Max yelped as he hit the floor, his eyes flying open to the sight of a bullet wound in Maurice’s head, his eyes and mouth open in shock.
“Fuck. Oh fuck,” he gasped. The binding magic on him fizzled and died and he was finally able to move again. He scrambled away from Maurice until his back hit a sofa. He pulled his legs up, tearing his eyes away from the blood pooling beneath Maurice to the window with a hole in it.
Maurice was dead. Someone shot him. Or had the bullet been meant for him?
A hysterical laugh bubbled out of him, quickly turning to a shriek as something exploded with enough force to rattle the windows. The already-broken pane shook loose and shattered across the floor.
He clamped a hand over his mouth and scrambled farther towards a corner. He might be free from Maurice, but he was still bound to the other man. Caius’ uncle? How far would he have to run to break it? If he could find Rían, he knew he’d be safe, but as far as he knew, Rían was halfway around the world.
A soft squeak caught his attention, and he looked up in time for Aradia to fly into his face.
His manic laughs turned to sobs as he latched on to her, burying his face in silky fur. “How did you find me?”
When she chirped, he had the distinct impression she was calling him a dumbass, but he didn’t care.
“Is Caius here?” he asked, hope blossoming in his chest for all of a few seconds before panic took over. “Where is he? He’s gonna get killed!”
Aradia squeaked and lifted into the air, flying for the door and circling in front of it until he opened it. Then she took off down the hall, leaving him to follow.
Chapter 22
QUINN SLIPPEDthrough the garage without encountering anyone. He didn’t know much about Caius’ old pack or their new alpha, but kidnapping a member of another pack was the kind of shit that made humans call them wild animals. Worse, he smelled more than one mage and Savino’s people.
The door leading in next to the kitchen was unlocked, so he let himself inside. He caught the scents of a dozen shifters and Max, but no one was in the kitchen. He didn’t see a single soul until he ran into one coming out of the bathroom.
“Jesus fuck,” he hissed, pulling his arm up short of stabbing the kid in the neck. “How old are you?”
The kid threw his arms up, his eyes wide enough Quinn was sure he would have pissed himself if he hadn’t already emptied his bladder. “S-sixteen.”
“Great. Who the fuck brings kids to an abduction?” he muttered. He shoved his dagger into its sheath. “Sorry, but I’m going to choke you out now. You’ll wake up in a few minutes, promise.” The whimper nearly killed him, but he didn’t have time to spare to soothe feelings.
He grabbed the kid before he could try to run, spun him, and put him into a choke hold. “Stay hidden until someone comes looking for you,” he said before squeezing. He counted to twenty before letting go and carefully dragging the limp body into the bedroom across the hall. Once the kid was on the bed, he pulled the door shut and went back to the bathroom.
He ignored the mold or mildew on the walls as he dug through the cabinets and under the cracked sink until he found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bottle of nail polish remover. That would do for a distraction.
Back in the kitchen, he grabbed a bowl, set it in the microwave, and filled it almost completely with hydrogen peroxide before adding a generous amount of acetone. Then he struggled to close the broken door, set the timer for five minutes on the highest setting, and ducked into the garage as it started counting down.
He crouched on the other side of an old, battered Volkswagen and couldn’t help but wonder whose house this was since he was about to destroy their kitchen.
As planned, the microwave blew up with a resounding bang. He couldn’t stop the grin and wished he could have watched it, but there were more important things to focus on. Like finding Max.
He slipped back inside.
Two more kids were arguing near the kitchen over who blew up the microwave, and he left them to it, moving deeper into the house and following his nose down a long hallway. He didn’t get far before Aradia narrowly avoided flying into his face, and then Max crashed into his chest.
“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling Max closer with a rush of relief. Then he pushed him back to look him over. “You’re okay? Are you hurt?”
Max fisted Quinn’s shirt with both hands. “I’m fine. Where’s Caius?” He didn’t smell fine, but he wasn’t bleeding out.
“Starting fights, most likely,” Quinn said, glancing past Max to make sure there were no threats before focusing on Aradia. “Why do you smell like Lukas?”
She chirped and Max startled, spinning to look behind him before staring at Quinn with a look and scent of shock. “I think he was the one who killed Maurice.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t one to check a miracle pup for fleas, so he urged Max away from the room with the apparent dead guy. “Let’s go find the Cap.”
“Colonel,” Max murmured.
“Yeah, yeah. Stay behind me,” he said, reaching the end of the hall and putting himself in front of Max. There was still arguing from the kitchen, so he followed the sound of wolves fighting from the den.
