by Moira Rogers
It gave her a tiny bit of confidence, and she needed it for what she was about to do. “I’m coming with you.”
Dylan sighed. “Joe’ll have my ass.” But it sounded more like an observation than a denial, and he confirmed it when he eyed the gun in her waistband. “Need to reload?”
Joe wouldn’t have given it to her if it had been empty. Then again, he’d never forgive her for not checking. She pulled out the revolver, pushed open the chamber and clicked it back into place before shaking her head. “I’m good.”
“Olivia.” Dylan approached the older woman who’d asked about Sam and laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find her. We’ll find them both,” he added, raising his voice and glancing at the man who’d complained. “Everyone else, just…get ready.”
“Thank you,” Olivia whispered, her fingers curling around Dylan’s hand for a brief moment. Her gaze shifted to Brynn. “Thank you.”
The fear in her eyes stirred something dark inside Brynn, and suddenly she understood that tight look Joe got whenever she felt scared. Olivia was weak and terrified, and Brynn…
She heard Joe’s voice in her head again. Everything about this is relative. Around Joe and Keith, around Abby and the alphas, she’d been the one who was weak. The one who needed protection.
Brynn tightened her fingers around the gun and nodded to Dylan, suddenly confident. “Let’s go.”
There are too many.
Joe cursed himself for even thinking it as he ducked a burly man and flipped him over his back. It took him only seconds to eject the spent magazine from his semiautomatic and shove in a fresh one, but it gave the man time to recover and rush him again.
His assailant didn’t have time to avoid Joe’s shot, and one bullet to the forehead took him down.
Out of the corner of his eye, Joe caught a glint of delicate steel as Mary stepped out of the shadows near Abby, a murderous gleam in her eye.
“Abby!” Even as he shouted her name, he knew there wasn’t time. Keith was too far away, and Abby hadn’t had time to hone her reflexes for this kind of fight.
She didn’t hear him, but his voice drew Mary’s attention. Cold, angry eyes focused on his face, and she snarled at him. “Where’s your little bitch? Hiding under the bed like a good puppy?”
Distract her. “Believe whatever you want, Mary. I don’t care.”
The knife caught the moonlight as she flipped it from side to side in a chiding gesture. “You’re a fool. You’re all fools. Sitting in your mountains with your tame little women, hiding from the world. The world should be hiding from us.”
“Now you sound like Matthews.” Cold realization hit him, and he took an unconscious step toward her. “But you would, wouldn’t you? What did he promise you? And what did you tell him?”
She moved so damn fast, and Abby didn’t have a chance. Mary’s hand twisted in her hair and the knife pressed into the skin of her throat. “Alan needs an alpha to keep the women in line, and I need a man who wants to do something a little more ambitious than hide in his town and have babies with his weak little submissive bitch.”
Joe could have shot her—if only Mary had been a little taller, or if Abby hadn’t been struggling so much. If only she wasn’t his best friend’s mate, and his own—
His own mate’s sister.
But he didn’t have time to do more than blink anyway before Keith appeared at Mary’s side, the barrel of his gun inches from her head and his finger already squeezing the trigger.
The world slowed. Mary released Abby abruptly, shallowly slashing the knife along the side of her neck and sending her spinning toward Joe. Keith roared his fury and fired at the spot Mary’s head had been a moment before.
Joe caught Abby and pressed his hand to her wound. Too late, he saw Mary swing her arm in an arc. The knife disappeared into Keith’s gut, and she howled in triumph as she jerked the hilt. Abby screamed just as Keith fired at Mary, hitting her in the throat.
The woman staggered back, dragging the knife with her, though it slipped from her blood-slicked hands. Abby dove from Joe’s arms and snatched up the knife. Mary hit the ground at the same time as Keith, both hands pressed to her throat.
Abby kicked Mary onto her back and barely paused before stabbing the knife into her chest. Mary went limp, and Abby crawled over her and toward Keith.
Joe reached him just as she did, and he pried Keith’s hands away from his stomach, exposing the wounds. A moment later, he wished he hadn’t.
