by Lora Leigh
y led them where they wanted them to go. They watched. Waited.”
“Some of the hunts lasted for weeks, a few months at a time,” she was told. “They stalked their prey.”
Like a safari hunt, she thought. They knew what they wanted, where it was. They knew their prey’s habits and how they tracked, hid. As she watched, she could see that. They knew their prey intimately.
“This particular hunt was one of the first,” Jonas told her, and she felt Cabal moving behind her, his hands settling on her hips, pulling her against him.
The clasp was intimate rather than sexual. Comforting rather than arousing.
“We found this one in a lab in New Mexico,” Jonas continued. “The hunt took place approximately twenty-seven years ago. The Breeds they were hunting were a male and two females from that particular lab. They caught the first female a week before this hunt.”
She sensed what Jonas wasn’t saying. That she didn’t want to know the particulars of that capture. She probably didn’t want to know this one either.
As she watched the footage, she caught a few glimpses of the hunters themselves. Black-masked and black-clothed. It was impossible to tell who was who.
The dark landscape was illuminated by the thermal and night-illuminating capabilities of the video. She could see the male Breed, a Lion Breed if the brown eyes and tawny-colored hair were an indication, as he attempted to keep the female in front of him.
Both Breeds were cunning and swift, but the hunters had them surrounded. They played with them. They built the rage in the male and the fear in the female until the first shot was fired.
Cassa flinched at the sound and the sight of the bullet as it impacted the male’s back. There was a moment of stunned agony, of resignation on his face, before he went to the ground.
The female raced to him. Tears tracked down her face as a roar of rage tore from her lips. Her canines flashed in the darkness as the hunters advanced on her, their laughter echoing through the night.
“She’s a pretty sight,” one of them called out.
“Let’s not damage her too bad quite yet,” another suggested and Cassa nearly cried out in agony at the familiar tone. “I have a few plans for her.”
Another jeered. “I still say it’s like fucking an animal.”
“It’s like fucking a wildcat,” Douglas laughed back as he moved toward her. “Let’s get her down. He can watch while I fuck his pretty little pussy.”
Cassa tore herself out of Cabal’s grip, turned her back on the video and had to fight to hold in the sickness rising in her gut.
She was trembling, shaking her head as she cupped her hand over her mouth and swore to herself she wouldn’t throw up.
Behind her, the sound cut out. There was silence in the room, but all Cassa could hear were the screams as the hunters tried to pull the female Breed from her mate.
If the female Breed had mated, then any other males’ touch would have been agony. Such agony that it was like daggers tearing through the flesh. Cassa knew. Something as simple as the brush of another man against her in a crowd was so discomforting since the mating heat had begun that she avoided it at all costs.
The day she had ridden from the park back to the inn on the back of Dog’s Harley, she had been careful not to touch him, and he had made certain he hadn’t touched her.
The agony that female mate would have endured, because of Douglas, sliced through Cassa’s soul like a dull knife. Her husband. And he was still alive.
She shook her head as Cabal tried to pull her to him again. She couldn’t allow him to touch her now, not yet. She needed to think, and she couldn’t think if he held her. She needed his comfort, needed his touch too much. She wanted to burrow into him and forget that reality existed.
He had tried to shelter her from it, she realized that. He had wanted to protect her, and she had refused to allow him to do it.
Was it better to know? she wondered as she swallowed back the tears that filled her chest. Or would innocence have been better?
“Why is he still alive?” Her voice was hoarse as she realized that she wanted Douglas dead. Not for what he had done to her, but for what he had done to the female Breeds. The mates that had dreamed of nothing but freedom, safety.
She turned to Cabal, glaring at him, demanding an answer.
“Why?” she repeated. “Why is he still alive?”
She remembered as though it were yesterday. Watching that stake hurl through the air, burying into his spine and sending him to the metal floor as he screamed out in agony.
The screams had cut off. Blood had pooled on the floor. How could he still be alive? Why was he still alive?
“You let him live,” she whispered painfully. “You let him live, didn’t you?”
“He deserved to suffer.” The statement was more a growl, a primal snarl of complete rage as he glared back at her, the amber glints in his eyes like fire in a background of forest green.
“You let him live.” She had to fight the tears, and still two fell. “All these years, he’s lived while you ignored me. Is that why?”
His jaw clenched. “That has nothing to do with why I didn’t claim you, Cassa. It didn’t matter if he was alive or dead.”
“He was my husband,” she cried out. “He is my husband.”
Fury contorted his face and narrowed his eyes.
“Like fucking hell!” he yelled back at her. “That bastard was never your husband, Cassa. He made certain there were no true ties. The marriage wasn’t legal because the minister that married you wasn’t a minister. He wasn’t licensed to marry anyone, and Watts knew it.”
