Presley felt awful. Mrs. Bamey was ripping open a fresh wound and Presley didn’t know how to keep it from bleeding everywhere. How could she help her?
“I wish I could talk to him,” Mrs. Bamey admitted as she tossed a soiled box of fish sticks into the trashcan. “There’s so much I didn’t get to say….things I needed him to know.”
The painful lump in Presley’s throat was getting bigger with each passing second, and she felt her knees knocking together from the anxiety clawing its way to the surface. She frowned and dropped her gaze to the floor.
How can I make this better for her? Presley wondered as she ran her tongue over the back of her teeth. She scratched at her forearm before lifting her gaze to Mrs. Bamey. The woman seemed to be lost in the memories she spoke of earlier. Presley wondered if those memories were similar to the ones she often thought of. A smiling, kind boy who would give the shirt off his back to make sure someone else was warm. The boy who didn’t let anyone else get hurt or bullied. A bright light in a dark world. A son. A brother. A friend.
“I can give him a message.” Presley said without thinking.
Mrs. Bamey’s eyes focused on hers then, and her mouth fell open in surprise, “What?”
Presley nodded confidently, “I can give him a message,” she repeated. “When I dream about him again, I can tell him. Whatever you want me to say, Mrs. Bamey…I’ll do it.”
A small breath escaped from between the woman’s trembling lips as she lifted a hand to rest against her cheek.
“Oh, Presley. You would do that for me?”
“Yes,” Presley was fighting back tears as she swallowed her emotions back down into place. “It’s something family does for each other, isn’t it?”
Mrs. Bamey’s arms were wrapping around her suddenly, pulling her into the tightest bear hug she’d ever received. After a few seconds, Presley’s arms wrapped around her in return, and it felt so nice to hug her like that.
“Yes,” Mrs. Bamey sobbed happily. “Yes, that’s exactly what family does for each other. Thank you.”
Presley was just about to ask what Mrs. Bamey wanted to say to her deceased son when a knock sounded at the door. She turned her head quickly, gazing into the dark living room. Chills crept up her spine as an oddly familiar scent tickled at her nose. It wasn’t the good kind of tickle either.
“Presley, don’t,” Mrs. Bamey stated quickly as she gripped her wrist. “That is a lycanthrope. It is not Dimitri.”
“Rutley?” Presley questioned as her brows furrowed. “Greg?”
“No,” Mrs. Bamey whispered as her eyes widened. “No, sweetie….I’ve felt this presence before. Whoever it is…they are not kind. You mustn’t open that door.”
The knock sounded again, louder this time.
“What do we do?” Presley asked as panic finally registered in her brain. She felt her stomach lurch at the thought of someone dangerous being right outside. Lorcan wasn’t home. It was just her and Mrs. Bamey.
“We stay put,” Mrs. Bamey murmured quietly. “Call to Lorcan in your mind.”
She watched in silence as Mrs. Bamey closed her eyes. It became apparent that the older ursithrope was reaching out to her husband, and Presley knew she needed to do the same as quickly as possible.
‘Lorcan,’ she stated calmly in her thoughts. ‘A lycanthrope is at the door. Your mother is frightened. Please hurry home.’
‘I’m on my way, baby. Don’t open the door.’ Lorcan responded promptly.
“Lorcan’s coming,” Presley breathed, curling her fingers around Mrs. Bamey’s arm. “We need to hide.”
She pulled Mrs. Bamey down the hallway towards the nursery. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage as nausea and fear threatened to claim her body. She guided her into the dark room and shut the door carefully.
A large bang against the backdoor caused them both to jump.
“Shhh, shhh,” Mrs. Bamey cooed gently as she rested her hand against Presley’s cheek. “It’s going to be all right. Lorcan can run faster than any car I know of. He’ll be here, sweetheart. Don’t fret.”
Presley wanted to believe her. She had to believe her. No one was going to hurt them-they couldn’t. She was pregnant for Urseth’s sake! Who would hurt a pregnant woman?
Bang bang bang! Presley cringed as she heard the sound of wood splitting and then the heavy thud of the door as it hit the floor. The wolf was in the house.
