“What?”
“Oh, yeah,” Chance said in amusement. “Little sister is a damn sharpshooter. She took out all those men in the yard with a rifle.”
“No shit?”
“She’s got nothin’ on Lucy, though.” Chance laughed darkly.
“What do you mean?” Our oldest brother’s mate was fierce, but not especially intimidating.
Rosemary pointed to the right, and I slowed to take the turn.
“She took out almost as many with a pistol in the front room,” Chance said. “We found her unconscious on top of a guy twice her size. She took him out right before she passed the fuck out from blood loss.”
“Gods,” I breathed.
“Snapped his neck.”
“What?” I barked incredulously.
“Moral of the story—don’t fuck with Lucy.” Chance hummed. “Or Charlie.”
I huffed in agreement. Ambrose’s mate Lucy was Charlie’s sister. It was unheard of that Vampires in the same family mated a pair of siblings, but when we’d gone searching for Zeke’s mate, Charlie, Ambrose had taken one look at Lucy and known instantly. In a twisted way, it made sense. The Gods had known that one of the Franklin siblings could never live forever withoutthe other. Charlie would never survive immortality without his sister by his side.
“All good here,” Chance said. “Mostly. Take care of your shit. I just wanted to check in.”
“Appreciate it.”
“You weren’t even thinking of your poor family, were you?” my brother accused, laughter in his voice. “Mating heat strikes again.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m just fucking with you. We’re good, Danny boy. Let us know that you’re not dead when you come up for air.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
“Love you too,” I muttered under my breath, dropping my phone on the dash.
“Everything okay?” Rosemary asked as we made our way through the woods. We were in the middle of nowhere.
“Everyone’s accounted for,” I replied.
“That’s good.”
“No questions?” I pressed. “You’re not curious what the hell you stepped into?”
Rosemary pressed her lips together and seemed to straighten.
“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, keeping my tone as light as I could make it.
“Turn right at this driveway,” she said instead of answering the question.
The long gravel road was pitted with holes, and I had to slow to a crawl as we jerked and jostled from side to side. At the end was a small house, more of a cabin, really. Almost every window was lit.
The hair on my neck prickled as I parked out front and followed Rosemary out of the car. Something wasn’t right.
“Come on in,” she griped as I followed her up the steps to the small porch. She threw open the front door and called out, “I’m home!”
My hand had already reached for the pistol at the small of my back when the sound of scrambling paws reached us. Following closely behind was the sound of wheels squeaking across the floor.
I dropped my arm as an old gray bulldog came running into the room, his tongue hanging so far out of his mouth it nearly reached the hardwood.
