Cass pulls Ken's head back and slams it forward, one last time. The sound is final, a sickening crack of bone against concrete that echoes in the sudden silence of the field. Ken's body goes completely limp, a puppet with its strings cut, and slumps to the dusty ground in a heap of bloody, broken flesh.
Cass stands over him, his chest heaving, and his face spattered with Ken's blood. He looks down at the body, then at his own hands, and then over at me. His eyes are clear, the rage gone, replaced with pure relief.
“I’m kind of hard right now,” I smirk at my alpha.
A surprised laugh bursts from Cass's chest, a rough, rusty sound that seems out of place in the quiet field. But it cuts off abruptly, his eyes going wide as he looks past me, toward the house. I turn, following his gaze, and then I see him.
Daniel.
He’s standing on the front step, his hands hanging loose at his sides, watching us with an unreadable expression. Then he moves toward us.
Daniel walks slowly at first, his brows pulled together in confusion as he stares at Ken.
Then something shifts, and his pace quickens.
Before I know it, the older alpha is running straight for us.
I move instantly, angling my body between him and Cass, feet planting wide as I drop into a fighting stance. Every muscle in me tightens, ready to intercept, to put Daniel on the ground if I have to. My focus locks on his shoulders, his hands, the line of his jaw.
But Daniel doesn’t even look at me.
In fact, he arcs around me in a wide circle, giving me space on purpose, like he doesn’t want a fight with me at all. His path bends cleanly, cutting straight past my guard and zeroing in on one target only.
Ken.
Daniel crouches in front of the bloody alpha, movements precise and unsettlingly calm. He tilts Ken’s head with two fingers, studies the damage. He presses a thumb into Ken’s cheek, watches the slack flesh give, then slides his fingers to Ken’s neck.
I don’t lower my guard for a second.
My fists stay ready, eyes flicking between Daniel and Cass.
Cass is breathing hard now, weight sunk into his cane, jaw clenched like he’s sheer willpower holding himself upright. One word from him and I’ll end Daniel, too.
Then Daniel straightens, and he slowly turns to face us. His dark eyes slide from Cass to me, then back again, before he finally says, “I know where we can hide the body.”
His words take too long for me to process.
“What?” I ask.I must have heard him wrong.
“But we need to hurry,” Daniel says, ignoring my question.
The field seems to hold its breath.
I stare at him, every muscle in my body screamingthreat, then cut a look at Cass, searching his face for the call. For an order. For anything. But Cass doesn’t answer right away. He stares at Daniel, eyes sharp and assessing, chest still rising and falling too fast.
For a long moment, no one moves.
Then Cass looks at me and gives a single, sharp nod.
Permission.
“Where are we taking him?” I shift, stepping up next to Ken’s body.
“There’s a covered well along the back of the property,” Daniel says. He bends and picks up one of Ken’s shoes. “It hasn’t been used in decades.”
I bend, hook my arms under Ken’s weight, and haul him up in one smooth motion. He’s heavier than he looks. Dead weight always is. His torso slumps forward as I sling him over my shoulder, his head lolling back, blood smearing against my shirt.
Cass falls inline beside me as we follow Daniel.
