by Jacey Ward
“Get to know your captor,” she mumbled to herself, walking around the edge of the bed on unsteady legs. Maybe if she got to know him a little better, he might start thinking more clearly. Right now, it was obvious that he was completely wrapped up in his pain and distress over the death of his brother and wasn’t thinking clearly. To hear of your brother’s death was one thing, but to take in that he was, in fact, a serial killer, was quite another. She couldn’t imagine his pain. The problem was that he was allowing himself to get so caught up in what he thought she’d done that he wasn’t allowing for the possibility that his brother was the man who’d killed all those women. He was holding her entirely responsible, believing that she’d used Thomas as the scapegoat to bring what had been a long investigation to a close.
Sasha looked out of the window, seeing nothing but frost touched fields in front of her. Sighing, she dropped her head into her one good hand for a moment, trying not to let her desperation overwhelm her. She wasn’t going to be able to reason with him, not right now. He saw her as the enemy. Perhaps the first step was letting him see her as she was, not as the woman who had killed his brother. If he saw her as another, vulnerable human being then perhaps he might begin to warm to her. Perhaps he’d begin to listen to her. That was all she could hope for.
But still, it would be good to have something to defend myself with, Sasha thought to herself, looking around the room. Unfortunately for her, there was very little she could use. The room was filled with clothes, books and even a television, but she couldn’t reach that. She might be able to throw some books at him, but that wasn’t going to stop a man like him. He had more strength in him that she’d ever have and a few books flung in his direction wasn’t about to stop his strength from overwhelming hers. Even if she had a pen, then she might be able to make something from it – but he’d obviously prepared well. He’d been expecting to hold her here. There was nothing she could use.
The sound of a key scraping in the lock had her body tense with fear and she scrambled back to where she’d been hiding – a corner beside the wardrobe, partly covered in shadow. Bramble was still sleeping, apparently not perturbed in the least by what was going on and, as much as she wanted to reach for him, Sasha didn’t have the time to get him. The door opened and, as she shrank into the corner, she saw Torin grin in her direction. He hadn’t even had to look for her, it was as if he knew she was right there.
“Now, just to prove I’m not going to kill you, I’ve brought you something to eat,” he said, as though he was welcoming a guest. “I’ve got something for Bramble down the stairs.”
“No, please!” Sasha exclaimed, as Torin walked over to pick Bramble up. “Please don’t take him! Please!” Tears filled her eyes as Torin simply ignored her, Bramble in his arms. “Please!” she cried, stumbling towards him. “Please, I need him. Don’t hurt him!” The door slammed in her face as she stumbled, falling directly into the door. Her shoulder screamed in agony as she crumpled to the floor, moans of pain escaping from her lips.
There was no answer. No one came to check on her. Torin didn’t return with Bramble. Sasha cried for a long time, not moving from her place on the floor. Her shoulder was damaged from her fall, and the loss of Bramble was too much for Sasha to take. She’d managed to be strong, but taking away her dog had pushed her to breaking point. Sasha had no idea what Torin was going to do with her pet, terrified that he’d tear him apart, just like he’d threatened.
“Please,” she whispered, brokenly, managing to sit up. “I just want my dog. Don’t hurt him.”
There was no answering whisper, no sound of happy barking to reassure her that Bramble was okay. Instead, there was just the sound of her own sobs filling the room. She grew utterly desperate, her head resting on her knees as she cried.
Torin was right. No one would miss her. No one would know she was gone, not until it was too late.
Sasha didn’t know how long she stayed there, nor how long she cried for. The hopelessness of her situation seemed to weigh her down, pushing her down further and further into the gloom. The hope she’d had, the determination to escape, seemed to drift away and, in its place, came a yawning darkness. Torin was going to do to her whatever it was he had planned, and she was just going to have to pray that she came out alive in the end. He was too strong for her to fight against alone, and especially not with a damaged arm.
The key turned in the lock but this time, Sasha didn’t move. Her shoulder was too painful, her spirits too dulled to even look. She knew it would be Torin. Maybe he’d take advantage of her shoulder and use his strength to overpower her. Sasha wasn’t even sure she could fight back.
“What are you doing down there?”
Torin sounded angry and frustrated, but Sasha didn’t respond. She just closed her eyes and kept waiting for him to grab at her, but there were no grasping hands, no clawing fingers.
“It’s dark.”
There was a grunt as he reached for her, and Sasha let out a yelp of pain as he tried to lift her.
He frowned, sitting her down on the edge of the bed. “What did you do?”
She didn’t say anything, staying completely silent and hanging her head. Her shoulder was in more pain than ever, and, much to her dismay, she felt Torin’s strong fingers prodding at it. Pressing her lips together as hard as she could, Sasha refused to let herself cry out, not even when he grasped her arm hard, not even when she heard the sound of the joint clicking back into place.
“You dislocated it again,” he muttered, sounding much calmer than he had before.
Sasha felt her breath catch in her chest as he stepped back, the pain in her shoulder growing less and less. What was he going to do now? Had he helped her arm just so that she’d begin to trust him? Was he going to use that tiny hope he’d planted in her chest against her?