Abby paled and began to tremble as she laid her hand on Keith’s cheek. “Baby…”
“Magic—” The word died in a groan of pain, and Keith’s glazed eyes locked on Joe. “Get the knife… Need Sasha—”
Enchanted. It explained why the superficial slash across Abby’s neck still bled, and why the stab wounds pained Keith so much when he should have been able to shake them off. Joe rose and walked over to Mary’s body to jerk the knife from her heart. “We have to hurry,” he told Abby. “You feel steady enough to help me?”
She didn’t look away from Keith. “I’ll do anything.”
Together, they helped Keith to his feet and braced him upright. Then they headed for the bar.
Brynn knew there was something wrong fifteen yards from the alphas’ house. She just didn’t know how.
Her hand snapped out to grab at Dylan’s arm as she stopped and tried to figure out what was bothering her.
“Shit,” he muttered, looking around. “Fuck. It’s Matthews.” His chest heaved as he stared up at a single light in a second-story window of the alphas’ house. “He’s here.”
Her newfound confidence faltered. “What about Sam? Can you tell?”
“No,” Dylan whispered. “I should…but I can’t.” He shook himself and gripped her hand. “Come on. Be careful.”
They made it two more steps before she stopped him again. “He’s an alpha, Dylan. What if I can’t fight him? The instincts are so damn strong and I don’t know how to control them. What if he tells me to do something and I just do it?”
He grasped her upper arms, bent to meet her eyes, and whispered hoarsely, “You try like hell, Brynn. That’s all either of us can do.”
She stared at him for an endless moment, and her terror gave way under the fierce determination in his eyes. Dylan was like her, and he’d risked everything to defy Alan Matthews and keep Abby safe. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do it.”
The front door creaked, and so did the stairs. Halfway up, mocking laughter rang out. “Come on up. We’ve been expecting you.”
Dylan hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he dragged Brynn up the rest of the stairs and ran for the sound of Alan’s voice, his gun at the ready.
Sam’s voice cut through a second before they hit the door, a pained, muffled scream that sounded like a denial. Then a sound Brynn recognized all too well—a fist hitting flesh.
They spilled through the door into a nightmare. Alan sat on the bed with Sasha at his feet, his hand wrapped tightly in her hair. On the other side of the room, three men were attempting to restrain Sam. Someone had bound her hands behind her back with brutal efficiency, but judging from the awkward angle of one of their arms and the blood and rising bruises on their faces, getting her under control had cost them.
A pleased grin spread over Alan’s face. “This is my best day ever,” he murmured, jerking Sasha’s hair a little as he watched Dylan and Brynn. “If Abigail dropped out of the sky and landed in my lap right now, life would truly be complete.” He winked at Brynn. “You made that happen once. Surely you can do it again.”
“No.” One word, but she put everything she had into it, everything she could summon up with the wolf howling a warning inside her, screaming at her to run.
Dylan twitched and raised his gun, ignoring the warning snarls from the men in the corner. “Let her go.”
“The witch?” Alan questioned with a laugh. “No. No, I don’t think so. They can do such interesting things.” He picked up a knife from the bed beside hi
m. “Like this, for instance. If she tries, I’ll bet Samantha over there will recognize it. This”—he thumbed the blade lovingly—“will hurt even the strongest wolf. But the magic fades eventually. You have to…recharge them.” He tossed the knife behind him, and one of the three men with Sam caught it.
Alan turned his attention to Sasha. “So beautiful.” He pulled her head back and hit her across the mouth, chuckling when she recoiled with a cry. “I forgot how beautiful some humans can be.” His thumb traced her split lower lip. “So wounded.” Then he shrugged and licked his thumb clean. “And useful.”
Sam’s snarl of rage filled the room, and the ropes holding her arms snapped as she surged to her feet—
—and stopped again when Alan’s fingers closed around Sasha’s throat. “I can tear it out with my bare fingers,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on Sam’s face. “You remember, don’t you?”
