My muscles locked, my back arched, and a roar tore from my throat—half man, half bear—as the device targeted something fundamental in my paranormal biology.
Behind me, I heard similar cries of agony from my shifter employees. The device wasn't just aimed at me—it was affecting anyone with supernatural abilities in its range.
I fought against the pain, trying to push myself upright through sheer force of will. My vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges, but I refused to surrender. Mishka was still upstairs, still counting on me, still in danger.
Denton circled around the bar, looking down at me with undisguised triumph as I struggled against the invisible force pinning me down.
"Impressive," he said, adjusting a dial on the device. The pain intensified, driving me further toward the floor. "O'Rourke said you'd be difficult to subdue. That's why he had this little beauty designed specially."
I managed to get one knee under me, my entire body trembling with the effort. "I will kill you for this," I promised, each word torn from my throat like broken glass.
He laughed, the sound grating against my heightened senses. "Big talk from someone who can't even stand up." He kicked me hard in the ribs, and normally I would have barely felt it, but with my defenses compromised by the device, pain exploded through my side.
Through the haze of agony, I saw that most of my men were down, some unconscious, others like me—struggling against the debilitating effects of the device.
Yuri alone remained on his feet, fighting through the pain as he grappled with one of the fake officers.
I tried to call out to him, to warn him, but my voice failed me as Denton increased the power on the device again.
My arms gave out. I collapsed fully to the floor, my cheek pressed against the cool hardwood now slick with spilled drinks and blood. The elegant restaurant I'd built, the territory I'd claimed and defended for decades, had become a battlefield I was losing.
"Don't worry," Denton said, crouching beside me. "We're not here to kill you. Not yet anyway. O'Rourke wants to talk business."
I snarled, or tried to. My body no longer responded to my commands.
From somewhere behind me came another surge of energy, a secondary pulse that hit like a hammer blow to the base of my skull. My vision swam, darkness rushing in faster now.
"That should keep the bear sedated," someone said, the voice distant and distorted.
Rough hands grabbed my arms, dragging my massive body across the floor. I fought to remain conscious, to summon even a fraction of my supernatural strength, but it was like trying to hold smoke.
The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Denton's triumphant face looming over me, his scar livid against his pale skin. He leaned close, his breath hot against my ear as consciousness slipped away.
"O'Rourke sends his regards," he sneered as my vision faded to black.
My final thought before the darkness swallowed me wasn't of my own fate, but of Mishka—alone in the panic room, watching this defeat on the monitors. I had promised to protect him, and I had failed.
I hoped he would have the sense to stay hidden.
I hoped Yuri would find a way to reach him.
I hoped O'Rourke would be satisfied with capturing me and leave without searching further.
Too many hopes, and not enough certainty, as I felt myself being dragged away from my territory, my restaurant, my home.
Away from Mishka.
The bear within me raged against the darkness, but for the first time in my century of life, I couldn't fight my way back to the surface. The specialized weapon had done what countless enemies had failed to do over decades.
It had rendered me helpless.
Chapter Eleven
~ Mishka ~
I couldn't breathe as I watched them drag Nicolai's unconscious body across the restaurant floor, his massive frame limp as a discarded doll. The security monitors cast a cold blue glow across my face, illuminating the nightmare unfolding before me.
This was my fault, all of it. I'd brought O'Rourke's men here, and now the man who'd protected me was paying the price.