“Where’s Bramble?” she asked, looking up at him through a sheen of tears. “Please, I want my dog.”
He stared back at her, his brows furrowed. Sasha didn’t look away, intent on keeping his gaze. She had to know Bramble was okay, that he wasn’t thrown outside into the cold.
“You don’t need to worry about Bramble,” Torin replied, eventually. “You just need to worry about yourself. I told you that you’ll pay for what you did to my brother.”
“I don’t know what you want from me!” Sasha cried, her heart thundering in her chest. “Please, Torin, can’t you give me a chance to explain? There’s no need for this.”
“There’s every need for this,” he shot back, now glaring at her. “You took my own flesh and blood away from me.”
Sasha swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. “I had to, Torin. He did this to me.” She nodded towards her arm. “He did that and threatened to do more.”
Torin shook his head. “You’re lying. You used him to clean up the mess you made of this investigation.”
There didn’t seem to be a way to get through to him. “Well, if that’s the case,” Sasha said, softly. “Then we should see the killer strike again. He had a pattern, so if the pattern breaks, then we’ll know we got the right man.” It took almost everything she had to speak calmly and reasonably, desperate to try and prolong the conversation so that he wouldn’t begin whatever revenge he had planned. “If the killer wasn’t your brother, then that means we should have another victim on our hands. In fact, we should have had one already.”
“You probably scared him off,” Torin muttered, darkly.
“Then we’ll wait,” Sasha replied, her voice still trembling. “We’ll wait to see if there’s another victim. If there is, then I was wrong. If there’s not...then there’s only one conclusion we can come to.”
Torin scowled, leaned forward and planted one hand on either side of her, leaning heavily on the bed. Sasha caught her breath, fear crawling up her spine and turning her skin to gooseflesh. His eyes were practically black with rage, his lip curled and jaw tight.
“Listen to me, Sasha,” he bit out, his words low and threatening.
“My brother was not a killer. You took his last breath from him. You made a mistake. You have to pay.”
Sasha couldn’t think of anything to say, her mind clouded with terror. She’d pushed him too far when she’d tried to reason with him. He just could not accept that his brother was not who he thought he was.
“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered, her whole body beginning to tremble violently.
Torin frowned, opening his mouth to say something but, after a moment, closing it again. Sasha waited for him to speak, waited for him to explain but instead he just stayed exactly where he was, his face inches from hers. His eyes roved over her face as if he were looking for something. To her surprise, she saw his eyes glow with a slight yellowish tinge, and the memory of what she’d seen in Thomas Clifford’s eyes came back to mind.
“Your eyes are the same…” she murmured, blinking in surprise. Torin reared back for a moment, studying her as though she’d said something horrific.
“What are you talking about? Don’t try to get me on your side by comparing me to my brother,” he said, furiously, leaning back towards her. “You won’t win, Sasha. This is a fight you’re doomed to lose.”
“If you’re trying to see if I’m afraid of you, then the answer is yes,” she whispered, tears beginning to make their way down her cheeks. “But I won’t ever admit that what I did to defend myself was wrong. Can’t you consider that it’s you who might have made a mistake?”
“Never!” Torin shouted at once, his face contorted with anger. “Never! He was my brother!”
“There’s evidence against him.”
Torin stepped forward, his eyes flashing. “The police have their evidence, but it’s all a conspiracy. I know you used Thomas for your own ends,” he said, his voice low and threatening.
“And you’ve looked at all the evidence, have you?” Sasha retorted, trying to make herself sound as defiant as possible despite the growing weakness in her limbs. “You’ve looked through it all, you’ve made sure that you’ve got an explanation for how each and every piece got where it was?”
“You put it there.”
She shook her head, a mocking laugh escaping her. “Yes, we managed to put the blood splatters from each victim on the walls of Thomas’ home. We embedded the scraps of their clothing – and his, I might add – all over the place. We found the hairs from their heads, along with whatever animals your brother was using to tear these women apart.”
Torin suddenly reared back as though she’d struck him. Sasha’s eyes widened as he stared at her, something flickering in his eyes.
“Animal hair?” he repeated, looking at her more intently than she’d ever seen him. “What kind of animal hair?”
“We don’t know,” Sasha replied, quietly, hoping that she was getting through to him. “Didn’t you know that there were teeth marks from some kind of animal on each of the bodies?”
It was obvious he hadn’t heard that, and for whatever reason, that seemed to rock him.
“What kind of animal?” he asked, gruffly.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. They reckon some kind of large dog, but they hadn’t been able to identify it properly. Why do you ask? Do you know if he had a dog?”
He didn’t reply. Something about what she’d said had really gotten under his skin. It had been the thing that had forced him to question what he believed. His cheeks lost their color as he stared at her.
Sasha closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the stinging blow to accompany whatever retort he planned to throw her way, but none came. All she heard was the sound of the key turning in the lock once more.
She was alone again.
