Hard to Find (Hell Hounds Harem Book 4)

by Briana Michaels

  Bishop nodded and pressed his hands and forehead to the wall. Get a grip! Get them out! Do something, Hound!

  “Here, here, I got something!” Tilly called out.

  There was a waver in the wall. Like a ripple in water. At first, Bishop thought it was from the concussion Valor most likely just gave him, but then he watched Tilly stick her hand inside.

  “It’s a charm. I can’t break it, but we can get though it with the crack I’ve made.”

  Valor went slightly slack-jawed. He took a step forward and Bishop stopped him, “No. I’m going in first.”

  He and Valor deadpanned one another and Valor conceded. He knew what this meant for Bishop. It was as much his pack as it was Valor’s and the guilt Bishop had been living with all this time required a certain amount of atonement as far as Bishop was concerned. That meant, he would take the heat and be the first line of defense against whatever they encountered on the other side of this wall.

  Besides, he wasn’t fit to protect Tilly right now. Not after how careless he’d just been with that goddamn gun.

  “Hurry, boys. I don’t know how long the crack in the spell will last.”

  Without another word, Bishop stepped inside.

  When staring death in the face, put your middle finger up and laugh. Bishop always thought of that as the best response, but right now, as he stared at death, all he could do was reach behind him blindly to stop Tilly and Valor from coming any further into the room they’d stepped into.

  Bodies littered the floor. Not the ancient bones from cemeteries exhumed years ago, these were all fresh. Like, some were still bleeding out.

  Ages ranged from child to elder and some had curses placed upon their foreheads with something that stained their skin. The dead stared blindly – if they even still had eyes, which some did not – and the pungent scent of open bowels and old blood was thick in the air.

  “Oh my god,” Tilly squeaked.

  Bishop latched onto her arm and kept her behind him. He needed to protect her.

  She looked over in the corner, “Who did this to you?”

  Bishop saw no one that could respond, because everyone here was dead. They were standing in the middle of a slaughter house.

  “Master?” Tilly said.

  Valor’s voice dropped to a deadly level. “What?”

  “He said the Master has.” Tilly repeated. “Who the fuck is Master?”

  The room was silent. Dead men tell no tales, right? And none of these corpses were fucking talking.

  “I… I don’t understand,” Tilly clutched Bishop’s arm harder. “What are you saying? No… stop… you’re talking too fast, I can’t—”

  A howl they knew all too well sliced through the walls.

  “Baz!” Bishop climbed over the bodies and reached a wooden door. “BAZ!”

  Chapter 46

  Shit had gone from bad to worse for Baz. In the past God only knows how many hours, the enemy had done all they could to tear his soul out of his body, all to no avail.

  It’s not that they weren’t giving it their all, but Baz’s soul wouldn’t relent.

  The Hound remained on the chopping block with his restraints reinforced. The amount of magic that had been injected, shoved, and poured into him was enough to make him wish for death. The only reason he didn’t give up was because of Drake, but he couldn’t deny his grip was slipping fast.

  Now blind, Baz’s other senses heightened to make up the difference. He could hear Drake’s grunts as his twin fought against their captor. There was only one in the room with them as far as Baz could tell. But the fucker was a strong one and knew his way around spells.

  Baz’s hands were balled into fists. They’d remained that way since his soul had slammed back into his body just after seeing that woman.

  That woman… Maybe she was some kind of angel, he thought. He’d never seen one, besides Satan, so maybe. For some unknown reason, she was who his soul went to every time he astral projected to seek out their alpha. This last time, he almost reached his goal – he’d made it to their house and that woman was in their kitchen, of all places. But he couldn’t tell her where he was so she could relay the message to his alpha. Everything went downhill so fast after that…

  No one was coming to save his ass. Pain, sharp and terrible, stabbed his body in random places. Like his nerve endings were firing randomly all over the place, Baz howled as the bastard working on him did something else to his torso. A cold, dull pain turned blazing hot and sharp, sending electric shocks through Baz’s arms, legs, and head. He couldn’t catch his breath.

