A wailing siren cut through the silence.
Took them long enough to respond, Victor thought in disgust. Enforcers would’ve had this area secure by now.
The screams died off as Xerix incapacitated the guards. Victor knew Jackson wouldn’t let the imp kill them. They wanted prisoners, and more importantly, Jackson took his Enforcer vow seriously – they both did. Enforcers were not executioners, merely the force that kept the fragile balance between the races in check.
Markus took the lead with Derek padding closely behind him. The tension radiating from Derek was palpable. A loaded weapon ready to destroy any who crossed his path, and Victor knew he could easily become a victim of the Alpha’s rage. He made a mental note to stay far enough away from the near-homicidal wolf. No sense having an “accident” he wouldn’t recover from down here.
Zmitro followed next, and Victor took up the rear. The rest of the mages and werewolves alternated behind them moving single-file. While the others still had their invis spells running, the only one in the group visible was Jackson. Since battle would find them soon enough, there was no point in Jackson wasting energy or the spell component, diamond dust, to cast invis.
Worry for his partner didn’t cross Victor’s mind. They’d been in hairier situations and had come out just fine.
Hell, Jackson had spent a year on the run from the Enforcers, only recently having been exonerated from a crime he hadn’t committed. He was the sole person who’d ever successfully eluded the law, and he’d never even been close to capture.
The bugger had actually given himself up to help bring down the Werewolf Coterie leader, Logan, who’d been torturing and hunting humans for sport. Obviously a huge no-no, and it would have destroyed the Werewolf Peace Treaties if the civilian population had found out. Furious was an understatement for how the werewolves had felt when they’d found out. The Werewolf Enforcers were the ones who had literally torn him and his two Elites apart.
Light slowly filled the hallway as they made their way deeper into the complex. A part of him marveled at how well they’d made the building. Solid past the area they’d blown apart, no cracks and no shaky foundation. They must’ve spent a fortune on this facility.
What were they doing down here that required so much effort and a state-of-the-art building?
Xerix’s voice invaded his mind again, scratchy tendrils wrapping around his thoughts. “Many guards, guns, coming this way. Master wants me hidden.”
Victor glimpsed the annoying imp from the corner of his eye racing back to Jackson before disappearing. The imp had a knack for drawing shadows to him, becoming hidden from view.
Victor, however, could sense him, knew exactly where the little bastard was. Too many times Xerix had tried to scare him over the years, popping out of the shadows. Thanks to that long-gone ancestor, Victor was able to sense demons and accurately pinpoint the depth of power each demon possessed.
The Enforcers rounded the corner and stopped.
Guards swarmed from an open doorway and took up position in front of the single available door. Each one cradled an assault rifle. Grim faces ready for battle glared down the long hallway unaware of the threat staring back at them.
Glass double doors slammed shut behind the guards, and the click of its lock was a gunshot in the oppressive silence. Another hallway lay past the doors, branching to the left and right. More doors lined the passage, each one closed.
Counting the men, he idly wondered how many would become prisoners and how many would die. Yes, he preferred not to kill, but in every battle there would be bodies.
Werewolves crept forward, silent predators with their prey in sight. Mages snuck into position. Victor targeted one to the far left. Each Enforcer stood behind a guard waiting. A glance to his right showed Zmitro sitting patiently, although his muscles were tense and ready to spring into action.
Jackson hadn’t yet walked into the main corridor, allowing the mages and wolves time to get situated.
Tension filtered through the air. The guards had no idea what awaited them and the Enforcers wanted to attack.
Come on, Jackson, Victor mentally urged. Any longer and he’d forget protocol. Energy hummed through his body, responding to his adrenaline and gathering in strength. If he didn’t release it soon, he feared he’d lose control.
To his eternal thanks, Jackson stepped into view, and several guards gripped their rifles tighter.
“Step aside and let me pass.” A few of the men snickered at Jackson’s bold statement.
