by Woods, Erica
“I-I’ll talk, I’ll tell you everything you want to know! Just please . . . please don’t let him have me!”
When Ruarc first became an enforcer, he had spent months ruthlessly establishing his reputation. Not because he was the bloodthirsty savage he was believed to be, but because he was not. Ruarc knew the threat of what he had done in the past would work as a deterrent—and it mostly did. We suffered fewer attacks, fewer intrusions from Strays than any other packs our size. And when we were attacked and needed the truth, the sight of Ruarc, the mere threat of his presence, was usually enough to loosen tongues.
Just as it was this time.
The Stray spewed facts at an alarming speed. His name—Gino. His plans—to capture Hope. His regrets—numerous. I watched him closely as he spoke, searching for lies, hunting for what remained unsaid. But he was too scared to lie, and what little he knew raised more questions than answers.
“So you do not know who sent you after our female?”
“Swear to the gods, I’ve never seen him before in my life! He didn’t give a name, either. Said the house would be empty, save for the girl. You have to believe me, I don’t know him, I don’t!” His words came fast and jumbled, each nipping at the heels of the one before like the chase of rabid dogs.
But this dog was being honest.
I did not ask why he would do another’s bidding—greed, vengeance, for the thrill of the hunt . . . It did not matter. What mattered was this new enemy. A veiled, shadowy presence that was either out to hurt Hope or wanted to use her against us.
But what lycan would risk our wrath for any reason, let alone to secure a human? More likely, someone meant to use Hope to ensure our destruction. Rumors about what we risked—and who we risked it for—would have begun to spread. Rederick would see this as a chance to stop our campaign against his proposed law. Anyone with a grudge would want to exploit this new weakness.
Because of us, Hope’s life was a risk.
The muscles along my shoulders jumped and tightened. Swallowing suddenly became difficult.
It was no coincidence Gino had been told the house would be empty. No coincidence Strays had invaded Trey’s territory. Whoever was behind this, they knew Trey would ask for our help and they knew we would say yes. Their only miscalculation had been assuming we would leave our human alone.
Had I denied my instinct and gone with the rest of my pack . . .
The thought of Hope being taken had me rock back on my heels, both man and beast silently roaring. My female at the mercy of Strays? With her breakable body, her too-kind nature, her already-wounded soul?
A burst of ice filled my chest and my vision went dark.
She might have been able to survive their treatment, but the rest of the world would not.
“Sweet Bháan Mahír,” Gino muttered. The stench of his fear spread.
Ruarc snapped his teeth in the Stray’s direction—waited for the other male to scramble back and shut his mouth—before turning to me. “What do you want to do?”
So many lives ended by my hand, many of which had not deserved to fall to the madness of my beast. Had I listened to my mother, had I not chafed at the restrictions she placed upon me as a pup, the responsibilities she had somehow known would be essential to my survival, I may have been there to protect her. I may have been able to gain control of my wolf earlier. And I may have spared some of the lives I had taken.
Blood would always stain my hands, but Gino’s would not.
“Let him go.”
Gino’s breath caught, his eyes darting to Ruarc.
The enforcer said nothing.
“Ruarc has your scent now.” I walked over to the bench, ignoring the stench and the puddle on the floor, and lowered myself to my haunches. The moment his eyes flickered up to mine, he lost. “We can find you. Any time, any place.” I kept him trapped, allowed the icy presence pushing against its bond room to emerge. Together, we watched the male lose his color. We watched him tremble. We watched him understand that he had sealed his fate the moment he had chosen to pursue our female despite the chance we had given him to leave unscathed.
Gino whimpered, tried to tilt his head back in submission, but he could not make his eyes move away.
“You will do your best to find the male who gave you this task,” I said. “And when you do, you tell him we are coming for him.”
All his limbs shook. As soon as I released him, he scrambled back, panting heavily.
