Darkmoon (#5) (The Cain Chronicles)

by Reine, SM

  No more competition. No more heartache.

  But he thought of the way that Rylie watched Abel from across the room, and the way that Abel watched her back. If he was going to be honest with himself, he never saw Rylie happier than when she was with his brother. She definitely didn’t smile for Seth like that anymore.

  And Rylie made Abel happy, too. She made him want to be a better person.

  What was that if it wasn’t love?

  Seth was pretty sure that the competition had already been over for months—and not in his favor. It was an ugly thought. He had been trying not to contemplate it for a while. But as much as it killed him, he couldn’t let his brother leave. Not when Abel was the only one who made Rylie smile.

  James had been right: there was nothing worse than being alone. Seth couldn’t let that happen to his brother.

  “Look, Abel…” Seth began.

  “Hey, guys.”

  They both turned at the same time. Somehow, Rylie had crept up on them. She was still graceful and silent, even while swollen with pregnancy, and Seth’s heart ached to see her. Every day she carried those babies made her even more beautiful. It was like she held the light of the moon within her skin.

  All Seth could manage to say was, “Hi.” But Abel walked away without as much as a word. He had long legs. Within moments, he started to disappear into the night.

  Rylie stared after him, looking sick and heartbroken. “Where’s he going?”

  “I think he’s just getting some air.”

  “We’ve been outside for hours. How could he need more air?” She gripped Seth’s arm, fingers digging into his bicep. “You’re not telling me something. Where is Abel going? What did he say?”

  He couldn’t lie to Rylie when she looked like that. “He’s not going anywhere for now. He said he would help save Bekah and Levi tomorrow. But…he also said that he’s not coming with us to the Haven.”

  Rylie’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry,” Seth said, and he was surprised to mean it. Watching Rylie well up with tears was too painful, so he quickly changed subjects. “What did Stephanie want?”

  She swallowed hard. “Nothing. She was just saying goodbye.”

  NINETEEN

  The Rescue

  Rylie and Brody left for the Haven the next morning, before the sun had even risen. He had run into town overnight and gotten a car somewhere—Rylie wasn’t sure that she wanted to know where, exactly—and they took to the road without saying goodbye to the pack.

  “No point in saying goodbye when we’ll be back together tonight,” Seth said, holding Rylie’s hand as she climbed into the car. She was reluctant to leave without talking to Abel, but he was nowhere in sight. Maybe he didn’t want to see her anymore.

  Seth bent toward her. Rylie lifted her face to kiss him, but he only brushed his lips over her cheek.

  An hour later, the trees began to thicken as they entered the mountains, and she found herself touching the place that Seth had kissed.

  Why had he turned aside at the last moment?

  “Do you need a pit stop, ma’am?” Brody asked. He should have been exhausted after getting struck by an SUV, running into town twice, and going without sleep for at least a day, but his golden eyes were clear and bright.

  “I’m fine,” she said, forcing herself to stop touching her cheek. “And you don’t have to call me ‘ma’am.’ I’m only nineteen.”

  “It’s a sign of respect. Age isn’t a factor in that.”

  Rylie glared at the trees flying past them. The sun was beginning to peek through the branches, and it cast dappled light on the car. “I don’t think I’ve done anything worth respecting.”

  “Maybe not. I haven’t known you long. But how many nineteen year old girls can lead a pack of werewolves? How many teenage girls even survive the bite in the first place? The number’s few, I’d guess.” Brody’s hands tightened on the wheel, making the leather creek. “I almost didn’t survive. I was twenty-seven, and I spent my entire life thinking that I was tough as hell…until those first three months of the change.”

  She tilted her head to the side to watch him. She had been thinking so much about Seth and Abel’s weird behavior that she hadn’t even considered where her bodyguard might have come from. “Do you mind if I ask how you got bitten? There aren’t many werewolves left.”

  “It was my sister. She got it from somewhere else—on a trip to Turkey. Brought it back with her.”