  Oh fuck, just let me fucking die and be done with this!

  Drake was screaming his name, trying to get him to listen, but Baz’s head rocked back and forth. No. No. No. Darkness and pain ate him from the inside out. Not even his first death had been this excruciating. He needed it all to stop. Just... stop!

  The bastard working on him slammed both his fists into Baz’s belly. “Give it to me!” The air punched out of the Hound and he dry heaved. He couldn’t catch his breath. Mouth wide, he gasped and gulped, unable to take in air.

  “Give it to me!” the enemy yelled again.

  I’m trying, he thought. I’m fucking trying, but I can’t!

  Baz would have wrapped his soul in a Tiffany box and tied it with a silver bow if it meant relief at this point.

  Of all the spells they’d cast, all the torture they’d put them through, this was the worst. Despair shrouded Baz like a wet, cold blanket. He shook violently, his body trying to push out all that had been shoved into him.

  Death… he craved it now. That sweet release from all this. If there was a gun within reach, Baz would wrap his mouth around the business end and happily eat the bullet. If he could get his hands on a razor blade, he’d slit his arms from elbow to wrist. If there was a manmade drug laced with poison, he’d slam that needle into his veins and beg for more until his body turned into a goddamn pincushion. Or a knife… oh fuck yeah, a knife would be perfect. Baz would waste no time plunging the blade deep into his heart and curl it around his twisted soul like a spaghetti noodle, rip it from his chest and fling it out of his body just to die with a carved hole into his chest that couldn’t be healed.

  No looking back. Just… sweet, beautiful death.

  Jesus, why was he giving up like this? He wasn’t suicidal, he was a survivor. Blinking hard against the darkness, he could almost see again when another wave of agony crashed into him. He cried out, tears spilling down his face. He didn’t understand what was happening. What the fuck was going on? Baz gurgled and frothy copper tasting blood spewed from his mouth.

  “Drake!” He needed to hear his brother’s voice. He needed to latch onto something as he got eaten alive by magic. “Drake!”

  “I’m here, brother,” Drake’s voice was cut short. There was a thump and hiss.

  “You’ll pay for that, dog.”

  Drake’s voice was muffled as he spat out angry curses that were short-lived. There was another sharp thump. Drake bellowed in pain and Baz arched as he tried to break free to save his brother from whatever they were doing to him. The scent of fresh cooked meat wafted into his nose and Baz’s stomach heaved again.

  Let me die, let me die, let me die.

  Drake roared again. Baz felt something wet splatter on his face. He went apeshit, slamming his body against his chains until his energy was spent.

  The scent of fresh blood filled Baz’s nostrils and he cried out. They were killing his twin. Blood, fresh and hot, sprayed all over Baz’s face. “DRAKE!” he coughed and sputtered, “No!”

  Everything went cold. Hands yanked and pulled on him. “Take it,” Baz croaked. “Just kill me and fucking take it.” Baz screamed for all he was worth. His throat felt lined with poisoned razor blades. He screamed and shook his head until the fight in him was totally gone. “I’m begging you now,” he rasped, “just like you said I fucking would,” he groaned with heartache, “Kill me, asshole. And make sure I never come
back.”

  He was going to die now. Thank fucking God this was all over and he could join his brother on whatever side a dead Hell Hound would end up on. He was going to miss his pack so fucking much, but surviving without Drake wasn’t a possibility. Not for this set of twins. Baz went where Drake went. To Hell… and now to –

  A woman’s voice called out, “Over here! I found them!” He knew that voice, it was the Angel. She’d come to take him away… Finally! Baz lost consciousness just as he heard her say, “We’ve got you, Hound. Stay with us, okay? Stay with me.”

  Tilly’s blood popped, fizzed and boiled with adrenaline and terror. “Over here! I’ve found them!”

  Finally, they’d found the twins. It felt surreal. Almost too good to be true. Valor had gone into the room first, slipping in like a shadow, while Bishop attacked another set of malanum in the hallway. Valor went after a beady eyed man who was covered in blood and filth. He didn’t last long once Valor unleashed his fury.