Cassa felt what little blood was left in her face recede. They hadn’t been married? It was relief more than anything else. She didn’t doubt Cabal’s word; he wouldn’t bother to lie to her about this. But it was the shock of it. Yet another betrayal that Douglas had dealt to that stupid, innocent little girl who had thought she loved him.
They hadn’t been married. That information shot through her head like a bullet, nearly bringing her to her knees.
And Douglas was still alive.
“Where is he?” she whispered. “What did you do, Cabal?”
An enraged growl sounded from his chest.
“Does it matter where he’s at?” he bit out furiously.
“It does actually.” Jonas answered the question for him.
Cassa swung around to where Jonas was watching them, his gaze narrowed, his expression calm, watchful.
“Watts escaped four hours ago.”
Tension snapped into the room. It filled the atmosphere, making the air thick as it tightened Cassa’s chest and sent trepidation skating down her spine.
“Watts has been confined in a small prison in the Middle East that Breeds now control,” Jonas told her. “We’ve had him in confinement since the night of Cabal’s release.”
Cassa swallowed tightly as she stared back at the director of the Bureau of Breed Affairs.
“And you allowed him to escape.” Her voice was raw, thick with tears she couldn’t shed.
Jonas’s lips quirked. “We may have made it a bit easier for the Coyote team that rescued him to get to him.” He shrugged. “He’s been a little irate since he learned you and Cabal had mated. It seems he still believes he has a hold on you, Ms. Hawkins.”
Cassa wrapped her arms across her breasts and shook her head. Douglas no longer had a hold on her. He had nothing more on her than old, bitter memories.
“What purpose did it serve to allow him to escape?” she asked acerbically.
The master puppeteer. That was Jonas. Always conniving, always manipulating. Always with a plan.
“The rogue Breed we’re after contacted you, drew you here, hoping to draw Watts out,” Jonas told her. “We believe he’s a mate that’s gone feral and now he’s killing the men who killed his mate.”
“And Douglas raped her.” She had to force the words past her throat.
Jonas nodded. “About a y
ear and a half ago word leaked, somehow, to the Council that Watts was still alive and was being held by us. How the rogue got the information, we’re not certain yet.” He moved back to the table set up in the middle of the room and took his seat with an outward calm she doubted he truly felt.
“We believe,” he continued, “that he bribed one of the human guards we had working there. Several months later, the first victim, Dr. Ryan Damron, was killed after he called Phillip Brandenmore requesting a meeting. They were to meet here at the hunting cabin Brandenmore keeps in the Hawk’s Nest forest.”
Once again, Cabal moved behind her. His warmth surrounded her, like a blanket to hold out the cold, a solace against the pain she could feel raging inside her and the hatred that boiled black and ugly.
“Dr. Damron disappeared before he could reach the cabin. He was found several weeks later, several states from here, mauled and bled out. Since then, six other suspected members of the Deadly Dozen have turned up dead.”
“The information Damron carried was the suspected location where Watts was being held.” Cabal spoke quietly behind her. “Damron was still working for the Council, and we believe Watts had demanded that the Council facilitate his release.”
“You should have killed him,” she whispered.
She wondered if she would burn in hell for that one. If he were dead, then perhaps the Breed now killing wouldn’t have turned feral. And she wouldn’t be facing her past or the weak person she had once been.
“He had information,” Jonas explained with a shrug. “And death would have been an easy punishment. I don’t like making it easy on my enemies. Neither does Cabal.”
She well believed that. Jonas didn’t even like making things easy for those he considered his friends.
“So you arranged to allow for his release.” It was an accusation. “To what purpose?”
She didn’t want to believe he was still alive. Hell, she hated the thought that suddenly he was again breathing the same air she was breathing. That he was on the same planet. And a part of her was terrified as well. Douglas was a vicious, cruel man, and any and every weakness he could find he knew how to put to good use.
“To allow us to capture the rogue we’re after now,” Jonas told her. “We believe Douglas knows the identity of our rogue. When he learned of the killings, he became more determined than ever to escape, when he should have been eager to stay. After all, he’s the one the killer ultimately wants.”
“And how do you know this?” She pushed away from Cabal, her head turning to catch the expression of regret on his face before he wiped it away. “How do you know the killer is after Douglas?”
“We suspected when we learned he had contacted you,” Cabal answered. “We learned Watts was part of the Deadly Dozen years ago, but we’d never learned the identity of the others. That was information we were trying to get out of him when the killings began.”
“And after eleven years you still didn’t have that information?” She scoffed furiously. “Bullshit, Cabal. What were you doing, playing with him? Don’t tell me you couldn’t have learned what you wanted to know in this amount of time.”
“The truth serums we’ve developed couldn’t be used on him because of his weakened physical condition,” Jonas stated. “We didn’t want him dead, not quite yet. And he’d never fully recovered from that steel stake Cabal drove into his back.” A mocking quirk of his lips accompanied the statement.
