And then it was all very clear. Freya must have been in fugue, a common affliction when first turned, sometimes leaving you with no memory of where you’d been or what you’d done. It explained where she’d gone the night he’d turned her. It explained why Freya was covered in Ethan’s blood.
As the wind picked up, beginning a slow screech, Freya’s mood shifted; he smelled it, tasted it. She went from disbelieving to enraged in seconds.
Freya! Liam called out to her in her head. Don’t! Don’t do it. I know you’re angry, but wait this out. Stay put. Two of us against the Dogs won’t work. Irish will be here any second. Just wait!
But there was a wall between them now, a wall blocking off his words of warning.
Freya moved closer, forgetting Petra, obviously forgetting that everything Petra had revealed totally contradicted everything she’d just confessed to Courtland.
Freya! He reached out again only to have his words ping back at him.
“You foul, illiterate bastard!” Freya screamed as she stalked toward a stunned Courtland. “I’ll kill you myself!”
Courtland finally roused from his silent shock. Liam saw it. Saw his eyes go wide and his face turn to a rounded, red mask of fury.
He shrugged off the hold two of the Dogs had on him and screamed, “You fucking cunts! You traitorous, fucking cunts! You’ll all die!”
And then everything went to complete shit.
Chapter 18
Courtland rushed Freya, driving into her like a linebacker, knocking her into the trunk of a tree so hard, she heard her own bones rattle in protest.
But her fury, her disbelief, her anguish for Petra’s sister and husband fueled her, dumped adrenaline into her veins, making her rear upward and rail against this man who’d caused so much pain.
Using the heel of her hand, she drove it under his chin, cackling at the satisfying crunch of Courtland’s jaw. And then she was scrambling to her feet, a roaring howl of pure energy ripping from her throat when Liam jumped in front of her to thwart her efforts.
Courtland fell backward, bellowing in pain, his jaw crooked from the impact of her hand when Liam hauled him upward. But the Dogs were quick to react, grabbing Liam’s arms and throwing him to the ground while two others captured Petra.
But Freya couldn’t see straight, couldn’t hear the warning cry from Liam—all she could hear was a pounding in her ears, roaring, rushing, needing release, and she went for Courtland again, this time latching onto his throat with her hands and digging her fingers into his meaty flesh.
The screech of someone’s primal yell was one of the last things she heard before Liam was tearing her from Courtland, whose eyes bulged, whose neck seeped blood—the blood she’d spilled.
“Let me go!” she screamed, clawing at the grip Liam had on her. “He has to die! I need him dead!”
But Liam gathered her close, crushing her body to his, pulling her from the sudden swarm of men. “Leave him, Freya!” he ordered against her ear. “The Fangs are here. This will all be over soon.”
Freya squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her blood-covered fists into tight balls as the howls of the Dogs rang out and the grunts of certain death followed.
* * * *
Carnage.
So much carnage.
She’d never forget the horror in the aftermath of Courtland’s downfall as alpha.
Bodies scattered everywhere, the crisp white snow covered in Dog blood.
There were only two Dogs left barely standing, and Petra, quiet now and staring down at Courtland’s body. The kind of quiet that left Freya frightened. As she made her way through the trees to where Petra stood, Stone held the defeated woman upright.
Freya looked into her eyes.
She had no grudge left in her. No hatred for the woman who’d left her to possibly die at the hands of any rogue vampire who stumbled upon her. The woman who’d left her accused of murder.
Gripping Petra’s hands, she whispered, “I…I’m sorry about your sister and your husband. I’m so sorry.”
Petra didn’t speak, her beautiful face ravaged by tears and spattered with blood. But she looked directly at Freya for a moment, her gaze weary and full of undeniable pain before her eyes dropped to the ground and her grip on Freya’s hands went slack.
Liam pulled her away, away from the death all around her and toward Irish, whose face was grim.
“Are you all right, Freya?”
