Dark Secrets

by Madeline Pryce

  Pride had me grinning from ear to ear. “She’s giving them direction.”

  “I know this is confusing and scary, that you’ve all been through a lot,” Hannah said loudly, “but we’re here to help. If you want out of here, follow us. You want to stay, fine, but more guys with scary guns are on their way.”

  Once Hannah had everyone walking in the right direction, she jogged up to me and linked her arm with Marianna’s, pulling her from me. As a pulsing, loud, ungainly group, we started for the staircase.

  I motioned to Micah. “Stay up here with your mom and Hannah, I’ll take up the rear.”

  He gave me a brisk nod and took the lead. For the first time in my life, the karma fairy—bless her black, bitchy heart—looked the other way. We made it down the stairs and through the halls without encountering a single soul.

  Outside, the frigid wind slapping me in the face had never felt better. That lasted for about two seconds. Guards, alerted to the break-in, charged us the second we made it into the open. Micah and I fought, kicked and punched side by side while Hannah stayed with the shivering women, ushering them closer to safety. I lost myself for a few moments, seduced by the wind, by the scents in the air, by how it felt to smash my fist against flesh and bone.

  A bullet thudded beside my boot, snapping me out of my trance. Startled, I looked up at the gun trained on me from one of the guard towers. The shadow inside me pulsed, taking over. Without any real effort, I phazed the distance, appeared at his side and grabbed his gun. I looked down at Micah wrestling two men at once and worked quickly to take out the other man in the booth.

  The world spun around me as if it slowed to give me extra time. I phazed back to the fight below, grabbing the gleaming knife aimed for Micah’s kidneys. I saw the guard’s fear, smelled it. His emotions poured into me as if I’d somehow sunk into his head. His secrets hit me one at a time, a filthy stream of words I devoured. The lethal predator inside me latched onto his fear. I shoved the black putrid ball of terror back at him.

  “No, no, no,” he cried, backing away.

  The scent of urine filled the night and yet I still pressed forward, filling him with horror. I grabbed the man’s hand, clutched until bone crunched and he dropped his knife.

  Stepping forward, I licked my lips, my fangs fully exposed. I glanced at his throat and imagined the blood racing in his veins, wondered if his fear would add to the taste of him. The scents pouring off him filled me with an incredible high.

  A roar filled the night, snapping me from my thrall. Horrified at what I’d just done, I pulled out of the man’s head and looked up as a large yellow lion raced to us. From the other end of the compound, Eli—still in wolf form—charged. All hell broke loose. The women screamed in panic, and Hannah, bless her heart, did her best to calm them.

  “To the woods,” Micah yelled, struggling to hustle everyone in the direction of the chain-link fence, our last obstacle to freedom.

  Shouts rang out in the distance, followed by the revving of vehicles. Alarms screamed through the night and made it hard to think past the noise. Micah was a blur of action, creating a way to freedom and ushering everyone through the hole he’d made.

  When the last person was accounted for, Dante and Eli joined us. A gunshot rang out, followed by an awful howl. I froze and turned in slow motion. Eli dropped to the ground, his large wolf body twitching as two more shots rang out and hit their target.

  My heart stopped, an anguished “No!” tearing from my lips. I stumbled, nearly tripping over my feet.

  “Eli!” Micah yelled, his shout eclipsing mine. He changed directions, splitting from the group to sprint to his fallen brother. Grief slammed into me. Try as I might, I couldn’t look away from the dark-red blood spilling onto the snow and saturating the ground.

  A flash of blinding light radiated from the shifter, and I lifted my hand in front of my face to shield my eyes. Mid-step, Dante morphed from lion to man—a seamless transition that reminded me of water flowing down a river. He made it to the fallen wolf before Micah and scooped him up off the ground.

  He motioned Micah back. “I got him, go!” Dante bellowed and cradled the large animal against his naked chest.

  Micah pulled out his phone and hit a button as he ran. We reached the forest line and I hung back, heart in my throat, tears in my eyes, making sure there were no stragglers. The second I heard Micah’s words, the furious tone behind them, I knew who he’d called.

