by Elaina Jadin
“That was an S.O.S. from Draven,” I say, bolting to my feet.
Kade is on my heels immediately. As we step into the hallway, a dull boom vibrates the building from below. Another one follows immediately, and we hear the distant yells of our men and unfamiliar voices echoing up from the lower floors.
Draven is nowhere in sight. Both of us take off at a dead run, racing to the nearest stairwell. Our ears attuned to the shouts in the distance, our bodies quickly readying for battle.
Then the sound of rapid gunfire erupts, drowning everything else out.
34
Jemma
A low rumble vibrates through me, more sensation than sound, and I blink my eyes open, slipping out of the meditation I was trying. For a moment, I think perhaps I’ve drifted to sleep again. But it’s only been a few minutes since Bryan stormed out.
I’m perched back on the pillow, waiting as I’ve been told to do. After straightening Draven’s desk and putting his chair back as he left it, I planted my ass here once more, hoping it wouldn’t be long until the three of them return.
I wonder if they’ll already know about Bryan and Sadie’s furtive visit. Of course they will—nothing seems to miss their detection.
A series of noises reaches my ears, making me go ramrod straight. The sounds drifting through the door aren’t footsteps this time. There’s shouting, clanging, and another rumble as the building shakes again.
Okay, this is definitely not a dream.
The shouting grows louder and, for the second time this evening, I scramble to my feet. When I open the door, the sounds magnify instantly, the clear noises of fighting coming up the staircase from the floor below. Adrenaline pumps through me as I listen. Three men I don’t recognize run into view, their footsteps heavy and their hands full of weapons.
I quickly close the door, bracing myself against it with my heart pounding.
What the fuck is going on?
Looking around the office, there’s nowhere to hide except under Draven’s desk. Should I stay here? The guys told me not to leave this room, but… whatever’s happening clearly wasn’t in their plans. What if they’re hurt, or worse?
I can’t help but think of Bryan’s scummy, conniving ass. He has something to do with this, I’m sure of it. His sudden appearance while the guys just happened to be in a meeting? And now world war three is breaking out? Way too convenient to be coincidence.
And that bitch, Sadie, too. She snuck him in here somehow, I’m sure of it. I could feel her hatred burning into my back as she stood in the balcony corner with the other women at the Tribunal. I bet she thought she could get rid of me today, that Bryan would convince me to leave. And he was arrogant enough to think he could.
Anger and fear collide inside me as a loud boom sounds and the building shakes so hard it makes me sway unsteadily on my feet. Fuck. I press myself harder against the door, anxiety ripping through my stomach.
The sharp, acidic smell of something burning hits my nose and I dare to peek out in the hallway again, cracking the door open the smallest sliver. Grayish-white smoke is drifting into the hallway from the nearest stairwell.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I crouch down, feeling the floor like I was taught in grade school. It’s cool to the touch, and while I’m pretty sure that means the ceiling below isn’t engulfed in flames at the moment, it could become that way any second.
Movement in the hallway catches my eye and I peer out of the crack. Two unfamiliar men are approaching, their eyes trained on the door of the office. Shit. There’s no time to bolt to Draven’s desk, so I leap to the side and press myself against the wall.
A split-second later the door swings open, partially cloaking me.
My nerves are jittering like dry rice in a hot skillet as they stride into the office, large guns slung over their shoulders. Their hasty gaze takes in the layout of the room, and they make a beeline for Draven’s desk. The second they reach it, I know they are not members of the Barons.
They rummage through folders and the once-neat piles of paperwork, knocking things over and scattering papers on the floor in the process. I have no idea what they’re looking for, and right now, I don’t care. I have to get out of the office while they’re still occupied. If I stay here, they’ll see me the moment they turn around.
My legs feel like jelly, my fingers are numb, and a dizziness swims through my head, but I make myself stay upright. Drawing in a deep breath I count down as I build up courage to will my legs to move. Three… two… one!
