by Jodi Vaughn
He knelt by her side and brushed the hair out of her face. “What the hell happened? Did John come back? Did he do this to you?” How had he missed John coming into the house? He’d been watching the gate so carefully. Maybe there was a second entrance that he didn’t know about.
“No. My. Mother…” she struggled to say. She pointed. He turned and followed her gaze to the dining room wall, where her mother was pinned to the wall. Dead.
Fuck. He sucked in a breath but didn’t say a word. He didn’t give a shit that the mother was now dead. The bitch had tried to kill Ginny. He was glad she was dead.
He turned back to her. “I need to get this out of you.”
“Wait.” She gripped his hand preventing him from pulling out the utensil.
“It was an accident, Jaxon. I didn’t mean for her to die.” Tears swam in her eyes and rolled across her cheek onto the floor, mingling with the blood.
“I know, sweetheart,” he said softly.
“I stumbled into her and she fell against the antlers.” She struggled to speak and breathe.
“Shush. Stop talking and let me get this out.”
“I’m going to die for this. Jaxon. It’s the law.” Her fearful eyes met his.
“No, you’re not. You only face the death penalty for purposely killing your parent. This was an accident.”
“No one will believe me.” She closed her eyes.
“I believe you. And trust me when I say you’re not going to be killed for this.” He knew the werewolf law dictated that the punishment for killing one’s own parents was death. He’d never seen a Tribunal where a Were was found innocent. They had all been found guilty of murder and sentenced to death.
Not Ginny. He had to find a way to get the Tribunal to see she was innocent. He had to.
“This is going to hurt.” He tightened his grip on the fork and pulled it out in one swift motion.
Ginny screamed and slumped to the floor. She’d passed out from the pain.
He took a deep breath. He was racing against time. He had to get them out of there before her husband showed up.
“Well, well, well,” a male voice called out from behind Jaxon.
Jaxon stood and spun around, ready to face John.
A slow smirk crossed John’s evil lips as he met Jaxon’s glare. “Ginny’s right, you know. She’s going to die for killing her mother. I’ll make damn sure she does.”
“It was an accident.” Jaxon stood and curled his hands into fists.
“Not if I say it wasn’t.” His smirk slipped. “I’ll have that bitch skinned alive before I put a bullet in her head.”
“Not if I kill you first, fucker.” Jaxon rushed John. His instinct to shift to wolf and kill was so powerful it made his body hum.
Jaxon lunged in midair, shifting into wolf form as John braced himself for the impact. They collided with such force it rattled Jaxon’s teeth.
Jaxon sunk his teeth into John’s shoulder. John screamed in pain and hit Jaxon in the head. Jaxon released his hold. He wanted to sink his teeth into the fucker’s throat so he could rip it out.
John threw his head back and shifted into wolf. He was larger than Jaxon, but size didn’t matter to Jaxon. He was going to kill John for laying his hands on Ginny. He was going to make him suffer like never before.
Jaxon lunged, aiming for John’s throat. John leapt through the air and twisted his body, catching Jaxon on his shoulder with his teeth.
Pain blazed through Jaxon’s body as muscle tore and bone broke. He’d been in fights before, been bitten by other wolves before, but this pain felt different. It was like it was draining him, weakening him.
“His teeth, Jaxon,” Ginny screamed.
He cut his eyes in her direction. She had managed to sit up and was struggling to get to her feet.
“His teeth are silver.” She met his gaze. Fear scraped across her beautiful features. Her eyes widened, and he could see the loss of hope in her blue eyes.
The fucker had silver teeth. No wonder the pain was so intense.
He wasn’t going down like this. No way. No how.
He threw his weight back against the Were. John loosened his hold on Jaxon’s shoulder and fell to the floor.
Jaxon blinked and shoved back the burning pain in his shoulder and the weakness filling his veins. The silver wasn’t in his body, but he’d still feel the effects of it until after his body had a chance to heal.