  “Where is she now?” Rylie asked.

  He glanced sideways at her. “She didn’t survive the first three months.”

  “Oh.” She twisted her hands together, staring down at her stomach as the babies bumped gently from side to side with the motion of the car. She wished she hadn’t asked. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend.”

  Brody reached out to turn on the radio. “No need to be sorry. That’s life for you. Now, what kind of—shit!”

  Rylie looked up to see what had made him shout, and all of the blood rushed out of her head at once.

  Two black SUVs blocked both lanes of the highway, and they were moving in fast.

  “Hang onto something!” Brody shouted.

  She clung to the handhold over the door as he yanked the emergency brake, twisted the wheel, and sent the car spinning one hundred and eighty degrees. The smell of burned rubber filled her nostrils as the tires squealed.

  He straightened them out facing the other direction and stomped the gas. They tore down the highway with Rylie’s back plastered to the seat and her knuckles white on the dashboard.

  But they didn’t get far.

  They crested a hill that they had passed only moments earlier to see two more Union vehicles approaching from the opposite direction. Which of them was Cain riding in? Or had he only sent his army this time?

  “Brody,” she said in a low, warning voice.

  “I see them. Seat belt?”

  She double checked the buckle. “I’m good.”

  “This is going to be bumpy, ma’am,” Brody said. “I apologize.” Always the gentleman.

  They flew off the shoulder and into the trees.

  Brody cut straight through the forest and angled for the denser trees higher on the mountain. Rylie shut her eyes, gritted her teeth, and hung tight as the car jittered over the uneven ground. It was an old Taurus, and not meant to go off-road, but Brody navigated them through the trees without getting caught on anything.

  Unfortunately, the SUVs were better prepared for rough terrain. The first one appeared in Rylie’s side mirror. It was gaining quickly.

  “Look behind your seat,” Brody said.

  Rylie craned around to see a shoebox on the floor. She pulled it into her lap and was about to open the lid when the car glanced off of a tree trunk. Her shoulder banged against the door.

  An SUV plowed toward their side. Brody almost spun out trying to get away.

  As soon as they were clear, he rolled down his window.

  She finally flung the lid of the shoebox aside and found a gun. It was black, small, and fit her hand well. Brody held out a hand. She gave it to him.

  Keeping a knee braced against the steering wheel, he leaned out of the window of the car, fired off three shots, and then dropped back into his seat.

  Rylie watched the SUV just behind them swerve, stop, and then vanish as Brody steered them higher onto the mountain. “Holy crap,” she said. She had thought that he couldn’t do anything more impressive than catching an SUV with his bare hands, but James Bond-style shooting was getting close. “What did you say that you used to do for a living?”

  He winked at her. “Odd jobs. Can you shoot?”

  Her last close encounter with a gun had been when she thought she couldn’t stand being a werewolf anymore and contemplated suicide. She had stolen one of the guns and learned all of the parts—the safety, the trigger, the business end—and thought that she could operate one. She never tested the theory. Abel had figured out what she was doing and ta
ken it from her.

  Firing was one thing. Aiming, on the other hand…?

  “Yes?” she said in a tiny voice.

  He handed her the gun. “Good time to practice.” His voice sharpened. “Duck.”

  Rylie folded over as much as she could. A second later, the rear passenger window shattered. Bullets whizzed overhead and punched through the other side.

  Her heart pounded in the back of her throat. She kept taking deep breaths, Lamaze breathing, just like she had practiced with Bekah and Stephanie. She couldn’t risk panic.

  “You’re good,” Brody said. “There’s a vehicle at your four o’clock.”

  Rylie knew that term from playing video games with Tate. She twisted to the right, like she was in the center of a clock, and looked at where the four would be. An SUV bore down on them from above.

  She wrapped her arm around the headrest to aim out the place the back window used to be. Deep breaths.

  Rylie pulled the trigger.

