After they arrived home, they got word of the shootout in Chinatown. Tigers vs. Bears – the Triad opened fire on a group of Russians who entered the territory in early afternoon. It was a good two hours after Seb officially disappeared, and Ian hoped the cat wouldn’t waltz into Triad territory on his own.
Seb was the smart one – the cautious one.
He wouldn’t do something so careless.
“Three dead Bears and one dead Tiger,” Breaker said, looking over Fisk’s shoulder as the thief sat at Seb’s computer reading the news report. “No other casualties, but a few people were wounded by broken glass.”
Ian knew that tone of voice. His enforcer was really saying ‘no other casualties yet, but this gang war is going to kill innocent people and you know it. People like your parents.’ And that’s the rub. They got into this to clean up the Flats, and now they were just as bad as the people they fought against.
What seemed so clear ten years ago was little more than a muddled mess now, yet he couldn’t just walk away. Not when it was unfinished. He couldn’t leave the Flats like they were, drug ridden and full of crime. He had to protect them the only way he knew how.
He wasn’t doing a very good job so far.
“Seb wouldn’t be there. He probably went to a museum or something,” Fisk said, though a frown etched his brow.
“A museum?” Ian asked and took another sip of his Scotch.
Fisk nodded absently, his shoulders tense. Breaker gripped them in his large hands and squeezed. “Yeah. An Egyptian thing is in Haven right now. He told us about it the other day. A staff of the Pharaoh or something. Priceless, but we couldn’t find a fence.”
Right. Seb had talked about the Pharaoh’s Staff – that’s why it sounded so familiar when Ari brought it up. Did Seb know what it could do, or was he just interested in magical objects? “Did he look for a fence?” Ian asked.
The look Fisk gave him could’ve withered flowers. “No, but he didn’t have to. Something that famous is too hot to fence.”
Ian’s stomach clenched at the thought. If Seb didn’t come back, the staff wouldn’t be good to them in any way. But if – no when – Seb returned, they wouldn’t need a fence because Ian wanted the staff for himself.
Breaker caught Ian’s eye. “Ian. This is getting serious. If the attacks spread here there isn’t much I can do to protect us. And with the Russians against us it doesn’t look good.”
Good old Break. He always made bad situations worse. “Isn’t that what the safe house is for?”
“Yeah, but in order for that to work we need to move into it before anything bad happens,” Breaker reminded him.
Ian stared out the window. “Not yet. We wait. This isn’t our war at the moment, no matter what Sergei said.”
The skyline darkened and lights flickered on across Haven City. Breaker offered to cook dinner, but Ian wasn’t really hungry. Fisk didn’t seem to have an appetite either.
So they waited.
And waited.
Ian got up to pour himself another Scotch when the door rattled and beeped.
Seb stepped inside, his hair as rumpled as his clothes, and glanced at all of them. It was almost eleven PM. He’d been gone for nearly twelve hours. His bright green eyes shone in the shadows cast by the dim overhead lights. A cut ran across his cheek, lined with a thin dash of dried blood.
But that’s not the thing that struck Ian.
Seb was smiling. He stunk of tiger musk, and the vague hint of semen clung to him as well.
Ian downed his drink and slammed the glass onto the counter, just short of breaking it. He balled his hands into fists. A sharp pain twisted in his chest. He’d been waiting for hours, and now he didn’t know what to say. He expected the cat to come in weak and tired, not with a satisfied grin on his face.
“I didn’t expect you all to wait up for me,” Seb said as if he’d been out for a casual stroll. His words felt like little blades plunging into Ian’s heart.
“Where the hell have you been?” Fisk spat and stood up, eyes burning. He grabbed Seb’s shoulders and stared at his twin for a long moment. Then recognition dawned on his face.
“It’s not anyone’s business,” Seb said, threw Fisk’s hands off and walked toward the bathroom. His brow looked paler than it had that morning, his hair matted to the temples with sweat.
“Like hell it’s not!” Fisk said and followed him.
Seb sighed and turned as he got to the door. “I went out with Cassie. Got caught in a shootout. Made a new friend. No big deal. Now, can I bathe in peace?”
Fisk gaped like a fish out of water. “Cassie? The shootout in Chinatown? Are you a fucking idiot?”
Leaning against the wall, Seb shrugged, though his cheeks burned crimson. “Yeah. We didn’t know there’d be a shootout. We were on the edge of Chinatown at a restaurant. No one saw me.”
