Page 89 of Logan’s Acadian Wolves

“And I must say that my theory proved correct. Your blood cures the very virus that afflicts the hybrid. But I still do have one small problem. I’ve been working on it, of course, and am so very close, but I need to be able to transfer the virus to a pure wolf. For whatever reason, the random mutation isn’t strong enough to transfer. And that my darling is why I need you.”

“Me? My blood?” Wynter whispered.

“Well, of course we need your blood. And lots of it. But I need your mind, darling. With you at my side, doing research, we can make history together,” he explained, taking a seat.

“Are you crazy? I told you I don’t know anything. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she snapped.

Étienne growled. Snagging Wynter by the arms, he hoisted her so far off the floor her toes scraped the boards. He held her at eye level, mere inches from his face. “You will do this. Or have you forgotten what used to happen when you refused? Perhaps you need a refresher,” he sneered, baring his fangs. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited. I won’t be denied.”

Without another word, Étienne pulled Wynter against his body and sliced his teeth into her neck.

Blinding, searing white hot pain speared down into Wynter’s body. Not only had he taken her blood, it felt as if he’d stolen the very essence of her vitality. Optimism. Hope. Love. It had all been siphoned away by the monster draining her life force. Her pale lips parted in a silent scream yet the sound was lost in her chest. Wynter squeezed her eyes tight, her fingers digging into his arms in a futile effort to dislodge him. Like a rag doll hung on a hook, she could not shake free. The noose tightened around her neck, and she fought for air. Cloaked in evil, she prayed to God to take her soul.

Fiona whacked a chair over Étienne’s back, causing him to release Wynter. As he raised a hand to strike Fiona, she held a sharp shard of wood to his back.

“You fool,” she accused. “We need her blood for testing, for the antidote, and you can’t control yourself for five fucking minutes. This is why you need me. You’ve got no discipline.”

As if scolded by his mother, Étienne stepped away from them both and lowered his head. “But of course, Mistress. My apologies. She tempts me so.”

“Touch her again and I’ll stake you and that monstrosity you’ve created. Do you think I need you? This…all of this,” she continued, looking around the room as if talking about a magical place, “is my doing. I found you, not the other way around. I came up with this plan, not you. And you are not going to fuck it up, do you hear me? Now stop screwing around with her, get her to the computer. We’ve got maybe three hours before Logan tracks us down, and I want to get out of here.”

“Your blood, Dr. Ryan. So wild and pungent.” Étienne glanced to Wynter who lay sobbing on the floor. “I do think that genetic modification upped your platelet count, because I feel energized.”

“Would you stop pontificating and get her working?” Fiona implored.

“Get up,” Étienne coerced, yanking Wynter by her arm. He dragged her across the floor to a small table, picked her up and righted her in the chair. Noticing her neck was still bleeding, he stole a glance at Fiona before dragging his tongue over the wound. He licked his lips. “See, I’m quite in control now.”

“If you drink from her while I’m gone, you’re dead,” Fiona warned. “Keep it up and I’ll leave you out here by yourself. Logan and the pack will tear you apart, do you understand? I’m the only one who knows how to get out of here. Get the data and then we’re leaving.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Étienne capitulated. He gave Wynter a slap to her face and flipped open a laptop. “Wake up, scientifique. Time to work. Whatever you’ve worked on this past week, I want the information recorded now. Blood to virus ratios for the cure, viral portability, everything. The Mistress won’t allow me another taste of your delectable blood but she didn’t say anything about torture.”

“That’s better. You’re a good boy,” Fiona praised. She reached up to smooth over Étienne’s hair. “Now, I have to go outside to check the boat. And Phillip too. I’ll untie him now.”

Satisfied with his obedience, Fiona smiled to herself. As the door to the cabin slammed behind her, she eyed Phillip, Étienne’s child, who sat tied to a cypress tree, the silver cord bound around his neck so tightly that he could no longer speak. The acrid odor of burnt flesh lingered in the air. She smiled, picking a few splinters from the fragmented stake she’d created from the broken chair. Phillip’s wide-eyed stare bled red streaks down his face. Fiona knelt before him, careful not to soil her skirt.

