by April Zyon
As everyone unloaded, Gareth and Stefan went off with cans of spray paint to start marking the sod. Dieter handed her a shovel, and on Mikhail’s okay, took her off to show her what they were doing. “You, Mikhail, Nolan, Stefan, and Wyatt will be cutting along the sprayed lines. Victor’s in the backhoe, Lincoln will be collecting and then dumping the dirt as we go. The rest of us will be cutting the sod into strips, rolling it, and putting it into the truck. We are giving what we don’t use to one of the local schools to help fix up their yard in a green project they have going.” They were all still at the truck discussing the assignments to be given out so thankfully she was still there with her men.
“Sounds like a plan. I will do all that I can to help.” She wasn’t as physically fit as the men were, but she wasn’t a weakling, either. When the other men went out to get some of the heavier things she reached out she took Mikhail’s hand and looked at him, “Want to talk about the bad feeling you are having? How often do you have them?” Obviously, they meant something or Gareth wouldn’t have looked so concerned. She hoped that things would be okay with them, that there wasn’t something brewing.
“Often enough that I’ve learned to listen to them. It’s a gut feeling, something in the wind, a sense that not all’s right in the world, that sort of shit. I can’t explain it, but I’ve never once been wrong. Unfortunately, right now all I have is a churning gut. Nothing solid. Yet,” he clarified. Lifting her hand, he kissed her fingers. “Go with Dieter, I’ll have you in my sights the entire time. But don’t stray, for me.”
“Okay.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “I’ll keep Dieter with me the whole time. Promise.” She assured him. “Now then, you go and do what you need to do and I’m going to go and mostly supervise Dieter as we begin to break up the sod that we need.”
Chapter Twelve
After showing the photo of the woman, Camilla, around the town, they’d finally gotten lucky. One of the owners of the grocery had been able to give them a bit of help. Baron and Fitz had told him a flat-out lie, one he’d believed though. One that had Camilla as the well-to-do wife who’d run off with her lover. Her husband needed proof she was living with said lover so he could ensure she never got a dime of his money during the divorce.
From then on, the grocer had been most accommodating. He hadn’t really been able to be specific, but he’d given them the general area they’d need to go to. The man had been very helpful indeed. Because, right there before them, was the woman in question.
Putting the phone to his ear, Fitz shared a triumphant look with Baron. “Alpha,” he said quietly. “We found her. She’s with the team still. Yes, sir, we can. Understood, Alpha.” He hung up and tucked the phone away. “We need to create a diversion so she will come to us, draw her away from the men. The alpha does not want us to engage with them. Just get the woman and leave.”
Baron seemed to think on that a moment before nodding. “A wounded animal, she’s the type that would want to soothe it.” At Fitz’s, nod Baron let out a whimper, carefully modulated to only reach her and not the men.
They watched as she tipped her head, a frown on her face. “Again,” Fitz said quietly. Baron let out another whimper and a soft, but sharp yip of pain. The woman turned to look in their direction, but indecision reigned on her face. She looked to the team before looking to the woods again, chewing her lower lip.
“Once more,” Fitz encouraged. Baron let out another whimper, then another with a small yip. It seemed to do the trick. She started toward their location. “Grab her,” he ordered Baron. “I’ll keep an eye on the team. Be ready to run as soon as you have her. Knock her unconscious, but don’t harm her too badly or the alpha will have both our heads.”
“Understood,” Baron told him.
****
Camilla heard something behind her. She paused in putting on her sunscreen and tilted her head to the side. She moved into the small copse of bushes and trees. She didn’t say anything, simply walked and listened, keeping her eye out for what sounded like a small dog needing help.
A soft whimper came from her left, with the sound of a bit of scrambling. A yip of pain sounded was followed by more whimpering. It was close, and whatever it was sounded so small and weak.
Camilla looked over her shoulder and saw that the men were at work. She hesitated, but the second whimper from the animal had her stepping out of the sight of the working men and crooning to the animal. She knew that she was in their sights still and in hearing distance, plus she was on the Farm and it was protected so she was safe and knew it. “Here, puppy,” she whispered into the thick bushes. “Come on, let Aunty Camilla have a look at you.”
A thick arm wound around her waist and a hand slapped over her mouth. “Scream and I kill you, and every one of those men. Nod if you understand me, Camilla.” The voice, deep and rough, more growl than not, wasn’t entirely human.
Feared coursed through her body. She nodded. Her brain scurried to try to figure out what the hell to do, how to get free.
The man hefted her up off the ground with a flex of muscle and moved them deeper into the woods. He went maybe a couple of dozen yards before dropping her on her feet. As she stumbled, he whipped her around, a hand on her throat as he slammed her into a tree. “My alpha has been looking forward to meeting you, Camilla. What the alpha wants, the alpha gets,” he said. Then a huge fist came flying at her face.
Camilla ducked just at the right moment. She heard the crack of the tree he hit and felt when he released her. She didn’t wait: Camilla let loose a scream and slammed her boot heel hard onto the top of the man’s foot. She didn’t know who hurt most—her or the man.
She saw an opening, however, and threw an elbow to his chest and tried to run. Another scream tore from her throat as she did so.
