Dire Wolves of London

by Carina Wilder

  “Bullets are no fun,” Cillian agreed, helping her to her feet.

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I felt how it hurt both of you when I left this morning. I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t know. I’ve never known what it was to love someone, but I knew that I loved you both. I just…I didn’t think you two could possibly care about me that much. I’ve always thought…” She looked down at Brigg, who was pulling his muzzle upwards, as though listening intently.

  “You’ve always thought you were unworthy of love, insignificant, because people have been absolute shites to you all your life,” Cillian said. He ran a hand through her dark hair and cupped her cheek with his palms. “You’re the most significant thing that’s ever happened to Brigg, or to me. Don’t you see that now?”

  “I do.” Her voice was laced with misery. Cillian could feel her sorrow through her flesh. But he felt her love, too. Love for him, for Brigg.

  “Come on,” he said, looking down at the Dire Wolf. “Let’s get him out of here.”

  Sinead nodded, wiping her tears away.

  Together, by some miracle, they managed to lift the massive déor into the back of the Peugeot. Sinead slipped in next to him and lay his head on her lap.

  “This is my fault,” she groaned as she watched his eyes shut. “It’s all my fault. I was useless back there. I should have fought them. I could have killed them.”

  “I know you could have,” said Cillian, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You’re a strong, powerful Lioness. But if you’d attacked them, you might have suffered the same fate as Brigg. You did the right thing, Sinead. Don’t beat yourself up. Our friend is strong; he’ll be just fine.”

  “He has to,” she moaned. “If I lose him—if I lose either of you—” She broke down, burying her face in Brigg’s fur.

  “Lose us? Sinead,” said Cillian, pulling the car around to head home, “you could move to a cave in Nepal and you wouldn’t lose us. You still don’t get it yet, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “That we’re yours forever.”

  When the doctor had left the house, Sinead ventured into the bedroom where Brigg was resting. She half expected him to be asleep; the doctor had said something about how his medication might make him drowsy. But she found him sitting up, a book in hand.

  As soon as he set eyes on her, he set it down. His chest was bandaged, a small spot of blood indicating the location of the wound that had been patched up.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked as she edged towards him.

  “Fine,” he replied. “Better, now that you’re here.” He reached a hand out and she took it, squeezing hard.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and drew the hand up to her mouth to kiss it.

  “I’m such an idiot,” she said, playing with his fingers. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Forgive you for what?”

  “For doubting you and Cillian. For being a stubborn arse. For my insecurities. Oh, and for nearly getting you killed.”

  “Oh, that trivial matter,” Brigg laughed. “Do you think I give a shite about taking a bullet if it brings you back to me?”

  “You always say the perfect thing, don’t you?” Sinead pulled away and buried her face in her hands, unsure whether she should laugh or weep. Brigg was trying to be cheeky, of course. He was succeeding, too.

  But this was serious. She’d nearly lost him, nearly lost everything. All because she couldn’t find the strength to fight back her fears. “The thought of you lying there—of your Wolf, bleeding like that—” she moaned.

  He reached out for her arm and squeezed gently. “Sinead,” he said. “I can take a bullet, you know. So can you, my love. You might be surprised to find how strong you’ve become. The Ritual does more than just bring us close to each other. It empowers us.”

  “I didn’t feel strong,” she protested, raising her head to look at him. Her eyes had gone red with tears, which threatened to fall down her cheeks in hot torrents. “When they cuffed me, I mean. I felt so confused, so lost. So weak. I just surrendered to those men, like I was shrugging off my whole life. Suddenly I knew that if I wasn’t going to see you or Cillian again, I didn’t care if they locked me up a second time. Freedom meant nothing without you two.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I felt weak, too.”

  “You did?” she asked, her voice strained. “When have you ever felt weak, Brigg?”

  He let out a low laugh. “I’ve felt weak ever since I met you, Lioness. But if you want a specific answer, the weakest I’ve ever been was the moment when Cillian read your note to me. I thought we’d lost you. A bullet in the chest was nothing compared to that feeling, you know.”

