One thing was for damn certain: she needed to get out of there.
She could try just walking out. If she were casual enough, they wouldn’t suspect her . . . unless they had a photograph or physical description. Crap.
The only other option was to use the fire exit. It was a small window, but she’d be able to slide through it. While there could be some extremists covering the rear of the building, it was only a matter of time before they found out which apartment she lived in, and Makenna didn’t see any other option.
She thought about calling Ryan and asking him to collect her, since she had no way of reaching her Mustang. But she couldn’t risk the extremists spotting her with him. They would take his license plate, find out what pack he was from, and then switch their attention to the Phoenix wolves. She couldn’t allow that. For the same reason, she couldn’t call Madisyn. She’d have to slip away alone and then call someone when she was a safe distance from the building.
Plan in place, Makenna pulled on a tank top, jeans, her denim jacket, and her side purse. She opened the fire exit window and slid out into a small space that was covered by a white hatch. For a moment, she didn’t move as she listened for voices or movement outside. Picking up none, she unlocked and lifted the hatch slightly. The small communal garden—if you could call a cluster of weeds a garden—was empty, which, to be honest, she found a little suspicious. Still, she didn’t have the option of sticking around.
Fully opening the hatch, Makenna quickly and quietly climbed out before closing it shut. After merely six steps, she halted. She scented them before she saw them. Several humans came out of the shadows, wearing long hooded robes. Some were holding small wooden crucifixes. Makenna sighed at the ridiculous spectacle. If her wolf could have snickered, she would have.
“Move no further, demon!” ordered one of the robed figures.
Yes, they insisted that shifters were a form of demon. Makenna didn’t see the point in correcting them. It wasn’t possible to have a rational conversation with these people. Whatever you said was hit with a quote from the bible and branded “words of the devil.” They were right, you were wrong, they were good, you were bad, they were on the righteous path, and you were on a descending elevator heading to the fires of hell.
“Child of the Devil, you shall be—!”
“Look, guys, I’ve had a really rough morning.” And now this. The basic message Makenna was getting from the universe today was: just go back to bed. She would have done just that if it weren’t for the noise these bastards were making.
“Renounce the Devil!” he shouted as they spread out and began to loosely circle her. “Confess your sins! Repent!”
“I swear I’m not jealous that God only talks to you, okay. In fact, I think it’s unfair that when a person talks to God it’s called ‘praying’ but when he talks to them it’s called ‘schizophrenia.’”
“We refuse to stand aside and allow your practices of bestiality, infanticide, violence—”
“Can I just point out the bible says something about turning the other cheek and loving thy enemies?”
“Silence, demon!” He held his hands up toward the sky. “In the name of Jesus Christ, we condemn you!”
Oh for the love of . . . well, God. Could this get more ridiculous?
Muttering prayers, they each produced little bottles and slung the contents at her.
Apparently, yes, it could.
Holy water. Fan-fucking-tastic. She wiped some of the water from her eyes with her fingers. “Okay. This has gone far enough. You need to—” She tensed as one of the humans produced a black rope net from behind his back. Worse still, the leader took a large knife from inside his robe. A chill came over her, and her heart slammed against her ribs. She’d underestimated them when she’d caught sight of the little crucifixes. It hadn’t occurred to her that they would be armed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Ever seen one of these knives?” asked the leader, eyes swirling with calculation, as he moved a little to her left. He was trying to take her attention off the net, she realized. She shifted slightly, angling her body in a way that allowed her to keep both threats in her peripheral vision.
“It’s pretty, don’t you think?” he continued. “It’s called a wasp knife. Have you ever heard of them?”
No, but it sure didn’t sound good. Her wolf coiled, raring to strike.
“Many sea divers and hunters use them to defend themselves against predators. They have a cylinder of compressed gas in the hilt. Do you know what that means?” He was so confident and at ease, so sure of his power, that she suspected they had done this many times before. “That means that when a person stabs the animal and presses this little trigger, the gas is injected deep into the wound, freezing their organs.”