Phillip had served his purpose on the boat. Pity that he had to die, considering his spectacular performance. As Fiona had suspected, Wynter had bought their orchestrated farce hook, line and sinker. Of course the woman on the deck had been dead. Thankfully, Phillip had left enough blood dripping to make it look believable. Like a well-honed speaker, he’d given his oration and convinced Wynter to give herself up to save Fiona. Bleeding-hearted humans. Fiona had seen the look of guilt plastered across Wynter’s face at the funeral. Logan, on the other hand, was about to leave her. As suspected, he’d choose his mate over her, a purebred wolf; all the more reason why he shouldn’t be Alpha.

But she’d never be Alpha of Acadian Wolves as long as the ancient ways ruled pack law. She wasn’t strong enough to challenge most females, let alone a male. Even her father, a virile male, hadn’t been able to subjugate Marcel. Death had been his sentence for the challenge. Her plan had merely started out as revenge for her father’s death. Convincing Calvin, Marcel’s beta, that he was deserving of Alpha took little effort. Stroking his ego, planting the seed of his dream to rule the Acadian pack was ridiculously easy. She could have easily played alpha female to Calvin. But no, no, no. Unexpectedly, Logan had intervened, killing Calvin, and her only chance of ruling the pack.

Despite the mishap, her alternate plan, dominating the vampire, turned out to be quite ingenious. She’d met Étienne years before, allowing him to fuck and feed from her. When he’d told her of the story of the sick wolf, her idea struck like lightning. If she could control the virus and the antidote, she’d control the pack. Étienne, tired of being Kade’s lackey, sought the same goal: power. He fancied himself a scientist of great aptitude and aspired to be known throughout history. She played up his fantasy, all the while directing his actions.

Her only mistake had been relying on Étienne to isolate the virus, to turn it into a weapon. Even Wynter had failed to produce the virus in a way it could be injected, swallowed or otherwise used to infect another wolf. But this minor setback didn’t deter Fiona. As she’d pored through the volumes of genetic and viral research, she believed it was just a matter of time before a researcher made the discovery. No longer convinced that person was Wynter, she planned to kill her after they got the information she’d gleaned about the antidote. They’d drain Wynter, taking her blood for future research.

Étienne’s fascination with the girl had grown dangerous. There was no way Fiona could leave the wolf alive. Logan would never stop searching for his mate. Even if he didn’t go after them, dragging Wynter through the swamp wasn’t an option. A timely escape was paramount. Afterwards, they’d bide their time, review the data, acquire a new scientist and weaponize the virus. Once she had it ready, she’d attack Logan. Then she’d return to take over the pack.

Lost in her thoughts, she eyed Phillip with faux sympathy. Deep in her chest, she tried to conjure empathy but it didn’t come. She knew she should care about his fate, but she simply didn’t. Apathy had been the beauty of her strategic plan. All of the killing, and she felt no regret. She supposed the closest she’d felt to guilt was when she’d ordered Dana’s death. At the funeral, she’d been a terrific actress, all the while unable to feel anything at all. It had been necessary to kill her. She couldn’t have allowed her hybrid half-sister to reveal the results from Wynter’s blood tests.

Over the past week, she’d made Étienne kill every single one of the vampires he’d created. She scoffed as the bound bloodsucker whimpered at her feet. Poor Étienne, the fool that he was, believed that he could bring the pink-shirted vampire with them. Of all the children he’d recklessly created, she supposed Phillip had been the most useful one of the bunch. Thankfully, Étienne had believed her lie that he could keep his treasured creature. He would have fought her on the decision to kill him. But they needed to move like the wind. It would be hard enough to escape with the two of them. Fiona thought that she almost felt a tiny shred of compassion as she drove the stake deep into Phillip’s black heart. But as he turned to ash, she shrugged. She clapped the dust off her hands and smiled, glad to have felt nothing at all.

“Fiona. What the hell?” Logan couldn’t believe what he saw on the video.

“Today on the lake,” Dimitri began.

“She jumped to the other boat. I thought she was crazy. But she did it deliberately, luring Wynter. She knew Wynter felt guilty about Dana dying. She used it. I just can’t fucking believe this. Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but she’s got to be working with a vamp. Dana was bitten up good.”

“She may be working with a vampire, but look at her. She’s smiling. Baiting us. And the letter. She must have planted it. She’s been watching us this whole time,” Logan spat out furiously.