by Moira Rogers
She’d grudgingly agreed to cede the challenge to Seamus, but now not even their plan could hold her. “I accept. Now, with the alpha and Seamus standing witness.”
Before Seamus could argue, the alpha nodded. “It will stand. Whelan, step back.”
He had no choice but to comply, and only the fact that Edwin was a coward and a weakling allowed him to do so without physical restraint. From the way Joan looked at him as she slipped out of her shoes, she understood the cost of his self-control. A tiny, secretive smile played around the edges of her lips as she straightened and whispered, “Thank you.”
It eased his hackles somewhat. “I know you threatened to kill him slowly, but I’d appreciate it if you made it quick.”
Joan laughed, looking like an entirely different woman than the one he’d first met. Wilder. Freer. She reached for the buttons on the front of her oversized shirt and nodded. “Anything for you, my dear man.”
That unfettered confidence let him relax more, and he fell back to stand beside the Boston alpha. “She’s going to tear into him.”
The man seemed unconcerned. “If he can’t defend himself against one little deb, he deserves to go down.”
“Yes, doesn’t he?” Joan’s voice slashed through the air as she shed her shirt. “You made me, Edwin. You bit me, you turned me… You took all those girls, stole their lives and threw them away like trash. Now it’s time to pay your debts, and this time your money won’t make it go away.”
Edwin opened his mouth to deliver a rejoinder, and she kicked off her pants and knelt to shift.
Seamus crossed his arms over his chest. Surprisingly, he was going to enjoy watching Joan fight this fight.
As a wolf Joan could smell the heavy stink of Edwin’s fear. He wasn’t a man used to fighting. During normal times he would have settled somewhere in the middle of the pack, not a submissive wolf but not dominant. There was no steely strength in him, no fire, none of the seething power that made the world come alive around her.
Then the world they’d known had ended with the stock market’s crash, and Edwin’s ability to cling to his fortune had given him all the power he needed. No one challenged the man who fed them.
Before now.
It seemed to take forever for Edwin to call the change. His power fluctuated wildly with the pounding of his heart, skittish and fast enough to rouse her instincts. Scared. Weak. Edwin was prey.
He trembled on his paws, his tail dipping down, as if he wanted to tuck it between his legs and submit, ending the challenge. But Joan knew that the man still inside him wouldn’t allow it.
He’d always had more pride than sense.
The men had formed a circle again, a loose one this time, marking the boundary of an acceptable challenge. Joan could sense Seamus at her back, a glowing star of power. A hundred times before she’d considered challenging Edwin, but fear had always held her back. Edwin didn’t believe in fair fights. His men would have fallen on her like they’d been planning on attacking Seamus.
Not this time. A fair fight. A clean fight, with Seamus protecting her from duplicity. Baring her teeth, she snarled at Edwin and lunged.
He met her at the shoulder with a hard shove. His greater bulk gave him an advantage, but she was used to being smaller than the males. She twisted away easily and nipped at his side, moving faster than he could hope to.
A good thing too, since even Edwin, with his slight build, was stronger. He could snap his jaws on her throat, so she had to make sure he didn’t get the chance.
She had to bring him down.
Edwin wasn’t an experienced fighter, but he was desperate. Joan was still considering the best tactic when he came at her, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl. The move held no subtlety, just rage and aggression, but even so his teeth grazed her fur as she twisted away, almost too slow.
No time to think. Instinct took over and she went low this time, driving underneath his guard. Her jaw snapped shut on his back leg. His yelp turned into a howl of pain, but he cut it short and retaliated, biting into her haunch.
Pain sliced through her, intensifying as she endured it long enough to bite again, this time hard enough to snap bone. He went down, but his teeth ripped free of her flesh as he did, rending it in a burning blaze of agony.
Instinct screamed to press the advantage, to ignore her pain and end him before he could hurt anyone else. Instead she hesitated, giving him a chance to yield.
He scrambled up, spittle flying from his jaws as he dove for her throat.
On three legs the attack was clumsy, and part of her had known he couldn’t give in. Not to her. She feinted back, let him think she was more injured than she was. That she was scared, intimidated…all the things he wanted to believe.
A perfect trap for his ego, and he tumbled into it, pressing his advantage without a care for defense. She narrowly wrenched her body out of the way of a stumbling attack, then let her leg give out, as if the pain from her left flank was too much.
He shouldn’t have believed it. Even a weaker wolf would have recovered from her injury by now, but males always believed females were inferior. Edwin lunged, reckless and triumphant, and Joan twisted at the last moment and closed her jaws around his vulnerable throat.
She’d killed before, when necessity called for it. Her human mind might shy away, but the wolf knew what to do.
Bite.
Tear.
Blood gushed, hot and sharply metallic, and relief swelled as she staggered away, her wolf already secure in their victory.
Edwin toppled, slumped to the ground in a quiet, awkward heap. Blood pooled underneath him and seeped into his meticulously kept lawn. Brutal death amidst the trappings of civilization.
No one spoke. No one breathed, not until Seamus finally broke the leash of his control and ran forward to kneel beside her, his hands gently ruffling her fur. “Joan. Are you all right?”