How fucking charming. Makenna licked her lips, giving the net holders a sidelong glance. They hadn’t moved. But they would; she knew that. She didn’t doubt that she could claw her way out of the net, but being pinned down for just a few moments would leave her helpless against them.
She had no combat training. She was more of a scrapper than a fighter. And she was outnumbered and facing fanatical nut jobs complete with a net and a knife. Not exactly a positive situation. That didn’t mean she’d roll over and take this shit.
“I used it on a bear shifter once. It took him a few minutes to die. But smaller shifters like cougars and foxes tend to die in under a minute.”
She clenched her hands into fists as her stomach sank. Bastard.
“I’m wondering just how long you’ll take to die.” But he didn’t move to find out. Just stared at her with a cruel twist to his mouth. If he was trying to taunt her with anticipation, he was doing a good job.
Her peripheral vision alerted her to movement. The net holders were edging behind her and—
The leader charged at her. The others all lunged forward . . . catching the net as it flew over her head and pulling it down. It was heavier and thicker than she’d expected; the weight of it combined with the strength of the humans took her down to her hands and knees, trapping her. It happened so fucking fast. And here was the damn knife.
Chanting a fucking prayer, the leader tried stabbing her through one of the square holes. Makenna moved with the enhanced speed of her kind, rolling onto her back and dodging the knife. The leader stumbled and almost lost his footing. Taking advantage, Makenna clawed at the net. It took a few slashes to slice through the rope to create a big enough gap and—
And now the knife was coming at her again.
Faster than the human could ever hope to be, Makenna lunged upright and grabbed the wrist holding the blade. “Looks like God didn’t hear you.” She yanked his wrist hard, twisting it until something snapped. Merciless, yes, but who gave a shit?
With a loud cry, he dropped the knife. It grazed her thigh as it fell through the hole in the net and hit the ground with a clang. Hyped on adrenalin, she barely felt the sting.
In one swift movement, Makenna leapt to her feet, came up behind him—twisting his broken wrist behind his back in the process—and curved her free arm around his front, pressing her claws to his throat.
Everyone froze.
“Now we’re all going to calm the fuck down,” snapped Makenna. Her wolf flexed her claws, not at all interested in calming down. “Boys, back away from the net—I don’t think I have to explain what will happen to your leader if you don’t.” The humans slowly edged back. “Wise decision.” The next thing on her agenda was getting away from this net. “Church Boy, we’re going to take a few slow steps forward.” She half expected him to try something. He didn’t.
As soon as they stepped off the net, she kicked it aside. “Now—”
The fire exit hatch flipped open, and a head popped out. Eyes wide, the male yelled, “She’s out back! She’s got Jeff!” The human toppled clumsily out of the hatch.
“Jeff,” drawled Makenna. “Is that your name? Not the kind that strikes fear into the heart of a person, is it?”
The sounds of running footsteps made her tense. It was more like a stampede. “Looks like your other friends are joining us.” Sure enough, they all hurried out of the side alley . . . holding stakes? She snorted at Jeff. “Stakes? Seriously?” He actually flushed.
They slowed as they took in the situation, seeming confused as to what to do. That told her that Jeff was their leader too. He’d probably stationed them outside the front of the building as a decoy, forcing her to leave through the back—exactly where he’d be waiting.
“You might want to tell them to stay the fuck away.”
Instead, Jeff’s mouth curved into an ugly smirk as he spread his free arm out wide. “Do your worst,” he dared Makenna. “Charge!” he hollered at the humans, shocking the shit out of her. The crazy bastards did. With a roar, they came at her with their stakes.
“Fuck.” She could run, she could stand and try to—
They halted. Just stopped dead, casting wary glances at something over her shoulder. She inhaled deeply. Ryan. Relief surged heavily through her and her wolf. Makenna didn’t think she’d ever been so glad to see anyone in her life.