  “Need a portal, now. Eli’s been shot.”

  When we reached the jeep, Micah kept sprinting until he reached a clearing a little way past the access road. The air crackled with static and as a unit, the group came to a stop. Electricity sparked. Bright, illuminated lines streaked to morph and split apart. A hole formed, revealing a swirling black vortex that had me sucking in a breath.

  Hannah didn’t waste a second. The moment the portal appeared, she grabbed arms, gowns, anything she could reach to usher the women to safety. When everyone was inside, she took Marianna’s hand, met my gaze and stepped through, vanishing from sight.

  Without a word, Dante, Eli still cradled in his arms, followed the others to leave me and Micah alone. Boots crunched through snow, getting closer. Wind whipped, blowing the strands of my hair all over the place and obscuring my view.

  “He’ll be okay,” I whispered, wishing my words would make it true.

  Micah shook his head and stepped through the portal. The bond between us stretched, ripping and shredding my insides as I literally felt Micah moving through the different dimensions. Crippling pain had me stumbling forward, into the vortex. The air was thick and hard to navigate. My stomach clenched, churned and my skin crawled for the split second it took to cross into hell.

  I stepped from snow and ice into the Vault, an underground demon dimension that doubled as a nightclub. The place was completely empty, a state I’d never seen before. The women huddled together, Hannah doing her best to settle them. Out of a tunnel, Castro stepped forward, a pained, almost desperate expression on his face.

  Marianna took one look at the demon and screamed. Hannah clutched her close, and Micah’s mother burrowed into her for protection. Micah strode the distance between him and the demon lord, his every step a loud reverberation against the sparkling stone walls.

  “You fucker,” Micah hissed, drew back his balled fist and drove it forward, straight into Castro’s face.

  Chapter Ten

  Sights and sounds faded under the onslaught of pure, penetrating rage. Nothing mattered, not my mate or my brother, only vengeance. Castro would pay. One punch after another, I unleashed the Feurety demon I’d inherited from the asshole in front of me. Heat seared through me, curled up from my skin in a mocking reminder of who’d sired me. The roiling ball in the pit of my gut churned, waiting for me to release it.

  I’d let it go, but not until this piece of shit experienced my wrath.

  He’d raped my mother.

  I swung out and my fist connected with his nose, the resulting crunch a deep satisfaction. Blood sprayed, coating the front of my shirt and eating through the fabric as if it were battery acid.

  Someone screamed behind me and I shoved the sound away, pushing everything to the background.

  He’d lied to me.

  Surging forward with an anguished war cry, I angled my arm up until the point of my elbow connected with his throat. When that wasn’t enough, I swung my fist in the direction of his face. The demon lord flew back from the impact and landed in a heap on the stone floor.

  “Fight back, you pussy!” I raged, went at him again.

  I was a demon because of him. I was evil because of him.

  “Micah!”

  I ignored my name. Ignored the way Castro’s mouth moved as if to signal he was speaking. Fuck him and his excuses. He could write me a goddamn letter from hell after I sent him there.

  I stalked the distance between us and kicked, burying my boot into his ribs. Once. Twice. He lifted off the ground with each blow
and I drew pleasure from his grunt of pain, from the blood smearing across the floor when he turned to it.

  Palm held up, I called the fire coiling inside me and willed it to surge through my veins. Blue flames licked from the pattern embedded in my flesh and for just a moment I held it there to let the anticipation of what I was about to do simmer.

  Pain. Death. Vindication.

  “Don’t!” Ella’s voice pierced through me. It took me a second to realize she’d moved in front of me to block Castro.

  I snarled, shoving her to the side. “Move. The. Fuck. Out. Of. The. Way.”

  Ella grabbed my hand and curled my fingers into a fist that extinguished the flames. She held tight—tighter when I tried to shake her off. She cupped my cheek with her free hand, forcing my gaze to hers.

  The murderous haze faded and her blue eyes sharpened into focus. Pain. It filled her eyes and overflowed, infecting me. Had I hurt her? No. That wasn’t right. The hurt was familiar—it was…mine.

