eighteen

Going back into the wolf’s den. Voluntarily. I have lost my damn mind. No question. No sane person would walk into almost certain death for people I haven’t even known a week. God, being a good person really sucks. I don’t know how Jason does this all the time. If we survive this, I’m signing up for more lessons. Until then, I’ll have to fake it until I make it. Please help me make it.

Deandra, wonderful Deandra who is handling the death of her husband, Omar, with useful, spiteful vengeance, waits in the tunnel with me. She agreed to sneak into the house with me. And since she was in the army, I am more than glad to have her.

“You sure about this?” she whispers.

“Hell, no.” I give her a half smile. “No matter what happens to me, stick with the plan. Get them out.”

“Just get that gate open.”

I nod. Let’s get this over with. Don’t want the pre-show jitters to paralyze me.

As quiet as mice, we creep up to the top floor, and I punch in the code. Deandra flips the safety off the Uzi. For the first time ever, I’m putting my faith in the basic decency of a human being. And if it doesn’t work, then I’ll just shoot him. I slink out of the staircase into the master bedroom, stopping at the door to peek out into the hall. My new friend is still walking the line. I step into the hall, and the guard’s mouth drops open. I wave him over before returning inside and positioning myself beside my father. The guard walks in, brown eyes bugging out.

“What are you doing back here?” the man whispers. “You need to go!”

“What’s your name, kid?” I ask with a smile.

He does a double take. “R-Rory.”

“Hi, Rory, I’m Vivian. Vivian Dahl. How old are you, Rory?”

“T-Twenty. Why?”

“I’m twenty-nine, Rory. I’ll be thirty in two days, can you believe that? Two days. Happy fucking birthday, right? And you see that man at our feet? The dead one? Well, that’s my father. I just met him about a week ago. He walked out on me when I was a baby. You know why, Rory? You know why my father, who loved me more than life itself, did that? To protect me. From you. From this exact situation. That man walked away from me, then walked in front of bullets for me, all because of you and that fuckhead boss of yours downstairs. The same one who, in a matter of minutes, will tell you to take that gun you’re holding, go down to the basement, and begin shooting small children because he has no use for them. We’ve both met the man. We both know he will.

“Now, I don’t know how you got involved in all this, or why you thought you had to come into this house and slaughter innocent women and children, but considering I’m not being raped like those women in those rooms, and my five-year-old niece and nephew are safe, I’m going to assume somewhere inside you, you know how wrong this is. I’m also going to assume you are a good person. Are you a good person, Rory? Do you believe what you’re doing is right? Really? Truly?”

His mouth opens and closes without sound before he says, “No, ma’am. I don’t. I-I-he attacked me. Three days ago. My cousin called me up, said he wanted to take me out for drinks. I ended up bitten by a damn wolf. Been in hell since.”

Got him. “Then let’s pull your ass out of there, huh? How many of you are there?”

“We came with eighteen, don’t know how many are left. I know for a fact you got four of us, maybe more. Some of those who came as wolves are missing too.”

“How many guarding the cages in the basement?”

“Two.”

“Anyone in with the teenage girl now? Claire?”

“Yeah. Another new one like me. Think his name’s Benny. Guys are in with the other two as well.”

“Do you have a knife or gun with a silencer?”

“Wh- hy?”

“Because I need to free Claire so she can change. Heal. I figure if we can kill one, we can kill all three, but only if we do it quiet.”

“I-I don’t—”

“Rory, this is war. I understand you got drafted, pulled into this against your will—believe me, I more than sympathize—but we’re in this now. And you can either be on the side of the child murdering, women-raping assholes who turned you into a monster in every way conceivable, or you can help me strike back at these fuckers. Save women and children. Maybe even get some damn payback for ruining your life. What do you say? Want to join the good guys?”

The boy’s mouth continues to flop open and closed with indecision. I understand. We are the losing side. “W-What would I have to do?”

Oh, I could hug this guy. If he didn’t say yes, option B, I was to kill him. Instead, I grin. “Just three little things, then you get your soul back. Not a bad bargain, huh? Step One: Claire. But first …” I lightly knock on the panel, and Deandra opens it. “He’ll bring Claire to you. Tell her what to do. Then wait for the cue. Two in the basement.”

“Scream if you need me,” says Deandra before she rushes into the bathroom to wait.

I turn to Rory. “Our main objective is to get the front gate open. I have people waiting out there. That’ll be your job. The button’s by the intercom next to the front door. Just make sure no one sees you. But first …” I hold my hands behind my back as if handcuffed but with easy access to the hidden pistol riding up my spine. “Congratulations, you just captured me. Now take me to Claire’s room.”

