by Sadie Hart
For a moment, he hesitated, and then finally his head dipped in the barest of nods. “Okay, then.”
She forced herself to her feet, ignoring the worried way they both watched her. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew that. Walking into a place that would remind her so powerfully of the hell she’d lived wasn’t her favorite idea, but she hadn’t been lying. If Charles was anywhere near the same man he’d been when he’d had her, she could give them plenty of useful insights.
And if he’d changed, maybe those changes could help them, too.
But more than that? She didn’t dare say it, but she knew. Charles never liked to be bested. Brandt and Shifter Town Enforcement had bested him. They’d ignored the murder of one of their own, they’d moved her, they’d found his hiding spot...that made his vendetta against them personal.
He’d gone after Brandt.
And if she was guessing correctly, the last place Tate had seen Brandt had been at Charles’s place. So that was where she was going to look at first.
***
Brandt woke in the dark. His head throbbed, pulsing angrily with every beat of his heart. He groaned quietly as soon as he tried to move. His hands were tied in front of him, the silver-lined rope so tight it had cut off circulation to his hands. He couldn’t feel anything but a minor burning in his wrist and the painful, prickling sensation that meant a limb was asleep.
He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust but there was only darkness. Frustrated, he stretched out his feet. His shoes hit metal, clanging against bars. He pushed, only for his head to slam into the bars again. Not quite bars though, more like the sides of a box. Shit. He was in a dog crate. Sure enough, he ran his hands against the plastic bottom.
The thought hammered through him. Wolfe had put him in a dog kennel.
They’d found Wolfe’s hiding spot, where the hell had he captured Brandt?
Unable to see a damn thing, Brandt focused on his other senses. The world around him was quiet, but he could hear birds chattering quietly in the distance. The lack of cars and people told him he wasn’t in a busy neighborhood, and definitely not in the middle of the city. He sniffed at the air. A touch of mildew hovered, but the place smelled mostly like stale concrete.
He inhaled deeply, catching an oddly familiar scent. It was musky, damp, probably a basement, but there was something else here. Something he recognized. He breathed deeper. Timber. Anger rocketed through him, leaving him breathless. Wolfe had taken him to Timber’s house. He had to know Shifter Town Enforcement would be looking for Brandt, had to know they’d eventually look here.
He twisted, straining when a corner lifted away the darkness and a dim thread of light slipped through. Wolfe lifted the blanket higher and Brandt was finally face to face with the man he’d been hunting for so long. A man he personally wanted to see dead on the ground.
Wolfe smirked down at him. It was a brutal, feral smile. Brandt stained against his ropes, but it was useless. Then he saw the taser in Wolfe’s hand right before the man shoved it through the bars and everything Brandt was blacked out from the pain.
***
She’d known that this place wouldn’t be identical to the hellhole where Charles had held her. She’d told Tate all he could do was guess at what happened, that she could give him facts, but it was a lie. Bottom line, she also was only guessing. Because this was different, she hadn’t been here.
Timber glanced back at the Hound behind her. Tate’s face was drawn tight, as if he dreaded walking back in that door. She also caught the flash of sympathy in his eyes before he stuffed it away. Timber turned back to the shambles of a house in front of her. The windows were all boarded up, the neighborhood a dead memory, lifeless. Empty. If there were people in the houses around them, they’d walled themselves inside to keep out of trouble.
In places like this, everyone minded their own business.
Timber blew out a long, steadying breath. She knew why Tate had caved. Because her guesses were more likely to be spot-on than his. That, and he probably had the same hope that she did. That maybe somewhere in this mess Charles had left a clue that would tell her where he’d taken Brandt.
“You still want to do this?” Tate asked softly, stepping up behind her. His hand landed on her shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze.
No. A thousand times no. These were memories she didn’t need. She had enough nightmares already, she didn’t need to add to them. But, “Yup.”
Because she wasn’t going to walk away from Brandt, from the women Charles had tortured and killed. She couldn’t turn away and leave them to fend for themselves. She knew what it felt like. No one deserved that. Especially not the man who’d done everything in his power to ensure that Shifter Town Enforcement would never turn its back on her again.
Tate frowned at her for a moment, but finally he walked up the steps. Timber followed. The only light came from sunlight streaming in through the curtains, and she blinked to adjust. Dust covered everything. They wandered the house together, and Timber felt oddly numb. Untouched. She forced herself to breathe through the swamp of scents around her, but she didn’t try to catalog them. Instead, she did everything in her power to block them out.
Until the last room.
Timber froze at the door while Tate stepped aside. Chains trailed off the edge of the bed onto the floor. Her throat closed and her attention instantly riveted on the night stand next to the headboard. The same, heavy-as-fuck nightstand he’d chained her to. She reached out to catch the wall and instead found Tate standing beside her, holding her steady. Shay stood on her other side, one hand touching her elbow.
“You okay?”
He’d brought it. All this way, and he’d hauled it with him. He’d never had any doubt he would find her again. Timber forced herself to keep breathing. Maybe he’d believed all along he would find her, but he couldn’t have known he’d win. He might think it, but she wasn’t the same girl she’d been when he first grabbed her. Especially not now.