I moved out of the way, watched him lick his lips and shake his head over and over while his gaze darted between me and Ruarc. Then, slowly, with his head lowered and his shoulders hunched, he crept forward. Had he been in his wolf form, his stomach would have scraped the floor and his tail would have curled protectively over his genitalia. When he neared Ruarc, his eyes rolled back in his head, his chin tipping up, flashing his vulnerable throat at the enforcer.
The bigger male did not protest Gino’s freedom. He only bared his teeth, watching the Stray scuttle past with a yip, and waited until he had slipped outside before speaking. “Was no coincidence.”
“No,” I replied while flames danced in my chest. “It was not.”
“You thinking Rederick?”
“It is possible, but . . . To use Strays? It does not seem like him.”
“Doesn’t seem like anyone.”
“And yet, they were here. After Hope. Because of us.”
A growl, a creak of wood as Ruarc’s hands tightened around the door frame. “You sure about that?”
“No, but it is the only thing that makes sense.”
Ruarc growled again, then shook his head and stared after Gino. “Should go. How long till one of Trey’s relieve me?”
“An hour at most,” I said, making a mental note to clean up Lucien’s workspace before I left. This was his refuge, and the mess was my responsibility. “Do not lose him, and make sure whoever Trey sends knows to follow for as long as it takes.”
Ruarc grunted and stalked out. I followed, watching him disappear into the forest. With everything looming—the Assembly, Rederick’s proposal, the vote that would determine if we all lived or if some of us would die fighting to protect our female—this hidden enemy would have to wait.
But not for long.
11
Hope
“Xavier better not lose him,” Ruarc growled, claws digging into the carvings spiraling up the pillar he was clutching. Rain pattered against the porch roof above us, creating a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that had my eyes flutter shut and my mind burst with pleasure.
Rain.
How I’d missed it.
During all my years at the compound, I hadn’t heard it once. The roof had been too thick, the walls too dense. The only sounds we were allowed were those the Hunters chose; the screams and manic mutterings of our neighbors. The screeching music blaring over the speakers when we weren’t allowed to sleep. And the galloping of our own hearts when the clinking of a guard’s baton dragged against the bars of our cages.
But now I could hear the rain, feel its moisture in the air, taste its flavor at the back of my tongue.
And the smell . . .
I drew in a deep breath, filled my lungs with the fresh, earthy scent that I would have given anything to smell back when my nose constantly burned with bleach.
“He won’t,” Lucien said, drawing me back to reality. “Trey would not have sent him had he not been the best tracker they have.”
“I still don’t understand . . .” I worried my lip between my front teeth, earning a frown from Ruarc. “What did they want with me?”
Mr. Bossman—whose real name was Gino—had apparently not known much, but he’d given up the names of his underlings as well as their orders.
To capture me.
It made no sense. The only people I could imagine wanting me was the Hunters, but they were human and the men who’d attacked our home were not.
“We do not know,” Ash replied, but there was something about the press of h
is lips, the dangerous tilt of his head that made me push.
“But you have a theory?”
“Our fault.” Ruarc’s arms tightened around me. Ever since he’d gotten back, he’d refused to leave my side. “Were attacked because of us.”
“Because of you?”
Lucien’s cool gaze flashed, though his stance remained casual as he leaned against the railing farthest away from us. “We suspect they were going to use you as a bargaining chip.”
“I don’t understand . . .”
“We have enemies, banajaanh. Enemies who would not hesitate to use you against us.”
My breath caught, and I would have fallen if not for Ruarc’s support.
I . . . I was a weakness.
The realization left me shivering.
“Strays are cowards,” Ruarc snarled, mistaking my reaction for fear. “Won’t dare try again.”
“W-what if whoever sent them isn’t a Stray?” The thought of some unknown enemy trying to kidnap me didn’t disturb me as much as the possibility that one of the guys could get hurt trying to protect me.
I was a weakness. Their weakness. Because they were too good, too honorable to let someone under their protection be harmed.