  Sinead managed a weak smile. “I was trying to do the right thing by leaving. I thought it was for the best for all of us if I got out of your lives. But with every step I took, I realized that I was headed the wrong way.” She wiped away a tear that had traced its way down her cheek. “I was walking towards a life I’d never really wanted, and away from the one I’d only ever dared dreamed of. I’d just never allowed myself the gift of loving someone. It terrified me…but losing you…that terrified me so much more.”

  Brigg gave her the warmest smile she’d ever seen. “You deserve the greatest life in the world, Lioness. If Cillian and I can give it to you, we will. I hope you know that.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  For a moment they just looked into one another’s eyes.

  Then, leaving her fears behind, she slipped into the bed next to him and lay down, draping an arm over his stomach. “Is this okay?” she asked, tucking her head into his neck.

  “It’s so much better than okay,” Brigg said, “that I might die from the pleasure of it.”

  28

  Five days later

  Brigg walked through the front door of the task force headquarters, his stride long and assertive. A look of rage was set on his face that looked like it had been carved in stone, his determination obvious to anyone who dared set eyes on him.

  A few heads pulled up from their desks as he strode by open doors. Guards reached for their weapons but pulled back when they saw the badge that he held up, proof enough that he worked for London’s authorities.

  He slammed his hand into the door leading into Collins’ reception room, pushing it open, and the shocked receptionist jerked herself up to a standing position.

  “You can’t go in,” she said. “He’s…on the phone.”

  “I don’t care if he’s talking to the sodding Queen,” Brigg snarled, smashing his way through the second door, splintering the wooden frame into dagger-like shards. “He’ll fucking see me.”

  Collins was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen. His normally beady eyes bugged out in horror when he saw the look on Brigg’s face.

  “Oh, hello,” he said. “I’ve been wondering how our little project is goin—”

  “Stop right there,” said Brigg. “I don’t want to hear it. Don’t want to hear any of your shite. Do you understand?” He knew by now that his eyes were glowing, that his Dire Wolf was fully visible. He knew that the man behind that desk would understand for the first time what he was, and why he’d come.

  “Jesus,” gasped Collins. “You’re one of them. But you work for the Yard…how is this even...”

  “Yeah,” Brigg replied. “Funny thing, that. I work for Scotland Yard, but it’s come to my attention that you don’t.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A few weeks ago, I got word that Scotland Yard was setting up a task force. The news spread among the Yard’s ranks, but few of us paid much attention. So we were never told that the organization had been shut down before it even got off its feet. We never heard that the vast number of ethics violations meant that no bureaucrat was willing to actually fund its existence.” With that, Brigg slammed a sheet of paper down on the desk. “I have it all right here, Collins. This is why you didn’t want me
discussing this place with my colleagues, isn’t it? You wanted to keep things quiet because if the Yard got wind of what you’ve been up to, that you’ve been pretending you were working under their authority, they’d have come in here with their guns blazing.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Collins blurted out. “Every word of it. Really, Brigg, this is absolutely absurd.”

  A loud growl erupted from Brigg’s chest. “Shut your fucking mouth, you bastard. I know everything. I know that you’ve been hiring outsiders—kids who don’t know any better—as guards. You’ve got a band of merry mercenaries on the go, pretending to be a noble legion saving humans from my kind. You’re just in this for cash and glory, and to satisfy your perverse desire to torture shifters. Tell me, how much are they paying you?”

  Collins crossed his arms over his chest and stared into the distance, his mouth clamping shut like a spoiled child holding his breath in protest.

  Brigg yanked his mobile out of his pocket and dialled. “Bring them into the building,” he said when someone had answered on the other end. “All of them. Let’s finish the job.”

  A commotion rose up outside the office. Shouting, shoving, a high-pitched woman’s scream.

  Moments later, a huge, charcoal-coloured Wolf pushed his way in through the office door. He was panting, his eyes fixed squarely on the man behind the desk.

  A caramel-coloured Lioness followed in his tracks, stalking quietly around the desk so that she stood, teeth bared, mere inches from Collins’ head.

  Collins pushed his chair back against the wall, sweat beading like oil on his red skin. A look of terror settled onto his features that told everyone present that the man had never actually seen a shifter in all his—or her—glory. Well, now he was getting a taste of just how terrifying the enemy could be.

  “Call the person who runs this place,” said Brigg, gesturing to the phone on the director’s desk.