Furious, helpless power raged through the room as the werewolves forced Sam to her knees again, and Brynn recognized the horrifying truth of Sam’s existence in one moment of insight. Left to her own devices, she could tear every man in this room apart—but the protective instincts that came with her power left her trapped in the face of someone else’s pain.
Alan knew it. He laughed, a sound that shredded Brynn’s already raw nerves like broken glass, and nodded to one of the wolves. “Take her downstairs. If she tries to get away…” Alan’s gaze flickered briefly to Brynn. “What do you think, Samantha? I’ve never fucked a moon-crazed wolf. Just wild enough to struggle, but I bet she submits so pretty. Would you like to watch?”
It should have terrified Brynn, but instead it enraged her. Alan was using her, again. Using her to force Sam to submit, using her as leverage and pain.
It worked. Sam’s struggles ceased. The werewolves hauled her from the room, leaving Dylan and Brynn facing Alan, who kept his fingers wrapped so tightly around Sasha’s windpipe that shooting him might kill her anyway.
Sasha began to struggle and claw at Alan’s arms. He made a soft, almost soothing noise, but didn’t release her.
Dylan’s arm shook, and it was easy to read the impotent fury etched on his face as he slowly lowered his gun. “You won’t make it out of here. Not with all the alphas gathered.”
He stifled a yawn and loosened his hand from Sasha’s throat. “You underestimate me, Gennaro. That’s a mistake.”
Sudden certainty seized Brynn, along with terror for Joe. “Which one is it? Mary? Someone else?”
“Smart.” Alan tapped his temple. “Mary’s tired of being a good girl. So I told her she could come to Helena with me…and be bad.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. “But I think I’ll kill her anyway. She’s wholly unpleasant, and not in an entertaining way.”
Sasha whimpered, and Brynn swayed forward, fighting the instinctive need to go to her. To protect her. “Let her go. She’s not dangerous.”
“On the contrary. I’m sitting here with my fingers around her neck because she’s more dangerous than both of you combined. I mean, really.” His blue eyes gleamed with fascination. “She made you, didn’t she? Saved you from death?”
Magic surged when Brynn refused to answer, Alan using the weight of his power to smother her ability to resist. The word came out before she could stop it. “Yes.”
“Yes.” He released Sasha. She tried to scramble away, but he jerked her back with one hand and struck her on the cheek. He winced as she crumpled to the floor. “Hope I didn’t hit her too hard.”
“Bastard.” Dylan choked out the word.
“Mmm, yeah.” Alan stood and focused on Brynn. “Come here.”
Joe kicked open the front door of the bar and ignored the upset murmur that ran through the people congregated in the main room. “Sasha,” he said, then cursed impatiently when they stared blankly at him. “The witch! Where is she?”
The wolves all lowered their eyes, and he knew something was wrong. It was Erin who finally spoke, her voice tired. “Sam and Sasha never showed up. Dylan and Brynn went after them.”
Abby squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.
Joe’s breakdown would have to wait. Blood pounded in his ears, and he trembled from the effort it cost him not to dash out and find Brynn. “Olivia!” He and Abby walked to the stage at one end of the bar and eased Keith onto it.
Olivia appeared at his side a few moments later, breathless and pale. “No one could stop her, Joe,” she whispered as she reached for Keith’s shirt. “None of the wolves were strong enough to stop both of them.”
“I’ll take care of it.” He started to help her, but Abby knocked his hands away. “Let me help.”
“No,” she grated. “Go find Sasha and Brynn. Please. Hurry.”
Joe glanced at Olivia and nodded. “Just keep him stable. If you can find Cindy—”
“I know. Go.”
He caught Abby’s hand. “Just hold on.” She nodded tightly, and Joe hit the door at a dead run. He didn’t think about what could be happening to Brynn, what could have already happened. He couldn’t, not if he wanted to stay sane enough to help her.
This time Brynn was ready for the heavy press of the command against her willpower. She’d expected to have to fight against her wolf, but the wolf wanted nothing to do with Alan Matthews. The urge to submit to his will grew from fear, not trust, and that gave her the strength to resist.
She lifted her gaze to his and let the reply tear free from her lips, a snarled challenge. “No.”