Jaxon glanced around, looking for a weapon just as effective as John’s teeth. His gaze landed on the table. He rammed into it. The plates and silverware crashed to the floor. He bent his head and grabbed a knife between his jaws and spun around to face his attacker.
John threw his head back and growled, revealing two large silver canines. He was a lethal weapon to any werewolf walking.
He ran toward Jaxon, baring his silver teeth.
Jaxon bent his head, feigning submission. His muscles tensed and his heart pounded as he waited for the perfect moment.
John leapt in the air. He landed on Jaxon.
Jaxon tightened his hold on the knife and rammed the blade into John’s heart.
John stumbled back and looked down at his chest. Jaxon knew what the werewolf was thinking. He was going to shift back into human and pull out the knife. In wolf form he couldn’t pull out the blade with his paws.
Jaxon still couldn’t shift back, not yet. The silver from the bite had taken its toll on his body. He’d have to heal from the bite before he could shift.
John growled and forced his body to shift back into human form.
Jaxon jumped and landed on John, shoving the knife farther into his enemy’s chest. John, now fully human, screamed and wrapped his hands around the handle of the blade, but Jaxon was faster. He bit down on his throat, ripping the tissue and cartilage.
Blood spurted and pulsed, dripping onto the expensive hardwood floor. Jaxon jerked his head back, ripping out John’s throat and tossing it on the floor.
John blinked, shocked at Jaxon’s move, and tried to pull the knife out. The properties of the silver were keeping John from healing and were slowly poisoning him to death. With his throat gone, death was only seconds away.
John’s wide-eyed gaze frantically searched the room. When they landed on Ginny, he narrowed his eyes.
Jaxon felt his body weakening. It had taken all his strength to stay on top of the knife. He slipped in the blood. If John got that knife out, both he and Ginny were done for.
John bucked Jaxon off his body and grabbed the knife with both hands.
Jaxon roared and forced himself on his feet but slipped on the blood.
John looked at him and grinned. He slowly pulled the knife out of his chest. He scrambled to his feet and held the knife above his head, ready to strike Jaxon.
What a fucking way to die, Jaxon thought to himself.
“I won’t let you hurt him, John,” Ginny said.
“Shut up, bitch, and watch while I kill your wolf.” He snarled, not even bothering to turn around to face her.
“Not today.” She brought a flash of silver down across John’s head. He blinked and then crumpled to the floor as the silver antler sconce implanted in his skull.
John lay motionless as the blood dripped from his head, forming a red puddle on the floor. Ginny ran to Jaxon’s side.
She nuzzled his furry neck and clung to him as tears fell from her face onto him.
Jaxon closed his eyes, feeling his strength return to his body. When he finally had enough energy, he shifted back into human form.
He opened his eyes. He found Ginny staring back at him.
“I thought he was going to kill you, Jaxon.” She sobbed.
He pulled her into his embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m all right.”
The pain in his body was intense, but holding Ginny in his arms made the pain bearable.
“Everything is okay now. You’re safe,” he whispered against her ear. “What about the baby? Is the baby okay?” He pressed hi
s hand to her stomach.
“Yes.” She pulled back and stared at him, horror etched into her features. “But you’re wrong. I’m not safe. Not now.” Her tearstained gaze swept the room, first locking on the impaled figure of her mother against the wall and then her dead husband sprawled on the floor with the second antler sconce sticking through his skull.
“Ginny…”
“Jaxon.” She pulled out of his embrace and stood on shaky feet. “There’s no turning back from this. There’s no reprieve for me.” She shook her head. “No one kills their mother and their husband and lives.”
He gritted his teeth, forced his legs under him, and stood. Pain shot through every cell, setting his body on fire. “I need you to trust me on this, okay? I need you to do what I say and everything will be okay.”
Since their failed wedding day, he had gone through life existing, not really living. They had only a few more hours, days at best, before the evil that had pulled them apart was going to hunt them down and force them to pay up.
He knew what he must do. This time he was going to make sure Ginny was safe. Even at the cost of his life.