Her breathing grew sporadic as ice replaced the hot blood in her veins. She was trembling, unable to stop it as she felt Mrs. Bamey’s arms tightening around her.
“We’ll be okay,” Mrs. Bamey promised. “I won’t let them hurt you, dear.”
Heavy footsteps echoed from down the hallway, and with each step the wolf took, Presley could feel her innards knotting a little tighter. She sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing her eyes shut as Mrs. Bamey’s palm closed over her mouth.
“I will protect you,” Mrs. Bamey vowed in a lower voice. “They will not harm my grandbaby.”
Oh god, what is she going to do? Presley wondered as the wolf kicked in the bathroom door.
“Come out, come out wherever you are, Goldilocks.”
Presley wanted to faint. Her knees gave out on her as she leaned into Mrs. Bamey and her body shook in terror. There was only one person in the world who called her that, and he was supposed to be out of her life for good.
Tim.
He’s a wolf now? Oh, no. Oh, no!
“Come on, Presley. I don’t have all night. It’s rude of you to hide from me, Beautiful. I can smell your fear.” Tim growled, kicking open the door to her bedroom.
Mrs. Bamey pulled back slightly and Presley knew the older female was trying to gaze at her through the darkness. Could she tell that Presley recognized the intruder? In a way, Presley hoped so.
“Awww, Presley. Are you really going to make me keep looking?” Tim asked as he jiggled the doorknob to the nursery. “Why don’t you come out here and talk to me, huh? I’m not going to kill you or anything.”
From the way he said that last part, Presley got the feeling that’s exactly what he wanted to do. Her eyes fell to the doorknob, listening as he tugged at it once more. Mrs. Bamey carefully pulled her further away from the door, caressing her arm gently as she leaned in to kiss her cheek.
“When I tell you to run, I want you to run.” She whispered.
“Mrs. Bamey, no!” Presley whispered back, pleadingly. “I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will,” she said firmly as Tim kicked his boot against the door. It suddenly crashed to the floor and Presley screamed. “GO!” Mrs. Bamey cried as she turned to face the fierce glowing eyes of Presley’s ex-boyfriend-who-was-now-a-werewolf.
“Hello, Goldilocks,” Tim snarled as he entered the room. “Long time, no see.”
“Run, Presley!” Mrs. Bamey roared as the claws quickly burst from her fingertips. Her pointy teeth came into view as she snapped at Tim in warning.
Where was she supposed to go? Presley turned to look at the very small window of the nursery, trying to figure out how she could possibly squeeze through it without hurting the baby. She didn’t want to risk hurting the baby!
“Get out of my way, old woman,” Tim spat as he took a step backwards to avoid getting clawed in the face. “I’m here for Presley.”
‘Lorcan, hurry,’ Presley sobbed. ‘Please!’
‘I’m almost there, baby. Are you okay? What’s happening?’
Presley turned around just in time to see Mrs. Bamey fall to the floor.
“No!” She screamed, rushing to the fallen female’s side. “Mrs. Bamey? Charlotte! CHARLOTTE!”
“Awwww, how sweet,” Tim smirked, reaching down to tangle his fingers into her hair. He yanked her upwards, quite roughly, before his nose nuzzled against her cheek. “Come along now, Goldilocks. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, baby doll.” He snickered.
“NO!” Presley screamed, her voice becoming hoarse as terror paralyzed her body. “NO! L
ET ME GO! NO!”
Her pleas were muffled as a piece of cloth clamped over her mouth and nose. She inhaled a horrid scent, causing her to squirm as she called out to Lorcan again.
‘Lorcan! Lorcan, help!’ She shouted in her mind. ‘Lorcan, he’s got me! Please hurry! Lorcan…….Lor….can…’
Seventeen
When his mate’s voice faded away, Lorcan kicked it into a gear he didn’t even realize he possessed. He passed his father in a blur, literally leaving the older man in the dust as he made a mad dash for his house. He should’ve known better than to leave Presley alone. His mother was a fierce mama bear, but he never should’ve trusted her to protect Presley when she needed to be protected too.