“If that’s the case then they’re not powerful enough to come after you themselves. Why else would they have sent Strays the first time around?” A muscle along Lucien’s jaw jumped, then clenched. “And once we’re at Assembly ground, no Stray, human, or otherworldly creature would dare intrude.”
Something wild and furious whipped through my stomach, dragging claws in its wake.
They were still trying to protect me, reassure me. But I would not be the reason they got hurt. I would be strong. I would prove that I could be more than someone they had to take care of and protect. I’d show them I could protect them in return—like I had Ash when I’d taken down one of the lycans who’d tried to hurt him.
Dread battled resolve, leaving my legs shaking and my hands trembling.
Ruarc rubbed a calloused palm up and down my arm, growling. “Inside.”
We moved to the living room and Lucien surveyed the ruined furniture with an arched brow in Ash’s direction.
“What were you hoping to achieve?” Lucien asked.
“A barrier between Hope and the Strays.” Ash picked up a piece of wood, studied it with his head cocked. Then his hand curled into a fist, knuckles whitening, and the piece of furniture—was it the leg of the couch?—groaned. “In case they brought guns.”
Ruarc growled and pulled me tighter against his chest.
“It seems you succeeded.”
“I almost did not.” Piercing blue eyes pinned me in place. The predatory presence from earlier lurked in their fathomless depths as Ash kept me trapped under the spell of his gaze. “She disobeyed. Instead of hiding, she left to find a weapon. Ruarc’s pan came in handy when she got cornered by a Stray.”
Heavy disapproval clogged the air and accusing eyes burned along my skin. Only Jason saw the humor in the situation, and I suspected it was only because Ruarc had already snapped and snarled about me putting my life in danger.
“That’s my girl,” Jason said and slung an arm over my shoulder, ignoring Ruarc’s deep growl and laughing when the bigger man jerked me out of his hold.
“You think that’s funny?” Lucien asked in a cold voice.
“That our girl took down a wolf with a skillet? Hell yes!”
“She could have been killed.”
Jason stilled. “But she wasn’t.”
“Only by sheer luck!” Lucien turned to me, a fiery emotion tightening his expression. “Do you even understand the danger you were in? Of all the idiotic, foolhardy decisions you’ve made, this one was beyond reckless. Beyond that of a child testing her boundaries. What were you thinking?”
My face warmed as my second scathing reprimand of the day was delivered in front of everyone. Anger built in my chest—at myself, at Lucien, at the Strays that had invaded my sanctuary—and a familiar darkness flexed its claws. I took a step away from the safety of Ruarc’s arms and marched right up Lucien.
Looking up into his carved, marble-like face, for once I wasn’t distracted by his exquisite beauty. Instead, I focused on the slight flaring of his nostrils, the raised brows, and the way the muscles along his jaw flexed—small signs that his composure was cracking. And instead of being scared by the possibility of him losing his temper, a rush of exhilaration filled me.
Push him. Make him crack. Let him show us what lies behind that cool facade.
The thoughts came unbidden, covered in darkness and shrouded in shadows. And because they aligned so perfectly with the strange feelings rushing through me, I dismissed them as insignificant.
“I was thinking of Ash!” I clenched my teeth. “I was thinking I didn’t want him to be hurt!” My hands curled into fists. “I was thinking I was tired of hiding like a small, scared rabbit, and I wanted to protect a person I—”
The words died on my tongue and horror filled me at what I’d almost said—protect a person I love.
I loved Ash?
My world shrank down to the rapid beat of my heart and the dull roar in my ears.
Lucien narrowed his eyes, an arctic storm raging in their green depths. “Yes?”
I barely noticed, lost in the sharp denial bashing against my skull. It wasn’t true. A slip of the tongue—though I hadn’t said it out loud.
Heat at my elbow, a gentle touch. “A person you what, love?”
Blood climbed to my brain in a dizzying rush, and I stared at Jason with wide, unseeing eyes. It took me a small eternity to realize that it had been a question, not a statement, and that he’d called me love, not told me I loved Ash.
