by Sadie Hart
It took everything she had to keep her feet under her, to keep moving. Torres launched himself past her, roaring, and Lennox grabbed him as he ran. Her one good arm wrapped around his waist, she dug her heels in, fighting to stop him, but he dragged her behind him like she was nothing at all. A fly on his back. Torres lifted his gun again, the muzzle pointed right at Sawyer, but the lioness did the unthinkable.
She stepped back to the edge of the cliff and leapt.
Torres thrashed after her, frenzied. Raw panic burned through his voice. “Arianna!”
He screamed, clawing at the ground. Lennox clung to that revelation. The hysterical screams as he shouted for a ghost of a child that had been dead for over a year now. His daughter. The pieces started to click together. The monster references, the hatred. Somewhere along the way, the man that had been great at his job, an incredible father, an amazing friend, had changed. Loss could do that to a person. Grief and revenge were two great equalizers.
Then Torres flung himself over the edge, Lennox still holding onto him, and she tumbled after him. The river roared below, the white capped water reaching up for them as they fell.
***
Brambles and thorns snagged at his pants as Tegan slunk around the edge of the barn. Bree was poised in a crouch just in front of him, her head tilted back to scent the air when she stiffened. Tegan copied her, sniffing softly along the wind. Blood, but he’d smelled that and the rot of silver poisoning on a shifter from the moment they’d gotten within a good wind of the barn.
Now though, he could smell the underlying beast. Lion. Male. Hurt badly enough that he wouldn’t put up much of a fight either. Below that, he could smell Mel; her dog-form had streaked by not ten feet from here a good hour ago. Tegan sidled closer, still scenting. Ridgeback came next. Lennox and a male.
He winced. It backed Mel’s story, but it just meant that the Hound in front of him might be a wildcard. Had it been Kanon or Lennox accused there was no way in hell Tegan would have taken it lying down. He’d have gone to bat for either of them until the very end. He gave a soft whuff in Bree’s direction, but she shook her head, holding up one palm.
The wrinkles around her eyes were strained and he could feel the tension radiating off of her. She gave a soft, shuddering breath and inhaled again, long and slow. Tegan followed suit, finding the fainter scent of lions. Females, one of them a cub. Young. They hadn’t been here long. Bree blew out a haggard breath and righted herself, standing straight as she scanned the field surrounding the barn. A forest stretched out about a hundred yards to the west, and the tip of a mountain range grew out of the woods a few miles out. The spattering of gray colored rock faded into the swirls of clouds in the sky.
“You okay?” he asked softly, still crouched. She looked like a woman ready to snap.
Her head jerked once. “Let’s go look in the barn.”
She stomped around the edge, no longer trying to be quiet and Tegan cringed. Anyone with a nose and good ears could tell the only person in the barn was the wounded male lion-shifter, but that didn’t mean someone couldn’t come back. Most likely the person with silver bullets loaded in their gun. And Tegan was responsible for watching her.
“Breanna,” he called after her, before cursing and following her at a crouching trot. She flung open the barn door just as Kanon and Brandt came around the other corner, the Hound’s lips curled back in a snarl. They had back up waiting in the trees behind the barn, just waiting for an all clear, but running in without a care was stupid.
Her breath seemed to short out as she moved along the barn and Tegan paused just inside, watching as Brandt moved instantly to the lion wounded along the far wall. “Shit.” He tilted his head up and glanced at Kanon. “Call Gaston. I think this is his boy. Have him grab a medic; we need to get him out of here and to a hospital. Now.”
Kanon vanished out the door. The lion gave a soft, wet cough, his breathing labored. “It was...a Hound.”
Tegan winced, even as Brandt laid a hand along the wounded man’s shoulder and said, “We know.”
They did. The proof was in the room right here, in the straw dust on the barn floor. In the scent still lingering amongst the old wood and rafters. There had only been six people here, three lions, two ridgebacks, and a saluki. They knew everyone here.
Tegan glanced at Bree. She stood in the center of the barn, over a pile of ropes strung out over the wood floor, just staring at them. Tegan moved for her, slow and easy. Her head tilted up to look at him and she shook her head, offering him a helpless shrug. “There has to be a reason. Caesar, he’s a good man. Lennox is like a daughter to us. A friend.”
