by Casey Lane
“Where is it?” he growled, as he hunched over to look in the car.
“Damned if I know,” Hunter whispered. He meant for it to come out with some strength, but his was slowly seeping away. “Why don’t you go crawl back into your hole?” he asked.
Ken Winters, the grand chairman of the werewolf council, sneered at him. He pointed his finger at Hunter and a sharp nail grew from the blunt tip. In a motion that belied his age, he jammed his fingernail into Hunter’s shoulder.
The brittle pain caught him off guard, and he clamped his mouth as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough to catch his initial cry of pain. He wouldn’t let that happen again, especially with the master’s sadistic smile beaming above him.
“I will find what your father gave you.”
“Fuck you,” Hunter said, from between clenched teeth. He wasn’t in any condition to fight back and he knew this line of questioning was going to get worse before he finally accepted death. The wolf in him bristled at the thought, unwilling to just lie down and die.
Winters crouched down next to him, twisting his finger, digging the dagger deeper into Hunter.
Hot agony gripped his shoulder, and he concentrated on drawing a breath through his nose instead of his tightly clamped lips.
“You seem fond of the girl. I’m sure once I have her, you’ll sing a different tune,” he said, after studying Hunter.
The dagger embedded in his shoulder retracted, providing temporary relief. He closed his eyes, ignoring the orders Winters barked at the men surrounding them. This was a walk in the park compared to what would come next. The council didn’t care about their wolves, all they gave a damn about was power and wealth. And anyone who got in their way was trampled.
Alessandra had no idea how corrupt Winters was. But he knew only too well. His father paid the price when he attempted to expose the bastards for killing at will, humans and werewolves alike. In some instances, the council wiped out entire communities just because they wouldn’t conform to their rules.
Now, it looked like he would follow in his father’s footsteps.
He closed his eyes. The proof that he had to bring these assholes down was buried under the money box right alongside his birth certificate. He wished he had shared it with Alessandra before the shit hit the fan, but he hadn’t figured out who to send it to. There wasn’t anyone who could challenge the council and win.
He finally opened his eyes to two of Winters’ lackeys arguing over how to get him out of the ravine.
“I want him alive!” Winters yelled from the road.
Of course the bastard wanted him alive. He wanted a spectacle, one that was sure to draw Alessandra from hiding. Hunter just hoped that she would heed his orders. The need to call her back had almost overwhelmed him, but if she had stayed, Winters would have everything he wanted.
The two men hauled him up the ravine and threw him into a truck bed. The impact drew a grunt from him. They splayed him out using silver shackles and left him staring at the bright sky. He didn’t ask where they were taking him. He didn’t care.
Each bump created a host of agonies through his body and he closed his eyes, willing either sleep or unconsciousness to come so he could attempt to heal. The silver ensnaring his wrists and ankles made either choice nearly impossible. Every now and then, Alessandra’s scent drifted into his nostrils, like a promise of a dream, pulling him back into consciousness.
By the time the truck turned off the interstate, the sun had moved across the heavens and the deep blue sky of late afternoon greeted his exhausted gaze. Hours of torture seemed like child’s play compared to the jolting bumps the side roads contained. Crunching sounds of gravel along with a thick canopy of trees made his heart race. Just by the heavy pine scent, he knew they were in the mountains.
This was where the council carried out sentencing. He had heard rumors, and despite his injuries, the thought of being drown in silver sent an involuntary shiver through him. His father had once told him that Winters had a trophy room of all those he’d sentenced to death. Screaming faces cast in silver lined the walls.
Hunter’s throat closed and he forced a breath in the tight space. If he panicked now, he might unwillingly give up Alessandra just to avoid that kind of death. The trees thinned until all he saw was the open sky and a variety of cranes. The truck came to a stop under one of the crane hooks.
Without a word, the driver got out, hooked the crane to something over Hunter’s head, and gave a twirl of his index finger. An engine roared to life and chains rose, pulling a bar that Hunter was clasped to up into the air. Hunter glanced down to see his legs had a similar bar and that one was attached to the truck. The crane didn’t stop when he was fully extended and the pull in his abdomen yanked a cry of pain.
The driver made a cutting motion with his hand and the pressure abated, but didn’t stop. Pain filled every inch of his abdomen. His arms ached, and he was glad he couldn’t feel anything from his waist down. His brain hadn’t had time to register his surroundings before the driver hopped up on the back of the truck and pulled out a hunting knife.
“Why are you doing this?” Hunter asked, and the man leveled a glare.
“Because beasts like you need to be put down,” he said, and pulled Hunter’s t-shirt away from his body before cutting the fabric off, leaving his chest and back exposed. He slid an ear-bud into Hunter’s ear and stepped behind him.
A large clearing stretched before him. In the center of the clearing sat the werewolf council, lined up in a horseshoe around the focal point of the clearing—a giant vat filled with boiling silver. The metallic stench burned his nostrils and he closed his eyes. An array of covered cages lined the outer edges of the woods, and Hunter wondered who else was being executed today.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here to confirm sentencing and carry out executions for the most heinous offenders of our species.” Ken Winter’s voice rose over the gathering crowd.
