by Lynn Hagen
Every captive in the van held fear in their eyes, even Sasha. They had all either seen or heard of the horrors that took place in the detention centers. Omar had lived through it—was still living through it with the multiple breeds coming out of the guy.
The entire van sat in silence as they rode to an underground parking lot. Selene had been separated from them. Rick knew they were using her as insurance to keep them in line. Nate and Sasha had murder in their eyes as they watched the van pull into what looked like some kind of holding cell.
Rick had seen his top enforcer in a lethal mode plenty of times. Nate was an enforcer and was damn good at his job. But this was the first time he saw the man’s jade-green eyes so dark they were almost black. The guy was brewing inside a silent rage. Sasha’s kelly-green eyes were the same, dark orbs that looked as if the man were going to shift into a demon.
“You’ll have plenty of guns trained on you. I would suggest you not try anything heroic, or stupid,” the driver said as the brakes squeaked and the van came to a stop.
They had been relieved of their weapons back at the safe house, but Rick still had his claws and teeth. The first opportunity that presented itself, he was tearing someone’s fucking throat out.
“They like to fuck with your head and beat the shit out of you in this place,” Omar whispered as he stared down at his hands. “Trust me, if they get the chance, two or three of them will use any of you as a punching bag.”
Rick would really like to see them try. He may have cooperated because he didn’t want Selene hurt, but he was nobody’s punching bag.
They sat in the van for the longest time after the driver had gotten out. Rick wasn’t sure what was going on.
“How are you holding up?” Rick whispered to Dorian. His mate was sitting next to him, sweating, fighting the change. Still, some parts were succeeding. Dorian’s claws were out and his eyes were glowing, but he hadn’t sprouted hair or shifted. Rick could sense his mate was on the edge, tugging at a fine line as he fought his werewolf, stopping the beast from getting free.
“It’s taking everything in me not to shift,” Dorian confessed. “It hurts to stop my werewolf.”
Rick knew that feeling, had been there plenty of times. There was no advice he could give that would help. He had never figured out what to do when he had felt that way. Reaching over, Rick slid his hand under Dorian’s and then entwined their fingers together before leaning and kissing his mate’s temple. “Just stay alive, gatito.”
Dorian nodded as the back doors opened. No one was standing there, which told Rick whoever opened them hauled ass already.
“Step out of the van,” a disembodied voice said.
They all sat there, staring into the cage they would be standing in.
“Step out of the van or your friend will pay the price.”
Rick felt his temper flare when he heard Selene cry out. She was an enforcer. Rick knew it took a lot to make her give in to pain.
Nate was out of the van, howling and snapping his teeth as he slammed his hands into the cage. “Hurt her and I’ll eat every last one of you sorry son of a bitches!”
Sasha was next to climb out, his eyes scanning all around, his jaw set in a grim line.
“I highly doubt you are in a position to make any kind of threat, animal.”
“Wanna bet?” Nate said as he slammed one hand into the metal. It didn’t budge. The cage seemed to be reinforced just for changeling strength.
“Come now,” the disembodied voice said. “Show yourself, Enrique Marcelo. I want to see the famous werewolf changeling who has defied all odds and has led a nation of Rebellions.”
Dorian squeezed his hand tightly. “Don’t go.”
Before Rick could say a word, Miguel climbed from the van, standing to his full height with a stone face. Rick had never seen the changeling look so fierce, so proud. He had been right when he saw an alpha in the young enforcer. Miguel may joke and kid around a lot, but there was an underlying strength that was developing. When this war was over, Rick was going to have to take the man under his wings. A budding alpha shouldn’t be left untrained.
“You are not Enrique. I’ve seen his face in the papers,” the voice replied with a snap.
Rick cupped Dorian’s face, giving him a passionate kiss. It was filled with all the love he felt for his mate and the promise that they would make it out of this alive. He released the man and stepped from the van.