His face hardened, and he stepped toward her. “What did you say to me?”
Power crashed in on her, painful in its intensity. Brynn ground her teeth and summoned the stubbornness that had gotten her through cut-throat internships, through political machination and competitiveness. “No.”
Alan’s face reddened. “You bitch—” A shot cut off his words and he stumbled back, his angry expression melting into one of disbelief as red bloomed across the shoulder of his shirt. “You’ve got to be—”
Dylan squeezed the trigger again and hit Alan in the chest. He advanced, still firing, until he stood over the fallen alpha.
It was nothing like the last time, when Joe had shot Pierce. That had been violent but brief, over in less than an instant. Alan struggled, growling and gnashing even as his blood sprayed the bed, the floor and Dylan’s clothes.
And me. Brynn shivered and stared, riveted to the spot.
Alan gripped Dylan’s leg and snapped his jaws, his canine teeth elongating into fangs. Her friend raised the pistol and fired again, this time into the man’s forehead.
His struggles ceased, and Brynn shuddered. He was dead. The man who’d taken and threatened her, who’d killed her brother.
Dead.
Dylan sighed shakily. “Go. Get Sam.” When she didn’t move, he growled. “I said, get Sam.”
He’d see after Sasha. Brynn bolted out the door toward the stairs, not bothering to hide the sound of her footsteps. Instead, she made as much noise as possible. “Sam, start fighting.”
One of the men was already at the top of the stairs, and he came at her. “Where’s the alpha?” he demanded.
He was strong, but not as strong as Alan. Maybe not even as strong as she was. Brynn had no problem lifting the revolver this time, and she aimed it at his chest before squeezing the trigger.
He went tumbling down the stairs, thumping to a stop on the first landing. Then the screaming started downstairs.
Brynn made it halfway down the stairs before the man stirred again, even with a bullet in him. She braced herself and shot again, this time hitting him in the shoulder. The third bullet went into his head, and he finally went still.
She hopped over him and made it to the ground floor a second before a werewolf went flying toward the wall in front of her. Sam appeared, looking like something out of a nightmare in torn, bloody clothing and eyes glazed with rage.
The man hit the wall and staggered back, knocking the alpha to the ground underneath him. Before he could recover, Sam snappe
d his neck.
The third man, half of his face battered and bloodied, rushed them both. Brynn fired, but she managed only three wild shots before the revolver in her hand clicked, empty.
The man laughed at her and advanced again, seemingly unconcerned by the one bullet she’d managed to lodge in his shoulder. Sam was still on the floor, fighting to untangle herself from the dead weight on top of her.
The door slammed open, and a wave of power she trusted instinctively flooded the room. She hit the ground a second before the final attacker’s head exploded in a shower of blood.
Joe hurried over and dragged her to her feet. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” It was hard to breathe through the relief she felt. “But Sasha’s upstairs with Dylan, and she’s unconscious—”
“Shit, we need her. Keith’s hurt.”
They all started at the sound of a gunshot upstairs, but it was a matter of seconds before Dylan appeared, carrying Sasha down the stairs.
“Joe.” Sam’s voice was hoarse but steady. “Have you got this? I need to rejoin the fight.”
“Be careful.” She disappeared out the front door, and Joe gripped Brynn’s hand. “What happened upstairs, Dylan?”
“Matthews is dead.” Sasha stirred in his arms and whimpered. He held her tighter.
“We need her. Mary stabbed Keith. He’s at the bar now.”
Howls still split the night, but they sounded different now. Triumphant. Brynn shivered as she moved to pull open the door and hold it for Dylan. “Will they know Alan’s dead?”
Joe didn’t answer her until they were out of the door and running across the yard. “They’ll know.”
The battle was winding down as they made their way to the bar, but Joe’s tension ratcheted higher. What if we took too long? What if the others couldn’t find Cindy? What if—
More people, wounded and otherwise, had gathered, but they parted for Joe and the others. Keith still lay on the stage, with Olivia pressing kitchen towels to his stomach and Abby, pale and drawn, whispering in his ear.