Holding onto my hands, Rory escorts me down the hall as if it were the Green Mile. Could very well be if everything doesn’t run like clockwork. He lightly knocks on the door. When no one answers, he knocks harder. We wait a few more seconds before I hear footsteps. A man with long, grayish hair wearing only pants opens the door. “What?”

“I was told to switch them,” Rory says.

Benny, the rapist fucker, eyes me up and down. “Haven’t had a redhead in years. Bring her in.”

Dear God. My throat closes when I spot the seventeen-year-old girl tied to the bed by silver chains. She stares up at the ceiling but probably doesn’t see it. She’s gone far, far away. “You bastards.”

Rory positions me with my hands against the wall. “Do you have the keys?” Rory asks, moving toward Claire.

Benny gestures toward the dresser. As Rory unshackles the catatonic girl, who doesn’t even blink, Benny all but licks his chops at the sight of me. In his mind I’m already spread-eagled like Claire just was. Rory wraps her in the bloody sheet then carries her like a bride out of here, hopefully hustling to Deandra. I just need to buy him twenty seconds.

“So, what’d he promise you? Your Alpha?” I ask.

“Looking at it. Pussy, nice house, hanging with the boys. Someone even brought cold beers. What more could I want?”

“Humanity? A soul?”

“Overrated.” Benny saunters toward me like the cock of the walk, eyes zoomed in on my breasts. “You gonna fight me?”

My hands lift up the back of my shirt, and I grasp my gun. “Hell yes.”

He steps in front of me, hand immediately snaking up the front of my shirt to grasp my breast. “Good. I like it—”

I bring my knee square into his groin. Twice. The rapist bastard doubles over with a groan, stumbles a step back, and I kick him in the stomach. He falls on the bloodstained bed as I swing the gun around, training it on him. I know what I have to do, it’s my plan after all, and staring down that waste of space amid the stains of torture, I really do feel nothing when I pull the trigger. Again. And again, literally blowing his brains out. Jason was right, it does get easier each time.

Running footsteps move closer out in the hall. A second later Rory opens the door. His mouth drops open. “What was that?” another man asks behind him.

Rory steps in and points his shotgun at me. “Drop your weapon,” he orders.

I obey and hold up my hands in surrender. Another man, then a third, the Italian stallion from the Inn, rushes into the room. “My name is Vivian Dahl, Alpha Frank Dahl’s daughter and mate to Jason Dahl. Take me to see Seth Conlon. He’s been looking for me.”

“Then too bad he’s dead,” one of the men says.

My throat closes up so I can barely squeak out, “What?”

“Took a shotgun to the head from one of your people,” Italian snarls.

Okay, not anticipating that. Not sure how to proceed. Once again Rory saves my bacon, stepping forward and grabbing my arm. “The new boss’ll probably want to see her anyway. She might be useful. Come on.” He yanks me toward the door. I pretend to struggle, but he shoves the shotgun barrel into my side. The others watch as he drags me into the hall toward the stairs.

“So, who’s your new Hitler?” I whisper.

“Never met him. This is the first I’m hearing this too,” he whispers as we descend the gore-covered staircase.

“Doesn’t matter. Just remember: open the gate, then the front door, then hide. I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. The cue is when I start singing.”

“Singing?” We pass two men lifting Troy’s body from the hallway floor as we walk toward my father’s office. A tall man holding an M-16 stands in front of the door. “This is Frank Dahl’s daughter.”

“Let them in,” a familiar voice says on the other side.

Of course. I am never wrong about a person.

Not a single part of me is surprised when we walk in and I come face to face with the mole, sitting at my father’s desk as if it’s always belonged to him. “Moved right in, I see.”

“It is technically my birthright now,” Tate says as he rises. He glances at Rory. “What happened, son?”

“I don’t know. She must have been hiding somewhere. Benny must have caught her, and she shot him.”

“Well, good job, son. I won’t forget this.”

“Thank you. Sir.”

“You may go,” Tate says, bowing his head reverently to his minion. Rory glances at me before releasing my arm and stepping out. I’m left with evil incarnate, who just grins. “Surprised?”

“Nope. I had you clocked as an asshole the moment you opened your mouth. Just didn’t realize how big a one. Killing your own mother, brother, friends for a house and money?”

“For power, princess. For my birthright. I am now the eldest living male heir of Bobby Conlon.”

“I assume it was you who killed Seth tonight. Shot him, blamed one of us because you couldn’t beat him in a fair fight?”

“There can be only one. Brains before brawn, right? Besides, he outlived his usefulness. Don’t need a front man now I’ve captured the castle.”

“Was it you from the beginning?” I ask with a sneer.