“You don’t…”
“I don’t what? Understand?” He cocked his head. “I know that you were married to a ruthless man and that your father is the most depraved Were there is. But the Pack Master in Arkansas is good. He has done miracles, stood in the gap for his Guardians. When we go there, I will explain what happened. That this was all self-defense. That you were abused.”
She dropped her gaze to the ground.
“And when Barrett knows the whole story, he will do everything possible to make sure you are found innocent. That you won’t be harmed. I promise you this, Ginny. I promise you this on my life.”
Her gaze met his. A flicker of hope flashed through her eyes like a candle flame.
He knew Barrett would do whatever he could to help them. He also knew that he was willing to pay the price for Ginny. The rules of the werewolf law were very strict. Almost unbreakable. He knew that blood had to be spilt to satisfy the code.
He wouldn’t let Ginny get hurt. Not again.
He was willing to sacrifice his life, using his blood to pay her debt.
Chapter Fourteen
“Fuck,” Barrett groused as he turned into the driveway of Jack Welbourn’s house. Jack was the Pack Master of Mississippi, and Barrett considered him a friend.
What he wasn’t looking forward to was seeing the rest of the Weres who were supposed to attend tonight. He knew the meeting of the Southern Pack Masters had to include everyone. Including Edward Boudier from Louisiana.
That fucker had managed to capture some of Barrett’s Guardians out of Arkansas. He’d even had the gall to skin and kill one before feeding his body to the gators.
There wasn’t any substantial evidence linking Boudier to the actual act. Just a whole lot of testimony from Lucien and his brother Lorcan, one of Boudier’s lethal Assassins who had helped Barrett escape out of New Orleans.
He hadn’t heard from Lorcan since the Assassin had ratted out his boss about all the dirty dealings the Louisiana Pack Master was into. After he’d helped get Lucien and the rest of the Arkansas werewolves out of New Orleans, he’d split.
Barrett had been grateful for the help, but he sure as shit didn’t trust Lorcan. As far as he was concerned, he was still connected to the Louisiana pack, and he couldn’t be trusted.
“Barrett.” Jack greeted him at the door. “Come in, come in.”
“Jack. Thank you for hosting this meeting.” Barrett walked into the foyer of the Mississippi plantation. There was something different about Jack. Although they had never been the best of friends, Barrett had always felt he could count on the Were if he needed him. Tonight, something seemed off.
“Found my witch yet, Barrett?” Jack cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. With the Witch of Yazoo City still on the loose, Jack was going to hold Barrett’s feet to the fire until she was found.
“We had her in the southern part of Arkansas. My Guardian is trailing her now.” Or so he hoped. If Jaxon didn’t get that witch bitch soon, Barrett was going to look like an incompetent leader.
That was something he could not afford.
“So you let her go?” Jack’s furrowed brow grew deeper.
“No. She got away.” Barrett turned and faced the Pack Master head on. No way was he going to let Jack intimidate him, despite how much he respected the Were.
“I don’t need to stress to you the amount of trouble she can cause if she’s not caught and returned to the cemetery.”
“No, you don’t.” Barrett glared. “Like I said, my Guardians are on the case. She’ll be found and returned to Mississippi.”
Jack blinked and then gave a final nod. “It’s not like I don’t trust you. But that witch has left more bloodshed in her wake than you can imagine. She’s a blemish on Mississippi and reflects poorly on me.”
“What did she do to be cursed to that cemetery, anyway?” He’d always wondered, and Jack had always avoided the specifics on that topic. Barrett had heard different tales over the years. He’d never put much stock into what others said. He always trusted the truth. The truth was a rare commodity these days.
“Would you believe it has to do with a man?” A slow smirk played at the corners of Jack’s lips.
“Isn’t it always?” All he knew was Ella was dangerous and he needed to bring her in. “Don’t worry about her. I’ve got my best Guardian on her. He’ll get her. I promise you that.”
Jack let out a breath, and Barrett could see the tension slip off the Pack Master’s shoulders.