  The explosion of a gunshot was so much louder when she held the gun. It bucked in her hand, hurt her wrist, and made her fingers hot. She also didn’t hit anything. “Nice try,” Brody said, even though he wasn’t watching. He was glaring at the trees and swerving like crazy to avoid them.

  Rylie popped off two more shots. One of them even hit the windshield in the top left corner.

  The SUV kept coming.

  Before she could try again, Brody swore loudly, and the car came to a jolting stop. She slid into the dashboard.

  The engine ticked and hissed. The wheels whirred.

  They weren’t going anywhere.

  Three Union SUVs circled around them, and the panic that Rylie had been fighting so hard since she first spotted them began to choke her. “Gun,” Brody said, and she handed it back to him just in time. Her stomach clenched hard as soon as she released the grip.

  Not now!

  “Brody,” she panted, holding her stomach. “I can’t—”

  “Get ready to run. I’ll cover you.” He leaned back, kicked his door open, and jumped out of the car. “Go!”

  She didn’t have any other choice. Rylie spilled out of the car behind him and tried to run, even though she could feel the contraction in the small of her back and down her thighs and she could barely breathe, much less see.

  The SUVs had them surrounded, but Brody fired calmly, one shot at a time, and every bullet hit something. Men shouted. Glass shattered.

  She kept her arms over her head and didn’t look where she was going. All she focused on was taking one more step, getting deeper into the forest, escaping the sounds of gunfire.

  Rylie stumbled through the trees. She heard a deep scream behind her—Brody?

  She didn’t stop to look.

  The forest was a tangled mess of branches and fallen logs and rocks. Ever since she first changed, Rylie had been comfortable in the wild, like she was a part of it. But her wolfish instincts had abandoned her among the stress and pain. She tripped and had to fight to haul herself up the rocks.

  And the contractions swept over her, one after another, with barely a break in between.

  Somehow, she reached the top of a nearby ridge, and nobody had found her. She rested on all fours to try to catch her breath.

  She could see the SUVs below, all four of them. The one that Brody disabled was near the road. The other three were still where she had left them behind. Rylie had climbed higher than she expected; all of the black-clad men were tiny beneath her.

  One of the men wasn’t wearing black. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, and he was being forced face-down onto the ground.

  They had Brody. She had to save him.

  But another contraction swept over her, making her eyes blur and ears ring. How could she expect to save someone else when the chances of saving herself weren’t very good?

  The Haven. She had to get to the Haven—and she had to do it before the babies came.

  Rylie kept running.

  Abel and Seth prowled along the roof of the old high school while waiting for Tate’s speech. It looked like the entire town had turned out to listen, which wasn’t saying much; there were maybe three hundred people milling around the lawn.

  The stage was empty, and Tate wasn’t scheduled to talk for another ten minutes. The remaining members of the pack were spread throughout the crowd, watching for the Union, and Seth had his favorite rifle hanging from his shoulder and a pistol at the small of his back. If Cain showed his face, they would be ready for him.

  Abel sat on the edge of the roof, feet dangling over the side. “How was Rylie this morning?” he asked.

  Seth tightened the strap on his rifle and checked the safety. He didn’t need to do either. He was just fidgeting so that he wouldn’t have to meet his brother’s eyes. “She seemed good. I think she was hurt that you weren’t there.”

  Abel grunted.

  Pacing along the edge of the roof, Seth glanced at the tour buses again—still there—and went back to Abel.

  “You have to come to the Haven with us,” Seth said.

  Abel remained silent.

  The crowd below stirred. Seth braced his elbows on the roof, propped his rifle up, and lowered his eye to the hunting scope.

  The door to the American flag-covered bus opened, and Tate stepped out.

  Seth tracked Tate’s progress across the lawn. He was smiling and waving to the crowd, but even the makeup caked to his skin couldn’t hide his pallor. He didn’t look good. “Rylie told me what you guys did the other night,” Seth said. He felt rather than saw Abel turn to face him, but still, he didn’t speak. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. More than I should.”