The words drifted over her, more tone than substance. Some part of her knew their meaning, felt the sweet possessiveness in his touch. She should turn, reassure him somehow.
She should celebrate, howl her victory loud enough that the wolves who belonged to her would hear and know themselves safe. The enemy of her nightmares had been brought low. By her.
He was dead. Edwin Lancaster, the man who’d torn her from her family and her life when she’d rejected him. The man who’d thrust her into this nightmarish world of brutality and savagery. Joan stared, her heightened senses filled with the scent of cooling blood.
Dead.
She was free.
Frigid numbness faded under a rush of giddy, reckless excitement. There’d been a time when she’d imagined not even his death would save them. So many wolves had embraced the corruption Edwin fostered. Impossible to imagine the same wasn’t happening all across the country, where desperation met money.
No place to run. No place to take the girls whose lives Edwin had destroyed.
Not until Seamus.
He whispered her name again, hands still sliding over her back, questing for injuries. He was worried. Protective. It snapped her out of her shock, and she shook herself and danced away, needing the space to shift.
The agony of the change intensified with a still-healing wound, but Joan pushed through it until she knelt on the blood-slicked ground, her hip throbbing in protest. “My shirt?”
Seamus wrapped his own around her, engulfing her in his warmth and scent. “Do you need a doctor?”
“No.” Her fingers trembled as she tangled them in the shirt and clutched it tight around her. She lifted her gaze and found the loose circle of men watching her, their expressions ranging from fury to satisfaction.
Only one man’s face was blank—the one man who could betray them yet. “Samuel.”
Slowly, the Boston alpha began to smile. “I’ve done my part.”
Seamus nodded. “Yes, you have.”
“I trust you haven’t forgotten our agreement.” Samuel’s expression darkened. “If you don’t ho
ld up your end of the deal, I could still make life very difficult for Miss Fuller and—”
Seamus held up a hand to stop his words. “I know someone who can transfer Lancaster’s assets to the pack. I’ll contact him immediately.”
“Then I believe everyone will agree that Edwin decided to take an extended trip. A tour of Europe, perhaps?”
Joan closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “My people.”
“In the guest house. Edwin kept them there, under guard.”
The answer didn’t soothe her. “He couldn’t have kept Adam and Gavin in check with a guard.”
Samuel looked away. “Edwin always has—had his ways.”
Which meant some of them had died to keep the men in line. Ice slipped through her veins, and it took all of the stubborn pride she possessed to lift herself to her feet. Her leg wouldn’t quite hold her yet, but Seamus was quick enough to offer support. “I’m taking them with me, Samuel. We’re leaving Boston.”
“That was part of the deal.”
“A part we’re keeping,” Seamus whispered, close to her ear.
Joan nodded and tightened her fingers around his hand. “I’d like to see them while you and Seamus discuss your business.”
The alpha shook his head. “Business will keep. Take her to see them, and we’ll talk later.”
Seamus slid his arm around her waist and nearly lifted her off her feet. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
In times past she never would have accepted his assistance. She would have swallowed pain and accepted the misery of appearing uninjured. Many of the men who watched their slow progress across the uneven ground had been enemies. To show weakness, to be vulnerable in front of them—it would have invited challenge.
With Seamus at her side she didn’t have to be strong every moment of every day. She could curl her arm around his neck and let him help her. So she did, shaking a little as she hooked her arm over his shoulder. “For a second I thought you wouldn’t let me fight him.”
A flash of guilt skated across his face. “I almost didn’t.”
“I know.” She smiled a little, in spite of everything. “I won’t blame you for your instincts, as long as you try to fight them once in a while.”
“And I held back,” he allowed. “Even when the son of a bitch bit you.”
“I’m strong enough to fight when I have to, Seamus. But knowing you’re at my back…it means everything.”
“I will be, sweet Joan.” His eyes blazed with intensity. “Your fights are mine, and mine are yours.”
The words rocked through her, wiping away pain and fear in a rush of relief that weakened her knees. “That means your people are mine, and mine are yours.”
“Thought we’d settled that already, love.”
“I suppose we did.” She hesitated in front of the door to the guesthouse, then squared her shoulders. Whatever she found on the other side, whatever pain or grief waited, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.
She’d never have to face anything alone again. “Let’s see to our people.”
Seamus pushed open the door, and at first she could only see the faces of the missing. Opal, whose death she had all but ordered through ruthless practicality. Astrid, their witch, who she’d known in her heart must be gone because Astrid could never be held captive, not for so long. Not when the first person to lay an ungentle hand on Maggie would have had to kill her or forfeit his own life.
A more ruthless leader might have considered it a triumph. Not so many were missing. Opal, Astrid, a young, quiet woman named Jasmine and the only male Edwin had captured, a gruff older wolf who’d only joined Joan’s pack recently. Not so many, but still too many. Enough to make victory more bitter than sweet, and Joan ached for every life as if every death had been hers alone to prevent.
Seamus’s arm slid around her waist again, a comforting strength. “Joan?”
She swallowed and pulled herself together. For them. “We’re leaving. We’ve found a safe place, and everyone else is already on the way there.”