  There was so much to take in. It smelled so bad, Tilly puked. Oh god. She should have expected this, but thinking it and seeing it wasn’t the same. She ran towards the Hound chained to a large piece of stone.

  Don’t look at the chains. Don’t look at the blood. Don’t look at the rusty utensils coated in—

  Taking shallow breathes through her mouth, Tilly focused on Baz. “We’ve got you, Hound. Stay with us, okay? Stay with me.”

  Bishop was somewhere behind her now, ripping the other Hound free. Valor had slit the throat of the beady eyed man who held the twins captive the instant he’d stepped into the room – the fucker never saw the alpha Hound coming. Blood had sprayed everywhere.

  Tilly yanked on the ties that cut into Baz’s skin. “Help me!” she yelled at Bishop.

  “Move! Move!” Bishop knocked her out of the way and started slicing away on the ropes with his knife. Tilly turned to see Drake. His skin was sallow and eyes were rimmed with dark circles.

  Naked, bruised, cut and bloody, he was mal-nourished and frail. All around her was death and a creepy as fuck energy started slithering over her skin. She needed to keep her focus on the things she could handle, and not look too closely at her surroundings.

  “Can you walk?” she didn’t wait for a reply. Tilly put one arm around Drake and tried to prop him up on his wobbly legs. They needed to get the fuck out of here. Fast.

  As Tilly tried to haul Drake out of the room, she ignored the chaos scattered all around them – the blades, spikes, tools and worse.

  Stop looking.

  Tilly grunted as she supported Drake’s weight, but she wasn’t giving up so easily. Fuck, she’d gotten this far right? She could get out of here.

  This whole time, her dark poetic mind thought that if she died in the catacombs of Paris on a rescue mission, then… well… it would suck but wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Here however? Oh hell no. She wasn’t going to die in this place. It was a butcher shop, tainted with evil so foreign, no religion would have a word for it. She didn’t want this to be her end game. She wasn’t going to pick this as her final resting place. She had to get the hell out of here. Now!

  Valor ripped Drake away from her. “Here,” he handed her his gun. Automatically, she checked the chamber and made sure it was ready to be put to use. Valor pulled a second gun out and held it in his right hand while he held Drake against him. “Shoot anything that moves, lass.”

  “Got it.” Taking the lead, Tilly stayed hyper-alert. Never in all her life was she more thankful for the training she had in self-defense. If it moved, she’d fucking hit it.

  Adrenaline pumped in her veins while the magic she’d placed on the wall to enter this place danced along her skin like tiny biting bugs.

  Everything had a price. Even gaining entry to this space had cost her, not that she was going to tell Val or Bishop that. It was worth it. Finding Baz and Drake, seeing what they’d gone through, knowing she was part of getting them out of here – the price she would pay for the magic she’d used was absolutely worth it.

  No regrets.

  There was movement up ahead. Tilly pointed her gun, ready to shoot. Small oil lamps lit the corridor. The tunnel was wide enough for three people to walk side-by-side, which was nothing like the tight spaces they had to squeeze through to make it this far. Someone had put a lot of work into this area.

  There was a scream. Then a crunch. A child ran past, going from the right of the hall to the left.

  “Wait!” someone yelled. Then a man in black went chasing after the girl. Two more stumbled after him.

  “My Gods,” Valor rumbled, “It’s the Paris pack.” They kept going down the tunnel until they had to make the decision to go left or right.

  Drake groaned as he continued to lean on Valor, “That girl…” he hissed as he tried to take another step without Valor’s help, “Follow her.”

  “Are ye sure, Hound?”

  Drake nodded. “We weren’t the only…” he took another step, “ones down here. Other pack…” he slumped against Valor and cursed, “fuck just fucking follow… her.”

  They headed down the corridor. Bishop stayed quiet as he carried Baz in his arms. Tilly’s head was throbbing. Her heart beat in double time in her chest. Her palms were sweaty.

  This was both exhilarating and scary as Hell.