They assumed he was alone and vulnerable. He obviously wasn’t wearing a Kevlar vest. Then again, he didn’t need one. Mage shielding was more effective than a bulletproof vest. It stopped bullets, knives, physical hits and magical attacks. Good luck finding a Kevlar vest that could do all that.
Jackson’s hands stayed loosely at his side, but Victor noticed his fingers were twitching, gathering energy for an offensive spell.
“Surrender and we’ll go easy on you. Trust me. You won’t like it if you resist us,” one of the guards responded. His hand lifted to the radio on his shoulder. “Hostile in main corridor. One so far.”
Standing front and center, he appeared to be the leader of this squad. He had a hardened look to him and held his rifle loosely, no tension evident. Victor marked him as a mercenary, someone used to tough situations. Perhaps it also meant he had no loyalty and would stand down once he realized who surrounded them.
Jackson chuckled, enjoying himself. He was able to see what they couldn’t: eleven werewolves each covering a man, ready to attack. The remaining four men had a mage next to them, waiting for the signal. Markus was next to the squad leader, his black eyes glowing with restrained power. One wrong move and the guards were dead.
“What’s your name, solider? I’m Jackson Thorne, Mage Enforcer for the Coterie.”
The leader snorted. “Is that supposed to impress me? We have several of your kind imprisoned here, along with the other races. I’m not afraid of a mage.”
A slight clenching of Jackson’s jaw was the solitary sign of his anger. Enforcers did not show their emotions and weren’t ruled by them, either. With the amount of power at the fingertips of battle-trained mages, it was too easy to release a lethal spell without thinking. It was, in fact, a lot easier, since strong emotions helped fuel their magic.
Rage swept through Victor at the leader’s boastful words. He clenched his fists to keep from striking out, knowing that if he did so, there’d be nothing left of these men. They’d be torn apart from the force of his rampage.
An image of Sylvia floated in his mind, helping to calm him. Breathing softly, he pulled himself together and focused on the men. In doing so he caught Markus’ eye. He realized Markus had perceived how close he was to the edge and had sent the image to him.
How the hell did he cast a spell and not have his invis drop?
“You and your men are surrounded. You have no hope of survival unless you submit.” Jackson’s voice was light and even, no sign of his own anger, although it burned hot. After five years of working together, Victor was attuned to his partner’s emotional state. A close friend of Jackson’s, he took Sylvia’s abduction personally.
The cavalier attitudes held by these men were not helping.
The werewolves hummed with suppressed violence. Sylvia was their packmate, a respected and loved member, and these men were wasting their time. Derek, a huge, dark gray wolf whose head reached the shoulder of the man next to him, bared his teeth, inching his face closer to the man’s throat.
Victor’s eyes snapped back to Jackson, hoping he noticed this new development. Then again, the giant wolf was hard to miss.
While he did want these men subdued, they needed to do it as a cohesive unit to minimize casualties. Derek knew better, but he hadn’t been right in the head since Sylvia’s abduction. He’d heard whispers that Derek was feeling her pain and connected to her during her torture yet couldn’t locate her or speak to her via the pack link.
The mages cancelled the spell by mere thought. Within seconds, eleven Mage Enforcers stood in the hallway, most of them behind Jackson and four of them now with knives against the throats of their prisoners.
Refusing to surrender, several of the guards attacked. Rifles swung backwards, aiming for stomachs. Victor’s guard was one of them. The physical shielding protected his gut, but the movement jerked Victor’s arm. Blood seeped from his opponent’s neck. Instead of subduing the guard, the wound energized him.
Victor laughed. Finally, a release for the energy building within him. He grappled with the other man and wrenched the rifle from him. Tossing the weapon to the side, Victor turned and slammed his fist into the guard’s face. The other man shook his head and grinned.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted Victor.
A swift look showed the other guards also fighting back. Magic slithered through the air, and ozone coated each breath. Werewolves, no longer invisible, attacked with teeth and claws. Blood dripped from wounds and weapons.