“More the middle. Seth got the ball rolling months before, rounding up rogues, making his own army, but the guy always was a fucking moron. He wanted to start an entirely new pack in this territory, rub Frank’s nose in it. What he forgot was many tried and all failed through the centuries. The Eastern Pack always put them down. He probably would have thought of a hostile takeover eventually but was shit scared of Frank. No fear is a top requirement of a true Alpha. That’s why Seth’d never make a good one.”

“That and you have to give a shit about people,” I say snidely.

“You obviously never met my grandfather,” he says with a scoff. “There was a reason he lasted until a ripe old age. First sign of trouble, say like him discovering his wife was carrying on for years with her cousin, he would have gone biblical on both their asses. Twice. Not like your daddy dearest.”

My eyes narrow. “You and Jenny?”

“On and off since we were kids. Only reason she seduced your father was to get back at me during an off period when I wouldn’t run away with her. Go rogue. Ended up with more than she bargained for, huh? Stuck with a man not her mate, who loved someone else too? The pack and its stupid rules. First cousins can’t breed, then there’s my idiot brother and that fat witch. I plan to make changes, that’s for sure,” he chuckles. The mirth drains from his face. “God, I loved that woman. Didn’t realize how much until we killed her.”

“You killed her?”

“It wasn’t part of the plan. In fact, it completely fucked up the plan. We were going to wait another month, shore up more recruits, but fucking Seth showed up at my house unannounced when she was there, and Jenny lost her shit. I tried to explain. There was no love lost between her and Frank, even told her I’d spare Matt, but maybe she did love old Frank because she threatened to rat. Seth whacked her with a fireplace poker, and there was no going back.”

“Why Matt and the others?”

“Clear a path for Seth, or that’s what he thought. I just hated the little shit. And Matt was a little shit, no question. Whiny, Weak. But he was the heir apparent, and everyone loved the little bitch. We tried to take out anyone who could challenge Seth and in turn me.”

“And me? Why drag me into this?”

“We didn’t. Jason, the imbecile, did. I wasn’t paying attention for a second, and the next thing I knew he was off to Los Angeles on his white horse. Out of everyone, he was the one person we truly had to neutralize. So when I found out where he was going, I knew it was right to you. No secrets in the pack, right? Frank worked so hard to keep you a secret but Jason couldn’t shut up about you, at least to me. So Seth sent Donovan and Cooper to intersect you because if we got you, we’d get him. Love, right? Nothing makes us more reckless and stupid.”

“So, now what? Kill us all? Your mother, brother, the children?”

“I’m not that cruel. No, this show of force should keep the survivors in line. If there’s even a hint of rebellion, they all know what I’m capable of now. Those who don’t toe the line will be put down. There are more of us than them. Just one more loose end to tie up, and look what God delivered to me,” he says, holding up his hands at me.

“He’s one of your best friends.”

“He’s in my way. Why the hell should I ever bow to him? Or Frank? They’re not pack. They’re not family, not really. Your father was just the asshole who knocked up my mate, who stood by as she made a cuckold of him for decades. And Jason? Just a rabid mongrel your father forced on us. They aren’t fit to lead an orchestra, let alone the greatest pack in America. The fact I was able to pull all this off under their noses proves that. I will bring this pack back to its former glory. Make us a force to be reckoned with. It’s a new dawn, princess.”

“You’re insane,” I say with a hard edge.

He gets right in my face so our noses touch and presses his pistol against my temple. I don’t flinch. “Maybe. But at least I’m gonna see a new day. Unlike some.”

Inside I’m about to pee my pants, but outside I just scowl. “You’re not gonna kill me.”

“I’m not? Do tell.”

“You’re not because you and I are gonna strike a little bargain. I give you what you want, Jason, and then you give me what I want, freedom. I want the fuck out of this house, this state, and for you to forget I ever existed. In return, I hand you the last piece of your megalomaniacal puzzle, who is, as I speak, probably eating one of your lackeys. You’re gonna look pretty shitty if he’s gone through half your men by your new dawn. We both know he’s capable of it, as we both know I’m probably the one person he’d throw caution to the wind to save.”

“And you’d set him up like that?”

I scoff. “Have you met me? Hell, I already warned him I would. He was a good fuck, but not that good. All this shit has nothing to do with me. It never did. I just want to go home. Live. Survive. If it’s come down to him or me … me. Plus, if I’m lying, you can always kill me. At least this way I have a chance that you won’t. You don’t need me after I deliver him. Let me go, one less body to explain away. You’re a smart guy. You know I’m right.”

“Or I could torture you until he comes,” Tate says with a cruel grin.

“My way saves time. Less clean up too. Win-win.”