Chapter Eight
Torin slammed the door, hard, making the dog bark in fright. He ignored it and sat back down in front of the fire, his mouth in a thin, tight line. Sasha was trying to needle her way into his mind but he wasn’t going to let him.
His ears caught the sound of footsteps, followed by a slight creak from just outside the door. His nose caught a familiar scent, just as the door handle turned.
“James?” he called, waiting for his second in command to open the door fully. “I hope you’ve brought something good with you!”
James, tall with a shock of grey hair, opened the door, walked in and threw himself into the chair opposite from Torin. “If you’re talking about whisky, then yes, I might have a bottle. I was just wondering what you were planning to do with that human up in your room. I heard her crying again. It’s a little annoying I’ll admit, but if you’re stuck for ideas, I’ve got a few things that come to mind,” he said with a leer.
A low growl reverberated through Torin’s throat, his lip curling a little. James might be one of the ruling members, second only to himself, but there had been a few occasions recently when he’d overstepped his place. This was one of those occasions. Catching Sasha had been his plan and that meant no one else in his pack was to touch her.
James colored, his dark eyes darting away from Torin. “Sorry,” he mumbled, running one hand through his hair. “Just trying to lift your mood a little. It’s obvious you’re tense.”
Torin sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment. “My brother’s dead and I’ve got his killer in my room,” he said, opening his eyes and lifting one eyebrow. “Is it any surprise I’m tense?”
James gave him a slightly rueful smile, looking a little embarrassed. “Whisky?”
Grunting his approval, Torin accepted a measure from James, appreciating the warmth that spread through his chest as he took a sip.
“Best thing about this part of the world,” he muttered, forgetting about the Shadow pack for a moment.
James chuckled, before sitting back down. “And just as well it’s free!”
Torin rolled his eyes. “Not quite free, James. Just because our pack makes it doesn’t mean that each sip doesn’t cost us something.” Then again, there could be worse job descriptions.
The McBain pack had long been involved in the whisky industry, up in the highlands of Scotland. Torin had taken over both the company and the leadership of the pack when his father had grown too old to continue doing both. Torin still grieved for him, even though it was five years since he’d passed away. The pack had always been a strong one, and Torin had to admit that he enjoyed what he did. The whisky they produced was one of the best in all of Scotland, and they exported it around the globe. It provided enough work for every member of his pack and the woods behind their manufacturing plant gave them ample space to roam and hunt. All in all, life had been going very well, right up until Sasha had stolen his brother away from him.
That wasn’t to say that Thomas hadn’t been distant recently. Several clan members had commented that Thomas had become more distant in recent months, barely coming around the clan at all. But that didn’t mean he was a fucking serial killer! Torin told himself heatedly.
“What about that thing?” James asked, curling his lip as he pointed toward Sasha’s small dog.
Torin snorted, seeing Bramble lying on his back beside the fire. “That mutt’s hers. I’m keeping it here for the time being.”
There was a brief silence. “Right,” James murmured, quietly.
“I can’t let it go in case it raises the alarm,” Torin explained, frustrated with James’ constant questions.
“Do you want me to get rid of it?”
Although James’ suggestion was meant to be helpful, Torin recoiled at the idea. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied, the contents of his stomach curdling a little at James’ cold hearted suggestion to take care of the innocent animal. “It’s better to keep it alive right now. More leverage that way.”
James didn’t say anything, although a slight frown appeared at his brow. Torin refrained from saying anything more, thinking that James was becoming a little bit of an annoyance as opposed to the strong second in command he was meant to be.
“I’ll need you to keep an eye on things with the rest of the pack for the next few days
,” he said, hoping that James would accept the responsibility gratefully and stop asking Torin questions about Sasha. “I’ve got her to deal with and I need to decide what to do with her.”
“Of course,” James murmured, getting up to fill up Torin’s glass with another measure of whisky. “You do what you have to. We all miss Thomas. It’s not right that she took him out like she did, just to make herself look good.”
“Exactly.”
Torin swirled the whisky around in his glass, his eyes narrowing as he thought of how Sasha had tried to manipulate him, how she’d had the gall to suggest that it was him that was in the wrong and not her. She’d tried to throw the blame off herself, and he wasn’t about to listen to her. So why wasn’t he able to even let himself think about what he was going to do to her? He’d wanted to inflict pain and suffering on her, burying her in the same agony he felt, but when he’d popped her shoulder back into its place, the relief on her face had made his heart twist with sympathy. It hadn’t been a feeling he’d either wanted or needed. In fact, it made him angry just to think that way.
Shaking his head to himself, Torin threw back the rest of his whisky and held out his glass for another measure. He would continue to trust his instincts and his instincts said his brother was innocent. They’d never let him down yet and he wasn’t about to stop listening to them now.
“Want to go for a run?”
Torin chuckled, his wolf already awake and aware of what James had said. “I probably should,” he said, aware that the tension he’d carried with him since he’d heard about Thomas’ death had already begun to ease. Capturing Sasha had obviously played a big part in that.
“It’s been a few days,” James grinned, before throwing back the rest of his whisky. “The rest of the pack have been wondering where you are.”