Rick’s heart was beating hard in his chest as he revealed himself. He may be an alpha, and he may be leading an uprising, but it was still some scary shit to walk out into the unknown. He was the most highly sought man in America, and his enemies had finally captured him. There was no telling what they had planned for him.
But Rick did know that keeping him alive was not in their plans.
“Impressive,” the voice said.
“Come inside the cage and I will show you just how impressive I truly am,” Rick said with a steel tone, surveying the area. There was nothing around them except the cage. There were no parked cars. There was no storage sitting off to the side. The place was made of concrete and was well lit, but nothing was in the underground parking area except them.
It seemed these people weren’t taking any chances with Rick and his group.
“How about you come out to me?” the male voice asked. “I would really love to pick your brain…apart.”
A chill ran down Rick’s spine. The man meant it. Rick didn’t say another word as Benito, Freedman, Dorian, and then Omar climbed out of the van.
“Ah, we have a returning guest.”
“Fuck you, Dr. Formente.”
Rick snapped his head around, recognizing that name. Samuel Formente. He was the Breed Hunter whose truck they had stolen behind a small post office. The man was a college professor who taught bioengineering and had worked at the college in Georgia that had been bombed.
“Do you still have my truck or did you destroy it?” the man asked from overhead speakers, the anger clear in his voice.
No one said a word.
Rick wanted to pull his mate into his arms to give them both the reassurance they needed, but Rick wasn’t foolish enough to give this man cannon fodder. If they didn’t know Dorian was his mate, he wasn’t going to clue them in.
Dorian seemed to have the same idea, because he was standing on the opposite side of the cage as him. Thankfully his mate’s claws had retracted, but his eyes still glowed the Peruvian-brown Rick loved so much, which was injected with flecks of yellow.
The distinct sound of hard-soled shoes could be heard echoing around them. Someone was coming, approaching them. Rick stood there and waited. He could see Freedman inching closer to Omar.
Rick had the same urge for Dorian, but stayed rooted to the spot, but he could feel his mate wanting to get close to him. Rick could scent Dorian’s anxiety. He ground his molars together. His mate needed him, and all Rick could do was stand there.
A man appeared from the shadowed corner of the underground. Rick recognized him from his driver’s license. The driver’s license that had been stuffed in a wallet that was still in the truck they had stolen.
This was Samuel Formente.
Somehow Rick had pictured this man taller, but he stood shorter than Rick. His chestnut-brown hair was stylishly cut, and he wore a white lab coat over dress pants and a button-down shirt that looked as if it had cost a nice penny. The guy was wearing highly polished dress shoes, the kind that were handmade.
Samuel Formente liked dressing to impress. The expensive outfit and well-placed creases in his pants spoke volumes of the man wearing the suit and buffed-to-a-shine shoes.
“I am going to be famous for capturing Enrique Marcelo and his mate,” Formente said as his eyes slid over to Dorian. “Along with his Rebellion group.”
Rick didn’t threaten the man to stay away from Dorian. He knew it would do no good and he would only show this man a sign of weakness. If Rick ever needed his strength, it was now.
Dorian stood taller, his chin jutted out in defiance.
Formente tucked his hands behind his back. “Now, all of you will allow my guards to shackle you without resistance.”
“Like hell,” Benito growled.
Dorian collapsed. Rick hurried over to him, kneeling over his mate to see a dart protruding from his neck. His head snapped up. “What the fuck have you done to him?”
A malicious grin formed on Formente’s face. “He has been injected with a toxin. Unless I give him the antidote, he will die. But saving him will be entirely up to you men. Cooperate and you have nothing to worry about.”
Guards began to fill the underground parking garage, some with guns in their hands, others with steel shackles. Rick knew he would comply. Dorian’s life was at stake. Although he was getting really fucking sick and tired of his mate being attacked.
The man had just recovered from being gutted.
“Step away from the door,” Formente instructed with a command that brooked no argument.
