A dark form caught Conn’s vision, and Talen slammed boots on the angled shingles, snagging the pitch to hold on. “Let’s get this bastard.” His eyes glowed unearthly in the night.
“Yep.” Conn straightened, running along the top and arriving at a skylight. What kind of arrogant moron kept a skylight in a house holding hostages? “This guy isn’t expecting us. Must be planning to move the women fast.” No need for stealth. The world was lighting up with fire behind him. Jumping up, he smashed his feet into the glass, falling through to the room below.
He landed in a crouch ... in a master bathroom. The plush carpet was an emerald green matching his mate’s pretty eyes. The reminder of her made his fangs lengthen, his body vibrate as the animal wanted loose. The animal needed to protect and defend his mate. Quiet surrounded him.
Talen dropped down, scanning the area. “Dage wants him alive.” Angry and annoyed, his tone came out through obvious fangs.
Conn rose, grabbing his gun from his waistband. “What are the chances of that?”
“Zero.” Talen kicked open the door. “Where is everybody?”
The moron really hadn’t expected them. “The guards are outside fighting ... Trevan must have an escape route. We need to hurry.” The visible heat signatures had held bulk as well as weapons, so the women must be underground. If they were still there. Dread and fear set up in Conn’s gut, and he ruthlessly shoved them aside.
Priceless watercolors lined the hallway, reminding Conn of his mother’s fanciest parlor. He swept side to side with his gun, hurrying toward the stairs and running down to a sprawling living area with a huge stone fireplace. Explosions echoed in the distance.
He turned the corner, heading down another set of stairs to a playroom with pool tables, arcade games, and a bar. A warning tickled at the base of his neck. “Back.”
Talen whipped back around the corner just as gunfire erupted. Watercolors exploded, pieces of glass shattering. Dropping to his knees, Conn emerged from safety, firing toward the bar. Talen followed suit, aiming at the men behind the pool tables. One shrieked in pain.
Conn’s bullets aimed true, taking out two men with glowing green guns behind the bar. Bottles shattered. The scent of bourbon and scotch permeated the air ... along with blood. With a roar, Talen leaped over the pool table, his knife in hand. Red arced across the window, spraying like a rainbow of death. When Talen rose and turned, gone was his brother. In his place stood vengeance.
Giving a short nod, Conn pivoted and rushed toward another flight of stairs. Down. He’d keep going down until he found his woman.
A whisper of her reached out. The hint of lilacs. A savage wildness consumed him. Taking his mate out of safety and away from him pissed off the soldier inside him. Almost as much as the action challenged the animal lurking even deeper.
She was his.
The soldier easily, almost too willingly, gave over to the predator. Gone was reason, gone was mercy. Anyone else standing between him and his mate would die. Slow, fast, he no longer cared. Their time would end.
With a snarl, the animal rose in dominance, pure instinct taking over.
Talen swept the area, turning his focus and aim to a thick oak door set to the side. Conn nodded, putting his boot to it. The door slammed open to reveal wide cement steps leading down. He hated basements. “Down.”
The metal door slid open and Trevan rushed inside to slam it shut. Moira grabbed the bars with both hands, shielding Cara and the babe from his sight. She forced a smile. “So. Guess we have company.” Though dim, the sound of gunfire could be heard in the distance. Even stronger, the sense of Conn drew nearer. She may not be able to get into his head yet, but his fury sent out vibrations.
Trevan pivoted to her, his eyes wild. “How the hell did they find you?” He gestured toward the walls. “No way you could send a message.”
He didn’t know about Cara’s ability to reach her mate. A closely guarded secret, and one Moira had kept through the years. “I’m more powerful than you think, dumbass.”
A beep sounded from his pocket and he yanked out a phone to read a message. Fury swept across his face in clotted red. “The outer door has been breached. The locks will slow them down some, but they’ll eventually make it inside here.” His smile chilled her blood. The gun he pulled from his waistband heated her right back up.
“You going to shoot me, Trevan?” Not for a second did she believe he’d kill his bargaining chip.
“No.” He took two steps forward and slid to the side, pointing the weapon.
The shot echoed around the small room.
“No,” Moira screamed, leaping to shield Cara and the babe in unison with Simone.
The bullet hit the new mother, throwing her back against the wall. Blood sprayed out, catching Moira across the face. A vicious roar split the night from the other side of the door. Moira leaped forward, her hands going to the wound in Cara’s right shoulder—three inches from the babe’s head.
Cara’s mouth dropped open. She paled to white cardboard, her blue eyes cutting to Trevan. “Talen will kill you.” Her hand cupped her child’s head, caressing when he started to whimper.
Moira took the towel Simone had grabbed, pressing hard against the bullet hole. “Cara. Focus, hon. You’re going into shock.” Rage shot through her. Talen wouldn’t get a chance to kill Trevan. She glared over her shoulder. “What the hell are you thinking?” Who could actually shoot at a woman holding her newborn? What kind of a monster was he?
Simone dropped to her knees by the bed. “Cara, let me hold the baby so we can take a look at your injury.” Tremors shook her voice.
“No.” Cara tightened her hold on the baby, tears gathering in her eyes. Shock had her pupils dilating.
Trevan stepped up to the bars, the gun pointed at Cara’s head. Moira nodded to Simone, who placed her hands on the towel to stem the bleeding.
Then Moira stood and turned, shielding. “Why?”
Trevan leveled the weapon between her eyes, reaching to the side wall and punching in a code. The bars swung open. “Come here. Make one move and I’ll shoot the baby.”
Anger threatened to still her legs. But outside, next to him, she had more of a chance to get the weapon. She needed to get his focus off Cara. So Moira stepped lightly toward him, training moves filtering through her thoughts. He grabbed her hair and yanked her to his side, shutting the door, pressing her back to his front. Cold metal pressed against her temple.
Leather slid around her neck.
Weakness assaulted her limbs. Her blood slowed. A tingling set up in her extremities.
He whipped her around, clinking something into place. She reached up, her eyes widening at the cold lock. “What the hell?” Her eyelids fluttered. A lump of dread settled hard in her stomach. Oh God, it couldn’t be.
Trevan smiled. “Phanakite. A collar just for you, bitch.”
With a low cry, she dug her nails into the leather, her fingers burning. Leather mixed with phanakite. Against her jugular, against her flesh. She tugged. Nothing. Her muscles went lax. It couldn’t touch her skin like this. She might never recover. Tears poked her eyes, and she forced them back.
Trevan punched in another code, and the far wall opened to reveal a passageway. He turned toward the cell. “Simone. I had hoped things would be different.” Then he grabbed Moira’s arm and tugged her through. The door slid shut, and lights strung along the ceiling flickered to life. He shoved her into the passenger seat of a golf cart. “Well now. I guess contingency plans are always a good idea, right, Seventh?”
Her mind twirled. She clutched the fabric seat, trying to keep her balance. “Why did you shoot Cara?” The words emerged slow and slurred.