“Trey!” a loud, concerned voice yelled from the van.
Never had Trey felt compelled to protect Diskant from harm. Even as a boy the future Omega had been sturdy and more than capable of holding his own. However, there was something dangerous about the human standing before the fully grown shifter, unafraid and unfazed. Trey had seen the expression before, when Alphas battled it out until one stood alive and the other lay dead.
“Damn it, Trey!” another voice growled. “Get the fuck over here!”
“Fuck!” he snarled and hauled ass to the van.
“Don’t fucking touch it!” Trey recognized Brian’s deep voice. “Get Emory out of those cuffs and get him out of here.”
Trey rounded the corner, shoulder brushing the now-opened door in the back. His brother stood at the back of the van and appeared to be unharmed with the exception of bloodied wrists. Then Trey got an eyeful of what his pack mates had found.
The enormity of what he was seeing slowly computed until a cold numbness swept through him. The device was large enough to have taken all of them out, with enough C4 to leave behind a nice, fat hole in the ground.
Quickly he slid the pieces together.
There were only three Shepherds. Too few to defend themselves against an attack.
As if they hadn’t planned for a battle but a sacrifice.
Fucking shit.
He ripped the Shepherd with the missing hand from Brian, who stood just inches away, and demanded, “Where are they?”
The Shepherd didn’t answer, though his eyes did widen.
“I’ll torture you slowly.” Trey growled a low, menacing warning. “And I’ll make sure to keep you alive for a long fucking time. You’ll be praying to that god of yours on a regular basis.”
“It’s a trap.” Zack leapt from the van, totally nude as he’d shifted during the scuffle. “He was trying to set the damn thing off when we made it to him. Chris is still looking but he thinks the detonator didn’t engage.” Zach’s gaze lifted and met Trey’s. “We have to call Dougan. Now.”
Trey yanked the cell from his pocket, hit the number on speed dial and placed the phone to his ear. Seconds passed like the sands through an hourglass—painfully slow. Trey didn’t meet Zach’s terrified stare as he ended the call.
“They’re not answering.”
“Why aren’t they answering?” Zach asked in panic.
Trey shook his head, shoved the Shepherd toward Emory whose hands were now free, and moved from the back of the van toward the sounds of flesh meeting flesh. When they made it around the vehicle Trey discovered the man who faced off against Diskant was still alive but hadn’t survived the minutes unscathed. The human’s daggers were gone—but that hadn’t slowed him down. He was going toe-to-toe with Diskant now, fists raised, face bloody. A large cut over his right brow was swelling, the heavy pooling of blood covering the eye beneath.
A circle had formed around them, cheering Diskant on, clamoring for blood.
Trey dialed Dougan’s again, listening as he watched Diskant take advantage of the human’s injury and toyed with him. The shoe was on the other foot now. It was only a matter of time before Diskant got bored and took him down. Each time Diskant feigned a strike the man reacted, until he was wobbling on his feet like a broken tinker toy.
Diskant’s next punch wasn’t for show. When he clocked the man in the chin the big bastard went down. His legs continued to move but he remained immobile on the concrete, eyes closed, chest heaving.
“D—” Trey started to speak when a crushing vise of emptiness gripped his heart and rent it in two.
He watched, dazed and openmouthed, as Diskant sank to his knees at the exact same moment, their motions mirroring each other’s. The ground rose up to greet their knees, the hardness of the earth nothing in comparison to the agony that washed through them.
“Ava,” Diskant gasped, clutching his chest.
Trey didn’t attempt to move, too broken by the knowledge of what he knew to be true in his soul, and turned his head.
The Shepherd Emory held by the throat stared Trey in the eye, cradling his bloody stump of a wrist. “You’re too late,” he informed him. “The Lord’s will be done.”
A few minutes before…
The street was empty as Paul crossed it, only a few pedestrians standing along the darkened sidewalk. The wind caressed his cheek, scattering his neatly combed hair across his forehead. He closed his eyes as he continued forward, basking in the feel of the tepid autumn air. The mugginess that came from the city was washed away by the cleansing breeze, allowing him to pretend he wasn’t standing on a gritty street but a gorgeous stretch of pasture as far as the eye could see.
As if it were preordained, the vision of the farm he’d been raised on reminded him of his place in this world, providing strength and fortitude where a man’s fear of death threatened to destroy hours of planning and preparation. This was what he was born for, what he was meant to do.
There was no death when you were promised eternal life in heaven.
Opening his eyes, he weaved around a motorcycle parked along the side of the bar. There were several of them lined along the road, which didn’t surprise him. The devil’s hands enjoyed fast and dangerous recreations. It was ingrained in them at birth, just one of many attributes that revealed the demon lingering within.
Directly ahead was his goal—a tavern of the damned, consisting of those tainted by Lucifer, the most unclean wreaking havoc on earth. There were several inhabitants inside, all of whom were seated at the bar or at tables along the wall. A large television flashed blue against the glass, causing the concrete outside to appear an indigo shade of neon.
Stopping as he came to the sidewalk just outside the entrance, he lifted the cross hanging from his neck and brought it to his lips. He needed the reminder that this wasn’t for naught, that he was intended for a greater purpose. The Lord would protect him and keep him and into His arms he would surrender.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done, in earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil.
Releasing the blessed piece of silver, he reached into his duster and activated the switch against his sternum as he pressed his thumb to the device in his left hand. The corresponding beep and sounds of chemicals mixing told him everything was ready.
A haze of shame assailed him as the fear returned, making his palms sweat and his hands shake. While he was proud to serve his brethren, he wasn’t ready to leave this plane behind. It was mortal vanity and weakness, wanting to live in a world such as this when it offered but a glimpse of what he would receive upon the reckoning. When the Christian souls were given eternal life in the final days, his would be called upon to reap unending happiness and love.
Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, he mentally repeated The Lord’s Prayer and began walking toward the crystal-clear glass door to the bar. Right now his kinsmen would be doing their part to abolish the filth that had trespassed into their home, even at the cost of their own lives. That was why he had been sent to the den of the damned, to make certain that no matter what occurred a price was paid and an unforgettable mark was left.
Heads turned as he entered. Bright, luminous eyes inside faces that weren’t wholly human rested upon him. The tall male behind the bar growled and started to walk from behind the counter as the rest rose from their seats and created a circle around him. Unperturbed, he continued walking into the room, watching as the men and women clothed in snug leather rose from their seats and advanced.