Fuck it, one more won’t hurt, just to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.
If he dies, he dies.
If he lives, this motherfucker is in for a long night.
When Jameson slumps in his seat, I open the car door and cradle Aurora in my arms. Blood soaks her face, and her pants still sit around her thighs. Jameson will pay for what he’s done to her.
There aren’t any keys in Aurora’s pockets, so when I get to the house, I kick in the door and walk straight into a pissed-off hellhound convinced I’m the enemy.
“What the fuck did you do to her, you old bastard?” Louie growls as she takes in my near-naked body. Then her gaze shifts to an unconscious Aurora, her jeans shoved halfway down her legs, and blood drying over every inch of her skin.
My deep, steadying breath does little to push my disdain for the hellhound out of the way, but Aurora’s safety is our top priority.
“Louie, enough.” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. “We’ll talk later about why you didn’t use your hellfire on the door. Right now, Jameson’s unconscious in the truck, and time’srunning out. I need to get her inside and make sure she’s stable. I need you to stay with her. Watch her. Can you do that?”
Her eyes narrow, clearly deciding if she should tear my throat out now or wait until Aurora is safe.
“He’s no ordinary man. He’s a hunter for the Disciples of Humanity’s Light. He knows about Aurora.”
I pause, letting the weight of that settle between us.
“So do I. Which means others do, too.”
My voice tightens before I can stop it.
“Let me in, Louie. Let me help her. Then I’ll deal with him.”
“Shit, I knew something was off about him when he walked through the door. He wasn’t right … and I let her go …”
The hellhound whines as I gently lay Aurora down on her couch, cover her with a blanket, then run my fingers over her sticky, blood-stained cheek.
“We can decide who’s to blame later, Louie.”
My voice is unreasonably calm, considering the rage threatening to rip my chest in half.
I begin checking her for injuries. Nothing too invasive, just enough to confirm she’s stable. Louie growls under her breath, pacing in tight circles.
“If you had hands,” I murmur, brushing Aurora’s side with gentle pressure, “you could do this part. But, alas … paws.”
Louie snarls. I don’t look up.
“Yes, yes. Fangs. Fury. I’m shaking.”
I find no broken ribs. No new wounds beneath the dried blood. Just her slow, shallow breaths. It’s enough for now.
“I need you to watch her,” I say, finally meeting Louie’s mismatched gaze. “I need to know she’s safe so I can focus my energy on making Jameson hurt. Can you do that for me?”
“Is she going to be okay?” Louie asks softly, curling up beside her mistress.
“Honestly? I don’t know. But we have a tough conversation ahead of us. One that she will most likely reject outright. It seems she hasn’t gained her power yet, so convincing Aurora of her lineage will prove … complicated.”
I glance down at the hound. “Still … between my shadowed composition and her dog suddenly speaking, she might be more open to the idea. I’ll be back as soon as I’m finished.”
Louie whimpers as she presses her head to Aurora’s chest, canine eyes heavy with guilt.
She blames herself.
But I was here earlier. And I ignored every instinct that told me Jameson meant to harm her, too.