As soundlessly as possible, I slide around the open door and sprint into the hallway. The sound of rapid gunfire joins the frantic shouting from below, and the smoke billowing up from the stairwell is creating a thick haze.
I freeze for a moment, caught in a whirlwind of indecision—should I run to a higher floor? But then I’ll be trapped by the fire. Or do I find a way to get downstairs? But that’s where the screams and gunfire are coming from.
My knees wobble and the smoke burns my eyes, but before I can figure out a plan, I hear a low sound behind me, one that pricks my ears even through the chaotic noise.
A growl.
I feel it reverberate through me as much as I hear it, the terrifying sound crawling up my spine and burying itself in my heart like shards of glass.
Slowly, I turn, praying I won’t see what I know I will.
A huge wolf is at the end of the hall, snarling, its yellow-stained canines bared to me. There’s blood splattered on its fur and thick red drops falling from its jaw. The sight is straight out of my nightmares, its eyes filled with the same rage I saw when I was thirteen.
A strangled scream escapes me, sounding alien and otherworldly, and I leap to the side, my stomach caught in my throat, just as the beast launches itself towards me. It slams into the door frame with a sharp yelp, and I don’t look back as I race to the stairs.
I need Kade, or Draven, or Bishop. Anyone.
I fly down the steps, two and three at a time, certain the wolf is behind me. I pass the floor to my bedroom, barely registering the body of a thin blonde man lying motionless in the hallway, and keep going, willing my legs to move faster.
The steps widen as I run down them, spilling open into the grand staircase that rises from the fancy foyer on the first floor. An eruption of bullets zip past me, and I nearly trip from trying to duck at a full speed run. Grabbing the elegant wooden railing, I yank myself to a stop and crouch against the banister. My hands shake as I brush my hair out of my eyes, daring to look over my shoulder for the first time.
The wolf is nowhere in sight, for now at least.
But in the foyer just below me, is an apocalyptic scene. Flames dance along the plush red carpet and a blaze engulfs the once-gleaming gold brocade wallpaper.
Several dozen men are fighting, some of them engaged in hand-to-hand combat, knives and fists slicing through the air, while others draw weapons and fire, puffs of blood and flesh erupting each time they land their mark.
Some of the faces I recognize, others I don’t, but none of them are my alphas.
At the far end of the large foyer near the entrance hall is a sight that wrenches my stomach and sends bile rocketing up my throat—wolves, fighting each other. Their vicious snarls and haunting howls fill all the space in my head between the noise from each round of gunfire. The front door is completely blocked, the pile of bloody wolves tearing into each other with horrifying vigor.
My breath comes in shallow pants, sweat breaking out across my skin as panic tears at me. I force my eyes away from the wolves and sweep my gaze across the room once more. Cringing at the carnage, I desperately look for a route of escape.
When I spot the luster of bluish light spilling across the carpet from the rear of the room, my heart leaps—the doorway leading to the workshop and garage. It’s right below me. I only have to make it down the stairs.
A searing pain lances through my arm and I crumple backward with a cry. My bicep burns, and the thin gold fabri
c of my sleeve darkens with blood. I clamp my hand around the wound, and my fingers are painted with bright red.
Instinctively, I flatten myself to the steps, my eyes search frantically, looking for whoever is aiming at me. When I glance up the stairs ahead of me, my bloody arm is forgotten because the monstrous wolf is already in the air, leaping towards me, its jaws open and death in its eyes.
I scream, nothing but pure terror in my veins, my gaze glued on its fangs, unable to look away from my fate. Then its head snaps back, red mist exploding from the side of its face. It lands beside me, its hindquarters bouncing across me, pushing the air out of my lungs as its limp body tumbles down the stairs.
“Jemma!”
Bishop’s voice cuts through everything and it’s as if the world disappears. I roll on my side, peering through the banister. He’s below me, a massive gun in his hands, standing as still as a rock as bullets fly through the air around him. He’s covered in blood, but whether it’s his or not, I can’t tell.