  The silence between them was underscored with the crowd’s rising murmur. Tate mounted the stage, and Seth used his scope to search for Cain. He wasn’t among the entourage, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there.

  He spotted Crystal and Pyper near the back of the crowd. They were alert and sniffing the air. Not exactly sneaky.

  Tate talked for a while, but Seth had already heard it all on the news a hundred times, so he didn’t pay any attention.

  “It pisses me off to think that you’d be macking on the girl I was going to marry just a few months ago. I mean, we’re not just brothers. We’re all that remains of our family, aside from Cain, and I like you at least a little bit better than him.”

  Abel was motionless, but Seth knew that he was listening.

  The bus doors remained open. Seth scanned the crowd nearby as he went on.

  “Who wants to be in a relationship where the girl’s always thinking about someone else? I mean, yeah, I could probably talk Rylie into staying with me. She’s loyal and all, and dear God, do I love her. But if making her stay means that I’m going to lose my best friend—”

  “I smell him,” Abel interrupted.

  Seth lifted his head. “What?”

  “Cain. I smell him on the wind.”

  Okay, so they still weren’t talking about Rylie. That was fine. At least they could be productive in the meantime.

  He stood, shouldered his rifle, and drew a pistol instead. “Take point.”

  Abel led him to the back of the building, and they dropped down one at a time. He sniffed the air and headed toward the back of the school complex. Tate had started giving his speech, so his voice echoed around them. Something about faith and patriotism and national security. Seth might have been imagining it, but he didn’t sound like he had his usual conviction.

  They looped toward the buses, and even though Seth kept the black handgun close to his leg so that it wouldn’t be as obvious, his finger didn’t move far from the trigger.

  “I never would have started dating Rylie if I had known she would be a problem between us,” Seth went on in a low voice.

  Abel rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You’re going to keep on with this bros before hos bullshit?”

  “Is it bullshit? Really?”

  “Yes, it is.” He jerked his chin toward the buses. “I thin
k he’s inside the one on the other side.”

  They circled around the members of Tate’s security team. There were only two of them remaining by the buses; judging by the black polo shirts, they were a Union detail. It was easy to avoid their notice. Almost too easy. Did Cain want to be found?

  The door on the opposite bus was closed. Seth peered through the window, but it was too dark to see anything. “I just think you should reconsider coming to Haven. There’s got to be a way we can resolve this whole Rylie thing that doesn’t involve breaking apart our family. The babies are going to need us—all of us.”

  “Don’t you want to get rid of me?” Abel asked, exasperated.

  “No. I want you to be happy. I want Rylie to be happy. And I don’t want any of us to be alone.”

  His brother scoffed. “What are you trying to say? That we should share?”

  “I’m saying that I think she’s happier with you, and I’m prepared to be the bigger man and get out of the way, if that’s what it takes for us to be a family.”

  “You mean…”

  “Don’t make me say it out loud,” Seth said. “On the count of three?”

  Abel nodded and drew his own handgun. They didn’t need to hide their weapons anymore; they were sheltered between the buses, and nobody could see them.

  Seth counted down on his fingers. Three. Two. One.

  He leaned back and kicked in the door of the tour bus.

  They jumped in. Abel took the driver’s compartment on the left, and Seth went right, aiming his gun down the length of the bus. “Cain!” Seth shouted, but nobody responded.

  He threw open the bathroom door. It was empty inside, but a fan had been positioned near the window with a pile of clothing in front of it. Abel stepped in, grabbed the shirt, and sniffed it.

  “This is what I smelled,” Abel said. “Cain’s dirty laundry.” Disgusted, he flung the clothes to the floor.

  Seth lowered his gun. “He wanted to lure us onto the buses. Why?”

  “I think he just wanted you to be distracted,” said a man near the entrance. The brothers aimed in an instant. It was Tate—free of his entourage, looking sickly, and closing the door quietly behind him.