  The demon retreated and I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

  “Stop.” Her voice cracked with emotion as if she were on the verge of tears. I looked around the room, at the group of women huddled together in terror, at Hannah, who clutched my sobbing mother close. At Dante, who held my brother’s lifeless body. Elijah. Half my flesh and blood. My family.

  “He isn’t your father, Micah,” Ella said. “Listen to him.”

  “I’m not interested in his lies.” My words were a fierce whisper.

  Castro rose from the ground, a dark fountain of blood dripping from his swollen face. I bared my teeth as a new wave of anger surfaced. At my side, I curled my fingers into a fist. “This piece of shit raped my mother. He played me and now he’s going to pay.”

  I stepped forward, but Ella was there, her slight frame blocking my path. I glared at her. “Move.”

  “Listen to him, Ella. I don’t need your protection.” Castro wiped at his dripping nose. “Micah, I didn’t rape your mother. I swear to you.”

  Bullshit.

  “Your word means nothing. Not anymore. I saw the file, your picture. I know what you did to her.” I ran a hand through my hair and felt the first hints of pain at the splits—maybe breaks—in my knuckles. “Is that why you wanted me to bring her here, so you could take up where you left off? Is this some kind of a game to you?”

  Castro shook his head. The tie holding the dark strands of his hair had fallen out and a curtain of black flowed around his shoulders. Emotions battered me from all angles and I knew he was trying to control me, to calm me. The attempt pissed me off. I’d let Richard and the Shadow Agency control me for a good portion of my life.

  I wasn’t that confused, misplaced little boy. Not anymore. I knew exactly who I was.

  “I’m not the one playing games. Nothing is as it seems. Don’t you know that by now? The demon in the photo was my twin brother.”

  Was. His words hit me, the sorrow behind them potent enough to penetrate, to burrow in and make me experience his pain. Confusion warred with grief. I stumbled back, my legs weakening.

  “Micah, you’re my nephew.” He stepped close and I retreated until my ass hit the rough stone wall. I couldn’t comprehend his words.

  He stopped advancing as if he knew I needed space to digest what he’d said. Ella burrowed herself against my side, wrapping her arms around me. I cupped the back of her head, buried my fingers in her silky soft hair and held her closer.

  “I asked you to bring your mother to me so I could protect her. Derrik, your father, loved Marianna with his entire soul. Before Richard got a hold of her, she loved him too. This,” Castro turned to indicate the Vault, “was created by him to keep her safe.”

  I looked at my mother, who sobbed in Hannah’s arms. I couldn’t reconcile the facts, couldn’t picture her as anything other than Richard’s wife. I’d never comprehended she’d had a life before me, never thought to ask. And now she was a broken woman with a fractured mind. What the fuck had Richard done to her?

  My gaze shifted to Dante, to where he held my brother. Blood dripped to the ground in large, fat splatters. The anger I’d held onto melted away and I stumbled to the lion shifter. His eyes met mine and I saw, felt, my own pain radiating from his gaze.

  As carefully as I could, I took Eli from his arms and cradled him to my chest. I started down the stone tunnel, one foot in front of the other. Dozens of rooms passed in a blur I was aware of but didn’t really see. For years this place had been my sanctuary, a place where I could be me. Ella jogged to keep up with my strides.

  In the medical ward, the cave transformed from rough slabs of stone and expensive furnishings to a sleek, sterile room. In a strange mixture of Eastern and Western medicine, herbs and tinctures lined one wall, while another held a glass cabinet with medicine bottles.

  Heavy gray smoke hazed the air, the scents of rosemary and mint overpowering. The second I walked through the doors, two half-pint trolls not much taller than my waist sprang into action.

  “Give him here,” one of them rasped.

  When I didn’t immediately let him go, they pried Eli from my arms and glared up at me with orange, beady eyes that matched the shade of their riotous hair. The wolf’s mass had to be at least ten times their combined body weight.

  “Micah, let them help.”