Tegan placed a hand over her shoulder and squeezed. “Then we’ll find out when we find them.”
“He didn’t do this. A witch could still be hiding the killer. Caesar would do anything to keep Lennox safe. He was following her, trying to track her down to help her.”
Tegan shifted slightly on his feet. “Following her?”
“I assume when you guys left Utah. He called me to trace a number, it was hers. He needed her whereabouts; I assumed she was in trouble. With the two of you.”
Or it could be exactly how the killer had found them. Tegan glanced towards Brandt and saw the wolfhound flinch slightly under the weight of that knowledge. Bree noticed it and pulled back. “My husband is a damn good Hound. A good man. He didn’t do this.”
“Okay then.” Tegan forced himself to smile. “Then let’s find who did.”
Bree pressed her lips tight, a longing smile on her face, as she nodded. They waited in silence as Kanon led Gaston and the team of medics back in the barn. Only after Brandt had set the perimeter did they move out. The trail had aged over the hour, but the wind was light. There was some thick brush in the forest, but nothing that would make tracking particularly hard.
This time, there was no wiped scent trail.
Kanon stepped up next to him and bumped his shoulder. “Lennox was shot.” He angled his head in the direction of the blood, the smell of it thick in the air when Tegan inhaled. He winced.
Silver. Shit.
Tegan raked a hand through his hair, thick black curls wrapping around his fingers before it fell loose in a wave. Kanon leaned into him, a heavy sigh spilling between them. “She’ll be okay,” Kanon murmured, but his voice didn’t quite match the words. They didn’t quite believe.
It was an awful lot to keep hoping. Then again, this was Lennox. Tegan pressed his head against Kanon’s and smiled. “Oh yeah. She’ll be just dandy.”
Brandt stepped up beside them, two Hounds in dog-form milling around his feet, both a breed Tegan had never seen in person before. Bloodhounds. But when one, the female, tipped her head back, doleful brown eyes stared out at him—human brown eyes.
Bree stood beside them, ready. She’d grated her teeth at the wait as it was. Brandt signaled to the Hounds in front of him with a flick of his hands, and instantly both dogs riveted their attention on him. Brandt glanced at the three of them, one eyebrow arched. “Ready?”
Tegan nodded.
“I’ve sent packs out on grids around here already, but we’re going to follow the most direct trail. Should be a rough run.” Then with one sharp whistle blast the dogs at his heels bolted off, noses hung low. They zigzagged the field, before settling in along two distinct lines of travel. Brandt waved a team of men in the direction of one, the female—a bit darker than the male, and then with a tilt of his head, gestured for them to follow the other bloodhound, and him.
Tegan recognized the scent their dog was following. The two lionesses, followed by the male ridgeback: Caesar Torres. No sign of Lennox, so that had to be the second trail the other bloodhound was following. He glanced at Bree, her shoulders stiff, eyes drawn. He could guess what was running through her head. Trying, no doubt, to figure out a way to help clear her husband. Probably the same frantic train of thoughts he’d had when he’d walked in and spotted Lennox in their living room, silver cuffs poking out of her back poc
ket. He winced.
The bloodhound ahead picked up speed, moving briskly through the undergrowth. The short, snuffling whuffs of air as the dog sifted through the scents. He was hurried, but focused. Everything about the massive brown dog spoke volumes. A twist of his tail could mean a difficult patch; a missed turn could result in quick circle back. They followed him at a jog, the dog easily outpacing them, but never moving beyond eyesight.
Tegan lost track of how long they ran, his muscles settling into an easy pace. He hated jogging. Male lions were built more for brute power than endurance runs, and the human half of him had never really been fond of running for the sake of running. Kanon’s unhappy grunt beside him told him his partner wasn’t enjoying the workout anymore than he was. But Lennox was out there, wounded.
Most likely still in danger. There would be no slowing down, no breaks. He glanced at Brandt, then Bree, but both Hounds had settled into the run as easily as the dog loping ahead. They were made for this, trained for this. Lennox was too, he reminded himself. Hurt or not, she stood a damn good chance at making sure she stayed alive.