“Do you have any suspects?” She had to stay focused. Cassa felt as though she were going to shake apart from the inside out. Anger and fear ate at her insides, tearing at them until she felt the raw, bleeding wounds in her soul. If she didn’t focus on something besides that pain, then she might not survive, she might not get out of this room before humiliating herself and breaking down entirely.
“As of now, we have no fucking clue.” Disgust flickered in his gaze and on his face.
Cassa believed him. Not that she wasn’t certain he would lie about it if he did have a suspect, but that flash of self-disgust and anger in his eyes convinced her that he truly didn’t know who the killer was.
“That’s why we allowed Watts to escape,” Cabal stated. “To draw the rogue out. If we watch Watts close enough, then we’ll be there when the killer goes for him.”
“And you’re certain he’s headed here?” she asked as she turned to her mate, to the man she had hoped would eventually love her. Now she wondered if she had a chance. If she had ever had a chance. She kept forgetting the fact that she had been involved with the most horrifying event of his life. The deaths of his family. And now she wouldn’t be the only one facing that past, he would be as well. And there was no way he couldn’t remember exactly the role she had played.
She had allowed Douglas in. She had been the reason he had the information, she had given him the chance to sell the information on the rescue of that facility. Because of her, Cabal had lost so much.
“Positive.” Cabal nodded as he broke into her thoughts. “But he’s not coming for a killer, Cassa. Watts is coming for you.”
◆ CHAPTER 21 ◆
Death watched; Death stalked. But as Death sat in the woods across from the inn and watched the shuttered windows, there was an edge of weariness that crept through the mind and through the soul.
Blood stained not just the hands, but the soul as well.
“He escaped.” Myron James sat to the side, and in his voice Death heard the same weariness, the same old bitterness. “He’s on his way here.”
Of course Watts was on his way here. It was here that it had all begun, here that the Reaper had had his greatest triumph.
Three women. Three beautiful women that had been destroyed by his evil.
“Cabal’s going to try to stand in our way,” Death informed the other man. “He’ll keep guard over the reporter, that’s going to throw a wrench in it.”
“Not if we draw her away from him.” Sheriff Danna Lacey’s voice was fraught with agony.
God, so much pain. It beat at him, tore into the center of his being and lashed at the animal he had always kept careful control of.
Drawing Cassa Hawkins away from her mate wouldn’t be that easy. The animal known as Death knew this. The man, the man understood it, regretted it.
Suddenly, there was so much regret. So much blood scenting his entire body that sometimes he wondered if there was a way to survive the fallout.
Watts would be dead soon, he would make certain of it. There was nothing left to live for except the executions to come. There was no reason to worry about a future or roads not taken. There was only this, only Death.
“She’s not to be hurt.” He hardened his voice, injected the steel needed to ensure that his orders were carried out.
“Since when do we care about her?” Danna was the only one foolish enough to question him. “She came here. She made the decision to place herself in danger.”
“Because we drew her here.” He straightened from his crouch, his eyes still on the inn.
He could sense the four men inside, plotting, maneuvering to learn who he was. He was a dead man. He was Death. He would remain the shadow they could never identify, his life depended on it.
“Are you certain the Coyotes that rescued him will keep us apprised of his location?” Myron straightened as well, his voice rough with his own memories, his own pain.
“They know the cost if they don’t.” Death shrugged. “Either way, Watts will die, even if I have to go hunting myself.”
He stared back at Myron, seeing the pain on his face and in his eyes. That pain had only grown over the years since Illandra’s death. Since his mate had died on that ill-fated mission. A mission Death had selected her for.
The guilt that weighed him down was heavy. It stacked on his shoulders until there were days he felt as though he would collapse under the strain.
God help him, it had been too long, too many years that he had lived as a shadow, waiting, watching.
“We should take her b
efore he arrives.” Danna’s voice was thick with unshed tears, her scent was thick with a pain she never allowed free.
Death shook his head. He felt the breeze as it moved around him, feathered through his hair, and suddenly the memories were so clear, so crisp. The feel of soft hands rubbing at his scalp, the whisper of her kiss, her laughter. The knowledge that she had betrayed him.
So much betrayal. His life had begun in betrayal, and it would end with it. He had known that for far too many years. Had accepted it.
Serena had died by the hand of those she had betrayed him to, and their child was paying the cost, even now he feared. The child they had cut from her body.
Pain fueled rage. It bit inside his soul with sharpened fangs and tore at his guts with rapier claws. Damn her to hell. She had thought she would be safe, that the bastards that searched for them would keep their word to her. She had never paid attention to the blood they had spilled or the proof of those that had already been betrayed.