“Besides the tiger who smothered you,” Fisk grumbled.
Ian stared at them, his chest pounding, and so many things ran through his head. But the thing that hurt the most was that Seb didn’t seem sorry about any of it, especially about worrying them all.
“Long story,” Seb said and brushed the hair from his forehead. “I’m so sorry to have upset you, but I’m fine. Really. Now, I’m taking a shower.”
Fisk set his jaw and marched up to his twin. “You’re not fine. We worry about you, just like you worry about me. Be more considerate next time.”
Ian half expected Seb to have a smartass comeback, but his face slid into an expressionless mask.
Then Fisk turned away, and Breaker touched his mate’s back. “We should get to bed,” he said softly, and Ian didn’t believe the enforcer’s words would work.
To his surprise, Fisk nodded and walked to the door. He threw Ian a look as they left – a look that said the same thing on Ian’s mind: what the hell?
After the front door slammed shut, Seb popped his head out of the bathroom. He’d removed his shirt, and held it in a ball. A red bite mark marred his pale neck.
Ian almost ran up and shook him. He took a deep breath instead.
“Is it your turn to lecture me now?” Seb asked. Lines pinched at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth. His cheeks, usually full, looked hollow and sharp in the shadows. Sickly.
The bottle was close enough that Ian could just pour another glass of Scotch – drink until the emptiness in his gut filled with sweet oblivion. Not like he could fuck anyone to make the pain go away. Not after he met Seb. And that was the grand dilemma.
After he met Seb, everything changed.
Not in an instant like the movies. But when Seb moved in, Ian noticed it overtake him. The desire to protect, not just because he gave the cat his word, but because he wanted to. He wanted Seb to be his. Longed for the man to lean up and kiss him with those perfect lips, and none of it was ever going to happen.
The flirting didn’t work. Seb was nothing like his twin in that respect.
He was more complicated. A delicious puzzle that wanted to push Ian to the very edge of sanity. Maybe this is how Breaker felt – why he didn’t think Fisk loved him. Why he didn’t realize Fisk was his mate.
Cats were confusing as all hell.
“I’m not your mother, but you did ask me to protect you. Why’d you go into Chinatown?” Ian asked, his voice as bland as he could make it. Good thing he paid attention to Breaker all these years. Yelling wouldn’t do him any good now, even if the fury roared through his veins.
Seb kicked off his shoes. “To eat. I tried to get away before the shootout, but I got caught in the middle of it.”
Ian stared. The cut on the cat’s cheek probably came from a piece of glass. Thank the moon nothing worse happened. “And fucking a tiger? Where did that come in? I thought you liked women, Sebastian?”
He didn’t remember moving forward, but he stood over Seb now.
The cat looked up at him, hands on his unzipped jeans, ready to move them off his slender hips.
Another man touched that delicate skin. Another man kissed those pouty lips – tasted their sweetness. Even worse, another man (a fucking tiger no less) got to see the glorious look on Seb’s face when he came. Got to bask in the glow of Seb’s affection, not his constant coldness that felt like an unrelenting winter wind.
“But Tommy Booker is clearly gay. He’s your sex slave, remember?” Seb said, chest heaving.
Ian’s cheeks burned. “Did someone force you–”
Seb cut him off with a bark of laughter. It sounded cruel and sharp coming from his pretty mouth. “Force me? Would that make you feel better? No. Kind of like you didn’t force Fisk into bed with you. Happy?”
The farthest thing from it, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “I’m relieved you’re safe. But Fisk and me – that was a fling. It didn’t mean anything, and it’s not the reason I want–”
Those green eyes hardened into stone. “Don’t,” Seb grumbled, showing his sharp fangs. “You don’t get to act like the victim about this. I can do whatever I want with my life. Your protection only goes so far. I don’t belong to you. I’m only pretending to be your pet until this shit is over.”
Ian slammed his fist into the wall, denting it and bruising his knuckles.
Seb didn’t budge.
“Are you the victim? Of what? I bought your medicine, and you got pissed. I offer you my home, but that’s not good enough. What more do you want? I’m trying to help you!”
“Oh, like you helped my brother?” Seb said, and his eyes shimmered like emeralds underwater.
Ian told himself to stop. This wasn’t good for the cat shifter. He needed to back up and leave him alone. But fuck did Seb get under his skin sometimes! If he was jealous of Fisk why didn’t he just say so?
