back and she took another step away. Her gaze darting to Caine’s, his eyes nearly lost to shadow. Heart pounding, she knew what she had to do, but she couldn’t run blindly. Couldn’t let fear get a choke hold on her. He’d come after her, his wolf half fast enough to give her a good chase. But Ollie knew him. When he caught her, he wouldn’t fight fair.

  “But if you want a chase,” she whispered, “come and get me.”

  She lurched backwards a step just as Caine launched upwards, ramming his shoulder in the Hunter’s midsection. The gun fired, a sharp crack of sound in the night, and Ollie lunged for the two of them. She caught the barrel of the gun, grabbed for his wrist, but Dean had already let go. He slipped into the lean, black form of his wolf and disappeared.

  “Go,” Caine said and she didn’t hesitate. Slipping the gun into her holster, Ollie tugged her dog half out and charged after him.

  For the first time, they had a shot at catching him. The long, lean form of her Irish wolfhound tore through the forest, digging into the gr
ound with every stride as she raced after the fresh scent of wolf. He was veering back for her house and the guns. Panic poured speed into her muscles, desperation goading her to impossible speeds.

  A growl rumbled out of her, dark and furious, and she broke through the treeline with the flash of his black tail still in sight. He skidded to a halt in front of the cars, turned, and she was there, plowing into him. Her jaws snapped out, teeth catching in the thick muscle of his shoulder, and Dean tore free, bolting back towards the woods. His eyes flashed white with panic.

  The Hunter had become the hunted.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Caine watched her go, breath ragged as he lay there slumped in a pile of leaves, dirt smudged over his face. Dizzy from both the blood loss and the pain, he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go to sleep. No. He shook his head, jerking himself awake. Ollie might have been armed, but that didn’t mean a damned thing. The Hunter hadn’t killed for this long, not so many shifters, without being good at it.

  He’d know these woods, every bit as well as she would.

  And he’d already have a plan. The only difference now was he wouldn’t be the one doing the chasing for long, if he knew his Ollie. Caine forced a slow breath out between his teeth, focusing through the pain. He needed to get loose, get his feet under him.

  His head swam as he wriggled, trying to test the knot. Fuck, but he wasn’t sure he could do this. The world felt foggy. Memories blurred with the pain. Couldn’t even remember how many times he’d been shot. With a grunt, Caine twisted, rope scraping over his wrists, but it lacked the telltale burn of silver.

  Not that the Hunter had needed a silver rope to keep him down. He’d lost too much blood, had too much silver in his system already. There was no way he’d be able to shift, not now. He’d be lucky if he lasted the night. Less, if he kept wiggling about like a damned fish. Caine changed position, using his hips to scoot him across the ground. The sharp bark of a tree scraped over his knuckles and relief flooded him.