“We don’t need to get into the details right now . . .”
“The fuck’s wrong with you, bringing up your club at a time like this? Vessa could be locked up in this prick’s basement.”
“I know.” Dom tosses his phone to the side, clutching his fists. That there tells me a third person wants in on this argument. Is waging war in his head. “I’m sorry this happened. Really, I am. But once we get her back, I’m done, Axe.”
“If you desert Bleeding Sun, you know how that will reflect upon us. What you’ll be branded as.”
Arogue.
My temper surges, grip tightening as we approach the main road. He can’t be serious. After everything Demi and I have done to defend him? After everything has been handed to him his entire life?
“I have never been like you,” he snaps. “I have no desire to lead. Or to kill. This pack is plagued with wrath and ceaseless violence. I want out, before it ruins me. Why is that still so hard for you to get through your thick skull?”
“Because I can’t believe my own flesh and blood would be soblatantlyselfish.” I shake my head. “If you recall, I didn’t want jack shit to do with the Alpha title. That was Demi’s dream. Not mine. But when it fell to me, I took the vows, not only because it was my duty, but because I swore to Father as he bled out that I would do whatever necessary to hold this family together.”
Dom’s throat is taut as he swallows, angling himself towards the passenger window. Misty droplets begin to gather along the windshield. Trees grow taller as the road curves, giving way to a mountainous ascent.
I accelerate up the hill, which soon reveals an industrial ranch-style home, tucked within a clearing of birches that might as well be skyscrapers. All window blinds are shut tightly. Two sedans are parked in his driveway.
Dom cranes his neck, widening his nostrils. He can’t unbuckle fast enough in the passenger seat as I park behind the second vehicle, having come to the same conclusion as me—no lycan scent is here, nor has anyone been recently.
Something’s off.
“See if you can jingle open the front door,” I say lowly. “I’ll loop around back.”
He nods, reaching for the revolver in the center console. I draw my own weapon, watching him take off before I slip between the trees to avoid detection. Once I’ve scanned the south side, I dart out, making for the back patio entry. The security camera has been blown off the awning, dangling like a noose. Beneath it, the door’s glass panel has been punched through. I swing the door open and face a sprawling kitchen, scenting that Dom has also found his way inside. Keeping my gun poised in front of me, I step lightly around the corner.
The house has been torn apart in a frenzy.
Dom bends over to retrieve a small metal sphere by the fireplace. Scrunching his brows, he hands it over. It’s a gas bomb with a metallic band that turns ice blue when activated. I know this prototype—developed by a former member of my pack, intended to knock lycans unconscious and dilute the trace of their scent.
Stuffing the device into my pocket, I look over my shoulder. Working in tandem, we clear the rest of the first level and the attack before searching for an entrance to the basement, where the laboratory resides.
The basement door is through the laundry room. I kick it open, rushing down the dark steps. The overhead light flickersover a long table where his computer monitors would normally be. But even here, the room reflects the aftermath of a raging cyclone. Racks of test tubes have been knocked to the floor, shattered glass covering the entire floor like ice. Papers thrown everywhere, chairs and stools overturned.
I fall to my knees, attempting to sort through the documents littered all around me. Dom and I scan them frantically, scratching our heads at the all the analytic jargon. Nothing contains information concerning Vessa or the samples Preston took from her. But in the corner, a purple stuffed giraffe has been discarded, patches of soft synthetic fur tainted by dried blood. I bring it to my nostrils, summoning my augment. When my eyes close, I’m immediately bombarded by a women’s last conscious moments before a fist comes down over her. Her mate thrashing against an armed stranger. A child sobbing hysterically for her mother.
Preston’s experiment has been seized along with his family.
Pivoting towards the staircase, I tuck the stuffed animal under my arm, only to freeze at an agonizing stab in my chest.
It’s Vessa.
No! my wolf shrieks.What have they done?!
Vessa
Drifting in and out of blackness, I start to wonder if I’ve been shoved down a well.
Someone whispers my name. Shifting on my stiff cot, my thighs moan in protest. My lids blink until my vision is wiped clean. I’m met with the appalling image of my legs, ghastlybeaten. Bruises from the ropes set in overnight, dotting all over my limbs.
Esmé scans the hallway to make certain that no guards are in listening distance. Once all is clear, the witch presses her face against the cage.
"They have my mate,” she breathes. “That's how they drew me in. As soon as they finish testing your blood, they'll kill us.”
Holy gods. “Where is he?"
"Upstairs. With the highly guarded lycan prisoners. They’re used as leverage. Preston’s family is being held, too. The little girl named Emilia . . . she’s his daughter."