“I’m sorry I fucked Fisk. It hurt Break and maybe it hurt you too. But I didn’t even know you then, yet you act like I did it on purpose. Your brother joined us for a reason.”
Seb swiped at his eyes. “He stayed for Breaker. For his mate, not for you or your cause. Or me.”
Or me.
That was it. This whole thing wasn’t entirely directed at Ian, at least he didn’t think so. Plus, it was true, and it didn’t hurt to have Seb say it. What hurt was the accusation in the cat’s eyes. Like it was somehow Ian’s fault all of this happened. “I’m aware. I didn’t want Fisk to stay for me. I’m not forcing you to stay either.”
He expected Seb to say he was going to leave and storm out. Instead, a line of weariness crossed Seb’s face, his expression falling. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked softly, like the earlier fire burnt out and all that was left was an empty, exhausted shell.
Ian knew the feeling. “No. Never.”
Seb didn’t meet his eyes, but Ian didn’t regret telling him the truth. He couldn’t, not when it begged to burst free from his chest on a daily basis. He released his fists, and reached forward. His entire being ached to touch Seb, make sure he was real and solid and not some manifestation of Ian’s mind.
The door shut before he got the chance, Seb’s eyes wide.
Then the lock clicked in place, and Ian sighed.
* * *
News of the shootout in Chinatown spread around Haven. It was the first big act of daytime violence. Ian thought he’d be happier about everything getting underway. After a month of nighttime brawls and attacks between the Bears and the Triad, things were picking up.
The gangs were wiping each other out.
His plan worked.
Instead his stomach felt like it was about to cave in on itself, and his heart was a solid piece of stone. It had been ever since Seb came home that night.
To say things got back to normal wasn’t entirely accurate. Seb took his tonic and complained, like normal, but the cat was quieter than usual. More wrapped up in his own head, if that were possible.
Ian spent most days in his office alone. He let Breaker and Fisk keep an eye on Seb. Being around him hurt, physically and mentally, especially since Ian had no way to fix what he broke.
Ian had to focus on the task at hand and worry about the rest of his life later. He might not live long enough to admit the truth to Seb. That thought should’ve worried him, but it didn’t.
No use breaking someone else’s heart in the process.
He paced in front of the large window, his mind reeling.
Seb fucked around with a tiger shifter, a male tiger shifter, although he claimed (rather laughably) that he wasn’t gay. The Russians were openly moving in on the Triad, who fought back just as openly, and Sergei didn’t want to do business with the Black Wolves anymore.
The hair on the back of Ian’s neck stood up. His entire body bristled with tension.
Why couldn’t the good news outweigh the bad for once?
Ian glanced at the city shining and bright outside the window. The sunlight bathed it in golden rays, but underneath the heart beat black and shriveled. Even the lovely art deco buildings that decorated this side of town couldn’t hide the truth.
Ian saw it everyday.
Lived it.
He almost wished his own heart was as black and small – then this wouldn’t hurt.
Violence in the Flats escalated daily. He hadn’t taken a meeting with Mao since that night almost a month before, but Milo kept an eye on everything coming in and out of the Triad. Even if the gangs in Chinatown tried to keep it under wraps, word of their in fighting leaked out.
Nearly every night, Tigers, Dragons, Monkeys and Bears died. But the numbers weren’t large, and none of the leaders had been targeted yet.
That’s what needed to happen in order to gain complete control of the territory, and Ian only knew of one way to do it. It’d been such a long time since he went out. His fingers itched for action, to break something beneath his hands that wasn’t his own damn heart.
Seb would never love him then. Even his own beta wouldn’t look him in the eye if he went that far.
Ian didn’t know if he’d blame them either.
His phone rang, and he almost didn’t answer it. Unless it was Milo with some news about the staff, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Breaker’s name appeared on the read out, and Ian sighed and clicked on the call.
“Boss?” Breaker said, his voice neutral.
Good. At least Seb didn’t run off again. “This better be important, Break. I’m very busy,” Ian said, infusing his voice with more good nature than he felt.
A sigh on the other end. “There’s been another attack. The Monkey’s stronghold was blown up with their boss inside. Chan’s dead.”
Ian silently cursed that his window didn’t face Chinatown. He couldn’t see the smoke from this side of the city, but he heard the faint cry of sirens in the distance. He knew he should ask about other casualties, but that’s not what an actual gang lord would do. “Bears or fellow Triad?”