He slings the gun over his shoulder and raises his arms toward me. “Jump!”
My nails dig into the wood of the banister as I raise myself up on trembling legs, my arm shrieking with pain. The path ahead is blocked—three men are locked in a death brawl at the foot of the staircase, slamming one another into the steps and the railings, making the whole structure shake.
Still, Bishop’s a long way down, farther than I’ve ever jumped, and I’ll be plunging through a hailstorm of bullets.
“Fawn—jump now!” he commands with a roar, as if he knows I need someone else to take over. Someone to tell me what to do to get through this.
I throw myself over the banister towards him, my eyes squeezed shut as I free fall, a prayer on my lips. Any moment bullets will slice into my flesh and rip though my heart.
But Bishop grabs me a second later, plucking me from the air before I have time to think. He launches into a hard run the moment his arms wrap around me and never slows down, even as he dodges stray punches and leaps over the bodies of wolves and men.
I cling to him with every fiber of my being as we fly through the workshop and into the large garage. Abruptly, we stop, and he shoves me behind a small row of barrels along the wall that adjoins the workshop.
“Get down, and stay there,” he tells me in a low voice before quickly moving away.
Compared to the foyer, the garage is quiet. I can detect the grumble of angry voices and the faint scrape of footsteps over the discord of sounds echoing in from the main building, but I can’t tell what’s being said.
My mother’s song presses into my mind automatically. Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques…
The refrain hums inside me as I slowly peek around the edge of the barrel, angling carefully to stay as hidden as possible. In the distance, near the open bay doors of the garage, Bishop comes into view, his back to me.
My heart hammers in my ears, drowning out the rest of the song as I watch him move toward Draven and Kade. They’re both standing outside the garage, focused on something out of sight. Bishop’s footsteps are slow and cautious, his attention drawn to the same place as he circles toward the other two men.
All three of them have weapons drawn, their fingers curled against the triggers.
Needing to know what they’re staring at, I silently shift another inch, and more of the scene comes into view. Across from the alphas are several men I’ve never seen, but the hatred on their expressions looks eerily familiar.
The hatred born out of pain.
“You slaughtered my father, but left me alive,” the tallest one says, his voice gruff with anguish and rage, but my men don’t flinch. “Did you really think I’d thirst for anything but revenge?”
“It’s how our world works, Terrion,” Draven says evenly, never wavering as he keeps his gun aimed at the man. “Let’s not pretend your father was an innocent man. He was long due the executioner’s blade.”
My eyes widen, but my surprise is fleeting. Of course they’ve been the harbinger of death, probably many times over. I may not have focused on it, but I knew from the first conversation in Draven’s office that these men did the devil’s work.
I didn’t need Bishop to tell me about their illegal trades and clandestine activities to confirm my suspicions. Law-abiding men don’t take women as payments for debts.
And yet, I willingly gave myself to them. I’ve craved their power, their darkness, their cruel edges. What does that say about me?
“It’s time for the Latians to return to power,” Terrion snarls. “Let’s settle this properly. Wolves against wolves, as it was meant to be.”
He tosses his weapon down and rips off his coat, flinging it to the ground.
Draven’s nostrils flare as he draws in a long breath, his eyes fixed on Terrion. Then he sets his weapon down on the pavement, and removes his jacket, never taking his eyes off the man.
The men standing beside Terrion follow suit, as do Kade and Bishop. The two groups face each other, weapons discarded, jackets tossed aside, wrath and hunger twisted on to each of their expressions.
I wait expectantly, my eyes darting across the scene as confusion washes over me. There are three men behind Terrion, but no wolves. Behind Draven stand Kade and Bishop, but no wolves.
There’s a Range Rover, several SUVs, and half a dozen cars in the parking lot, but no wolves anywhere.
A hellish dread finally claims its wicked grasp on my mind, the panicked terror producing hallucinations that take shape with visceral realism as Kade and Bishop morph into hulking wolves, larger than the one Bishop killed minutes ago.