  I looked into Ella’s eyes and let myself sink into her strength, the trust I saw in her gaze. They would take care of Eli—they would fix him. Slowly I released my hold, terrified it would be the last time I held my brother. I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to step in and help when the trolls set Eli on a gurney. Ella urged me back, clearing space for the trolls to move about.

  I sank to the floor and hoped my anger hadn’t cost my brother his life.

  “He’ll be okay,” Ella said softly.

  She sat next to me and lifted my arm, scooting closer to lay her head on my shoulder. The backs of my eyes burned as I stared unerringly at the flurry of movement. The doctors worked quickly to remove the bullets. They were surprisingly efficient considering their short, stubby fingers were gnarled and wrinkled, a texture that matched the rough appearance of their grayish skin. Once the last slug plunked into a metal bowl, the duo slid their hands through Eli’s fur.

  I was on the verge of protesting when the blast of magic hit me, sending a wave of energy that ruffled the hair on the back of my neck. On the table, the wolf contorted as if in agony.

  “What the fuck are you doing to him?” I snarled, my mate the only thing stopping me from carnage.

  I sprang to my feet, but Ella held me back. “Wait.”

  The silvery-blue fur receded, leaving naked flesh in the shape of a man—of my brother. Where the bullets had hit and then been removed, gaping holes cut open Eli’s pale skin.

  One of the doctors looked up at me with glowing eyes. “He’s too young to shift on his own. Every time he transforms, he heals a little bit more. Our magic only extends so far. Castro has called in an outside pack to help force the shift.”

  Frustration filled me. “Why not use the Fenrir?”

  The troll scowled at me and I came damn close to punching him in the face. “It’s my understanding that your brother’s wolf would not have responded well to their influence. The Argent clan has a strong alpha, he’s a good man.”

  “How long will it take for them to get here, can Eli last that long?”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, two men pushed through the door and stalked inside, filling the room with a sharp bite of energy that played across my skin. Both were tall, muscled and had identical don’t-fuck-with-me looks on their faces. Their matching black hair, squared jaws and vibrant green eyes hinted they might be related. The similarity between them ended there. The taller of the two wore an immaculate suit, the other ripped jeans and a worn black tee that was nearly threadbare. Where one had a short, all-business haircut, the other wore his shaggy and unkept, as if he didn’t give a fuck about personal hygiene.

  “
Marcus.” The doctor bowed his head to the man in the suit. The alpha, I assumed.

  After a quick acknowledgment to the troll, the shifter turned in my direction and locked his gaze with mine, obviously assessing me. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Marcus Argent and this is my brother, Nikos.”

  I pressed my palm to his and we shook hands, the custom more a measure of each other’s strength than a nice to meet you.

  “You can help him?” I asked, motioning to my brother.

  Marcus dropped my hand. “We can try. Rogue wolves can be temperamental.”

  “Rogue?” Ella asked.

  Nikos bared his teeth in a way I thought might be a grin. There was a feral gleam in the shifter’s gaze I didn’t like aimed at my woman. The wolf licked his lips—a deliberately sexual gesture—and drew his gaze down her body. I curled my upper lip, the growl rising from my throat a low rumble.

  “Nikos,” Marcus chastised. He glared at his brother and I got the impression if they’d been alone, he would have smacked the back of his head. “Knock that crap off. Let’s get started.”

  The duo turned to Eli and I held my breath as I waited for the next step. Ella grabbed my hand, interlocking our fingers together, giving me a semblance of self-control.

  “Will whatever you’re about to do hurt him?” she asked.

  Nikos snorted. He glared at her, the hunger from before now hostile. “Does it matter? This will save his life.”

  “Then do it,” Ella demanded.

  The alpha closed his eyes and pressed his palm flat to Eli’s barely moving chest. Beside him, Nikos went on alert, as if his sole purpose was to protect his brother while he was distracted.

  When Marcus spoke, it was a strong, dominating command. “Shift.”

  The energy swirling in the room quadrupled. Eli’s back bowed, lifting off the gurney. Light shone, blinding me to the transformation back to wolf.

  Marcus’s voice, a deep rasp of sound as if he were struggling to form words, rang out. “Again, wolf.”