He came to her side without making a single sound, radiating fury and danger. And for once, his emotions were evident in his expression and body language. It was only then that she heard other noises . . . footsteps, light and agile enough to go undetected by most. She inhaled deeply again, picking up other scents—Jaime, Dante, Tao, Trick, Dominic, Marcus, and Roni.
With one glance, Ryan took in the scene—took in the open hatch, the gathering of humans, the clawed net, the knife glinting beneath it, and Makenna’s hostage. It was easy enough to read what had happened. “They used a net on you?” rumbled Ryan as the other wolves fanned out around them.
“I could be wrong,” said Makenna. “But I don’t think these humans like me very much. Not that I’m complaining, but what brought you here?”
“The extremists attracted a news crew. I saw them on TV outside your building.” And Ryan had almost lost his fucking shit. “You didn’t answer my calls.” That was when he had lost his fucking shit. Panic had seized his body, taken over his mind, and sent his wolf insane. His pack had managed to calm him just enough to instill some rationality into him. But now, as it became obvious just how much danger Makenna had been in, the rationality began to slip away.
Makenna inwardly winced at his words. She’d forgotten to take her phone off “silent” mode when she woke up. Even so . . . “I was a little busy here with Jeff and his buddies.”
“I wonder if these little photos will feature on the news,” said Jaime. That was when Makenna noticed she had her cell phone out, snapping pictures of the net, the knife, and the humans.
“I remember when Derren once uploaded a video of violent extremists on YouTube,” said Roni. “It upset a lot of shifters.”
Dante nodded. “Those humans had to disappear for a while. Come to think of it, I don’t think they ever reappeared.”
Ryan growled as he smelled something. Blood. Makenna’s blood. “Where are you hurt, Kenna?” The words came out sharp and clipped.
“It’s just a gash on my thigh. It’s almost healing.” She watched Ryan take slow, deliberate, predatory steps as he moved to stand in front of Jeff, his eyes cold, hard, and menacing. Ryan always looked unnerving. Right now, he looked downright terrifying.
“Was it you that made her bleed?” Ryan asked Jeff.
Makenna shivered. Ryan’s normally bland voice vibrated with the need to hurt.
Jeff sneered. “Our Lord protects us. Your kind can do us no harm.” His words were confident. His tone wasn’t.
“Wrong,” rumbled Ryan, edging into Jeff’s personal space. The human stank of corruption, hatred, and a little bit of fear. “Very, very wrong.”
“If you know about shifters,” began Marcus, “you know how protective we are of our mates. You know we’ll die for them, kill for them. That guy right there wearing the glower from hell . . . he’s the mate of the female you targeted. I wouldn’t like to be any of you right now.”
Makenna started at that. Clearly Ryan had shared his belief with his pack mates, her wishes be damned.
“When the members of The Movement see you on the news and look at our photos, they won’t be happy bunnies either.” Dominic shook his head. He was referring to a band of shifters that protected their kind from the extremists. Not at all subtle or diplomatic, The Movement returned violence with violence—conveying that there would be repercussions for such prejudice and unprovoked attacks. That was most likely why the humans here all blanched.
“Yep,” agreed Tao. “The Movement will match a name to every face, will find every one of you. I’d say ‘God help you and your families,’ but not a thing will save you from them.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Ryan growled at Jeff. “Was it you who made her bleed?” He barely sounded human. In truth, he didn’t feel all that human either. With the exception of his time in captivity, Ryan never lost control; he never snapped, and he never lashed out. One thing he never, ever did was show his pain. He was always calm and controlled in emotionally intense situations. Emotions got in the way. But this was Makenna, and that made everything different.
She’d once asked him if she mattered to him—not as his mate, but as Makenna. At the time, he hadn’t properly understood the distinction she was trying to make. Now he knew. It was one thing to panic because your mate was in danger and a whole other thing to panic because that person was so important that losing them would fucking destroy you.