No, it couldn’t be.
They couldn’t be the wolves Draven had me draw for him.
No, no, no, no, no…
I’m hallucinating. Dreaming. Imagining things that can’t be. I blink, but nothing changes. Kade and Bishop have become the beasts.
My mind fractures as I take in their familiar forms, the patterns of their fur, the way they move. Recognition washes over me with a chilling wave of vertigo, my body going cold, my heart shuddering to a stop as everything decelerates to a stop-frame animation.
More men become wolves, and they leap into the air, their teeth bared, torsos twisting, as they collide with one another in slow-motion. I turn away, but the sounds of their howls and bodies slamming together pierce through me, each one like a blade slicing into my soul.
Bile burns my throat as my body rejects this new reality, and the contents of my stomach come racing up as I fall to my hands and knees. Anxiety ratchets tighter with each gag, banding around my chest like a vice. My lungs burn, but no air comes, just a sick wheezing noise, like a death rattle.
My head whirls as a void opens in front of me, a black hole that devours everything in its path as it grows with astonishing speed, sweeping toward me like a monstrous tidal wave.
It swallows me whole and I’m dragged into the abyss, spinning and somersaulting in free fall. Memories flood over me as I plummet, wave after wave crashing in the darkness, their strength pulling me under like a rip tide, threatening to drown me.
Bishop is yelling for me to jump. Kade is growling for me to fight. Draven is ordering me to come.
Glass shatters nearby and items go scattering in every direction as the wolves crash through the garage. Their savage snarls grow closer, driving razor blades of fear under my skin.
Men are shouting for me to dance. Doctors are telling me to talk.
Gunfire echoes through the workshop, bullets hitting wood and metal. Something slams into the tool bench on the other side of the doorway, and the nearness of unfamiliar voices makes my body shiver uncontrollably.
My mother is screaming for me to run.
Run!
There’s only one word now, echoing through my thoughts. A mantra I cling to as I shakily rise to a crouch.
I don’t look at the blood running down my arm, the men fighting in the workshop, the glass as it cuts into my feet, or the wolves locked in combat.
I jus
t run.
My hair whips behind me and my dress rides up my thighs as I sprint out toward the cars as fast as my legs will carry me. My calves burn by the time I reach the first SUV. I don’t stop to check whether I’ve been spotted or if I’ve gone unnoticed. I dive into the driver’s seat, yanking the sun visor down, digging through the console and glove box. Nothing.
I scramble out and go to the next vehicle. I need one stroke of luck. One car with keys.
Then I can run, run, run, and never stop.
The next two SUVs are dead ends, both of them locked up tight. I run to the next parking space and tug at the handles of a late model pickup truck. Nothing. A sleek red sports car has its windows rolled down, but no keys in sight.
A beat-up blue sedan is the only car left on this side of the parking lot. But it’s parked near the fence, a stretch of twenty feet of open space between me and it.
I glance toward the garage, and the largest wolf I’ve ever seen, with black fur and golden eyes, has broken free from the chaos of the fight still raging inside the garage. It stands solitary in front of the large bay doors, staring at me from across the parking lot.
I wait for the fear to weaken me, to collapse my knees and sever my spine until I dissolve into nothing more than a puddle of panic, but it doesn’t. Terror blisters through every nerve in my body, but I stand strong as I look at the wolf, certainty washing over me.
Draven. That wolf is Draven.
I stare, transfixed, as blood drips from sharp fangs and vivid eyes burn into me through the dark.
My haunted heart, my tortured existence… my greatest nightmare, in living color.
All my desires and all my fears burst free with an aching sob that lodges in my throat, my soul shattering into a thousand pieces. They catch fire one by one, turning to ash until I feel nothing.
I turn away, numbness fortifying me like a drug. Launching myself across the empty space, I reach the old sedan and rip at the door, my eyes landing on the keys that have been tossed carelessly on the wide bench seat.