Everyone eased away as one of the guards unlocked the door. Enough guns to take down an entire army were immediately trained on them. The human eased into the cage, his eyes snapping at each member of the Rebellion group as he shackled Rick first.
Smart man.
They were neutralizing the leader in order to make the rest quietly comply. Rick wouldn’t have resisted. Dorian’s life depended on them all cooperating. Too bad Kraven hadn’t waited until now to send his Mãos da Morte. The distraction might have given them an advantage.
One by one, the group was shackled. They even shackled Dorian’s prone body.
“Now give him the antidote,” Rick said with a snarl.
The man chuckled. “He was merely given a mild sedative. He should be coming around very soon.”
“That better be all you gave him.”
Formente shook his head, a spark of something indistinguishable in his eyes. “Your group is very aggressive. I have the upper hand, yet you men continue to threaten me as if you can come through on your promise. That is very interesting.”
Rick’s head turned when Dorian began to moan. His mate reached for his head, but stilled and opened his eyes, staring at the thick metal cuffs around his wrists.
Formente turned on his heel and strode away without saying another word. With military precision, some of the guards pivoted and strode away as well.
“Move out,” the guard standing by the cage door said.
Rick walked from the cage first, but stopped, waiting for his mate.
The guard pushed at his back. “Get moving.”
Rick’s canines lengthened and then he snapped his jaws at the guard. “Be very careful when coming near me. I really, really like to bite.”
The guard’s eyes grew slightly round at Rick’s words.
A smile tilted the side of Rick’s mouth. “Why don’t you bleed for me so that I can taste your vital organs?”
Something hard and metal was pushed into the back of Rick’s head. “Shut the fuck up and get moving.”
Rick gazed at the guard who had shoved him and licked his lips as his eyes began to glow. “I can smell your fear and it’s giving me a fucking hard-on,” he said before walking away.
Rick chuckled maliciously when he smelled the distinct scent of urine.
“You like playing head games?” the guard asked in a tone that was filled with anger.
“No,” Rick replied.
The guard moved in closer, forcing Rick to stop. “Yes, you do. But I can play head games just as well.” The guard turned. “Bring me this animal’s filthy mate.”
Rick spun, but a shotgun barrel was pressed on both of his cheeks. The two guards were looking at him with a bright gleam in their eyes, begging wordlessly for Rick to give them an excuse to blow his head off.
It took two guards to haul Dorian forward. His mate wasn’t going without a fight.
The guard who had been speaking to him smiled as his tongue traced his bottom lip. “Watch this, Enrique.” He took a step back, walked over to Dorian, and then Rick watched in utter terror and rage as the two guards holding Dorian forced his mate to his knees. The guard threatening Rick palmed his groin, moving his crotch close to Dorian’s face. “I’ll make you watch as this fucking animal sucks my dick.”
The inside of Rick’s body filled with red-hot rage, singeing his veins as he felt his werewolf nearly bursting free. He took one step forward, the shotguns still trained on his face. “Touch him and there will be nothing on this earth that will save you from what my animal will do to you. Trust me, I can hunt you down and I will ever so slowly eat every inch of your flesh while you are still alive and screaming.”
The guard’s eyes dulled for a second and Rick scented the man’s fear. It grew thick in the air and then began to dissipate. The guard moved closer to Dorian, taunting Rick as if Rick couldn’t make good on his threat.
The guard was a dead man and was too stupid to realize this fact.
“What is taking so long?” Formente asked as he stepped back through a door at the far side of the underground parking lot. His eyes snapped to Dorian on his knees. “I did not tell you to harm them. Bring them to my fucking lab, you goddamn idiot.”
Everyone glanced around when a slight tremor rocked the floor beneath them. The doors on the back of the van that had been opened swayed, and then lights dimmed.
“What the hell was that?” one of the guards asked.
Omar smiled as he locked eyes with Formente and then spoke in a low, singsong voice, “Salvador is here.”