A gunshot rang out, slicing through the grunts and curses, followed by an angry growl. A punch to his nose snapped Victor’s attention back to his own enemy. The force caused his head to fling back, but no pain accompanied the hit.
“Pay attention, asshole. Look at the person who’s gonna kick your fucking ass.”
Magical energy crawled through Victor and flared at this arrogant bastard’s words. Didn’t he realize the stupidity of picking a fight with a mage? Idiot should’ve run while he had the chance.
A tight smile stretched Victor’s lips. He’d enjoy teaching this one an important lesson. Don’t infuriate a mage. It never ended well.
He dipped a finger into one of his many pockets and grabbed a pinch of salt.
“Procellam,” he whispered and tossed it. When the salt touched the guard, ice crawled over his skin. The other man screamed in pain, slamming at the ice to break it. Within moments he was encased.
As the ice was magical in nature, it didn’t kill the target. The guard was aware of everything around him. Feeling petty, Victor gave him the finger before turning his attention to the ensuing battle.
A few broken bodies lay on the floor, all guards. Werewolves and mages fought the remaining few.
“And now we’re done,” Markus said.
Sharp ozone choked Victor. A light wind caressed his exposed skin and ruffled his hair. He grinned at the surprised barks from the wolves. Their opponents were gone, even the bodies. The room was now empty, save for the Enforcers.
Markus had teleported fifteen men at once.
Mage training stated the max amount was three people: the mage and two passengers. Fifteen stretched that limit and then some. Fuck.
With a soft whistle, he stepped over to Zmitro. Smeared blood marred his fur coat, and red footprints followed him. A swish of his tail told Victor he had no lasting damage. He placed a gentle hand on Zmitro’s head and gave him a scratch behind the ears.
Footsteps rung out against the concrete as Markus strode to the double doors. He placed a hand on the lock, and the doors slammed into the walls. Cracks formed in the bulletproof glass near the handles.
It was time to enter the belly of the beast.
Chapter Nine
The taste of blood lingered in his mouth. He licked his snout and cleaned some of it from his fur. The human side was repulsed but only for a moment. Satisfaction pushed aside any distaste. That fucker had had a hand in Sylvia’s capture and torture. They all had. If they had done nothing to save her, then they were guilty.
Derek entered the corridor, close on Markus’ heels. A quick sniff and he whined to his friend.
“Yeah, I sense them,” Markus said. “They’re fanned out on both sides. Maybe six to the right and six to the left.”
Victor and Zmitro joined them.
We have more waiting for us. Spread out. Follow the mages’ lead, Derek sent to his waiting pack.
The wolves fell into formation with the mages.
“Rooms here are empty. They must’ve evacuated them when the blast occurred,” Victor whispered.
Humans on both sides waiting. Markus gestured to one half of the group and then the other. This half takes left, this half takes right. Prisoners if possible.
As one, the Enforcers nodded and moved into place. Markus strode towards the T-section, his steps unhurried and sure. He stopped less than fifteen feet away from the branching hallway. Derek kept pace, confident in his friend’s shielding to protect him. Bullets wouldn’t harm him until the spell wore out. By that time, the guards should be subdued.
“I’d suggest a surrender. We’ve already taken out your first line of defense,” Markus’ voice rang out in the hushed stillness.
Metal rolling across the floor was the guards’ answer. Derek tucked his chin to his chest and closed his eyes while wishing he could plug his ears. Flash-bangs were a bitch on werewolf hearing.
A tiny boom came from the grenade. Derek’s eyes flew open, locating the spent metal. Smoke swirled inside an invisible shield, containing the noise and light as well. Huh, imagine that. Mages could be handy at times.
He chuffed and grinned lopsidedly Markus. What other tricks did he have waiting for their enemy?
The sight of a rifle muzzle peeking from the corner distracted him from that thought. Surrender was not the guards’ first option. Good. The little skirmish in the room had whetted his appetite for revenge. Not enough blood had been spilled to satisfy the debt the guards owed Sylvia.
