Flashes of faces and snippets of memories assaulted Killer. He couldn’t separate them. Couldn’t place them. They were a jumbled mess. The voices in his head struck him as familiar, though. Their mumbled words calmed him, even as his mind unraveled. The part of him that could still reason understood why. They were pack.
He missed them.
Grimacing, Killer gripped handfuls of his hair and tugged. The sharp bite of pain slowed the rapid slideshow. Not enough, though. He grabbed the bars of his cell and smacked his forehead against the metal until dizziness made him sway and blood ran down his face.
The blur of scenes slowed. A man’s face came into focus. Short black hair, cold black eyes, and an emotionless face—a killer. A real one, not like him, a male who annihilated his enemies in order to survive. This black-eyed man who dominated Killer’s mind was the kind of male who could end someone’s life and not feel remorse.
Assassin.
Yes, that word fit. This male was an assassin. He was also important to Killer. Had to be. Why else would his face take center stage in Killer’s chaotic mind?
Eyelids squeezed shut, Killer concentrated on the male, trying to place him, but fuzziness ate at the image as his body healed the injuries he’d caused.
Killer flexed his hands. Longer, sharper nails slipped from the ends of his fingers. He dug them into his pecs and dragged them across his chest, ripping his body open. Raw, burning pain spread through him, countering the iciness in his veins that left him incoherent and sluggish.
The haziness eating away at the memory faded, bringing the black-eyed male’s features back into focus. His wider nose and more pronounced cheekbones marked him as a feline shifter. Not pack, then. Not even close.
Who was he?
Killer curled his hands, deepening the wounds in his chest. More blessed pain. More fire. The cold, slithering poison in his veins receded. Slowly, the veil around the memory fell, yanking Killer from his cold cell to the forest where this male waited to talk to him.
Chirping birds echoed. The sun cut a dappled pattern on the forest floor. And the stench of death surrounded them. Killer swept his gaze over the area. Rotting body parts littered the ground. All human. He didn’t recognize their faces, but the red flag with its blue “x” and stars struck him as familiar.
A growl shook Killer’s chest as he took in the senseless carnage. Their human neighbors’ enemy did this. Confederates, they called themselves. They’d come here to hurt those who opposed their right to own their brethren based on the color of their skin. Killer had never cared what the humans fought over until they’d come here to slaughter his pack’s neighbors.
Soon, they’d come for his pack mates.
“We need to divert them from our valley.” The black-eyed male’s words pulled Killer’s attention from the carnage to him.
A cool breeze blew strands of red hair into Killer’s eyes. He shoved them back and swept his gaze over the other male. A long coat hid his body, and baggy pants were tucked into worn laced-up boots.
No name came to him. No other memories, save this one. No sense of why this feline shifter mattered. Yet, the other male’s commanding aura drew Killer closer. He stepped over the corpse at his feet and closed the distance between them.
“I will lead them away.” The statement came out of Killer’s mouth. It wasn’t what he wanted to say but memories were like that. When they came, they forced him to recall the past. He couldn’t change them no matter how much he tried.
“No, you’re a fighter, not a leader.”
Killer shoved the male, knocking him back a step. The feline didn’t even try to hold his ground. He laughed. “That all you got, Red?”
“Bastard.” Killer balled his fists but didn’t bother throwing the punch. The feline liked getting him riled up. Anger toughened a shifter, he’d often said. Made them stronger. Worthier.
The feline shifter lifted his upper lip in an amused smirk. “Problem?”
“Yes, you. I’m in no mood for games. Those humans need to be stopped before they come our way.”
“Exactly.” The feline shifter nodded. “And while I’m dealing with them, you’ll stand guard over your immature pack mate. With her white hair, she’ll be labeled a freak, and if they hurt her—”
A jolt of electricity whipped through Killer’s body, pulling him out of the memory. He tumbled backward, landing on his backside as his muscles spasmed. Glorious pain strung his body tight. Killer embraced it for a moment, relishing the ability to feel the searing heat, then hopped to his feet. He bared his fangs at the ancient wolf Royal standing on the other side of the bars.
“You.” Killer moved toward the iron bars separating them. He locked his gaze on the other male’s orange eyes. “Why did you come back?”
“To make you a deal.”
“Yeah?” Killer studied the Royal but couldn’t discern anything from his neutral expression. “What’s that?”
“You promise to help me find someone, and I return you to your pack.”
His handlers wouldn’t let him go. If this male thought he could swing that deal, he was delusional. “Feral males aren’t allowed freedom.”
“Are you feral, Killer?”
The ancient male stepped closer. If Killer wanted, he could reach through the bars and rip his head off. He gripped the bars tighter and glared at the male. Being as old as he was, he’d smell a lie. Since Killer didn’t know the answer to the ancient’s question, silence was best.
The wolf Royal leaned close. His orange eyes filled Killer’s vision. “If you were, you would’ve tried to kill me by now.”
“You can find out where my little sister is…if she’s still alive.” Killer lowered his voice until the words were barely discernable. “I want her back.”
“You want to condemn her to this hellhole with you?” The ancient Royal fought a smile. “You’re crazy.”
“I promised her I’d protect her.”
“Then you need to get out of this compound. Give me your vow, and I will make it happen.”
This male offered him freedom? Killer’s heartbeat quickened. “How? That other shifter said it was time for me to die.”
“Yes or no, Killer. My time is short. It won’t take the other guards long to find your eviscerated handler.”
Killer reached inside himself, seeking his wolves’ insight. This other Royal had his own agenda, and it had nothing to do with helping him. Killer’s wolves growled. Their heads lowered, and the fur on their backs stood on end. They crouched backward, preparing to pounce and try to force a shift upon Killer. They wanted the other male’s blood.
With a hard shove, he pushed them back into the metaphysical field where they lived. They were no help. They wanted everyone’s blood. Only their pack mates deserved to be spared. If Killer was free, he could find them. Protect their women like he used to do. He focused on the male awaiting his answer. “You free me, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Good.” The ancient Royal smiled. “Then walk out of the next match the victor, and I’ll make sure you’re freed from your living hell.”
Something about the male’s words struck him as wrong. Before Killer could question him on it, the ancient Royal turned his back on Killer and walked away. A door opened, bathing his basement prison in sunlight for a moment before closing.
Darkness descended. Silence stretched. And the screams and pleas of the males he’d killed over his years in slavery echoed in his head. They always did when he was alone. Always tormented him.
On a groan of frustration, Killer dropped his forehead to the bars. He wanted the comfort of his pack mates, if only through his memories. Without the drugs bringing them to the surface, they wouldn’t come easily.
Killer glanced at the doorway the ancient Royal had escaped through. The temptation to yell for the guards built as guilt ate at his soul. If he caused a scene, they’d be forced to restrain and drug him.
He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. He didn’t deserve the easy way out. His little sister likely hadn’t gotten one. If she was even still alive.