She nodded, her body stiff, her head clogged. Words were still too much to ask, but she forced the question, “What will happen to Petra? If the council finds out…”
Liam tucked her against his side. “She needs help, Freya. I’ll do what’s necessary to keep her from the council’s ire, but we can’t leave her to roam freely. She was willing to kill you in order to hurt Courtland. I won’t have her near you.”
Irish nodded, his eyes sympathetic, his squeeze to her shoulder gentle. “I’ll do everything I can to keep her from the death penalty, but Liam’s right. We can’t just leave her on her own. She’s not just a danger to others, but herself, too.”
She nodded again. “And this…” She spread her arms wide. “What happens because of this?”
Irish’s forehead wrinkled. “This was inevitable. Courtland couldn’t go on handling the pack the way he was. His dirty deals and lies were bound to catch up with him. I’ll figure something out. For now, I want you to reconsider this meet with Angus. You’ve been through too much tonight.”
No. There was going to be no prolonging the end of this mess. She wanted all of it over. For good. “No. We meet with Angus as planned. I’m fine. We can’t wait much longer for blood for the children. It happens just as we said it would.”
Liam clutched her harder. “Freya—”
“No! Don’t ‘Freya’ me. Let’s just do this, please, Liam. I’m fine. I understand this had to happen—would have happened because Courtland was reckless and if it wasn’t Petra now, it would have been someone else later.” With each word she spoke, she gathered conviction.
Courtland was dead and the remaining two Dogs in custody were for the council to deal with.
There was just one more item to check off their to-do list.
Angus Sweeten.
* * * *
As they parked Liam’s bike in an alley by a row of dirty, disheveled houses in the Zone, Freya slid off and turned around, presenting her hands to Liam.
Rather than truss her back up, he pulled her into his arms. “Told you, didn’t I? I knew you didn’t kill Ethan.”
He’d had more faith than she had. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am not to be a murderer.” So relieved and sad. Sad for Petra and for Ethan’s family.
Liam nodded. “Let’s talk about something nice.”
“Like?”
“Like date night. I meant it about the movie, you know. I’ll take you to one every night when this is all sewn up.”
She buried her face in his chest, the scent of the Dogs’ blood on his clothes still evident. “I hope you like Frozen.”
“You mean like, ‘Let It Go’, Frozen?”
“I do indeed.”
He smoothed comforting circles over her back. “Do I get any say in this?”
She chuckled, snuggling deeper against him. “Very, very little.”
“Fine. Frozen’s our first date, but our second is The Avengers: Age of Ultron.”
Freya smiled into his chest. “Well, we have plenty of days to fill up.” She hoped. She prayed.
Liam pulled his phone from his back pocket. “We only have a couple of minutes. Do you want to go over it again?”
She shook her head. “I’ve only done that a hundred times in my head on the ride over here. I think I’ve got it. Just make sure the dagger is secure for me?”
He stroked the middle of her shoulder blades where the dagger rested, sheathed in leather to protect her skin, taped to her back on the off chance Angus wanted to pat them down. “Right here, safe and sound.”
The very idea this precious and extremely rare dagger was duct-taped to her back seemed careless in light of the amount of money Irish had paid for it. “Do you think Mathias is right about this thing? Like, are we really sure this was dipped in Christ’s blood?”
Mathias, a mutual friend of Liam and Irish, had managed to locate someone who specialized in demon killing, and according to him, the dagger came from the tip of a sphere the Roman’s had once used to kill Christ.
“To hear Irish tell it, when he picked up the dagger and Mathias told him to touch it to prove it was real, it burned him. I imagine anything with a holy man’s blood on it would burn a vampire. That’s why we sheathed it in leather.”
“And we trust Mathias,” she murmured.
He kissed the top of her head. “I repeat, we do. Now remember, I offer you up, Angus, with any luck, gives us what we want, I grab the knife from your back and take him out, and we’re finished. No egging him on.”
She rolled her eyes up at him. “Oh, I don’t egg. Stop being ridiculous.”