He could just imagine Breaker’s lips pursing as he fought to hold back a lecture. “The Russians are the most likely candidates, but it’s too soon to tell.”
“They can’t win this on their own, no matter how thick headed they are. Keep me updated,” he said and hung up before he could ask about Seb’s wellbeing.
At least something went his way for once.
A few minutes later, Milo knocked at the door and stepped inside.
Ian stared at the omega.
Milo hadn’t been the same since he lost Seb, and Ian didn’t think he should reassure the omega quite yet. A gang lord wouldn’t let a lapse that severe slide.
“Did you see the staff?” Ian asked.
“Hey, boss. Uh, yeah. I couldn’t take any pictures outright because of the museum policies, but I pretended to talk on my phone and snapped a bunch. They’re fuzzy though – couldn’t use the flash. Anyway, I’m not a physical security expert so I don’t know how easy it would be to steal. That’s what those cats are for, right? But this is definitely it. Not a reproduction. I’m surprised no one snatched it yet with all the magic families in Haven.”
Ian glanced through the pictures on Milo’s phone, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered. The staff shone golden in the overhead lights of the museum. Ian’s chest burned with the desire to own it – to prove to Seb how much he meant to Ian.
Saving his damn life ought to do that. But no, even if Seb’s feelings didn’t change, he still wanted the staff. Healing him wasn’t going to come with any strings attached. Even better, with all the increased violence in the Flats, the cops wouldn’t be on top of a small time robbery.
Which meant it was time to talk to Fisk and Seb about it, and convince his gang they needed the staff for their cause.
“Thanks, Milo. Good work,” Ian said and turned in his chair. He glanced out at his domain – the city that would be his when this was over.
He never thought he’d have to choose between his goal and a mate. But that wasn’t really the case – Seb wasn’t asking him to choose.
Seb didn’t really want Ian anyway.
On the street below, a few men – large men – walked into the laundry mat. They caught Ian’s eye, and he watched them approach.
No. Not men – Bears.
Milo muttered from the door, but Ian’s mind was elsewhere.
If the Russians were here that meant one thing.
A shout rang out in the rooms below, then the sound of gunfire filled the air. Not single shots either, but a peppering of blasts, like fireworks exploding on the Fourth of July.
Milo froze, eyes wide, and his slender shoulders trembled in the oversized suit.
Ian leapt to his feet, hand flying to the gun at his waist. It wouldn’t do any good against a whole group of bear shifters – not when they had automatic weapons.
Fuck!
“Boss?” Milo said, backing away from the door.
Silence hung in the room like a shroud.
Feet pounded up the stairs. They’d find this office in a moment, and gun down the leader of the Black Wolves without a second thought. Ian couldn’t put up a fight and live.
He growled and opened the window. He didn't want to run, but he also didn’t have a death wish.
Milo ran toward him and climbed onto the fire escape.
Good thing Breaker chose the office – Ian might not have picked one with the grate blocking his view. The enforcer had more sense than him from time to time.
Milo kicked at the rusted ladder. It bent under his shoe and finally fell, squeaking like the loudest rusty hinge in the entire world.
The bears heard that.
No matter – they had to move.
Now!
Milo scrambled down, and Ian kept his eye on the window, hand ready to draw his gun. If it were dark, he could shift and fight them in his wolf form. It’d give him an advantage.
That wasn’t possible in the middle of the day.
The crack of wood split the air above their heads, and Ian threw himself onto the fire escape, gripped the edges of the ladder and slid down. His hands burned under the impact, the skin peeling away until they were raw.
A Russian peered out of the window and opened fire.
The clang of bullets ricocheting off the metal pinged in the air.
Ian hit the ground and rolled, shoving Milo out of the way. Hot pain shot through his shoulder, but Ian ignored it as they ran, rounding the corner. Milo’s eyes were as wide as saucers and he panted, but he looked unharmed.
At least Ian could protect one member of his pack properly.
“You’re shot,” the omega gasped.
“It’s just a graze,” Ian grumbled and pulled him down the street.
Sirens filled the air. They had to get out of there before the cops descended on the place and got word of their illegal business. Money laundering could get him in serious trouble, making his entire operation useless.
A bus stopped down the street, and Ian ran toward it. They tumbled on just before the doors slammed shut, and both of them stared at the driver.
“Bus pass or cash,” the man said.
Milo shrugged, and Ian opened his wallet. He only had a twenty, and the bus didn’t give change. He remembered that from his childhood. No use being picky. He paid the man and sat. The dark color of his suit jacket hid the blood leaking down his arm.
