A knock comes to the front door, and Mom and Dad’s refusal to put a wall monitor in the main living area means I can’t see who it is without pulling up their security system on my phone. Which would take longer than it would to just go see who it is.
I shouldn’t be this on edge. They’d have to be let through the gate by the security staff, which means it’s either someone on the preapproved list — family and pack members — or it’s an expected contractor, which is something I’d be notified of.
But I trust the instinct. Letting my wolf rise to the surface, I grab a gun from the sofa table before heading to the door. Chambering a round, I double-check the safety before tucking it into my waistband behind my back.
“I got the door,” I call up the stairs to Mom, but I don’t hear an acknowledgment.
The front door is bulletproof, and I look out through the peephole, finding that the visitors fall on the list of ‘family and pack members.’
Charlie Murphy is standing midway down the walk, and James Kirk is climbing out of the driver’s side of the van.
They’re not anyone intimidating. A couple of lower-level members of the mob, they primarily do odd jobs like deliveries and security.
I walk barefoot out onto the frozen concrete, closing the door behind me.
“James, what’s going on?” I look past him at one of our work vans, normally used for odd jobs but not something I’d associate with him.
“We need you to come with us,” James says from where he leansagainst the side of the van. He’s disheveled, coat askew, and looks like he’s been up for days.
Why?My wolf snarls.
“To what end?” I press for information. “No offense, but you two aren’t exactly people I take orders from.”
“A job went bad. We need your help. We’ll explain on the way.” Charlie attempts to usher me toward the van.
He’s in rough shape too. In the years I’ve known him, he’s never grown a beard, but now? Days-old scruff is paired with dark circles under his eyes.
A wicked wind whips past them over to me, and I catch a sharp nose full of acidic fear.
I shake my head. “That’s not happening. I’m going nowhere.”
Charlie pulls a gun but holds it low at his side as if trying to conceal it. “Let me make it easy for you, Royal. There are two of us and one of you. You shoot me, James shoots you and then goes in the house and finishes off your mom. Betty will never hear the shots. She’s talking to Marge and Nancy because Derek and Alicia’s son Collin was killed last night in a hit-and-run. So they’re arranging the funeral. Means she won’t have time to pull a weapon. Does Betty shift fast in her old age? Faster than a bullet?”
He did not just talk about Mom that way.My wolf snarls and snaps his teeth.
But while he talks, I’ve been running through the scenarios, and he’s right. I’m a good shot, but I’m not Valor good. I’m not confident I can kill both of them and protect Mom. Shifting or not, these guys clearly have it thought out.
“Or, you can come with us, and Betty gets to live.” James pushes off the van and slides open the side door without even turning away from me.
Better chance at killing them both if we’re all in the van. Someone has to focus on driving.My wolf and I agree on the best course of action.
It takes everything in me to push my feet forward toward the van. As I step, Charlie tucks his gun back into his jacket. When I get close enough to him, he grabs hold of my arm and twists it backward. I try to fight him off, but he grabs my gun from the small of my back, and I know the sound of a safety being flicked off well enough to stop fighting.
“Don’t make me paralyze you. One bullet, you go down and you don’t get back up. Tech guys don’t need to walk in order to work.” He pushes the barrel of the gun into my spine. “Do as you’re told, and maybe when this is done, you get to live.”
“Get to live. Great,” I growl.
Mom will know I’m missing. She knows I wouldn’t leave without texting her. She’ll call Valor.
Or instead, we kill them before leaving the front gate?My wolf conspires.
Need information. Why are they doing this?I argue with him as I’m shoved toward the van.
As I approach, the scent of stale cigarette smoke permeates the cold winter air. I choke on it and cough as I’m thrust through the van door. My knees slam against the metal floor when I fall forward. Catching myself with one hand, I try to sit upright and move toward the side of the van, but something whacks me on the back of my shoulders and neck.
Fairly certain it’s the butt of my own fucking gun.
I collapse, and both arms are pulled behind my back. Instinct has me fighting back as Charlie scrambles into the van on top of me, pinning me down.
