Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set
Page 26
“Lucky for me, boss doesn’t care for you,” he growled, closing the distance between us slowly, drawing out my dread and apprehension. “He wants you breathing, but otherwise, you’re mine.”
The enforcer reached a hand down and grasped my hair between his thick, callused fingers. Desperate to relieve the pain on my scalp, I straightened my legs under me as he lifted my body up by my hair. My face was a mask, unwilling to betray my emotions, the mask I had learned from my mate and his mother. I wouldn’t show him my fear. I would endure what I had to while I waited for Cole, or an opportunity.
“I’m claimed,” I said in a flat tone, pulling down the neck of my sweater to show him Cole’s mark.
“So I hear,” he answered, giving me a wicked grin. He turned me around and pulled down on the waistband of my pants, holding me in place by my hair.
The girl with the braid watched from beside the boarded window, face blank. Mara cried from the corner, holding her body in a tight ball. I kicked backward at the man behind me, frantic to do anything I could to stop him.
“I like fighters,” he growled, and shoved me to the floor.
I crawled forward, trying desperately to escape, to find something to use to defend myself. There was nothing but bedding and she-wolves so far gone that they would do nothing while this asshole tried to rape me right in front of them.
A heavy weight pressed my thighs down into the floor, holding me in place. He had me, I couldn’t get away. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and my body was moist with sweat. My attacker pulled at my pants with both hands, lowering them down over my hips. “The more you scream, the more I’ll like it,” he laughed.
A heavy weight fell on my back, the man laid on top of me noiseless and motionless. I didn’t understand, though I was grateful he had stopped. I turned my head, and found his ugly face next to mine on the floor. His eyes and mouth were open, and crimson fluid pooled under his cheek.
“They can’t find Jagger like this,” a voice behind me said. “Not yet.” Trixie had saved me.
Tears of relief streamed down my cheeks. She rolled the big man off of my back, and offered me a hand up from the floor. I graciously took it, then righted my pants. I looked at the dead asshole on the floor beneath me and kicked his corpse. I shoved my shoe into his stomach, and then punted his ugly, mustached face, letting my frustration out on the one who deserved it.
“Ready?” Trixie asked as I slowed down my assault. I looked up at my friend, the only one who had helped, and wrapped my arms around her thin shoulders.
“Thank you,” I said, unblinking at the blood on her hands. Under different circumstances, I would have been terrified of Trixie, but given our captivity in the heart of a crazy wolf shifter’s den, she was the perfect ally.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, then rubbed something on the dead man’s shirt, leaving stains of red behind. Trixie stood and offered me the sharp object she held, a jagged shard of glass, wrapped at the widest end in a piece of the pink fabric of her dress.
I took the makeshift blade in my hand, appreciating Trixie’s resourceful gift. It was lightweight and sharp enough to cut through a man’s throat, with the savage at my feet as evidence. Under the circumstances it was the greatest present anyone could have given me, worth more than any treasure. “Why?” I asked.
“Jagger had it coming,” she answered, taking his arm and pulling him toward the corner of the room by the door. Taking his other wrist, I helped her drag him out of sight of anyone walking by the room. If someone looked at the floor, the puddle of blood was still a dead giveaway of our act. The same was true if someone walked in. Jagger wasn’t well hidden in the corner of the room, but maybe leaving him there would buy us some time. Trixie pulled her bedding over the puddle of blood. Fortunately her sleeping bag was black.
“I mean why me? Why now?” I asked, still in awe of the weapon I held.
Trixie pulled out a second blade from under her skirt ruffles. “Before you came, I had a plan for the next time Dashiell summoned me, a desperate and terrible plan. When the monster that murdered my mate put his greasy hands on me, I was going to stab him in the only eye he still had, then end his miserable existence.” Trixie said. “It wouldn’t take long for his enforcers to end me. I had no exit plan, no hope to survive. No one here would have helped me. Then you showed up, Hailey. I have to kill Dashiell. But with your help, I have a glimmer of hope, a tiny chance that I could make it out of this alive. Hailey, you are that hope.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cole
Icy wind stung my eyes as my paws slammed the grassy ground. Each exhaled breath turned white before my muzzle. I pictured my mate, my angel with cerulean eyes. Her full lips curved in an easy smile as sunlight sparkled on her thick brown hair. Nothing could distract me from my course. No matter what it took, I would find my Hailey tonight.
The air was harsher in the open field, without the protection of the densely clustered trees that faded into the distance behind us. Gray clouds hid the moon, leaving the world around us as black as my fur. The dark cover gave us an edge, an advantage we desperately needed for facing a stronghold of enemies with greater numbers. Our silent strides could only be heard by keen wolf ears. I held to the hope that Axel's intel would be accurate, and that we would get lucky.
Lance raced by my side, determination clear in his crisp, blue eyes. His endless support gave me strength. The scent of my pack surrounded me, reminding me that we had another advantage—loyalty. Lance, Zaria, Amy, and Witt had my back, and would support me to the end. Even Axel had come through for me. Of Dashiell's men, half were traitors from Stratton's pack, and the other half were along to cause destruction. None were there because they cared for their leader; none were there because they cared for each other. If we could put down Dashiell quickly, it would be over.