A low, vicious snarl came from behind her before she was tackled to the ground. All the air rushed from her lungs. Just as suddenly as she’d hit the ground, she was flipped to her back and the man had his hand on her throat again. This time he squeezed hard. Too hard.
Camilla’s vision began to swim. She saw stars, literally. She clawed at his throat, desperate for air and kicking wildly. She landed a blow to his balls and winced when claws came out and dug into her throat.
She couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Her heart clenched in her chest and felt as if it had literally stopped beating. She had never felt so much emotional pain in her life as she had when she’d realized she was being taken from the men she loved more than life itself.
In the back of her mind, she saw Mikhail and Gareth and mourned the loss of them, because in that moment she knew she was going to die. She couldn’t breathe and in the moment before she knew she would pass out, Camilla could have sworn she heard her men. She was swimming on the edges of consciousness and heard everything that the men said but didn’t react to it. Thankfully, she remained awake, but her body refused to move. Terror lived and breathed inside of her as she had no control over her body, and all she could do was see in blurred vision she had right now, smell the putrid scents that surrounded her, and worse yet hear the plans that they had for her.
“Damn it, Baron,” another voice said. A pinch in her arm had her body going loose right quick, about the same time the large man with the claws was pulled off her. “The alpha wants her alive. You were supposed to keep it quiet. Shit, grab her. We need to go, now.”
“She’s a fucking bitch. She kicked me in the balls.” Camilla was just happy she had gotten that cheap shot off. At least if she was going to die someone would remember her and wince every now and again.
“The alpha will rip your balls off and feed them to you if she’s damaged too much. Grab her, now!”
With a grunt, the one who’d tried to kill her loomed close. “You think you’re lucky to still be breathing. Wait until the alpha’s finished with you. You’ll regret not being nicer to me when the pack gets a turn with you, bitch.” She was hauled up and thrown over a shoulder, just like a sack
of potatoes. The air whooshed out of her lungs in a painful spasm when she was thrown carelessly over the man’s shoulder and she sobbed a silent sob, her vocal cords robbed of their ability to make a sound.
Camilla’s vision swam and she had a headache the size of Montana. Once more, she begged in her own mind. She screamed for her uncle in hopes that maybe he would hear her mentally, as the men hadn’t heard her when she’d screamed not fifty feet from them. Useless tears trekked down her face, tears of pain and horror. Tears of loss because she had lost what was most important to her, the men she loved.
“Faster,” the other one said. “Fucking hell, the team’s coming this way. Damn it all to hell and back, Baron. They weren’t supposed to know she was gone until later. Faster, you idiot.”
“She fucking kicked me in the nuts, I can’t go any faster, you dick. If you want faster, you carry her. She’s fucking heavy for a human,” the one hauling her around growled.
“Quit your bitching. You’re worse than the females when they’re in their moods.”
Chapter Thirteen
When Camilla woke, she was in a warehouse, or building of some sort. She moved slightly and moaned. Her hands moving to her head quickly and cursing as she did so. “Damn.” She winced at the pain that radiated through her whole body. Good God, she had never hurt so badly in all her life. She shifted her leg and jerked. “What?” Her eyes and mind wouldn’t focus and work together to form the issue for several long minutes. Finally, she breathed out, “Fuck me. Chains?” Her ankle was secured by a massive and stupidly heavy chain. “What the hell is going on?” Was she in hell? No, she wouldn’t hurt if she were dead, would she?
“Oh good, you’re awake,” a deep voice said on the heels of a door screeching open. Heavy footfalls came toward her. “I must apologize for the heavy-handed tactics of my men, but apparently, you deserved it. Kicking my man in the nuts was a rather low blow, Camilla.”
Camilla frowned and looked at the large being before her. “The ass deserved it.” Camilla winced, her hand moving to her throat in pain. Son of a biscuit, that hurt! She licked her lips and glared at the large man. “Who are you?” Mother of God, speaking hurt, but she had to know who had her at least.
“I’m the alpha of the weres. The king, if you will. I’ve been looking for you for quite a while now, Camilla. We almost had you a few weeks back, but those humans got in the way, again. Not this time, though. Don’t worry, it won’t be so bad with me. At least with me, you won’t be touched by Hades.
“You need to understand something: You’re never getting out of here. This is where you will be when your time ends. You will become pregnant by me, and whether it’s pleasant or not is entirely up to you. Oh, and your little human friends, they can’t find you here. Not now, not ever. Accept your fate, Camilla. I can be a very generous lover when the woman does her part. Think on that for the next couple of hours.” He tossed her a bottle of water before heading back out the door, closing it with a bone-chilling screech of metal on metal. The sound of the door locking was quite final.
“That’s what you fucking think. I’ll never accept it,” she shouted at the closed door. She looked down at her ankle and sobbed. “Fuck no.” She began to shake while looking at the large, unyielding lock on the chains that held her captive.
These men—no, animals, who had taken her had assured her that she wasn’t ever getting away and even brought up the name of Hades, and now she was beginning to think perhaps they were right. If they could somehow keep her from Hades, what was to say they couldn’t keep her from her men as well?