The bloodhound gave a low bark and picked up to a run, breaking out of the forest. Tegan inhaled sharply, the scent fresher here, thicker. The dog ran for cliff edge, water somewhere close by. The bloodhound wormed his way through a pair of large boulders and up a short rocky path before disappearing over the edge, Brandt fast on his heels. Bree was next and Tegan clamored up after them, Kanon huffing behind him.
The scent was fresher here, recent. They’d lingered. Fresh blood filled the air and Tegan paused as the bloodhound circled it then, moved on. Tegan stepped up and drew in a sharp breath. Another fight between Lennox and Torres. Bree’s eyes met his and he could see her trying to work it out, put the pieces together.
She opened her mouth, no doubt to try and find a way to make this right with words when the bloodhound gave a sharp bark from the edge of the cliff. All four of them bolted for the edge, but there was no one hanging to the rocky edge. Nothing in sight at all, except for the raging river a good thirty feet down. Maybe more.
“Shit,” Kanon muttered and stepped back.
The scent ended here.
Brandt snarled and headed back the way they’d come. “Let’s find a way down. Now. Merlowe, let’s see if you can’t resume your track at the river’s edge.”
It took them a good ten minutes to find a safe way down to the bank below, slick rocks shifting under their feet as the water lapped at the edges, bubbling on by. The current was fast, strong. Merlowe, the bloodhound, loped up and down the side scenting but only shook his head. If they’d come out of the water, it hadn’t been on this edge.
Brandt reached for the radio to call it in as the other bloodhound barreled down the way they’d come, the second pack in tow. Gaston alongside them. The older lion was breathing heavy, his face a little pale with the effort—a sympathy Tegan could share with him—but every bit as determined as they were. Then again, he’d smelled the lioness and cub here.
Gaston still had family to find.
“There’s a crossing downstream, about a mile.” He pointed downriver. Gaston glanced back at the edge of the rock they’d tumbled from, teeth raking over his bottom lip before he glanced back at Brandt. “Sawyer’s a good swim and the water’s deep. There’s also a road another four miles out on the other side of the river. That has to be where she’s heading.”
“Then let’s go.”
Tegan grunted and reached for Kanon, holding hands this time as they ran. Muscles in his thighs screaming, he wasn’t about to give up. “Just be okay,” he whispered and felt Kanon’s hand tighten over his. Please be okay.
Suddenly the bloodhounds bayed and jerked off the trail, darting back towards the woods. Brandt sprinted ahead, and then Tegan caught the scent. Lion. Very, very wet lions. Gaston let out a whoop of a roar and bolted after them, right before a young cub, all gangly limbs ran straight out of the brush towards him.
Tegan drew to a stop and glanced at Kanon, watching as Kanon’s father scooped up the cub, happy tears trailing down his cheeks. A lioness appeared a second later, the bloodhounds skirting around her nervously before she shifted. Slim. More slender than Lennox, not at all like the typical lion-shifter female.
Her hair was soaked; her clothes still drenched from the water clung to every curve—or lack thereof. Gaston’s body relaxed as he held out an arm. “Sawyer.”
She closed the distance between them, stepping easily into her father’s arms, because there was no denying she was anything but Gaston’s daughter. The same nose. Same eyes. Kanon’s eyes. Tegan pulled his partner closer, but Kanon shook his head. “I’m good.” He tilted his head back so that he could breathe the words along Tegan’s skin. “You’ve been all the family I’ve needed until now.”
Just as faintly, Tegan whispered back, “And now?”
He asked, but he knew the answer. Kanon smiled. “Lennox. We just have to find her.”
Kanon’s half-sister pulled herself out of her father’s arms and turned to the approaching Hounds, glancing between Bree and Brandt, the two so obviously Alpha. Brandt took charge, holding an arm out at Bree as if to hold her back. His Hounds moved in closer, circling her.
“You all right?”
“Fine. There’s a woman out there, a Hound. She was trying to help us.”
Brandt gave a slight nod. “We know. Anyone else?”