Panels of wood and sheet metal curved along the borders of the ellipse that was Ellistown. Inside the walls of brown, gray, and black lay a town shrouded in darkness. Street lamps and buildings were left in the blackness, with only the tall building in the town's center lit. We approached the wall from the north, just as Axel had suggested. The quaking aspen stood just where he had said it would, a thirty-foot tall tree decorated in brilliant gold leaves. The tree stood as a marker to our entrance, and a meeting place if we were separated.
The pack remained quiet as we drew near the wall; any unnecessary noise could have drawn unwanted attention. I inspected the rippled metal panel that likely belonged on a roof. The corner was loose, just as Axel had promised. My mate was so close, held somewhere on the other side. Needing to reach her, I rushed forward, lifting the corner with my muzzle. Lance stopped me with a small nip on the tail. I listened.
“I don’t get it.” I didn’t recognize the voice.
“Well, obviously I’m way better in wolf form,” said a second.
“So?” asked the first.
“So, why give us guns if he doesn’t want us to use them?”
“We are using them,” said the first.
“No, in wolf form. Wouldn’t I look badass with this thing strapped to my shoulder? I’d be biting and shooting, like pew pew, grrrr. Awesome, right?”
“Uhhh,” said the first.
The voices came right up along the fence. Better guards would have noticed our scents, those of five wolves standing two feet away. Maybe they were drunk or just overconfident in the ability of the wall to keep out intruders. Either way, we waited for their voices to fade into the distance.
Witt lifted the corner of the metal slowly to reduce any chance of noise. The opening was just big enough to crawl through on our bellies. It was this or stroll through the front gate and be seen for sure. I went in first, with the ground and metal squeezing my body from all sides. Then came Lance, Zaria, and Amy, while Witt held the metal open. Since I was the largest wolf, the others had an easier time fitting through the small opening. Witt came through last, and I took our first accomplishment as a good sign.
We followed the metal wall silently around the perimeter to approach the mayor's mansion from behind. Since the patrol just passed, we had a little over thirty minutes to reach the back of the building before we crossed paths with them again. We moved as a stealthy unit through the backs of the streets toward our destination.
No noise came from the homes we passed, except for one. Stifled sobs escaped through the walls of one small building, the scents of humans emanating from within. Lance looked to me as we padded up next to the house.
“After,” I said in a whisper so soft that only he would hear me. We couldn't risk stopping on the way. Humans couldn't be quiet enough to make it down through the fence without alerting the listening wolves. Plus, we couldn't risk crossing paths with the patrol again. We needed that time to reach the mansion. Hailey had to come first.
Lance lowered his brow, a subtle difference in wolf form, then followed without a word. I wanted to save the entire town from Dashiell too, the innocent wolves and people suffering his unbalanced rule, but we couldn't delay and we couldn't split up. I needed my brother by my side, and I hoped Lance and I were still on the same page.
We rounded the building and reached the back. Only a few dark houses stood between me and the building that held my mate. Taking our time made my skin crawl. The need to reach Hailey dominated me, so much so that it was hard to think straight. Having my pack as a voice of reason was vital to our survival.
“No casualties unless it's necessary,” Lance instructed. “Not all of them are killers. Some are just weak-willed.” Amy, Zaria, and Witt nodded in agreement.
“There,” Zaria whispered, nodding at a door on the corner of the tall, brick building.
Only one guard stood beside its entrance, with another two rounding the corner to patrol the immediate perimeter. A few more seconds and only one guard would stand between me and the door. The outer perimeter guards would be back around soon, so we had to make a move before then. One would go down easy. I showed my teeth in anticipation.
“Let me,” Amy said.
I looked at the small, gray she-wolf. Her eyes begged me to listen. How could I bring her along and not trust her judgment when she offered her help? I didn't know what she had in mind, but I needed my pack to make it through; I couldn't reach Hailey alone. I nodded and sat on my back legs, putting my trust in Amy.
“Bite me,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“I need an injury. Trust me,” she said.
Before I could think, Witt nipped Amy's hip, leaving a small wound that dyed her fur red. She gifted him a wicked grin and ran two houses down, alone in the darkness.
A moment later she limped toward the mansion, naked in human form, and dragged her leg behind her. The man at the door aimed his pistol at Amy as she approached. The salt-and-pepper haired guard watched her with greedy eyes that looked her body up and down. The middle-aged shifter had muscular arms and a round belly. It was a smart ploy to draw him from the door. Amy was right, and it was good that I had trusted her.
“How'd you get out here, honey?” he asked.
“I've been hurt,” Amy purred, and touched her hip. “Can you help me? I'd be so grateful.”
She stopped about twenty feet from the door. The guard approached, holstering his weapon and leaving his back to us. “One so pretty as you should be upstairs,” he said. “But lucky for me, I found you first.”
