“Yeah.” O’Grady leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. “Strollin’ back like you owned the Goddamned place and suddenly everyone at Doyle’s is talking about you two. How you’ve now got connections with New York and the High Council. And how you were goin’ round, checking in on everyone, like some Goddamned Mother Teresa, and that fucking cunt Sloane by your side, the hometown hero who tookdown Ronan Forte. How both of you would make a great Alpha and Beta.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t have that.”
It clicked into place. “So, you shot Olivia.”
“Figured if your girl took a few bullets, you’d panic and run back to New York. And you did run, didn’t you? Just not the direction I expected.” O’Grady huffed. “I’ll admit, the diner thing didn’t go as planned. I didn’t know pregnant True Mates were bulletproof. That was a fun surprise.”
His wolf lunged forward, fully present for the first time in weeks, baring its teeth. He tamped it down.Not yet, he said. But soon.
“Anyway, it all worked out,” O’Grady continued. “You left Boston. The clan forgot about you. And now you’ve walked right into my office because Mickey dangled the one thing you were so desperate for.” He clapped Mickey on the shoulder. “Good job.”
“Told you he’d fall for it,” Mickey snorted. Danny nodded in agreement. “He’d been sniffing around here again, askin’ everyone about his old man.”
“It’ll make up for your screwing up in Kentucky,” O’Grady said, and Mickey winced visibly. “Still don’t know how that got botched when Eli here was practically a sittin’ duck. Anyway,” O’Grady stood. “Nothing personal, Eli. You’re just in the way. But soon—” The lights going out cut him off. “What the fu?—”
Someone screamed in pain. On instinct, Eli dropped to the floor. Just in time, it seemed, as a body flew over him and crashed into the desk. He heard the crack of bone, a grunt, and the heavy thud of a man hitting the ground.
In the dark, his Lycan vision adjusted and he saw a figure moving through the room with brutal efficiency, swift and striking from angles that his targets couldn’t anticipate. Two of the hired men went down in seconds. A third managed to fire his weapon, the muzzle flash lighting up the room for a split second, illuminating the face of the man who was doing the damage.
Garret McCall.
He moved through the office with the precision of a machine. There was no grace in his moves, no fancy techniques. He caught the shooter’s arm and snapped it down the middle without so much as a flinch. The fourth hired man tried to run and Garret grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the wall.
O’Grady scrambled for the back door just as the lights turned back on. Mickey and Danny were already gone, having bolted the moment the lights cut out. Before O’Grady could reach the door, it burst open from the other side. Jacob Martin came through first, hands already lit with fire. Trailing behind him were Sloane, Killian, and Cliff Forrest, who had to duck to get through the doorframe.
O’Grady froze, caught between Jacob’s fire and the carnage behind him.
“Sean O’Grady,” Killian said. “On the ground. Now.”
O’Grady’s gaze zeroed in on the fire, at Cliff, at the four unconscious men scattered across the floor, and slowly put his hands up. “I want to speak to the High Council. This is a Lycan matter. And I’ll need a lawyer.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right,” Killian said. “But for now, you’ll be seeing the inside of a cell.”
Cliff cuffed him while Sloane secured the room. When she was done, she touched her ear. “All clear. Thanks for the assist, Lizzie.” When her gaze landed on Eli, her face went slack and her lips trembled. “Oh God …” She rushed to him and pulled him to his feet, her arms wrapping him so tight, he lost circulation.
When she finally released him, she slapped him on the chest and cried, “You idiot! What the fuck were you thinking?”
He couldn’t answer. The adrenaline was draining from his body, replaced by pure relief that he was still alive. Seeing Sloane after all these months only compounded his shock. When he did manage to speak, the only thing he would say was, “How?”
Sloane jerked her head toward the corner of the room. Garret stood by the window, breathing hard. His knuckles were split open and blood ran down his forearms, though none of it appeared to be his. He lifted his head and his bright blue eyes found Eli’s.
“He came to us,” Sloane said. “Through Olivia.”
The sound of her name in his ears made his inner wolf perk up. He, on the other hand, had a very different reaction.Garret went to Olivia.“What did you do to her?” he growled at Garret.
“She’s fine,” Sloane assured him. “He found her on the street and told her everything. O’Grady’s plan, the ambush, where you’d be.” Sloane paused. “She called us right away.”
Eli looked at Garret. The hard, brutal face was the same, but there was an exhaustion behind that more than physical.
“Why did you go to her?” Eli said.
“She’s your mate.” Garret’s voice was rough. “I couldn’t take on O’Grady’s men alone. And you wouldn’t have listened to me.”
“You’re right about that.”
“I know.” Garret exhaled. “That and other things I should have known sooner.”
Killian stepped forward. “We need to talk. All of us.”
They moved outside away from the unconscious bodies and the wreckage of the office. The dock was empty, the water black and still. Cliff stayed inside to watch O’Grady and the others. Garret leaned against a shipping container, arms folded. The rest of them formed a loose semicircle.