  Collins opened his mouth to protest, but the Lioness let out a low, fierce growl and took a step towards him. A split second later, Collins’ hand was a blur, poking numbers into the phone as fast as he could manage.

  “Yes, um, hello,” he said, his voice high and tight. “It’s me. Listen—there’s been an incident. They know everything…No, I don’t know how this happened…Yes, I see. But…All right, then.” He grunted a few more snivelling replies before hanging up.

  “The Task Force has been disbanded,” he said, looking at Brigg. “I take it that’s what you want to hear?”

  “It’s only the beginning,” said Brigg. “Now give me the name of the person you just spoke to.”

  “I can’t,” Collins said, “he’ll kill me.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t need to do that,” Brigg said, the smile audible in his voice. “My friends here would happily save him the trouble.”

  Cillian’s Wolf padded over and unleashed a terrible, unearthly roar in his face, even as Sinead’s Lioness leapt up, grabbing hold of the armrest with her paws. When her claws dug into Collins’ arm, he let out a cry of agony.

  “His name is Barton!” Collins blurted out, yanking his arm away from Sinead, which brought him all the closer to Cillian’s open jaws. “It’s all I know. I’ve never met him in person. He funded this whole thing, though. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t much care. He was paying me, and that was all that mattered.”

  “That, and the fact that you had an excuse to torture our kind.” Sinead had shifted, her voice startling Collins with its proximity. Brigg and Cillian both eyed her with pride. If it was possible, her newfound confidence had made her even more beautiful.

  “I…but I didn’t mean…” Collins simpered, twisting to look up at her.

  She took his chin in her hand and yanked his head sideways. Once again, he shrieked in pain.

  “It would be so easy to kill you, you know,” she said in a deeply menacing tone. “That’s what you think we are, isn’t it? Murderers. Animals.”

  “Kill me, and you’ll prove me right,” Collins replied in a small, tight voice.

  “You’re a waste of skin,” she replied, dropping her hand and wiping it on her coat. “Hardly worth it.”

  Cillian shifted, towering over Collins from the opposite side of his chair. “By the way, you weasly wanker,” he said, “you’re out of here today. Your employees, too. The Dragon Guild and our pack will be more than happy to escort you out. This building belongs to us now.”

  Collins’ head bobbed up and down quickly in compliance. No doubt he was as eager to leave as anyone, now that he’d betrayed the man who’d been paying his salary. His life was forfeit.

  Brigg escorted Sinead out, followed by Cillian, who issued the director one final growl of warning before leaving.

  In the foyer the three mates found Phair, the Grizzly shifter who’d become the Trekilling Pack’s unlikely ally over the last few days. Along with most of the members of the pack, he’d disarmed every guard on the main floor. A row of terrified young men lined the wall, weapons at their feet.

  None of them had so much as fired off a shot.

  “How are things?” asked Cillian.

  “Uneventful, truth be told,” Phair replied. “This agency isn’t exactly a well-organized militia. Roth and Laird are downstairs with a few other pack members, freeing the prisoners. I’ve heard that there are a few Grizzlies down there. I’ll see to it that they know who to thank for their liberation.”

  “Thank you. I’m looking forward to strengthening our alliance,” Cillian replied, shaking his hand. “Listen, you’ve kept your end of the bargain, Phair, and we’ll be keeping ours. Come by our place on Monday, and you have my word that you’ll get what you asked for.”

  “Will do.”

  When the two Dire Wolf shifters had moved away to help interrogate a few of the guards, Phair wandered over to Sinead. “We haven’t been properly introduced,” he said, reaching out to offer his hand.

  “Sinead,” she said, shaking it. “I’m Brigg and Cillian’s mate.”

  Phair nodded approval. “Ah, I see. They’re very good men, those two. You chose well.”

  “Yes,” she said, looking across the room towards her two lovers, a broad smile stretching over her lips. “I know.”

  Wolf’s Bane

  If you want to read more about Phair (hint, hint!) and the Dire Wolf pack, Wolf’s Bane (Dire Wolves Book 3) is coming in April 2018. Pre-order your copy now, or you can wait until it’s available on Kindle Unlimited.

  Also by Carina Wilder

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