With a wave of his hand, the covers to the cages were pulled away.
The earpiece buzzed. “Look closely, Mr. Blaez. They are paying for your sins,” Winters’ voice whispered in his ears. “Tell me where the girl is and I will set them free.”
Hunter’s chest squeezed. Every member of their pack was behind bars, along with a few others he didn’t recognize.
The loudspeaker crackled. “This pack, led by that man on the back of the truck, attacked a group of human campers without provocation, killing them just for the bloodlust thrill of it.”
“Bullshit,” Hunter said, loud enough for the crowd to hear him.
Pain seared Hunter’s back followed by the crack of a whip. Heat traveled down his back into the numb zone.
The man behind him chuckled. “You just keep your mouth shut or I’ll put a gag on you.”
Winters turned to the council. “Have you reviewed the cases put before you today?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“What say you?” he asked.
“Execution!”
There was no hesitation in any one of the council members, and Winters gave them a nod. He glanced at Hunter, and an evil smile found the corners of his lips before he turned back to the crowd.
“They did nothing to deserve this fate!” Hunter cried, and received another lashing.
Winters gave a nod, and the first criminal, thankfully not one of Hunter’s pack, was dragged from the cage to the platform behind the vat. He struggled in the chains, but there was no use against the silver holding him in place. With his hands clasped behind his back, and his feet shackled, the crane hook was lowered until the hooded executioner could drag it to the chains holding the poor bastards feet.
“I promise; your pack will have just as slow a death as this man’s.” Winters’ voice whispered in his earpiece.
A burning anger rippled through his muscles, and just because both Winters and the man behind him was a sadistic bastard, the shards of the whip ripped through his skin.
“I’m sure the smell of your blood will bring your little whore running. And just for the record, I’m not going to kill her like the rest of these misfits. I’m going to chain her in a room with your silver coated remains, just so she remembers her place in the pack.”
Hunter growled and the chain above him pulled, yanking the air from his lungs. The struggling criminal was raised into the air at the same time. Hunter watched in horror as the man was dunked head first into the boiling vat, his scream cut off almost as soon as it started. The crane stopped when the man’s shoulders hit the surface, but his death throws continued.
Hunter could almost hear the screams below the surface as silver invaded all the orifices, burning as much as sulfuric acid. He shuddered. At least this death was quicker than lowering someone feet first. That would be a slower death, one that would be wrapped in agony. Head first, there is perhaps two to three minutes of agony before that first inhalation of silver.
The next criminal was splayed out in the same form as Hunter. The bar attached to his hands hit the silver first and the moment the poor bastard’s hands dipped below the surface, the choking screams began, along with sobbing pleas. Hunter swore to himself that he would not so much as whimper. He wasn’t going to give the council the satisfaction of his screams.
Chapter Nine
Alessandra nearly ran the jeep into the opening behind the crowd watching the council. Instead, she shot down a smaller side path to the right that seemed to dwindle to nothing but brush. She parked next to a fallen tree and closed her eyes. The ride had taken forever, and her body ached from sitting in the same position for so long. Her bladder was near exploding and she jumped out of the car and squatted behind it, relieving herself.
Hunter had to have weapons she could use in the jeep and now that she was parked, she opened the back and searched through the trunk. Nothing beyond a crowbar was visible. She bit her lip and took a chance, lifting the carpet liner to the wheel well below.
Warmth flushed her skin at the crossbow lying in the well instead of a spare tire. She reached down and touched the arrow tips, yanking her hand away at the burn of silver. Jesus, she expected a hunting rifle or something. Not silver-tipped arrows. Where the hell had he gotten these?
When the hell had he gotten them?
She pulled the quiver from under the crossbow and jammed the dozen arrows in before hauling it over her shoulder. The only other weapon she was aware of was the scalpel in the medical kit.
As she opened the door, the first scream caught her attention. She lifted her nose, catching scents on the light wind. She couldn’t tell how many werewolves were in the clearing, but the scents on the wind didn’t make sense. Her heart clanged into overdrive, creating the tingling sensation of urgency through her. The overwhelming need to get to that clearing gripped her and she glanced at the cross bow. She made sure the quiver was secure and slung it over her head. The handle of the crossbow barely fit in her human mouth, but within a blink, her canine jaws had no issue carrying the bow.
With the wind in her favor, she opted for speed instead of stealth. She stopped just short of the woods line, horrified by the scene in the clearing. She transitioned back into human form and readied the crossbow with shaking hands.
Hunter was stretched between two bars on the back of a truck. A man with a psychotic smile held a bloodied whip in his hand. But that wasn’t what had her throat locked closed. It wasn’t even the screaming man being slowly immersed in what smelled like boiling silver who had her heart racing.
It was the sight of her pack in the execution line that burned away any hint of fear, replacing it with an all consuming anger. How could the council hold them responsible for what she did? What. The. Hell?
She started to step into the clearing and Hunter’s head turned in her direction. She swore he could see her, but he closed his eyes and tucked his chin in, like he was hiding from the horror in front of him. The whip cracked.
Alessandra had an arrow fitted to the crossbow before she finished her next breath. She drew it back, wondering if anyone would notice if she took that fucker out. She had close to fifty yards from where she squatted to where Hunter was chained.