Liam tipped her chin up, planting a kiss on her nose. “Not you, Queen of Egging.”
She saw the fear in his eyes, knew it was for her safety, and she wanted to do whatever she had to in order to reassure him she’d play by the rules. “I promise to keep my mouth in check. Stick to the plan.”
“Good. Remember to keep your emotions in check, too. He can read them as well as any vampire, so he’ll be looking to see why I’m giving up my mate so easily.”
She held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. No egging him on, no emotions other than panic and terror. Though, I have to admit, it was hard to hear some of the things you said to Courtland.”
His jaw hardened, his eyes growing distant. “All part of the game.”
Cupping his chin, she ran a thumb over his lower lip. “I know. I do know. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Please.”
“I’ve been doing it for a while, and every step of the way fills me with disgust, but I feel no shame saying I’m glad he’s dead.”
“I’m not at all ashamed to say I’m glad he’s dead. I just hope Petra will be okay. I can’t believe she killed Ethan.” Her voice hitched. She mourned Ethan’s death, but she almost understood why Petra had done what she’d done.
“I’m also relieved to say, I’m glad it wasn’t me who killed him. But she’s in an ugly spot right now.”
“We’ll make sure she gets the help she needs. I promise.”
Freya stood on tiptoe and pressed an urgent kiss to his lips. “Okay, now enough. Tie me up and let’s get this show on the road.”
As she turned around, letting Liam bind her wrists together again, she sent up a silent prayer she could pull this off.
Just once more.
* * * *
They made their way to the house Angus had apparently shacked up in since his bout with Claire. A huge, dark, ramshackle Victorian loomed before them, cold and menacing.
Liam positioned her in front of him just before they rounded the long stretch of iron gates leading to the pathway to the front door. “Remember, no sass. Stick to the plan.”
Her stomach lurched, but her resolve was strong. “Stick to the plan,” she murmured in consent.
Squeezing her fingers once more, he said, “Be safe, Freya. I’m right here every step of the way and the Fangs have eyes everywhere.”
Squaring her shoulders, she let Liam push her to the ground in front of him and closed her eyes as he hauled her over the ice and snow and up to the bottom of the wide set of steps.
“Sweeten!” he bellowed into the still night, a stillness she found odd, considering the hectic fray of noise and lights in the Zone. “I’ve got your bitch. Get the fuck out here and claim her!”
The tall door on the house creaked, slicing the silence. Angus appeared without his usual pomp or circumstance, and no goons in sight, putting Freya on instant alert.
Something was wrong. Something was so wrong.
Angus skipped down the stairs like he was on his way to prom. “There’s my girl! I trust your trip was pleasant? I hope you stopped to see the sights.”
Liam shoved her at Angus’s feet, where she fell forward in a heap. “No more bullshit, Sweeten. Hand over the person who makes the formula and she’s yours.”
Angus smiled, his pink eyes devoid of anything. “But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t invite you in so you could see your mate’s accommodations?”
Liam closed in on him, standing over the demon and looking him directly in the eye. “This mate was forced on me. I no more want a dirty whore like her than I do the clap. When I ran into you that night at the cabin, I threatened you because I wanted to dole out the punishment she deserved, not share it with you. Why do you think she was covered in garlic and crosses?”
Angus’s angular jaw lifted. “You were going to torture her? How divine!”
Liam cracked his jaw. “She’s filth, just like your buddy Claire. She tricked me into biting her, and I’m happy to be rid of her. Now let’s get on with this.”
Angus made a pouty face and tsked. “My sweet, sweet Claire. Will she cry when she knows that because of what she did, because of the money she cost me, she doomed her best friend?”
“I don’t give a shit what that traitorous whore does, Sweeten. Enough of your games. Give me what I came for or I take this bitch back into the heart of the Zone and let the drugged-out scum have their way with her, and we’re done. No more vamplings for you.”
Angus held up a finger, his eyes now gleaming with delight. “You know, there’s a way we could find out…”
Freya fought the impulse to rip the bonds from her hands and take him out herself. But if she did that, they’d never locate whoever made this formula for the blood.