“I know, Barrett. You’ve never let me down before. You won’t let me down now.”
“Damn right,” he said and then looked around the massive living room. Jack’s home seemed like a house out of Gone with the Wind. The Pack Master had kept his Mississippi plantation home in the same style for as long as Barrett had known him, never updating his home to the latest style.
“Everyone is already here. They’re out back.” Jack put his arm on Barrett’s shoulder and smiled. “I had the outside area redone. New fire pit and living area put in.”
“So you did update something in this old place.” Barrett smirked.
“Damn right I did.” Jack laughed good naturedly. “Come see. Plus, we have drinks.”
“Better not be a cash bar.”
“I resent that statement. You know it’s not hospitable in the South to have a cash bar. Why, any self-respecting Southerner would be shocked and outraged at your statement.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Barrett groused.
Jack opened the back door and waved Barrett out.
Barrett took a breath and stepped outside. The humid Mississippi air stung his lungs and had him immediately on edge.
A small group of gentlemen stood around the fire pit. A lone man stood near the bar where a bartender was busy mixing a drink. Though Barrett couldn’t see his face, he knew who the Were was. Edward Boudier.
He tensed his muscles and had to restrain the wolf inside.
He turned his attention back to the men at the fire and made his way over.
“Barrett. Good to see you could join us.” Charles Price, the Pack Master of Tennessee, smiled and held out his hand. Barrett accepted it in greeting.
“Charles, good to see you, man,” Barrett said. Charles had been amiable, but he was soft on certain topics. He didn’t like to stir the pot, and he sure as shit didn’t like to get involved. He was Switzerland when it came to hard topics like Louisiana.
“Hey, Gerald, how you doing?” Barrett turned to the Pack Master of Alabama and shook his outstretched hand. “Heard Alabama is doing well.”
“It is. Crime is down, and that’s always a good thing.” Gerald Davidson smiled and took a sip of his whiskey. “Heard you got Arkansas in good shape.”
“It’s a constant job, I assure you,” Barrett murmured and glanced over at the bar. “Talked to Boudier?”
�
��Nah. He’s been hugging the bar since he walked in. He knows better than to come over here and start his shit.” Gerald took another sip. “I don’t want no trouble. But if that fucker tries to start something with me tonight, then I will sure as shit finish it.” He narrowed his eyes.
Barrett grinned. He knew he’d always liked the Alabama Pack Master. He wasn’t much on social graces, but he drew a line in the sand when it came to his priorities.
“I don’t think he’s going after you. I think he has a different Pack Master in his sights.” Barrett knew without a doubt that Boudier was gunning for him. Barrett was getting his game plan ready for when that happened.
“Guess I should go over and say hi,” Barrett growled.
“You do that. And give him a swift kick in the balls for me while you’re at it,” Gerald said.
Barrett walked over to the bar, his gaze trained on Boudier. His gut tightened as he got closer to his enemy. He’d never hated anyone as much as he hated Edward Boudier, and that was before the Were had tried to kill Lucien. When he’d killed Heimy, Barrett’s hatred for the Pack Master of Louisiana had been cemented. It was then he’d spent every waking minute planning his revenge. On how he would take him out. Make him pay for what he’d done. Boudier needed killing. Barrett would be making the entire world safer by taking Boudier out.
No one cared if Boudier lived or died. He was just a waste of space.
“Barrett.” Edward Boudier slowly turned from the bartender and looked at Barrett. “I was wondering when you were going to come over and extend your welcome to me.”
“Fuck off,” Barrett spat out and then glared at the bartender. “Give me a bourbon.”
“Yes, sir.” The bartender nodded and quickly poured the dark liquid into a glass and placed it in front of Barrett.
Barrett placed a ten-dollar bill into the tip jar. The bartender nodded his thanks. He then shot a glare in Boudier’s direction. Barrett knew the Louisiana Pack Master didn’t tip. Boudier had once said that servers didn’t deserve extra money for doing their jobs.
“Ah, your genteel Southern manners always make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, Barrett.”