He pushed off the counter, sauntering toward Jaime. “But then you showed up at her house that night, and it fucked everything up. We decided to hold off on the rest of the plan until things died down after her murder, but then the neighbors found that security camera footage and they arrested me. And I will not spend the rest of my life in prison because of one insignificant mistake. You’ll not be the reason I rot in there. So, here we are.”
Jaime felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t put it all together right now, couldn’t follow the thread of a thought through the clawing panic that Finn was just outside, hurt.
His voice was hoarse when he asked, “If you’re just here to kill me, then why haven’t you, yet? Why wait and draw this out, why tell me all of this?”
Bishop grinned, and it was the most horrible thing Jaime had ever seen. “I wanted you to know how insignificant you were before you died. That it had never been about you. You were just a means to an end, even now. And as for why I haven’t killed you yet… I know your mutt mate will fight the bindings.”
At Jaime’s surprised look, he continued, “You both reek of the mating bond. I know he will get free eventually, and he will fight harder from sensing that you’re still alive. Still afraid. It will give him a sense of hope, before I crush him.”
The look Jaime was giving him must have been suitably horrified, because he gleefully went on. “I am going to kill you, but we need to break the mutt. He’s the best collateral we have against the Silver Rapids alpha since he doesn’t have a mate of his own, but his Second won’t do what we want until we’ve fully destroyed his spirit.”
He scraped his claws along the countertop. “So, we wait until he shows up, desperate to save you, and then I’ll rip your guts out right in front of him. Just like I did to her.”
Jaime’s face hardened. Judging by the slightly put out look on Bishop’s face, it wasn’t the reaction he was looking for. He wanted the fearful human he’d shoved in a closet last year. The helpless, confused man who sat trembling on the sofa while someone threatened to take away his life, threatened to break his mate’s spirit. He’d clearly expected Jaime to cower, to beg in fear.
His mistake.
Jaime smiled, and it was almost the snarl that he’d seen on Finn’s face that day in the truck, when they had found the Salt Creek wolves prowling around his house.
“I don’t think you will.”
Bishop raised an eyebrow, “You don’t think I will?”
Jaime held up the phone he’d tucked into the folds of the blanket wrapped hastily around his waist after Bishop threw him on the couch. He’d hidden the three taps it took to call Silas as embarrassment, the poor human trembling to cover himself.
“Silas, how much of that did you hear?”
“All of it.” His voice was a deep, earth-shaking growl. Jaime had never heard anything like it before.
Bishop looked frazzled, caught off guard. Still, he chuckled. “You think I give a fuck if that cast-off heard what I said? A phone call isn’t going to save you. He’s four hours away in Silver Rapids, too far to help you now.”
Jaime shifted back as Bishop moved toward him. “That may be true, but my mate isn’t.”
Finn burst through the door, splintering it to pieces as he took one giant leap, propelled by the corded muscle bunching in all four legs, claws and teeth slicing for Bishop. He barely had time to turn and shift before Finn was on him, jaws clamped tightly around Bishop’s throat as he shook and ripped.
Jaime threw himself toward the staircase, scrambling up and out of the way of the two giant wolves as they tumbled and snarled, slamming into furniture and shaking the cabin with their heft.
But, to Jaime’s overwhelming relief, it really wasn’t much of a fight at all.
Maybe if Bishop hadn’t been caught off guard, if he hadn’t been distracted by Jaime’s antics with the phone, it would have been more evenly matched. Or maybe Finn’s training in the military gave him the upper hand. Or maybe Finn was just more motivated, with his mate’s life at stake to fuel his rage and power.
Whatever the reason, it was quick.
No sooner had Jaime reached the loft and looked back down did he see Finn tear Bishop’s throat to ribbons, his claws anchoring the other wolf down, pinning him.
He didn’t stop there, though. Jaime could see the muscle and viscera around Bishop’s throat trying to heal itself even as Finn continued to tear.
And now Jaime understood how Vera could have looked so destroyed after only a few seconds of being alone in the hallway. He knew now, the damage these wolves would be able to inflicton his fragile human body. How close to death he’d been, alone in this cabin with Bishop while he’d baited and distracted him, praying it would buy enough time for Finn to free himself from his bindings.
Jaime watched as Finn placed one giant paw on Bishop’s head, claws digging in. He listened to the guttural sound of the trapped wolf as Finn dove in one final time, shredding his neck and yanking with his paw at the same time. He saw Bishop’s head roll, separated from his body.
He watched as Finn panted and growled down at the dead wolf, waiting—making sure he was really dead.
On shaky legs that he couldn’t feel, Jaime stood and slowly made his way downstairs. Stepping over the splintered coffee table, making sure not to cut his feet on the jagged pieces of wood, he moved to where Finn crouched, hovering over Bishop’s body still in wolf form.
Standing where Finn would be able to see him, scent him, Jaime placed a hand on his flank.
Big, brown eyes, darker and wilder than he’d ever seen them, focused on him. Took him in. Jaime caught the moment that Finn was looking back at him again. Or, more of Finn, and less of the wolf inside.