Where was the child? Only Watts knew the answer to that. He had taken the baby with him. The Council had never known of the child that disappeared that night. But Watts did. Death demanded its due. The child was all he had left to live for—the child, and the deaths to come.
“Rick, we have to get her away from them before Watts arrives,” Danna argued. “She’s what he’s coming for.”
He shook his head. “That’s what he wants us to think. That he’s coming for her. That he’s coming to take back what belongs to him. Watts has no feelings for this woman, and he doesn’t care one way or the other who she fucks or mates. No, he’s coming back here to save his own ass, Danna, and we both know it. He’s coming here to kill me. Because he knows he’ll never be safe as long as I live.”
And now that he was free, Watts would want to ensure that freedom. The only way to ensure it would be to kill the one man he knew he would never escape.
Patrick Wallace. Death.
“Cassa walked into this with her eyes open,” Danna snapped. “She knew she would be facing a killer.”
“She doesn’t deserve to die,” Myron argued heatedly. “For God’s sake, Danna, we’ve both lost mates. Do we really want to force another to live as we have?”
“Did they care when we lost our mates?” Patrick kept his voice low, commanding. “We’re still at war, Myron, don’t let propaganda tell you any differently. We use the weapons at our disposal, and that is all Ms. Hawkins is here, a weapon against Watts. How or if she survives isn’t my concern. Finding my child and killing that bastard is my concern.”
“Will it bring them back?” Myron was the one Patrick had always known would falter at this point. He would falter, but he wouldn’t betray them. For that reason he was still alive.
“Nothing can bring them back,” Danna whispered, and they both looked to him, as though he had the power to turn back time and return the laughter to them.
“Nothing can bring them back,” he told them. “All we can do now is make them pay. With each one we kill we learn more. There’s four left to go besides Watts. I want them all dead. Every one of them.”
He would never live to see that final closure. The Breeds would stop him; Jonas Wyatt would eventually figure out who he was. The pills Danna had managed to steal from Brandenmore’s labs wouldn’t last forever.
Patrick had taken a risk in sending the pills to Cassa Hawkins. It had been a calculated risk, but it had drawn her here. She was now distracting the Bengal he was having problems with, distracting Jonas, and soon she would distract Watts. That was all he needed. Just one moment of time to strike.
“If we kidnap her before he arrives, before Jonas has a chance to throw a net around her, then we can draw Watts straight to you,” Danna argued. “If we wait, we could lose out on the goal we’ve been fighting for.”
He stared back at her, his heart heavy. How much she had lost. Not just her mate and her child, but her very soul. Sometimes he felt the vacancy within her, and knew the pain this would have caused his treasured baby brother.
How Raine had loved this woman. His first smile had been because of her laughter. His first night without nightmares had been because of her presence in his bed. His first tears of joy had been the day they had learned she carried his child.
The night Raine died, a part of Danna had died as well. The night those bastards had held her down and the Reaper had stolen her soul, and the life of her child, Danna had ceased to exist as a woman. She had emerged from that hell broken, irrevocably damaged and without the mate who could have eased her spirit.
They had buried Raine without his head, but Patrick had known they had buried Danna’s soul with him.
“Taking her before Watts arrives would be a mistake,” he finally ordered them both. “We wait until he’s here.”
“The risk is too great,” Danna bit out fiercely. “Rick, they’ll be ready for us then.”
“They’re ready for us now.” He shrugged. “They’ll be more distracted once Watts arrives and so will she. We wait.”
He moved away from them, heading up the hill, using the trees to hide his presence, knowing he would blend into the forest in a way that even another Breed couldn’t track.
He was good at hiding. He was damned good at what he did. He was even better at it than he’d been twenty-two years before. And he had been good then.
He should have followed his first instincts that night and taken that Coyote youth through those mountains alone. He shouldn’t have listened to his own mate. He should have left her safe at their farm, he should have known it was a trap.
The youth was wounded, in pain, desperate to reach the location where he knew he would be safe, where a litter mate had promised him haven.
He was also one of the Council’s prized creations. One of their most advanced engineered Breeds.
He hadn’t listened to his instincts though, and because of that, so many had died. And still suffered.
“Rick, don’t walk away from us.”
The hold that materialized on his arm drove him into action. A snarl tore from his lips, vicious and primal, before his fingers wrapped around Danna’s throat and he was pushing her into the heavy trunk of the bare oak tree behind her.
The smell of fear and submission filled the air, though it was tinged with anger and pain. She gazed back at him furiously, her eyes watering with tears, and suddenly he saw her sister. Sweet, soft Serena. The betrayed and the betrayer.
“Back off.” He pushed away from her, enforcing his calm, enforcing Death rather than the man that wanted nothing more than to lie down and give up the fight that he knew was never ending.
Rick. Patrick. Patrick Wallace. Death. He was a man without a soul, pretty much as Danna was a woman without her o