“I’m fine.” Timber pulled away from them both and stepped into the room. Her shoe bumped the metal chain on the floor, and she stepped to the side. “He chains them by the foot of the bed because they’re not important.”
God, how many times had he told her that? That they were nothing, nobody. Just a means to an end. She wouldn’t give him what he wanted, so maybe they would. She could almost feel his breath on her neck, the sweaty heat of it crawling along her skin as he reminded her that obviously they meant nothing to her, either...after all, she watched them die. Let them die.
And still she wouldn’t change him.
It hadn’t been true. She’d thought about it more than once, offered, but she would have tried to kill him the moment he gave her the chance, and Charles had been smart enough to know that.
“You were chained to an end table, by the head of the bed. Emphasizing your importance to him.” Tate rattled it off like he was simply profiling, or putting together the pieces of a puzzle.
“That nightstand.” Timber shoved her hands in her pockets. She couldn’t bear huddling into herself, hugging herself tight, not in here. Even if Charles wasn’t watching, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing him body language that said he won. “It’s the same one.”
Tate looked from her to something behind her and back again. “Are you sure?”
“I scratched the days out on the underside using my fingernails.”
Tate glanced at Shay before he strode over to the bedside. Timber watched him kneel and feel underneath. She knew the moment he found the scratches. She knew he’d find the metal brackets underneath, too, where Charles had secured her chains.
“He bolted it to the floor when I was chained to it. Trust me, it’s strong. Sturdy.” Lord knew how often she’d tried to break it.
“Yeah, he did it here, too.” Tate stared up at her, and she knew what was going through his mind. It was written all over his face. Hell, they were the same thoughts that had run through hers. It had never occurred to
Charles that he might fail.
Timber let her gaze sweep over the rest of the room, and then, finally, it was time to turn her attention to the wall behind her. Her hands clenched, her fingers burning with the need to rip the photos off the wall, but she held herself still.
“Timber—”
She shook her head, holding up a hand to cut him off. Shay stepped up next to her, but Timber didn’t look at her. Shay had become a friend, someone she trusted, but what Charles had hung on this wall were some of Timber’s deepest, darkest secrets. Things even her soul didn’t want to admit. The bastard had framed them.
“You okay?” Shay asked.
“I will be.” Timber stepped closer.
The woman in the picture stared back at her. She had Timber’s face, features, hair, everything...but those eyes weren’t her eyes anymore. Back then, there had been days she’d been lucky enough to slip so far inside herself she didn’t even have to be.
That one had always been Charles’ favorite picture. It was true submission, as he liked to call it. He’d touched and stroked the glass so many times, just staring at it. Usually on days that she couldn’t slip away, and she’d been at the mercy of his ministrations, unable to hide. Those were the times her mind hadn’t been able to protect her and she’d simply had to endure.
She reached up to touch the black frame and she heard Tate’s fast shuffle from somewhere behind her. “That’s evidence, Timber.”
Shay touched her shoulder.
Timber looked at the both as she pulled the picture down. “I’m not going to break anything, Tate.”
She turned and set the frame on the bed, slowly prying up the metal tacks that held its backing in place. “Charles had a few things he cherished, and he always kept them close. There were a few things throughout the house. The silver bullet in the case upstairs, his grandmother’s teapot...” She slid the slim back aside and set it on the bed. On the back of the large portrait sat several sheets of paper and a few four by seven pictures. Recent pictures. “And this particular photograph.”
There was an image of her and Brandt running, wolf and wolfhound, under the moon. It was a dark shot, blurry, but she could make out the images. “And the stuff he likes to obsess over, he keeps close to those important items.”
She handed Tate the pictures. She didn’t need to know how close Charles had gotten to her in the past few weeks. Didn’t need to know just how often and how long he’d watched her while she’d been oblivious. A folded piece of notebook paper was tucked into the edge of the frame. Timber didn’t have to pull it out to recognize the soft tan sheets, the pale pink lines.
It was from her journal. The one she’d kept the first year after she’d run from him, when she was still trying to write her way out of her fears. She stared down at it. Knowing Charles had read portions of her journal—or, hell, all of it—and found something he liked enough that he’d stashed it here should have bugged or disturbed her.
Instead, she felt the small kernel of hope inside her bloom.
Shifter Town Enforcement had corned Charles, had driven him away from his den, his lair. But he hadn’t been finished with them, and he sure as hell wasn’t finished with her. There was only one place he’d go. She turned to look at Tate, who was still going through the pictures she’d handed him. “Can you take me home?”
He winced. “That’s a crime scene, and believe me, not one you want to see.”
“I need to, Tate. Please.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but he had nothing. His head dipped in a slight nod. “Yeah. Okay. Just let me give these to the Hounds out front, and then we’ll go.”
She didn’t say anything until they were on their way there, almost ready to turn on her street when she leaned forward from the backseat. “Go around. Park where Charles used to watch me.”
Tate’s gaze slammed into her through the rearview mirror. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that’s where he’s keeping Brandt. You might want to have backup on the way. But you’re also going to want to get in there fast, because if Charles smells Hounds with no victory in sight, Brandt is going to die.”