“Another Hound. Ridgeback, male. Like her. He kidnapped me and Tilly outside of our house when Tilly ran out the back door. She was fighting him off when he shot her again... I did the only thing I could think of and jumped. But you have to find...”
“They’re working on it, Sawyer.” Gaston laid a hand on her shoulder. The woman was shivering under the cold. Her clothes were soaked and the sun had begun to set, late afternoon giving way to the dusky light of evening.
“He kept screaming something about Arianna—”
Bree jerked like she’d been slapped, a raw gasp sliding from her and Sawyer turned to glance at her then back to Brandt. “He leapt after us; I think she fell with him. But I didn’t see either of them when I drug us out of the water. We shifted to stay warmer.”
Her hands flexed at her side, like claws unsheathing and the hidden message was just as clear. She was stronger as a lioness.
Brandt turned to Bree, but the other Hound had crumpled. There was no fight in her gaze, just raw acceptance. Hurt. “Arianna?”
Bree nodded. “Our daughter. Dead. Murdered in our own home by a rogue lion.”
Her lips thinned a little at the memory and she wrapped her arms around herself as if to hold herself together. “But Caesar...” She closed her eyes.
Brandt turned back to Sawyer. “Anything else that you can think of? That might help.”
She shook her head. “The woman? She was shot twice and he attacked her. I think she’d broken her arm.”
Brandt nodded and let her go, Gaston leading his family away under the escort of a pack of Hounds. They radioed in for medics to meet them in the clearing. Tegan stared grimly out at the water, Kanon the only thing that kept him standing. Shot twice with silver, a broken arm, and one hell of a fall into a freezing river.
And she still had a crazed, armed Hound to deal with.
“Breanna,” Brandt started but she cut him off.
“Don’t.” Tegan turned to watch as she lifted a shaking hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, fighting for control. She blew out a heavy sigh, shoulders hunched. Then her gaze lifted and met his. Sorrow stretched between them. He remembered the woman in the interview room, the one willing to believe in him, to trust him.
The woman who had so obviously been Lennox’s friend.
He took a step forward, not sure what to say or do, and she smiled, a sad curve of lips.
“Arianna was our daughter. Caesar loved her, I knew her death hit him hard and he’d changed, more withdrawn, falling deeper into his work but I never...”
Tegan nodded and looked
away, the orange strip of sunset fading on the horizon. They didn’t have long before dark set in and Lennox was already wounded.
“Lennox is strong. If there’s anyone out there who can stand against my husband, it’s going to be her.” She crossed the distance between them and touched Tegan gently on the elbow. “And I wasn’t lying. She’s a like a daughter to us. If anyone can talk my husband back to sanity…” her voice broke and Tegan turned to wrap her in a hug. She let him, head resting against his chest.
“We’re going to find them both,” he said.
He didn’t tell her—or anyone else—that he would make damn sure Caesar Torres was a dead man before they left this forest. If the Hounds couldn’t follow their own laws and execute the son of a bitch, Tegan would do it himself.
One glance at Kanon and he knew he wasn’t alone.
Bree straightened against him and turned to Brandt. “Let’s find them.”
“I don’t think you should—”
She stiffened, fists clenched at her sides as Bree turned to meet Brandt’s gaze head on. “I deserve to be with my husband when you put a bullet through his head.”
The wolfhound glanced between them, but not a single one of them could think of anything to say to deny her that. She deserved the right to say goodbye.
Chapter Twenty
The water made the rocks slick, her hand slipping over the moss covered stone as Lennox struggled to drag herself out of the river. She staggered up the bank, shoes slipping as she half-crawled, half-ran for the tree line. Torres gave a hoarse gasp from the river, followed by the scrabble of stones behind her. Lennox shoved through the trees, running towards the rocky embankment that shadowed the edge of the river.
Rocks slipped under her feet and she skidded down into a gulch, using one hand to brace herself. Dizzy, she slipped and slammed into the rough ground, sharp pebbles biting at her already raw skin. One glance at her side and she’d lost a lot of blood, the silver still eating away at her veins. Breathing hard, Lennox started to roll to her feet when a hand wrapped in her hair and pulled her head back.
