It was the circle. It was trapping all sound inside it.
Connor quickly moved in that direction, intent on forcing his way through the circle to get to Kat. But he and his pack mates had barely taken more than a few steps before another disturbing sight caught their attention. Five members of Marko’s coven were standing around the circle, each with a wicked-looking knife in their hands, one near each of the kids they’d kidnapped.
Kids who were in some kind of magical trance, if the vacant look in their eyes was anything to go by, and probably had no idea what was about to happen to them.
It wasn’t that difficult to guess what they planned to do with those weapons.
And that they were going to do it right now.
Connor charged forward, heading toward Addy and the man reaching for her throat with his knife. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw Trevor and his other pack mates spreading out, knowing that every one of them would do anything necessary to save the other kids.
He was still ten feet from Addy and the man holding her, his gun trained on the bastard and ready to fire, when something slammed into him from the side. The impact was so sudden and violent, he thought for a second he’d been hit by a truck. He bounced and skidded across the clearing, slamming through two trees before thudding to a stop against a third.
Connor vaguely realized that his handgun had gone missing at some point during his tumble, but he didn’t have time to look for it before invisible fingers wrapped around his throat and jerked him to his feet. Before he knew what was happening, he was dangling a yard above the ground, struggling to breathe.
He partially shifted, fangs and claws coming out as he tried to fight a threat he couldn’t see. Then Tatum stepped in front of him, a broad smile on his face as he gazed up at Connor.
“Marko said you and your pack of mutts would show up,” Tatum said, making sure to stand out of kicking range of Connor’s boots. “I argued that you’d never be that stupid. Apparently, I was wrong. You werewolves really are that dumb.”
Connor did his best to ignore the man’s gloating, more concerned with breathing—and what was going on around them.
In the darkness behind Tatum, Connor could make out Rachel, Trevor, and Hale fighting to reach the five teens. They weren’t getting any closer, but at least they were keeping the witches and warlocks busy. If not for that, those kids would probably already be dead.
As for the rest of Marko’s coven, at least two of them were down and unmoving, but when Connor did a quick head count, he saw six of his teammates were missing.
Shit.
In the center of the protective circle, things were quickly going from bad to worse. Marko was kneeling at Kat’s side now, the knife in his hand gleaming in the glow of the nearby fire. He twisted the blade this way and that as he spoke to her. Like he was taunting her. Something told Connor that the ritual was moving toward its conclusion. And if the knife in Marko’s hand was any indication, that conclusion involved Kat’s blood.
Connor refused to give in, struggling hard against the magical force slowly choking the life from him. All the while, Tatum continued to make snide comments about how werewolves were supposed to be such badasses.
“I guess that’s merely another disappointing myth,” the warlock said.
Realizing that Connor wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying, Tatum followed the direction of his gaze, to where Kat was lying in the center of the circle at Marko’s mercy.
“Ah, that’s right,” Tatum murmured, turning back to Connor. “You and the witch have a thing for each other. I’m not even going to touch the wholecats and dogs not getting alongthing because that would be too easy. But even I can imagine how hard it is for you to have to watch the ritual, knowing that when it’s complete, the woman you love will be locked away in a cat’s body forever, a slave to Marko and the rest of our coven.”
Tatum was so busy gloating, he didn’t realize he’d been wandering closer and closer until Connor kicked out with his booted foot and caught the warlock with a glancing blow to the head. It wasn’t much of a strike, but it still opened a gash across Tatum’s temple. More importantly, it was enough to break the spell. Connor immediately fell to the ground, finally able to suck in a grateful breath of air.
The warlock dropped to his knees, too, but he didn’t stay there very long. With a curse, he shoved himself to his feet and charged at Connor, his face twisted with rage. The taunts and smiles were gone now as the warlock’s hands came up with flame writhing from his palms, flowing outward in the blink of an eye.
Connor took another gulp of fresh air and launched himself at Tatum, meeting the warlock halfway. As they clashed, Connor led with a punch, claws extended to rip the man apart. The thick material of Tatum’s cloak resisted for a moment, even as the flames in his hands flared up around both of them. Fire scorched Connor’s arms, neck, and face, but he ignored it, focusing on forcing his claws into the warlock’s gut.
He growled and dug deeper, tearing through the material and into the man’s stomach. Tatum let out a cry of pain, and the flames around them surged before finally disappearing as the warlock collapsed.
Connor didn’t wait for the man to hit the ground but instead took off running toward the protective circle and his mate. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Trevor and his other pack mates still struggling to reach the kids who were being held at knifepoint. None of the witches and warlocks seemed concerned there were werewolves all around them. Clearly, they didn’t consider the Pack a threat.
He sprinted toward the simmering wall of glowing green light separating him from Kat and Marko, intending to tear his way through it by pure force and momentum. He braced himself, expecting some level of resistance going through the wall, kind of like the way he’d had to fight his way through those thickets earlier.
He was wrong.
When he slammed into the dome of light, it felt like running into a brick wall. Something in his shoulder crunched, and the next thing Connor knew, he was lying on the ground, his head ringing and vision blurred from the impact against something that was clearly nothing like a wall of thickets.
Even as he shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs, Connor realized he was never going to get through that protective circle.
Not on his own.
A flash of movement caught his eye, and he looked over to see the witches and warlocks holding the teens hostage simultaneously lifting their knives for the killing blows.