Tate exploded with a string of curses, but Timber ignored him, instead focusing on Shay. “And I’m going in because I’m the only victory Charles wants right now, and I’m damn well going to be where he can see me.”
Brandt still might die. She knew that. But if Charles had to make a choice between killing Brandt or snatching her, she was hoping he’d go for her. She could survive. It wouldn’t be for forever, because she knew Brandt would come for her.
And she could make it through whatever hell Charles had lined up for her.
There would be no surviving for Brandt. He’d just be dead.
Chapter Twenty
“Damn it,” Tate muttered while he checked his gun. Shay passed her spare to Timber. “We should wait for the pack.”
“If Charles sees, or even gets a whiff of your pack, he’ll kill Brandt without hesitation.” Timber tried to ignore the stinging pain in her heart. She concentrated on the gun in her hand, checking the safety, familiarizing herself with the feel of it, its weight and texture. She’d known Tate wouldn’t like the plan. Hell, it was why she’d waited to drop it on him until just before they arrived.
Tate glared up at her. “That’s if he’s not already dead.”
Timber winced. She knew that, too. There was no reason for Charles to keep Brandt, except revenge. He hadn’t killed Brandt on the spot; instead he’d abducted and hidden him. That bought them time. Not much, and she hated to think what Charles might be doing to him, but it was enough to give her hope that they’d arrive in time.
She didn’t bother with an explanation. Instead, she put on her light jacket and zipped it up, then shoved her gun in the pocket. It wasn’t the safest way to carry, but Charles would never imagine she carried a gun. As long as she kept it hidden, she was guaranteed the element of surprise.
Tate grunted at her silence and pulled out his phone. She knew he was calling for backup. She hadn’t lied about that part, they’d want their backup on the way. They’d want it here as fast as possible, but for those first moments, just long enough for them to get to Brandt, Charles had to believe he could win. It was the only shot they’d have. She crossed her arms and stared off through the trees. She could see her house through the branches.
Shay leaned against her for a second, oddly comforting. “We’ll get him. Hounds, cops, military, people in general who are used to protocols don’t typically like breaking the rules.”
“I just hope I’m not wrong.”
Shay nodded. “Yeah. I get that. But I think you’re right. Wolfe has nothing to lose if STE storms your place. Brandt would be nothing more than a meat shield to him. With you here, he might think he can trade.”
“He can.” I can survive him again. The words, the bone-deep knowing of that, flowed through her, filling her with a quiet confidence. She’d face down Charles again and again for Brandt.
Shay stepped in front of Timber, blocking her view of her house and forcing Timber’s gaze to meet hers. “We will not be trading you. That’s not an option. I’m game to break a lot of rules to get Brandt back alive, but only as long as we keep you. I’ll have Tate handcuff your ass to the car and go in solo if you disagree. Got it?”
Timber couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, I got it.”
Leaves crunched when Tate stepped up behind them, and Timber turned to look at him. His jaw was hard, tension all over his face, but his eyes were on hers. “Backup is on the way. We are not, however, going in there with no clue about what to expect.”
“Which is why I’ll be shifting to get a closer look,” Shay said. “And before anyone can argue, I’m better trained for this than either one of you. I can take a look, and possibly even get Brandt, without being spotted. You two just stay here.”
Timber started to refuse when Tate caught her arm and nodded to Shay. “Be careful, okay. Nathan will whip
my ass.”
“Nathan knows I can take care of myself. I’ve pulled his ass out of the fire a time or two.”
Shay disappeared into the trees. She moved in a fast, crouching run to the edge of the tree line before she paused and shifted. It wasn’t like in the movies, where clothes tore and fell to the ground. It was simple, fluid, magic. Her body seemed to shimmer, blurring, until she was simply a wolf where a woman had been. Her clothes were gone, going wherever her human body went when she shifted. It was just magic. Some things didn’t have any other explanation.
Shay sank low to the ground, her silver belly brushing over the grass as she crept out of the bush and made a beeline for the house. Timber held her breath, watching Shay’s wolf lope around the edge of the building and disappear. She knew Shay had the training, but it didn’t make it any easier to stand on the sidelines.
Tate let out a slow, shaky breath and Timber glanced at him. “I know she knows what she’s doing,” he growled, “but I still don’t like letting a civilian do my job.”
They waited, their silence hanging fraught with tension. Then finally branches cracked in the woods to Timber’s right, and she spun, only to see Shay shifting back to human form. “He’s in the basement. Charles has him locked in a dog crate.” The lines around Shay’s eyes tightened as she stared past Timber to Tate. “And your guys need to hurry. Charles is down there, too. There’s a lot of blood and I’m not sure—”
The words trailed off before Shay finished them, but she didn’t have to. Timber could fill in the blanks just fine on her own. “Then we need to go in now.”
When Shay didn’t argue Timber felt like the world was dropping out from beneath her. They might already be too late.
***
Brandt coughed up blood, splattering the cement floor outside the crate. A low laugh sounded in the darkness around him. Wolfe. Brandt blinked, but his vision kept hazing in and out. From pitch blackness to the dim sunlight that streamed in through the basement windows. His body throbbed, and piercing pains blasted through him.