Liam’s chin lifted. “Find out what, demon?”
Angus winked. “Find out if Claire’s sad.”
“Didn’t I tell you no games, Angus? Didn’t I?” Liam asked between clenched teeth. He yanked Freya upward and gave her a shove. “We’re done here, freak.”
“Are we?” Angus singsonged, dancing along the steps.
“Freyaaaa! Freya, run! Get out!”
Claire? He had Claire? Terror seized her.
“What the fuck is going on here, Sweeten?” were the last words Liam spoke before she heard a hiss from behind them, and Freya watched him crumple at her feet.
Chapter 19
One of Angus’s goons shoved her down some stairs inside the house. Freya’s eyes flew around the room, assessing it. A basement. They were in a basement. The damp, musty odor assaulted her the moment they’d entered.
The henchman pointed a gun to her head and pushed her deeper into the room. Didn’t he realize guns couldn’t kill them? They couldn’t, could they? She fought to remember what Liam had told her was dangerous for a vampire aside from garlic and crosses and holy water, and she was almost certain it had nothing to do with guns.
Angus reached up and yanked a thin chain, bathing the room in light from the solitary bulb hanging from the ceiling. “I know what you’re thinking, pretty girl. Guns don’t kill vampires, right?”
She licked her lips, forcing her eyes to avoid the horror lining the basement and focus on Angus. “To be honest, I was thinking about who decorated this dump. Because you need to rethink your interior designer.”
Angus threw his greasy head back and laughed. “Oh, Freya! You’re just precious, but I can’t believe you don’t like my trinkets. It saddens me to think I’ve gone to all the trouble to collect these for you and you’re turning your nose up at them like I’ve brought a dead mouse to your doorstep.”
Do not give in to the horror, Freya. Look past the cages where women with swollen bellies are sitting on dismal cots made of paper-thin mattresses. Do not give in. Don’t ask. Stay focused.
Where was Claire? And what was he doing with all these women?
Don’t think about it. Think about how the hell you’re going to get out of here.
Fr
eya smiled, giving him that flirty tilt of her lips he’d seemed so fond of. “So let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I don’t care about your trinkets. I don’t give a damn about him, either.” She pointed to where Liam lay bound to a table, unconscious and completely immobilized by something. She didn’t know what, but it obviously involved the IV stuck in his arm. A man stood beside the table, his hand on the IV.
“Are you telling me you don’t care what happens to your mate?”
“I’m telling you, all I care about is cutting a deal with you. So tell me what you want, because all men want something, don’t they sugar? And then we’ll wrap this up.”
Angus put his hands behind his back, stretching the cotton shirt he wore over his thin chest. “A deal? I thought you were the deal, Cupcake.”
Freya scoffed. “Looks to me like there was a hitch in your giddy-up. I was supposed to be the trade-off for some guy who makes blood—or something like that, wasn’t I? So why’s the vampire goon tied to a table?”
Angus sidled up to her, bumping her shoulder with his. “You mean your mate?”
“Call the asshole whatever you want. I did what I had to do to get away from that freak Courtland, and I’d do it again. I’d rather be a bloodsucker than mated to that vile animal.”
The demon grinned down at her, twisting his finger around a strand of her mussed hair. “So you won’t mind if I torture him for a wee before I kill him?”
No emotions. Show no emotions. She shrugged her shoulders and winked. “Nope. I don’t care what you do with him, Big Boy. Just do it and be done because this is older than old. I’m tired of being hauled around by that Neanderthal and his gang of crazy knuckle-draggers.”
Angus drew her close to his side, making it impossible for her to make a quick break from the restraints on her wrists. The feel of his reed-thin body pressed into hers made her skin literally crawl, but she kept it in check and leaned right back into him and waited.
“You know, Saucy Sally, I’m this close to believing you.”
She masked her face in innocence. “Believing what?”
Outlaw Alpha Page 17