Rush them. Take them down quickly, Markus ordered.
Derek raced forward, reaching the left side first. The gunman fired a shot, and the bullet smashed into Derek’s shielding. The magic rippled as it absorbed the impact. Damn, it would’ve hit him in the head.
Grunts, yelling and screams soon filled the air as the werewolves tore into the other men. Each attack was meant to maim and disarm, not kill. The screams soothed Derek, especially as he caused more than a few of his own. Blood clung to him, creating the illusion of black patches on his gray fur.
Soon, the only ones standing were the Enforcers.
“Second wave is here. They’ll help secure the area. Mages, teleport directly to the prison cells. We’ll sort out who’s who afterwards. Stay together,” Markus stated, not bothering to wait for an answer. “I want some men in that room checking over the footage. Find out what the hell is going on in here, how much fire power they have and how many guards are left.”
He pointed to a glassed-in security room. Monitors covered the back wall, and images flickered across the screens as the camera feeds switched.
Markus spun on his heel, clearly intent on finding more trouble.
A double set of steel doors stood on either end of the hallway. Derek caught up to Markus, lightly grasped his sleeve between his teeth and tugged. A small whine to indicate he wanted his partner to follow him.
Right, not left. Sylvia’s essence called to him. His connection to her had snapped into place, and the pull was too strong to resist.
Markus nodded, deferring to Derek. Zmitro and Victor followed close behind.
Ears straining against the wailing sirens, Derek heard the faint slapping of bare feet against the floor, closer with each passing second. He whined again, this time in excitement and raced to the steel doors. He slammed his body into it, hoping to force it open.
Instead he bounced back and skittered across the floor. Damn, that hurt. A quick shake of his head cleared the ringing from his ears. Best to let a mage open the door.
Unable to stop himself, he glared at Victor as the other man swaggered to the door. Smug son of a bitch, acting like his magic made him the better man.
Energy hummed in the air, causing Derek’s fur to ruffle. Fucking mages and their magic. He couldn’t wait to be away from them. As soon as he had Sylvia, he’d have Markus teleport them out of here. And
yes, he fully realized the irony of using a mage to leave.
The steel door was now ajar, part of the push bar melted. Victor rushed through it, Derek close on his heels. They both jogged down the hall, keeping an eye on the other closed doors lining either side of the hallway. Markus was a few steps behind them with Zmitro. Just as they rounded the corner, a tall woman came into view, running toward them.
Derek stopped dead, unable to believe his eyes. Sylvia. His beautiful Sylvia. He gave her a once-over, checking for wounds, and growled in rage when he saw blood drying on her side.
Hurt. Someone dared to hurt her.
The need for retribution screamed in his mind, his entire body burning with hatred. How dare they touch her?!
Slowly his mind comprehended the fact that she was naked. Completely, utterly naked. Where the hell were her clothes?
“Victor! Holy shit, Victor!” Sylvia yelled.
She ran the last few steps and launched herself into his arms, hugging him like he was a lifeline. She buried her face in his neck, and her sobs echoed in the hallway.
The sound tore him apart.
He wanted to be the one to hold her, the one who rescued her and the one she viewed as her solid rock. Not Victor.
Sylvia.
His Beta.
His lifemate.
The sole woman he had ever loved.
And she was in the arms of another man, one he hated with every fiber of his being. He growled in frustration and slammed his lids shut to block out the pair, unable to witness her joy at being with someone else.
He thought that after thirty years he’d be used to her rejection of him, of seeing her with Victor, but it continued to devastate him. One day, he’d be strong enough to cut her loose, send her to another pack. Then again, he’d been telling himself that for decades now and it still hadn’t happened. It seemed he was a glutton for punishment, and nothing hurt worse than seeing her naked in this man’s arms.
Sylvia's Torment (Enforcers and Coterie Book 2) Page 7