Only fellow shifters could smell it, and there weren’t any on the bus with them.
The omega trembled and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Break.”
Ian closed his eyes and nodded. The enforcer was going to say ‘I told you so’ in a round about way, and he didn’t want to deal with it at the moment.
His vision burned red, and all he could think about were the Russians – they were going to pay for this.
* * *
“The Russians attacked you?” Fisk asked, his voice taking on a note of hushed reverence like they were in church.
Milo told them the story over the phone, but Breaker insisted on more details when they stumbled into the penthouse.
Ian stripped the shirt from his body, sticky with his own blood, and nodded. He didn’t look at Seb. “That’s how it appears. Busy day for them. Sergei’s stepping up his game.”
“We should probably assume the Bears took similar hits against the Tigers and the Dragons,” Seb said from his place on the couch. His knees were pulled to his chest, and the T-shirt he wore looked too big for him. That or he lost weight. At least he had the decency to look sheepish around Milo.
“That makes sense, but what is he after? Control of the Flats?” Breaker asked, rubbing his crooked nose.
“Obviously,” Seb and Fisk said at exactly the same moment with the same amount of bite. In another situation it might’ve been funny. No one laughed now.
“So what do we do about it?” Breaker said, his brown eyes boring into Ian like he might find the answers buried in the boss’s brain.
“Yeah, boss. My computers were at the office,” Milo said. “Don’t worry. I set it up so a virus will wipe the hard drive if anyone tries to log in to them. But I do have a few back ups at home.”
Ian pinched his eyes shut and frowned. “I’m going to shower. You’re going to leave me alone so I can think about this. That’s all. Nice to know how much my own pack cares about my wellbeing,” he grumbled and went to the bathroom before anyone could argue with him.
It wasn’t fair. Breaker eyed the wound, and he knew his beta was going to ask if he needed a healer. Breaker probably already knew Ian would say ‘no’ too, which is why he didn’t bring it up.
But more than anything, Ian wanted Seb to get that look in his eye – the same one Fisk got when Breaker was hurt. Like the whole world might fall apart unless Breaker got better.
He didn’t have the guts to face Seb, knowing the cat would never look at him that way. Never feel that way.
The voices outside mumbled and a door clicked shut as he climbed into the shower. Hot water poured over him, and Ian wished it could wash away more than grime and blood. Clear the thoughts from his mind. Rinse him of any other emotion besides the need to fulfill his stated goal.
This shit with his heart got in the way.
Then he heard Seb enter the room.
A few weeks ago, Ian would’ve made a flirty remark about the cat joining him. Now he said nothing.
When he got out, Seb sat on the stainless steel counter. The lapis lazuli made his complexion paler than the daylight in the penthouse proper. Ian frowned.
“Did you want me to leave too?” Seb asked, his voice walking an edge between quiet and accusatory. “Or were you just being a drama queen?”
He didn’t have anything to say about being a drama queen. Breaker would probably accuse him of the same thing.
“No, I didn’t want you to leave,” Ian breathed and moved his shoulder. The scrape was deeper than he thought, and felt fiery hot to the touch. Trickles of blood ran down his arm, mixing with the water. Ian flexed his hands. The skin was dark red, but it didn’t bleed. Good. He couldn’t have those wrapped up too.
Seb tapped a first aid kit. “I keep running into people with bullet wounds,” he mused as he pulled out a length of gauze and some disinfectant.
“That mysterious tiger friend of yours?” Ian asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, even as the thought tightened the knot in his stomach.
“Yeah. Him,” Seb said. He didn’t elaborate, and Ian didn’t ask. The cat’s deft fingers went to work, wiping the blood off Ian’s arm and dabbing the wound with alcohol.
Ian bit back a cry.
Seb’s lips twitched into a slight smile. Then he wrapped Ian’s arm tightly with the gauze and taped it in place. It was neater than the work Fisk did on Breaker. “You might need stiches, but I can’t do that.”
Ian shrugged. It’d scar, but he could live with it. He’d live with the pain too. “You clean up a lot of messes, don’t you Sebastian?” Ian said and flinched as he worked some product into his hair with his good hand. Without it, the curls went insane as they dried.
“You could say that,” Seb said, and Ian expected him to close up like a book slamming shut. The cat sighed. “I had to stay home with my mom since I was sick. I mean, I went to school, but not like Fisk. Dad taught him the family business while I got to do the research and the cleaning. He got scraped up on jobs more than he liked to let anyone know.”