Fucking lycanthropes! He thought as he bypassed the steps completely by jumping onto the porch and he ran through the front doorway. He came to a skidding halt, staring back and forth in the darkness. He could smell the stench of a mutt in the air and his heart fell into his stomach. Was it Breslin?
“Presley!” He called out, making his way down the hallway. “Presley, where are you?!”
He could smell her. He could smell her fear. Urseth, she was so scared. That son of a bitch…..
“Presley, baby. Answer me! Mom?”
The scent of blood caught his attention then, and he followed it straight to the source.
“Mom!” He said in a half-sob, immediately falling to his knees beside her. “Mom!” He shook her shoulders gently. “Mom, open your eyes! Look at me, damn it!”
He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes; hot, angry tears that were the product of a shattering heart. He felt sick.
“Open your damn eyes, Mom. Please,” he pleaded, pressing his hand against her cheek. “Please.”
Mr. Bamey was in the room suddenly, and Lorcan lifted his tearful gaze to stare at him. His father’s eyes were glowing, and furiously so.
“Charlotte,” he whispered, joining his son on the floor as he carefully cradled his wife’s head in his lap. “Baby, wake up. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” Lorcan replied through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what the fuck happened but Presley isn’t here. She’s not fucking here.”
“Lorcan Charles,” his mother said weakly, her voice clutching his heart. “What have I told you…..about that mouth?”
He wanted to laugh-or cry. Maybe he’d do a little bit of both as relief washed over him. He buried his face against her neck as his broad shoulders shook with grief.
“Where did he take her?” Lorcan asked when he pulled back. “Where did Breslin take her, Mom?”
“I don’t know…” Mrs. Bamey slowly sat up, rubbing the back of her head before wincing. Pulling her hand back into her line of sight, she frowned from the bright red blood tainting her fingertips. “But, Lorcan…it wasn’t Breslin. It was her ex-boyfriend.”
———————————-
“Please wake up.” Louisa sobbed as she stared down at Greg’s lifeless form. He’d been way too still for far too long. She felt numb and it wasn’t because of the restraints anymore.
Colin had left sometime before, but he did at least leave a light on for them. Or perhaps he only left it on so she would see what he’d done to Greg. A fresh tear slid down her cheek, following the same path as countless others as she sniffled. Why was this even happening? Why was Colin doing this?
Her blurry eyes slowly turned towards Sammy’s limp form. Greg said she had a heart beat earlier, didn’t he? Louisa closed her eyes, straining to listen.
Thump thump. Thump thump. There it was.
She pursed her quivering lips together, shifting on the floor to regain feeling in her legs. She had to do something-no, she needed to do something. She couldn’t just sit here and wait for Colin to return. What terrible things would he do to her? He’d already hurt Sammy and Greg could possibly be….
No. Greg is not dead, she thought with a firm shake of her head.
I have to get out of here.
She pulled against the chains as hard as she could, feeling as the cold metal dug into the flesh of her wrists. She sucked in a deep breath, clenched her teeth, and yanked harder.
“Come on.” She pleaded gently as she curled her fingers around the chains, gripping them as tightly as possible before she pulled again. The concrete surrounding the chains cracked slightly, which had to be a good sign.
“Come on,” She repeated, jerking the chain again. The crack grew bigger, zig-zagging down the wall as she continuously pulled and tugged. The muscles in her arms contracted as her skin heated up. It felt like she was in an oven as she growled lowly and pulled a final time.
Thump! A huge chunk of the wall flew past her head and hit the floor beside her, followed by the chain. She sighed in relief, lifting her hand to gaze at it. Her fingers were covered in a chalky substance-presumably dust from the crumbled concrete. It didn’t matter! She didn’t care if she was dirty. One hand was free and she was one step closer to getting out of here.
She quickly turned her body at an angle, gripping the other chain with both hands as she tugged with all her might. She grunted, strained, and whimpered as she mustered up every last ounce of strength she had to break free.
With two large chunks of the wall and tangled chains lying at her feet, Louisa got onto her hands and knees, crawling towards Greg’s body.
“Greg,” she whispered frantically, cradling his head in her hands as gently as possible. “Greg, wake up. Please wake up.”