“A . . . a person I c-care about.”
My gaze darted away. I knew not to look over my shoulder at Ruarc, not while the hand he’d placed on my waist kept flexing. I stared at my feet until the hairs on my nape rose, the air turned heavy—heavy enough to choke on—and the room shrunk.
I shivered, sensing Ash’s nearness, knowing he’d come closer. Still, I stared at my feet. I stared until my eyes burned—I’d forgotten to blink. Until I could draw a breath without choking on power. Until Ash spoke in a voice that was almost normal, and I dared a peek.
“Let us leave this until we are back.” His gaze swept over the chaos of the room, then me. “We need to pack for our stay and decide who should watch the animals while we are gone.”
“Ray’s kid,” Ruarc grunted. He grabbed me by the arm and marched me into the kitchen. Once there, he pointed to a chair and growled, “Sit.”
The others followed.
Lucien took a seat in the chair next to mine, never looking my way. “Why Ray’s kid?”
“Could use the money. He’s a hard worker—You need to eat,” he growled at me before I could lift my butt all the way out of the chair.
“I’ll take an omelette, easy on the salt.” Jason plunked down on my other side, shot me a wink, and ducked just as a spatula flew over his head.
“Not your chef,” Ruarc snarled. He looked back at me, the hard lines of his face softening almost imperceptibly. “What would you like, mo chridhe?”
“I . . . I’m not really hungry.” I was still reeling over my almost-declaration, and there was something else bothering me too. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I felt . . . uneasy. Like something I’d tried to keep contained had almost spilled over. I didn’t want to think about it or examine it too closely, because when I did, fear rushed down my throat like a waterfall flooding my lungs.
A stubborn jut of Ruarc’s chin and I knew he wouldn’t let it go.
“We should all eat something,” Ash said. He paused in the doorway. “I will help you cook, Ruarc.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I interjected. “I can do it. Ruarc has been teaching me, and I’m supposed to do some work around here anyway.”
My statement was met with hard silence.
“Ordeal,�
� Ruarc pushed out through gritted teeth. “Need rest.”
Jason chimed in. “I need you here, love. Without you, Lucien is going to bore me to death about the pros and cons of making your own chairs.”
“There are no cons,” Lucien said coolly.
“Rest.” Ash stroked a hand over my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”
Ignoring the soothing effect of his touch, I looked up at the enigmatic man and gave him a frown. “If anyone should rest it should be you. You’re the one who had a traumatic day.”
A beat of silence, then Ruarc grumbled, “Anyone had a traumatic day, it was me.”
My belly clenched, and I spun around to face him. “What happened?” I elbowed Jason in the side, aiming my next question at him while my gaze roamed over Ruarc in search of injuries. I would have gotten up to check if Ash’s hand on my shoulder didn’t suddenly become heavy. “Why didn’t you tell me right away something had happened!”
“Ouch! Careful, love,” Jason said, not one hint of pain in his laughing voice. “Nothing happened. I think Ruarc is referring to our trauma when we came home to find the furniture shredded and no sign of our female.”
Of course. I slumped in my seat. If the situation had been reversed, I’d have been a panicked wreck. “I’m sorry, Ruarc,” I said glumly. “I hate that you worried because of us.”
“Wasn’t worried about Ash, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he grumbled. “The wily bastard can take care of himself.”
This time when I looked at Ash, I was startled to see a small smile pulling at his wide lips and a spark of humor flashing in his eyes. He was normally too contained, too serious to show amusement. “It would be wise for you all to remember that. Especially you, old man.”
Ruarc slapped the flat of his hand against the table. “For fuck’s sake, why do you all keep calling me old?”
“Because you are. You’re ancient.” Jason grinned down at me, and my heart warmed at the lightheartedness of the moment. It was comforting that they could joke around after the kind of day we’d had. It made me feel safe, like the intruders had never stood a chance and I didn’t have to worry about the future.