  Spending time with these Hell Hounds had given Tilly a false sense of invincibility. She needed to remember that if anyone was going to die here, it would be her. Not them. She needed to be cautious.

  A trail of blood went down the hall to another door. Suddenly, the girl reappeared. She waved her hand, beckoning them to come closer. Her wild eyes spoke the urgency that she didn’t share with words and she stretched her arm out, pointing down the hall to their left.

  Like fucking idiots, they went that way.

  The girl stayed put and watched them go. Tilly turned to see the girl run in the opposite direction.

  Up ahead, a howl echoed, followed by shift in the air. There was no wind current this deep into the catacombs. That force was from something else.

  “Shit,” Tilly held her gun up again and stepped forward slowly. Barks, loud and vicious, rattled her bones. She hesitated and stepped back. Valor growled, shifting Drake’s weight to Tilly and he commanded everyone to “Stand back!” He rushed down the corridor, gun out and ready, then he fired several shots, all in different directions.

  Tilly tried to move forward as fast as she could, but Drake’s weight slowed her down. She groaned and growled as she half-dragged him along. She needed to make sure Valor was okay.

  “Valor!” she yelled. A flash of dark red hair popped into her line of sight. Thank god, she sighed.

  “It’s clear!” Valor ran back and took Drake from her again. This time, he slung the Hound over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “There’s a manhole. It’s open.” He led the way and Tilly and Bishop silently followed him.

  Tilly’s head throbbed so badly, she was starting to lose vision in her left eye.

  There was a rusty ladder just ahead. Valor reached out for Tilly’s hand but she shook her head, “Them first.” Tilly practically shoved Bishop towards the ladder.

  “I’m not going without you,” he gritted out.

  “I’m right behind you, Hound Dog, I fucking swear. Go!”

  Bishop’s jaw was clenched tight and climbed as fast as he could towards freedom with Baz out cold and slung over his shoulder.

  Next, Tilly pushed Valor into the ladder. “Go, goddamnit! I’ll follow you!”

  Valor growled. His reluctance was going to cost them big time if he didn’t hurry the fuck up!

  “GO! I’ve got your back. You can’t shoot with one hand on Drake, the other on the ladder. I’m going to cover you.”

  It made sense and Valor fucking knew it. Nodding once, he tucked his gun in the back of his pants and climbed the ladder, his boots slamming against the rungs as he escaped with Drake. “Now, lass! Climb! Now!”

  Tilly tucked the gun in the
back of her jeans and she climbed the ladder using both her hands. She didn’t dare look back, not with the light of day just above her. A sharp pain shot into her leg. She yelled, lost balance, and dangled.

  The hilt of a blade stuck out of her calf.

  Looking back up, she watched the Hell Hounds reach their freedom. Her body jerked and she lost her grip as a tattooed hand yanked on her leg.

  “No, no, no, no!” Tilly kicked frantically to get him off her.

  “Tilly!” Valor roared. He reached for her arm while another hand pulled hard on her ankle. “Grab my hand!”

  She held onto the ladder wrung with one hand as her body starting swinging and slamming into the rusty ladder. She screamed for all she was worth and tried to kick the enemy away. Her vision continued to close in until she couldn’t see out of her left eye at all. Something hard clamped down on her wrist – Valor!

  Tilly pulled out the gun with her free hand and fired a shot blindly towards her foot. A roar shredded her throat. The hand around her ankle pulled and slammed her lower half against the escape ladder so hard, she dropped her gun.

  Tilly was ripped away from the ladder and she screamed.

  Continue this pack’s journey with Book 2 in the Second Trilogy: Hard to Love.

  Other Books By This Author

  Hell Hounds Harem Series:

  First Trilogy:

  Restless Spirit

  The Dark Truth

  The Devil’s Darling

  Second Trilogy:

  Hard To Find

  Hard To Love

  Hard To Kill

  Sins of the Sidhe Series:

  Shatter

  Shine

  Passion

  Bargains

  Ignite

  Awaken

  Rise

  Exile

  For information on this book and other future releases, please visit my website: www.BrianaMichaels.com