The scratch was still fading from Seb’s cheek, now nothing but a slight scar. It wouldn’t last forever, but it meant they were no longer perfectly identical at the moment. Ian reached forward and brushed his fingers across it.
Seb didn’t pull away, but his jaw clenched and he let out a long, shuddering breath.
“I didn’t mean those kinds of messes. Fisk is the one who sweeps in and stirs everything up, while you’re left with the aftermath. That’s what it’s like, right?” Ian was sure Breaker felt the same way about him.
No wonder Breaker and Fisk made such a good match.
Seb’s eyes widened. He stared at Ian with a look of comprehension on his face. “Yeah. It’s a lot like that. You’re a lot like that too. Like Fisk.”
“And here I was going to say the same thing about you,” Ian said with a breathy chuckle.
Seb snorted at that. “Me? I riled up your life? You’re the one who–”
Ian cut him off. He needed something like this to lighten the heavy weight on his chest – the burden of what the Black Wolves should do next. “You steal my wallet. Then you move into my home, sleep in my bed without letting me join you, and you drive me crazy on a daily basis. That’s riling up my life. What have I done to you?”
“Uh, let’s see?” Seb said and held out his hand, counting off on his slender fingers. “You bought my brother as a sex slave. Forced me to get involved in your crazy ass plans. And. . . .” His voice faded, and he got that look of recognition and hurt like he had the night after he ran off. Like the man Seb was before was all an act, and this was what he hid underneath.
It stung to see the cat with that lost expression on his face. Ian itched to hold him. “And what? That’s only two. So far, I win.”
Seb’s eyes dropped to his lap. “You made me think about things I didn’t want to think about. I was. . . surviving just fine. Now I’m pissed.”
Ian frowned. “At me? I can get you another place. Some place far away from this. Safe. I don’t want you hurt.”
The cat shook his head and stood up. His bare feet slapped against the floor. “No! I’m sick of that. I can help. Everyone is always trying to protect me, trying to figure out what’s best for me when no one actually bothers asking the person it matters to the most.”
That’s not what Ian was expecting. “I don’t think you’re weak,” he said carefully.
Seb gave him the same withering glance Fisk had earlier. Then his lips turned up into a bitter smile. “But that’s the thing. Maybe I am weak. I want to prove that I can do things on my own, and I can’t. I’m dependent on people who don’t really want me around.”
“You’re not weak,” Ian said and moved toward him. “And I do want you around.”
Seb rolled his eyes, his face hardening into his typical mask. For once, Ian wanted to break it apart before it did. He grabbed Seb’s shoulders and squeezed.
“Why the tiger? Why not me?” Ian’s heart hammered as the question came out.
“I’m not–”
“Bullshit. Answer me. Now!”
Seb chewed his bottom lip like he was considering what to say. Then his face cleared, the sun coming out from behind a cloud, and he leaned up. His full lips brushed Ian’s in an almost kiss.
Electricity shot from Ian’s mouth to his toes, and he pulled the damn cat closer, his arms engulfing Seb in an embrace.
Their lips smashed together, tongues brushing in the center. Heat spread inside his chest. This is what Ian wanted more than anything else. Why couldn’t Seb see that?
Seb pulled back and licked his lips, his arms firmly at his side like a stiff toy soldier. He took a breath. “I had to know if it was you or something else. Something that made me like it.”
Something like being gay? Ian thought, but he didn’t say that. Seb’s words hollowed out what was left in his chest. “And?” he asked quietly.
“And it was something else,” Seb said. He wouldn’t meet Ian’s eyes, and he pointed at the shower. “I’m going to wash up now.”
For once, Ian didn’t ask to join him.
He paced while Seb showered, trying not to think about the taste of the cat’s lips or his cryptic words. Or his naked and wet body. Willing for a tiger but not for him.
If Ian could go back in time and not mess around with Fisk, he’d do it. But that was impossible. And Seb had no right to hold that against him. Shit. He needed to think about something else. Figure out what to do about the Russians.
The cut on his arm burned – the blood leaking through the binding. They almost killed him today. Almost gunned him down in his own office. In the back of his mind, Ian knew that was the price for playing this very dangerous game. But he was the leader of the Black Wolves, and he had to do something to defend himself against attacks like that.