Chapter Fifteen
Salvador Santos Almeida walked down the dirt road toward the detention center, his coven following behind him. He had summoned them when he realized his mates were here in America. His coven was loyal, strong, and revered Salvador. They were also very deadly. Salvador’s coven was comprised of nothing but born vampires. None among them were turned. Not one of his members was as strong as Salvador, but united, they would destroy this place and leave nothing behind but ash and ruins.
“Stop right there!” a human in a military uniform shouted as he ran from a small shack. It was the guard hut that stopped all vehicles for inspection before entering the detention center.
Salvador raised his arms and then threw them forward. The entire shack exploded, killing the guard. He could hear dogs barking and whining in the distance, and the level of activity near the high wall increased tenfold.
Salvador began to walk forward again.
Funnels of dust formed as the air around him swirled and gained speed, spiraling toward the building. A tank slowly turned, the large barrel aimed at him and his coven. Salvador raised his arms once more, and the tank began to turn toward the center instead.
But Salvador didn’t allow it to fire. There were people inside he didn’t want hurt.
Men and women began shouting.
Gunfire ran out in the night.
Dogs were barking loudly.
Salvador pointed to his right and the coven members to his right dispatched, racing toward the wall and then began to scale the height with nothing more than their hands and feet as leverage.
The Shadow moved in beside Salvador, combining their strength as the large thick, steel doors leading into the center groaned and buckled. Then the doors gave and began to open.
“Stop him!” someone shouted.
Salvador pointed to his left, and the remaining coven members raced to Salvador’s left, scaling the walls and taking out the guards who had been walking around the upper perimeter.
The vampires fighting were unparalleled. They didn’t need weapons. They had skills that had been honed to perfection for hundreds of years.
If these humans wanted a war, it was a war they were going to get. No one took Salvador’s mates and then lived.
The humans just better pray to their god that no harm had befallen Omar or Freedman.
Before crossing the threshold, Salvador turned, glanced at the helicopters high above, and the
n swooshed his hand through the air.
The helicopters began to descend at a rapid rate and then crashed into the land behind the center.
He felt a shove of power. The Shadow had given Salvador a part of himself so that Salvador didn’t collapse from the power he was exerting. He knew he was going to have to feed or he would never make it out of here on his feet.
The left side of Salvador’s body jerked when a bullet slammed into his shoulder.
The Shadow was gone in seconds, killing the one who had shot Salvador. There was a low gurgling sound and then the human was dead. Salvador narrowed his eyes when he saw soldiers heading his way.
His rage surged through him knowing these men had taken his mates. He wanted them back. Salvador had suffered enough in his life, and he wasn’t going to allow these humans to keep him from the two bright points in his life.
Salvador slashed his arm through the air, the soldiers dropped to their knees, grabbing their heads. Salvador moved closer until he knew he was in earshot. “Give me my mates back!”
“W–Who are your mates?” one of the soldiers asked as blood began to trickle from his nose, the veins in the white of his eyes darkening.
Salvador yanked the man’s head by his hair and stared deep down into his unfocused eyes, making sure the human knew he wasn’t accepting any excuses. “Where are the men you brought here? Where is Enrique Marcelo?”
The man’s eyes lowered to slits. “Fuck you. I’m going to make sure everyone knows that we were the ones to catch the most wanted man in America.”
Salvador leaned down, baring his fangs. “Dead men can’t talk,” he said before sinking his fangs into the man’s neck, draining him dry. He tossed the body aside and looked at the other men. “Give me my mates back or I will make your fucking heads explode.”
When not one man said a word, Salvador cocked his head to the side, gazing each one of them in their eyes. The whole unit screamed, falling over, blood oozing out of their eyes and ears, and then they moved no longer.
Salvador stepped over the dead bodies as he charged toward the main door, his shoulders set forward and his jaw locked. He followed the call of Freedman’s blood, stepping inside the door.