A quiet, pained noise filled the air, and two of the girls moved, giving Joan her first glimpse of Adam stretched out on an immaculately upholstered sofa. He was pale, as pale as human legends so often painted vampires, and even sitting upright seemed a struggle, though he flinched away from the one girl who reached out to help him.
Dull, tired eyes focused on her waist, on Seamus’s arm around her and the unspoken statement inherent in the gesture. When Adam’s gaze lifted to hers, he looked almost relieved. “You don’t need me anymore.”
Seamus glanced around, his mouth open as if to speak. Before he could, Gavin shouldered out of the small crowd with a grimace. “Whelan.”
“Gavin.” His relief was palpable.
But his friend paused only for a brief greeting before turning to Joan. “Talk some sense into Adam. He’s half-killed himself trying to help everyone, but he won’t feed.”
Joan slipped away from Seamus and moved to stand in front of the sofa, her throat tight with tears she still couldn’t shed. Wouldn’t shed—not yet. “Adam.”
The vampire looked away. “I’m leaving, Joan. Gavin’s going to help Seamus get everyone to safety. Wolves helping wolves. That’s how it should be.”
She hadn’t always approved of Adam. Sometimes she hadn’t even liked him very much, but she’d always respected him. Appreciated him. “You helped us. For years, you helped us. Let us help you now.”
“No.” His eyes closed. “The bonds are gone. Astrid’s gone. I need to go too. I need some time.” His fists clenched on his legs. “Do you really want to look at me, day in and day out, and see the ghosts?”
As if the ghosts wouldn’t follow him wherever he went, just like they’d follow her. “We always see them. They deserve to be seen. And Astrid—” She glanced at Maggie, curled in the corner between the protective press of two of her friends, her eyes red and swollen, her expression numb.
Adam didn’t turn his head, but he seemed to know where her gaze had wandered. “Take care of her. For Astrid. For me.”
Unwavering finality. She could argue, but Adam was unmovable when he set his mind on something. Only Astrid had ever been able to sway him. “I will,” she whispered. “We’ll take care of all of them. Gavin will know where we are. If you need a safe place…”
“Take care, Joan.” Adam finally looked at her, just for a moment, and she saw a world of loneliness and loss and something that went beyond both, a soul-deep envy that sharpened as he looked past her again. “Let him love you, Joanie.”
“We just met, Adam. It’s not—” The words wouldn’t come, because she knew they weren’t true. Love bloomed over a lifetime of days, but it could kindle in a moment. In the space between heartbeats, with something as small as a promise—Your fights are mine, and mine are yours.
The tiniest smile curved Adam’s lips when she didn’t finish her denial. “You never were stupid.”
“No, I suppose I wasn’t.” She hesitated before lowering her voice. “I hope you’ll let someone love you someday.”
“Someday,” he agreed, but his pleasant tone couldn’t cover the lie. Her heart broke a little, but she pasted on a smile and pretended she believed him. She pretended as Gavin and Seamus helped her gather up the girls, pretended as Adam said his awkward goodbyes and someone brought her clothes and pointed her to the bathroom.
She pretended until the door closed behind her, and then she gave in and cried. Silently, because she couldn’t afford to alarm the young women who had already been through so much, but the tears burned as she scrubbed at her skin with a wet rag. Another sink in another house and she was still covered with blood and tired of fighting—
But not alone, not this time. The door cracked open and Seamus slipped inside. He watched her in the mirror for a moment before taking the damp cloth and stroking it over her arms. “Dubois left.”
Joan closed her eyes and let him take care of her, needing the quiet, steadying support. “I know.
I think he’s broken inside.”
“He did the best he could.” Seamus’s fingers stroked through her hair. “We all did.”
She turned blindly and found him there, arms open and strong as she wrapped herself in his scent and his power and everything that was Seamus. “I want to go home. I want to have a home to go to.”
“Breckenridge Island?” he whispered against her temple.
It was more primal. More basic. “You.”
A soft growl vibrated under her cheek. “You’ll always have that, whether we’re out there on that island or back in the city. I promise.”
She clung to him until she thought his shoulders might bear bruises from her fingers, and even that evoked an instinctive satisfaction. Marked. Hers. “I think my wolf is a little in love with you.”
He made a low noise of pleasure. “What we need to do now is see if the rest of you is going to join her.”
“When.” Joan kissed his cheek, the line of his jaw and then his chin. “Not if. When. I only hope you’re not far behind me.”
He cupped her face, tilted it up to his. “No,” he whispered, somehow making the word sound like an endearment. “Not far at all, love.”
The day was chilly, but Seamus had long since discarded his shirt as he worked on fashioning a door for the most recently completed cabin. It would be shared by several of the women, including Elise and her new baby, so they’d worked on making the structure especially sound.
He paused and straightened as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. The settlement was larger already than they’d expected it to be, but word of their defection from the city packs had already spread. More showed up every few days and, soon, overpopulation would cause problems. Not with money—there was plenty of that—but even money couldn’t buy shelter or food on this island.
Victor balanced precariously on the steeply slanted roof above him, working on the slate shingles. “How’s the door coming?”