“Yes,” hissed Jeff. “I stabbed her. The sound the knife made as it sliced through her skin was—”
As Ryan’s claws sliced out, his eyes glowing with anticipation, Makenna burst out, “Ryan, no! He’s lying. He wants you to hurt him.”
“I’ll give him what he wants.” With absolute fucking pleasure.
“Ryan, look at him. I mean really look at him. He’s smiling. He’s a freak who believes in ‘his cause’ that all shifters are evil and can’t be allowed to live. He will happily die right here at your hands if it means it supports his argument that we’re violent and dangerous. Don’t give him what he wants. This is about more than just me, Ryan. More than about you. It’s about our kind.”
Maybe so, but that didn’t matter to Ryan right then. The consequences didn’t matter. Only she did. Only that she was hurt and could have been taken from him. Adrenalin and rage were pumping through his system, feeding his need for vengeance. The scent of her blood, the sight of the net, and the thought that he could have been too late—all those things were taunting him. He could hear pounding in his ears, his muscles were so tight they hurt, and his jaw ached from clenching his teeth so hard.
“She’s right, Ryan.” Dominic exhaled a disappointed sigh. “We can’t kill him yet.”
“I say we give him to Ally’s friend.” Roni was talking about Ally’s foster brother, Cain, who was a member of The Movement.
“Good idea,” said Trick. “Jeff here is a leader. He’ll know a lot of important things, a lot of names.”
Ryan was supposed to care about names and information? He glared at Trick. “He. Hurt Her.”
“Yes,” said Jaime. “Which is why she needs you right now.”
Makenna did need him right then, which should have pissed her off but didn’t. She was fast heading for an adrenalin crash. She needed Ryan to be as solid and steady as he normally was. But he didn’t look inclined to calm down. That worried her. She’d never before seen him without his infamous control.
“He won’t get away with what he’s done,” Dante assured Ryan. “He’ll get all the pain he deserves. Just not here and now.”
Yeah? That wasn’t good enough for Ryan. He wanted to kill this fucker, wanted to see and smell his blood. Wanted to be the cause of his pain and fear and misery.
“He’s just a pawn anyway,” Tao pointed out.
Je
ff frowned. “What do you mean, pawn?”
Tao gave him a cruel smile. “I mean that there’s a very good chance that the person who sold you Makenna’s name did it because they wanted you to kill her. And that that person was a shifter. If I’m right, it wasn’t God’s work you were doing today. It was the work of the very thing you loathe.”
Makenna wouldn’t put it past Remy to sic extremists on her.
“Trick, go get the SUV,” Dante said before taking slow steps toward Ryan, as if conscious that trying to take Jeff away could prompt Ryan to pounce on the human. “Ryan, I know it’s hard, but you have to step back.”
No, Ryan didn’t have to do that at all. It would be so easy to end the pitiful human’s life. So effortless. All it would take was one claw to slice open Jeff’s jugular. Just one single swipe, and he would be dead. But that was too quick. Almost merciful, really.
“Ryan,” drawled Dante.
He could stab his claws right into the bastard’s stomach, could slit him from groin to sternum. All the while, Ryan would watch the excruciating agony flash in Jeff’s eyes. It would be so very satisfying. His wolf agreed, reminding him that his pack mates wouldn’t be fast enough to stop him.
“Ryan,” Dante repeated.
Or Ryan could do what his wolf wanted most: shift into his animal form, rip out the bastard’s throat, and toss it at his friends. His wolf could then claw open his belly and—
“Ryan.”
That soft voice penetrated his daze. He looked into his mate’s cognac-brown eyes. “He hurt you. I recognize that knife.” He’d seen wasp knives before. “I know what it can do. He would have killed you.”
“But he didn’t. I’m here. I’m safe.”
“They would have killed you.” She couldn’t have fought off a mass attack.
“But you got here in time.”
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