Witt and Lance shifted to human form without the guard noticing. “We'll catch up,” Witt whispered.
Lance and I went for the door, with Zaria at our heels. Witt slowly approached the guard from behind as the middle aged man put his hand on Amy's hip just above her wound.
“Let me see what I can do,” the guard said.
A thump followed and I looked back at my friends. The guard was collapsed on the ground, and Witt dragged him by the arm toward the dark houses outside of the light's reach, with Amy at his side. They would be fine. I needed to focus on our task, reaching Hailey.
As we entered the mayor's mansion, I caught a hint of her scent. It took everything I had not to charge in after her.
And then we heard a woman scream.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hailey
Someone screamed. I held my breath, praying no one would come this way.
With careful, quiet steps, I stayed close behind Trixie as she led me through the unfamiliar halls of our prison. To help reduce the noise I made, we had left my boots behind in our cell. It was Trixie’s idea, and I noticed the difference right away. I still wasn’t as silent as a wolf, but at least I was quieter than usual.
White walls were decorated with framed paintings of landscapes with men, horses, and dogs—classic British hunting works from the 1800s. Burgundy, floral rugs ran the length of the corridors over hardwood floors, pleasantly lush on my bare feet. I wondered who had lived here before it had been hijacked by a crazy wolf man. Someone with expensive, classic taste, I guessed, but this was no time to ask for details. Trixie and I hadn't spoken since we’d left our cell for fear of being found, and I carefully followed her lead in every step and movement to the best of my ability.
Trixie held up a hand, and I stopped. She leaned her back against the wall and tilted her head to listen to something I couldn't hear. Grabbing hold of my hand, she led me back the way we had come, at a fast walking pace. She slid her blade back into her stocking, then quietly opened a door. I tucked my glass into the back pocket hidden by the bottom of my sweater, and followed her in.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I jumped as a man's voice spoke between gritted teeth with quiet disdain.
Trixie shut the door. “Hello, brother.”
The room was luxurious compared to our quarters. A queen-sized bed with burgundy bedding filled most of the space, and a small desk sat by its side, covered in papers.
I looked at the thin man sitting on the four-poster bed. He bore the same fiery red hair and freckles as Trixie, but he looked to be comfortable in the same place his sister and wife were abused and sleeping on the floor just down the hall. He wore a button-down shirt and black pants, like he performed some kind of service to Dashiell that was more white-collar than most of the wolves I had encountered. With the greeting he offered us, he didn't seem like an ally. I wondered what his role here could be, and if Trixie had known that he could be found in this room.
“You should go back,” he growled and stood, towering over his sister. “You can't be here, and you certainly can't bring her here.”
He gave me a hard look. He might have been handsome if he wasn't such an asshole.
Moisture beaded on my skin as I waited to see what would happen next.
“We aren't going back,” Trixie answered.
I knew as well as Trixie that we couldn’t return to our cell with the dead enforcer, but it didn’t seem like her brother would help us either. If we were waiting for someone to pass by in the hall, I hoped they would hurry past so we could be on our way.
“You'll get us both killed,” he growled.
“Fuck you, Troy,” she said. “We just...”
The door slammed open, knocking me back and sending pain through my arm as it hit my shoulder.
“Told you,” a small, blond man said to his taller, brown-haired companion. “She has a distinct
scent.”
I looked back at Trixie, who was on her knees, with Troy's long, pale fingers wrapped around her neck.
“Help me bring them to him,” Troy told the other two, with his face flushed.
Trixie's face was a stone mask.
I looked at the brown-haired man's sneer as he wrapped his thick, callused hand around my upper arm. I couldn't believe it was over. Would Dashiell kill us, or worse? I hoped my value was higher than the life of one enforcer. I swallowed hard and tried not to vomit.
Chapter Forty
Cole
Heavy traffic and lack of cleaning left an overwhelming musk of wolves through the hall, masking our presence from Dashiell’s men, or so I hoped. Dried mud crusted to the wine-colored rug and between the cracks of the hardwood floor. Lance stood beside me in human form while I waited as a wolf for the approaching guards. Zaria stood behind us, a smaller version of me with her golden eyes and ebony coat, and watched the door we had entered.
The stomping footsteps of approaching boots echoed down the corridor from around the corner. I listened carefully for subtle differences between the steps taken in unison—two guards. Lance looked down at me and held up two fingers, then pointed ahead. We had come to the same conclusion.
As we waited for the enemy to close the distance, a cracking sound from just around the corner broke the silence. Zaria carelessly moved around us, putting herself in full view of whomever stood in the hall, so I was forced to follow. So much for waiting for them to come to us.
Long legs spread out across the width of the walkway across the carpet. A man in boots sat propped against the wall, head hanging low, chin resting against his chest. Above him stood my step-brother, holding a heavy flashlight and a stack of folded clothes.
Axel looked more put together than I remembered. His short, blonde hair was combed back, and he stood tall with his shoulders square.