She’d never felt so helpless in her life.
Julio’s chest rose and fell three hundred and seventy-four times before the door opened again to reveal the woman, returning with her damned bag. She laid it at Julio’s feet and slapped him once to rouse him.
When it didn’t work, she frowned, sat and retrieved a larger knife, one with a serrated edge.
But instead of applying it to Julio’s flesh immediately, she cast a glance at Kat. “None of the others believe you, either.”
Then the sharp teeth of blade bit into Julio’s shoulder, he jerked awake with a muffled grunt—and Kat felt it.
Not garden-variety human empathy and not her imagination. Her power, his pain, so clear she jerked and stared at her arm as a choked groan escaped her. Her skin was unmarked, but she felt the next cut just as deeply, so bright and hot that she threw herself instinctively outward, battering against the prison that had become a trap. Emotions could come in, but she couldn’t get out.
Not even when the torture began in earnest.
Maybe it was a blessing that she’d already screamed herself hoarse. Her own whimpers would have been a distraction from marveling over how Julio could feel this much agony and not make a sound.
Maybe he was the god that Sera painted him in her weaker moments, when she got drunk on too much vodka and explained to Kat in agonizing detail that Julio was the sort of man a girl drowned in because he wouldn’t let anything happen to her ever again.
Sera was never going to forgive Kat if Julio ended up with a bullet between his eyes.
Kat shivered. Shivered hard enough to rattle the handcuffs against the chair, because it was so damn cold she couldn’t feel pain anymore. Just the beautiful numbness that brought back memories of the last time she’d been helpless while a man bled for trying to protect her.
Their captors had made a mistake. A terrible, wonderful mistake. They’d given her Julio’s pain and mixed it with her own rage, and the bastard trying to keep her locked into her own mind didn’t know how very, very soon he’d be dying.
Kat didn’t know how long it went on, only that Julio never broke. Not on the surface, anyway, but his pain filled the vast reservoir of her gift until she wondered whether anyone who could suffer so deeply, so silently, wasn’t a little broken to begin with.
She was past broken, careening into deadly. And maybe the woman torturing them knew it. This time, when she put away her knives and turned to face Kat, that triumphant little smile slipped away. Kat didn’t need empathy to see uncertainty in the woman’s eyes or fear in her too-quick steps as she retreated to the door.
As it slammed shut, Kat spent one idle, bemused moment wondering just how insane she looked.
Julio met Kat’s gaze, his face pale and ashen. “Hold on to it,” he urged softly. “Just for a little while.
Keep it.”
Her lips cracked when she smiled, and she didn’t care. “I’m bringing you inside my shields. Don’t fight me.”
He didn’t return her smile. “I don’t think I could.” Then he added cryptically, “I need time.”
She was already dismantling what was left of her battered shields so she could rebuild them around Julio. “Time for what?”
A spasm of coughs wracked him. “To heal up. Then we fight, no matter what.”
“All right.” Brick by careful brick, she built her own wall around them. “I’m not getting out of these handcuffs, but I might be able to get you out of those chains.”
“Did you get all telekinetic on me, sweetheart?”
No, she’d gotten ruthless. “Try pharmaceutical. Ever overdosed on adrenaline?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
There were no cars, no lights, nothing to indicate Kat and Julio and Ben were being kept anywhere on the property. No signs, until Andrew and Patrick circled a stand of dead pecans and caught sight of a small freestanding garage.
“They painted the windows.” He gestured, guiding Patrick’s gaze. “Obscuring the light.”
“Wards too, all the way around that building.” Patrick rubbed at the back of his neck as if it itched.
“Jackson’ll take care of those. Can you get a scent?”
All Andrew smelled was wet earth, dead grass and motor oil. “They’re in there.” And only the knowledge that it could get them killed kept him from rushing in. “We need to check with Miguel, see if he got anything.”
They carefully retraced their steps back over the rise down the road. Miguel had already returned, resumed his human form and pulled on his jeans. “They’re here, somewhere. I tried to get through to Kat, but I don’t know if she heard me.”
“A lot of magic in the air,” Patrick said, scratching at his neck again. “Did you smell any other wolves, Miguel?”
“I don’t know. A few times, I thought maybe…but it was hard to tell.”
Anna slid her phone shut and hopped down off the back of the car. “We have a problem. One of my friends out west heard of some big freelance job in these parts. Magic and muscle. Apparently, it drew hardcore interest, got some hires.”
Mackenzie rocked to her toes, then unzipped her jacket. “So we fight. Jackson, baby? How big a racket do you think crossing the perimeter will make?”
“With these kinds of precautions? I’d say mighty loud.” He flexed his hands and stretched his shoulders. “I can handle the spells, and whoever they’ve got in there casting them. What we need to watch out for is a Hail Mary pass once they know we’ve got them.”
Andrew yanked his shirt over his head. “That’s me. If anyone tries it, I’ll stop them. No question.” And there wasn’t. A strange calm descended over him as he unbuckled his belt. If anyone needed to step in front of a bullet, it would be him. He’d take that risk, be the protector.
One way or another, Kat would live.
Anna nodded slowly. “I’ll be on your heels.”
“Patrick?” Mackenzie’s voice was muffled as she jerked her shirt over her head. Her bra was blue lace and ruffles, but her words were brutally efficient. “Go with them. I’m fast enough to be flexible, so I’ll keep an open path for retreat.”
And watch Jackson’s back. Andrew understood the feeling. He normally avoided fighting as a wolf, but tonight he relished the notion. He’d stand before them, and they’d know how low he would bring them.
And then he would end them.
His jeans landed in the dirt, and he followed them down. Magic, so much magic he wondered if they’d feel it in the ramshackle garage, and then the wolf was free. He stalked through the grass, once overgrown and now brittle and brown. They left tracks, he and Anna and Patrick, but that was okay too.
The time for stealth was almost at an end.
Jackson began to chant, low, rolling words that tumbled over each other until they ran together in a rhythmic stream. Soft light began to gather around him, a subtle glow that seemed like a trick of the eyes until it intensified, almost throbbed-From somewhere inside the building, Julio howled, a sound that fell somewhere between human and animal, one hundred percent rage.
The magic around Jackson exploded, might have even swept Andrew off his paws if he hadn’t already been running, counting on Patrick to blow open the door and let him in to wreak his vengeance.
A roar came from above as a massive black shape hurtled off the roof. Patrick spun out of the way too fast for a human, but his silent shot went wide. The panther landed gracefully, using the momentum from his leap to charge straight at Andrew.