She straightened his head to the best of her ability, her fingertips resting against his jawline as she stared down at him. His lips were so blue….why?
“Greg,” she murmured as fresh tears threatened to fall. “Come on. You can’t be dead, do you hear me? You can’t be dead! I need you….”
Her voice drifted off as the tears fell harder, splashing against his forehead and cheeks. She cradled his upper body against her chest in spite of the chains still tangled around her wrists. The only thing Louisa was worried about at the moment was Greg. She wanted, more than anything, to see his eyes. He had to open them.
“Please….please….”
A soft groan from nearby startled her, and she damn near dropped Greg back to the floor. She tightened her arms around his shoulders, gazing in Sammy’s direction as the female slowly rolled onto her stomach and pushed up with her palms.
“What the fuck…” Sammy mumbled as she lifted her eyes to meet Louisa’s. She stared at her for a second before catching sight of Greg. “Oh my god. Oh my—holy shit. What happened?”
Louisa opened her mouth to respond-or at least try to-but Sammy suddenly leaned back on her haunches and looked around the small room.
“Where am I? How did we get here?” She asked, her eyes landing on Louisa’s again. “What the hell is going on?”
Louisa swallowed down the achy emotions trying to consume her. It was bad enough to feel Sammy’s confusion and anxiety on top of everything she was already experiencing. She released a low breath, gingerly tracing her fingertips over Greg’s jaw as she frowned.
“There’s… a lot I need to explain, but I don’t know how to,” Louisa admitted weakly. “We’re in trouble, Sammy. I just need a minute to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Sammy asked as she carefully rose to her feet. Swaying back and forth for a second, she lifted a hand to touch the back of her head. “Did somebody hit me? What the hell is going on? What is this place?”
Sammy was a smart girl. Louisa knew that. Did she really have to explain everything to her?
“I don’t know where we are,” Louisa responded quietly. “But there’s a very bad man on the other side of that door….and he wants to do bad things to us. Greg…he…” She sniffled, trying to regain control of her bottom lip as it quivered. “He’s hurt badly.”
Sammy was suddenly kneeling down beside them, reaching her hand out to press two fingers against Greg’s neck.
“He doesn’t have a pulse,” Sammy whispered after a m
oment. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Louisa whimpered, closing her eyes. “No, he can’t be dead. I…I s-saved him. He’s not supposed to die.”
“I’m so sorry, Louisa,” Sammy’s hand touched her arm and Louisa opened her eyes to gaze at her. “We have to get out of here before anything else happens,” She turned her head, observing the room as if she was looking for a weapon.
“There’s nothing in here,” Louisa mumbled. “Just us….and these chains,” she lifted one arm into the air so Sammy could see the chains wrapped around her wrist. “I hope Beau can find us soon.”
Sammy wrinkled her nose as she stared at the chains. “What is that God awful smell?”
“What?” Louisa asked in confusion.
“It smells like ammonia.”
“Oh,” Louisa nodded, sniffling again. “It’s to mask our scents. He doesn’t want us to be found.”
“Who is ‘he’?” Sammy demanded as she stood once more and placed her hands on her hips. “And why does he want to mask our scents? Does he think somebody’s going to send out the blood hounds to retrieve us? That’s not likely. We’ve not been missing for twenty four hours yet-at least not that I know of.”
“He’s not worried about blood hounds.” Louisa replied as she dropped her gaze to Greg’s handsome face. She couldn’t tell Sammy the truth. She couldn’t break the Clandestine code-which was probably exactly what Colin wanted. He was undoubtedly planning their deaths at the moment, but she still wouldn’t risk it.
Perhaps it would help if she knew the truth. She thought before immediately shaking the idea out of her head. No. She couldn’t do that at all. She had to keep their nature a secret. It wasn’t a matter of keeping anyone safe at this point. Colin was going to kill them. She’d already lost Greg.
An invisible knife stabbed at her heart as she allowed her eyes to roam over his face. It wasn’t fair. Greg was such a kind person. She didn’t care if he was part wolf now. She liked him….and once again, Breslin Connor had managed to rip away someone she cared about. When would it stop? When would enough be enough?
The Siege of Kadenburg Page 15