****
“Where the fuck is she, Ares?” Gareth yelled.
“I don’t know,” the god snarled back. “I’ve been trying for the last four hours to find her and I’m getting nothing. I always know where she is, but now it’s like…”
“Don’t you fucking even think it!”
Mikhail watched their exchange with detachment. He needed to stay objective, needed to stay grounded, otherwise Camilla might as well be as good as dead. She wasn’t—he knew it. His gut told him she was alive and well. Unfortunately, he couldn’t use his gut to find her.
“Damn it, why the hell can’t I get a lock on her?” Ares muttered. “Shit, stay here, I’ll be right back.” With a flash of light, the God of War was gone.
“Son of a bitch!” Gareth bellowed. “Get your ass back here, Ares.”
“He’ll be back,” Mikhail said quietly.
“How the hell are you so fucking calm? This is Camilla, for the love of God.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Mikhail asked softly. “But freaking out at the one being who can find her isn’t helping the situation. We need to be calm, Gareth. Because when we find her, and those that took her, we will need to be ready to destroy them.”
Gareth blinked, he seemed to be in his own world of pain and hurt. He seemed to be working through his own issues Mikhail noticed.
“They took our woman. Right from under our noses, no less. They all have to die, painfully. But freaking out won’t help the situation. So get yourself under control, because when Ares gets back, I’m betting he’ll know where she is.” At least that was Mikhail’s hope. “Everyone arm up. We’re going to war.”
None of the men argued, fortunately. They just went about gearing up for a battle, the mood heavy and somber in the house. Camilla might not have been there long, but she was a part of their family.
****
The door screeched open sometime later. An hour, six maybe; it could have been days for all she knew. In walked the alpha with a tray of something that smelled delicious. “Your dinner. You should eat. You’ll need to be strong for our joining.”
“Yeah, well fuck you.” Camilla eyed the food. “I’m not going to be your fucking broodmare. I know my men. They won’t leave me here.” She jerked her bloody ankle. She didn’t plan on being here for two days. She wasn’t planning on doing much of anything here in this place at all.
He clicked his tongue, his face showing disappointment. “It’s your choice, of course, to fight. That’s fine, I don’t mind proving I’m dominant. I like tying up my females, so this will be quite enjoyable for me.” Grinning at her, he adjusted his cock and looked her up and down, licking his lips. “I can’t wait to have you, Camilla. Maybe you’ll even enjoy yourself, eventually.” Laughing, he headed for the door after setting down the tray within reach of her chain.
Camilla snorted and spat at him. She didn’t reach for the tray until he was gone. She then grabbed the tray and unwrapped the napkin which held the silverware and screamed. “Motherfucker!” A plastic spork! Of all things, a spork. She had been hopeful for a fork or a knife—something to help her get the shackle off her freaking ankle. She knew it was wishful thinking on her part, but dammit all to hell and back again, a girl could dream.
****
Ares returned to the house fifteen minutes after he’d left. He looked pale and off balance but determined. “I have a location. It’s not exact, but it’s as close as I could get. That’s the good news.”
“I hate to hear the bad news,” James muttered.
“The bad news is it’s in the midst of a were colony. There are a lot of buildings there, warehouses and shit. I can get you close, but you’re going to have to work your way in. There’s something there blocking me. It’s why I could only get the general area.”
“Good enough,” Mikhail said as he got to his feet. Looking to the team, he met Nolan’ gaze. “You’re in charge of this. Gareth and I are too emotionally involved. But know this: no matter what, we get Camilla out of there and home.”
“We will,” Nolan said. He shot a look to Ares and frowned. “Are you okay to flash us all at once?”
“Get your ugly mugs over here. This is going to be one hell of a bumpy ride, so hang onto anything you value.”
Several of the men cupped their crotches.
“Seriously?” Mikhail asked.
“I value it,” James said.<
br />
“Fucking bunch of idiots,” Ares said. Everyone gathered around the god. “Hold on” was their only warning before the world went to hell in a gilded handbasket.
****
The sounds of gunshots and screams reached Camilla. Someone was out there shooting the place up. A loud explosion had dust from the rafters of the building floating down onto her head.
She covered her head and bent at the waist. Screams and gunfire came closer, and Camilla winced. She tried to scream, but her throat didn’t let her, still damaged from the hold that the man who brought her in had had on her. Inside of her head, she screamed for her uncle again, desperate to have him at least coming to her, but she would prefer Mikhail and Gareth.
There were more explosions, including one right at the door to her personal hell hole. The door was shoved in hard, screeching horribly. “Camilla! Camilla, if you’re in here, answer me!” She knew that voice—it was Owen.
“Owen!” She shouted tried to stand and move to the door but fell flat on her face. She sobbed. “In here.” God, please let him hear me.
Seeing the metal tray, Camilla grabbed it and spilled the contents on the floor. She began to beat it against the concrete she was lying on.
“Camilla? Shit, it is you.” Owen ran toward her. Kneeling at her side, he brushed her hair back. “Son of a bitch, what the fuck did they do to you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, though, just reported back that he’d found her. Easing her up, he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back gently. “Mikhail and Gareth are coming. Just hold on, sweetheart.”