Fury boiled in his blood, a desire to break something filled him. He needed revenge and a way to let off some steam. Ian had an idea to get both. Now was the perfect opportunity. He glanced at the bathroom door as the shower turned off. The cat wouldn’t miss him, and Breaker was just down the hall.
He slipped out the door. Instead of the elevator, Ian opted for the stairs. He went out the side door to avoid the cops who still watched the building. Good thing the police budget was too small to cover all the exits.
Cool air fell over Haven at night, and the streets were mostly deserted this late. That’s the way Ian liked it.
Taking a cab would be too obvious, and his car was well known. He caught the tram instead. It dropped him off right at the edge of the river, and Ian walked into the Russian’s Territory.
Unlike the other times he went out in the past, he didn’t have a plan tonight. He didn’t need a plan. After the shit Sergei pulled, every member of the Bears were open season.
The warehouses on the docks were the best place to find a victim, but none of the higher-ranking members would be there. It was full of low-level thugs, and Ian wanted a challenge for once.
A way to send that Russian upstart a very clear message – don’t fuck with the Black Wolves.
He crept up the dock to Peterhof instead. Clinging to the shadows, Ian stayed downwind of the guards and watched. Mist from the river curled through the air, but he caught sight of a bear he recognized. One of the men always at Sergei’s side.
The same man who barged into his office today and shot up the lobby.
Boris – that was his name.
Maybe as close to Sergei as Breaker was to Ian – he’d do nicely.
Boris left the club with a prostitute under his arm. Human from her scent. She had no idea the man she was with could snap her in half like a twig.
Ian crouched in the shadows as they approached. The bastard didn’t have time to take her home, since he was on duty, but he pressed her up against a shipping container and fucked her.
Ian waited until Boris finished.
The huge bear smirked when he was done and flung the cash on the ground. He laughed as the girl scrambled to grab it. Then he muttered something in his native tongue and ran a hand over his cropped hair.
The prostitute shivered as she gathered the cash and took off down the docks.
Good thing too. No one could witness what happened next.
Boris lit a cigarette and glanced over the water, his hulking frame mountain-like in the fog. He was a good six inches taller than Ian, which meant the alpha had to make this fast.
Go for the throat, and finish the job before the asshole made a sound.
He’d done it often enough. Usually with a gun, but the fury that roared through his veins wanted something to tear into – something to rip apart.
An image of Seb with the faceless tiger filled his mind, and Ian bit back a growl. He shed his clothes and bent forward, letting the wolf shape envelop him. His fingers stretched into claws, his teeth protruding into great, white fangs. He wasn’t dark, like Breaker, but the mist hid his pale fur better than shadow.
He wanted to growl.
Get the bastard’s attention, but he couldn’t be sloppy about this. No matter how pissed he was. How much his carefully laid plans crumbled around him. He needed to be smart. Letting his emotions get in the way kept ruining things.
Seb was a perfect example of that.
Boris tossed his cigarette into the river and blew out the last cloud of smoke. As he turned, Ian leapt out of the darkness and tumbled into him. His jaws clamped onto the man’s meaty throat and snapped closed.
Blood soaked his fur.
The bear gurgled, fighting for air. His great fists smashed Ian’s back, and he felt the crack as one connected with his rib. At least he didn’t have the presence of mind to shift – lest their fight would be distinctly unfair.
The pain nearly blinded him, but he blinked it away and kept his hold.
The river rushed next to them, and the man stepped closer to it. His lifeblood seeped away with his strength.
Ian’s claws dug into the bastard’s flesh and held. He leaned back with all his weight until the man toppled forward with a great crash.
His chest heaved, and he licked his chops as he stepped away from the body. The faint beat of the bear’s heart weakened with every moment, every sputtering breath. Another minute and he’d be dead.
His claws clicked on the wood. He wanted to leave something for Sergei to find.
A souvenir for doing business together.
A ‘thank you for trying to kill me’ card.
Boris’s head would be a nice way to send that message.
Ian’s fangs ripped into the man’s skin, tearing muscle and bone apart. He leaned the head upright on the bloody stump and nudged the great body into the river.
Breathless, he sat on his haunches and looked at his handiwork.
Then the docks creaked behind him.
A footstep and a sharp intake of breath.
Ian spun on his heel, growling low in his chest. Did one of the Russians catch him?
No. Not them.
Worse.
Seb stared at him, eyes wide and legs swaying. “I knew it,” he breathed and crumpled into the mist.