The man on the execution track was still screaming and all eyes were on that spectacle. If she miscalculated in any way, the arrow could kill Hunter. It had been years since she shot a bow, but she didn’t think she had lost her touch. She aimed, exhaled and depressed the trigger.
The whistle on the wind pulled Hunter’s gaze back in her direction, but the screaming of the criminal had reached an earsplitting note that completely masked the clunk of the jerk in the back of the truck.
“Place is rigged.”
Hunter’s voice traveled to her ears and his tone carried both agony and anger. He glanced sideways before refocusing on the gruesome death in front of him.
The screams stopped abruptly, but the body continued to struggle. Alessandra refused to think about what that meant. Soon, it was clear, as the youngest member of her pack was led to the executioner circle. Charity had been the one who had freed her from the rope tying her in the clearing.
“Winters, I swear if you do this, I’ll see you dead before the moon rises tonight,” Hunter growled from his perch. His voice sounded strong, but she knew better. He smelled like death and her heart squeezed at the thought.
The head of the council laughed at him. “That will be a very neat trick, Mr. Blaez. You seem to have the same dementia that your father had just before we executed him.”
Alessandra gasped. She thought his father had died in a hunting accident.
“They didn’t do anything. I was the one who killed those kids,” he said, and Alessandra almost stepped out of the woods.
She had already fitted another arrow in the bow, but she was unsure of where to aim this one.
“That is precisely why they are here. They did nothing to stop you and your mate.”
“She was my alpha, not my mate,” Hunter said, and then cried out.
The screech of metal grabbed her attention. The chain above Hunter creaked as it tried to pull tighter. The skin on his abdomen stretched thin and she knew damned well where she had to aim. It would give away her position, but if she didn’t, her nightmare of him being torn in half would come true.
She repositioned herself closer to the crowd where she could get a view of what held him to the truck bed. She climbed a tree to get a better vantage point, ignoring Charity’s panicked pleas. With the ankle braces in view, she held her breath. When the girl’s first scream shattered the afternoon, Alessandra let the arrow fly. Silver slammed against silver and Hunter looked down. One ankle hung untethered.
The second arrow unclasped the other ankle bond, freeing both his feet. Yet they still dangled in place. Relief flooded his features and he closed his eyes, hanging his head.
Her gaze jumped to the dying girl. Her arms were dipped into the silver up to her elbows. The skin above the silver blackened at the burn. Her long hair touched the liquid and sparked an inferno that engulfed her head. Her screams pressed on her chest like a giant crushing her.
She strung the next arrow and let it fly. The silver tip pierced right through Charity’s heart, ending her suffering in one motion. Chaos erupted. The crowd behind the council dispersed like they knew being in close proximity to the council was like dancing with death.
Winters pushed a button on the box he was holding. The strength in her limbs gave out a moment later as Hunter was yanked high into the air. The crane turned until he hung right over the center of the boiling pot of silver.
Her heart squeezed. She couldn’t lose Hunter. Not now. Not after letting him in. She needed him by her side. She stared at the only man on this earth she was willing to die for, and made a vow to herself. From this moment forward, they would be together, whether it was in life, or in death. Alessandra reached for another arrow and strung it in the crossbow.
Winters barked orders like he knew it was Alessandra in the woods. She ju
mped to the next tree and climbed to a larger limb, one that gave her a greater view of the landscape. Guards, both in human and wolf form ran towards where she stood. She had the benefit of being upwind, but she also knew their kind could smell fear even at this distance.
Her muscles clenched with terror as one of the human guards started to raise a rifle. She aimed the arrow and pressed the trigger. He went down before he could find her in the scope.
She reached into the quiver behind her and her heart lurched. She only had one arrow left. With a trembling hand, she pulled it out and loaded it into the crossbow. Three concurrent snaps made her jump and nearly lose her balance. The empty quiver slid down her arm and fell before she could catch it. When it hit the ground, another metal snap sounded.
Howls of pain filled the meadow and she scanned the landscape. Three wolves were trying to pull free from sharp teeth spring traps. Alessandra smelled the blood flowing from each trapped leg. Those traps were meant for her. A chill ran down her spine and she glanced up at Hunter.
His lips formed the word run, but she couldn’t leave him and her pack to die. Not for her sins.
The loud speaker crackled and Alessandra glanced towards Winters, the head of the werewolf council. He held a box with a red button over his head, his thumb inches from Hunter’s demise. “Alessandra Tate, you are surrounded. Surrender or I will personally press the release button holding Hunter Blaez. I will give you ten seconds to comply.”
Her heart pounded in her ears and she judged the distance between where she perched on the branch and where he hung over the vat. It was a distance she could cover in mere seconds if one of those traps didn’t get her, but she wasn’t sure she could get there in time to save him. Not with gravity pulling at him.
Between each number, Winters’ lips moved, but the speaker didn’t pick up his words. Winters announced the number five in the microphone, still looking up at Hunter with a sadistic smile. Hunter bellowed an angry growl and he glared at Winters with such violent intensity, that Alessandra reacted.