He studies my face with narrowed eyes. I keep it a mask. Learned from the master after all. He holds all the cards here, and we both know it. I have to at least attempt this tactic to save myself from unneeded torture if possible. And it is possible. Tate lowers his gun. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Only one thing I know that sooths both savage beast and man alike: music. Get your men in position along the back windows with guns. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Vinnie!” Tate hollers, still not removing his gaze from me nor I him. The door opens and out of the corner of my eye I see the Italian step in. “Our five best shooters. In here and the living room with guns aimed at the backyard. Lights out too.”

“Yes, sir.” Vinnie departs with nary a glance for either of us.

“One false move, princess, and I blow your pretty head off.”

“Dictator less than an hour and already paranoid. Doesn’t bode well,” I say with a smile. “You need to cut me. He’ll smell the blood and follow it.” Right to you, asshole.

“Great minds think alike,” he says with a matching expression.

“There’s nothing great about either of us. We’re scum.”

“But living scum. Only the good die young, princess.”

Two men and Vinnie return a second later, all three holding huge guns, one with a scope. This could be a massive clusterfuck if everyone doesn’t act as I anticipated. “Lloyd, your knife,” Tate orders. The man with the scope pulls a Bowie out of its holster and hands it to Tate. “What do you think?” He caresses the blade across my cheek. “Your pretty face?” He traces the edge down my chin, my neck, to my chest. “Carve my name into you as a rem—”

With one quick move, I grab his hand with the knife, raise my free one, and cut across my palm. It stings like a bitch but the blood starts flowing. “Or we can stop playing games and get on with this.” I pat his bicep with my bleeding hand, leaving a stain on his shirt, before stepping away to the corner. I watch, bleeding into a tissue as the men prepare: shutting off lights, opening or breaking windows not already shattered to get into position. Oh God, please let this work.

“Get outside, princess,” Tate orders me. “Let him smell you.”

As I pass him, I flick more blood onto his shirt. “Sieg heil.”

There are three men in the living room preparing the same way. They don’t notice as I run my bleeding hand along the wall from office to the back patio door. I’m all out of breadcrumbs. It’s a muggy night, but all the adrenaline pumping through my veins chills me. My life in others’ hands. My wolves at the gate, the women in the cars, Rory, Deandra, Jason. I give myself a 5 percent chance of survival. Those men will either shoot me or a werewolf will rip my throat out by mistake. Yet, as I walk to the middle of the clearing to take center stage, I’m not as frightened as I imagined I would be. At least my death will mean something. I’ll be remembered. Revered. The story of this night, of my heroism, will be passed down through the pack for generations. I made a mark, a good mark on people’s lives. At last.

I stop in the middle of the clearing, making sure I’m downwind, and scan the tree line. He’s out there somewhere. I sense him. Watching. Waiting for the right moment to strike back. I hold open my bleeding hand and clear my throat. Time to bring him home. My turn to watch over him.

I open my mouth and begin our song with my whole soul behind it. The performance of a lifetime. The song I was always meant to sing. My voice echoes through the trees, haunting its emptiness until the crackling in the trees to my right begins accompanying me. I sing harder, louder as if he were right in front of me. The only man I think of with regret. The one who carries the key to my heart. And just as I reach the end of my song, there he is. The shepherd for this lost lamb takes one step out of the wilderness. The one to watch over me.

A man’s scream in the house stops my song dead. They were fast. Right now Adam, Mac, Reid, Devin, Pookie, and Claire—I hope—are all charging inside like wolf cruise missiles while Shante barrels behind in the RV to crush any assholes who flee outside. Too bad their best men are back here, huh? The gunshots begin almost immediately, some of which I hope come from Deandra springing out of the tunnel with the Uzi and mowing down the guards to free everyone from the cages. I drop to the ground to avoid any stray bullets.

Jason and another wolf with a limp and bloody neck sprint toward me. Jason reaches me first, stopping by my side for a moment with a whine. There are claw marks and bites all over his huge body, but he’s worried about me. “I’m fine.” I pet his bloody head with my good hand. “It was Tate. He did this. Now go take our pack back from the bastard.”

My mate growls, baring his teeth before starting toward our house with his ally limping in tow. He has to finish this. For Frank, for me, for Adam and Matt and everyone else. I’ve played my part, uniting the army with their leader. I watch with a tiny smile as he charges inside without a moment’s hesitation. Men’s wails of pain, gunshots, and snarling echo through the otherwise tranquil night. If I had a weapon I’d go in, fight alongside them, but I’m needed elsewhere. He’s got this. I pick myself up and dash to meet the others at the tunnel exit, all the while listening to the sweet music of retribution as my family reclaims our home, our pride, and our indivisibility. Live together or die alone. Know which one I’ve chosen.