“But sir-” the guard gasped.
“You're fired,” he reiterated. “Get out of my sight.”
The two men skulked away, looking like berated dogs.
“Silas, was that really necessary?” I asked. “Rockley can be charming, maybe he tricked them?”
“Don't question my authority,” he bit at me, then his eyes softened and he sighed. “My apologies. I'm not used to feeling so out of control.”
I nodded, resting a hand on his arm, though I was a little rattled by his outburst.
He remained silent, heading down another level and guiding me into a corridor. We arrived in a room of white walls and sparse furniture. The large space was filled with a double bed and a table and chairs set up beside it.
“You can stay here.” He backed out the door. “My room is just next door. There's a bathroom through there.” He pointed to a plain door.
“But what about Jameson? You said you'd help him,” I insisted.
“I will,” Silas promised. “But we need to regroup. Take a break, okay? Trust me.”
I hesitated a moment longer then sighed. “Alright.” I had to admit, I was longing for a shower.
“I'll have someone bring you some food soon.”
I smiled and he paused, his dark eyes running over me. “Come here,” he said softly and I moved quickly forward, raising my brows expectantly. His Adam's apple bobbed and he lowered his tone. “I nearly lost you today.” He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear and heat rose in my veins. Silas had saved my life. I'd been an inch from death and he'd pulled me aside.
“Thank you,” I said, stepping closer.
Tension sparked through the air, his gold-flecked eyes boring into mine.
“Kiss me,” he breathed and I did. Without thought, or reason. I fell into his embrace, needing the reassurance, basking in the heat of his mouth on mine. His fingers slid into my hair and my heart raced.
We parted and Silas stepped out of the door, a smile dancing around his mouth.
I mirrored him as he departed, rushing to the shower and flinging off the remains of the dress I'd worn the night the ship had sunk. I slipped into the heated stream of the shower, the water reviving me with every drop.
Perhaps things were not quite as bad as they'd seemed. If Rockley Jones had lied about the power he'd held here, then Silas was now back in command. And with that thought, I sank into peace.
Safe at last.
Mercy
After enduring a silent ride back to the stables then an equally icy walk back to Alfric's house, Colt led me inside. Lynch strode into the hall, a bottle of V blood in his hand. He'd drunk most of it and the wounds I'd inflicted on him were gone. The rage in his eyes, however, was not.
“Look what the cat dragged back.” Lynch approached me with a sneer. Colt's grip on my arm tightened.
“Give her here,” Lynch growled. “I've got a couple of words I'd like to say to this one in private.”
Colt tugged me back a step. “No. Pack your bags, we're leaving.”
“Leaving?” Lynch's thick brows pulled sharply together. “What do you mean leaving?”
“Lord Alfric is dead,” Colt said.
“Yeah, so I heard,” Lynch said calmly. “Which means we're free men. Free to do whatever we like.” He licked his lips, shifting toward me again.
“He may be dead, but his son isn't. I doubt Alfric's sending our paychecks in the mail. So we need to talk to Ulvic.”
Lynch grimaced. “I ain't working for that homo.”
My nose wrinkled.
“You don't have to work for him, but you do have to get paid by him. So if you'd rather give up the last month's pay for the sake of your homophobia, be my guest.”
Colt strode toward the stairs, dragging me with him.
“Don't see why we have to keep caring for the girl, though,” Lynch called after us.
“Is that what you've been doing?” I muttered. I caught Colt's eye and my gut twisted at the realisation that, of everyone, he had cared for me. Day in, day out. Even if he'd done so because of orders. But he hadn't been supervised. If it had been Lynch looking after me, I was sure I'd have died of an infection a long time ago.
Colt led me up the creaking stairs into the musty hallway above. He guided me to his room, shut the door, locked it and gestured for me to sit on the bed. I did so, watching as he silently took out a backpack from the wardrobe and started packing.
“How are we going to find Ulvic?” I asked, but Colt didn't answer. “Do you really think he's going to pay you? He has no allegiance to you,” I went on.
Colt continued his apparent vow of silence.
“And if his father's really dead, what's to say he'll be remotely welcoming when you see him?”
“Stop talking,” Colt said gruffly.
“I'm just stating the obvious.”
“Well you're obviously stupid then.” He turned, raising up to his full height. “Do you really wanna convince me not to go and see Ulvic? Even though he'll probably offer you freedom the moment we show up asking for our pay?”
My throat tightened sharply. Did Ulvic care about me? Would he spare me? I thought back to the time he'd saved me in Rockley Jones's resort. He hadn't decided to help me, though. Simply stumbled across me and offered me a lift. And why did Colt care about that anyway? He was the last person who wanted me free. Why would he take me to someone who could offer me that?
I narrowed my gaze. “You're lying. We're not going to see Ulvic.”
Colt blinked, his expression impassive. He returned to packing without another word.
I knew men. And I especially knew lying men. I'd hit the nail right on the head; we weren't going to see Ulvic at all. My brain struggled to fit all the pieces together. Of what I knew about Colt, of where he might want to go. Then of the message from 'RJ'.
I sucked in a breath, realisation hitting me in the centre of my chest. “We're going to see Rockley Jones.”
Colt's shoulders bunched – the only sign he'd heard me.
“Aren't we?” I pressed. “We're going to see your father.”
Colt slammed his backpack down on the floor, turning to me with magma flowing through his eyes. “Get off my back,” he demanded. I suddenly sensed the danger in him, the murderer that had killed eight Hunters. My mouth dried up and I nodded weakly, returning my gaze to the wall. Guessing where we were going wasn't worth dying for. But I still reckoned I was right. And the prospect frightened me. The last time I'd seen Rockley Jones, I'd defied him, spoken out against the death games he and my parents were notorious for. I'd played a hand in bringing down his resort. How much he knew of that exactly, I wasn't sure. But probably enough to kill me for it.
“Here.” Colt tossed a pair of leggings into my lap, followed by a shirt and a jumper. “Put them on.” He stalked from the room with his bag hanging from his hand, leaving the door ajar as he waited outside.
I changed into the clothes. The leggings were actually long-johns. Which would have been totally humiliating had I not been frozen to the bone. They were probably the only thing that would fit me in a house full of men's clothes anyway. I wore the large shirt and jumper over them, leaving the sodden coat on the bed with the rest of my damp clothing.
Colt pushed the door open a crack further and the hinges whined. “Done?”
“Done,” I answered and he stepped back into the room. His gaze travelled to the long-johns and he smirked, making my pulse race. He didn't comment on them though, just jerked his thumb toward the door. I stood, hobbling as I followed him into the hallway. My leg was throbbing from how much strain I'd put on it in the past hour and I could tell the pain was setting in for the long-haul.
Colt directed me to the stairs, looping his arm around my waist to help me down them.
“I can manage,” I insisted, leaning on the banister. It groaned as if it might break under my weight.
“Termites,” Colt explained. “The house is riddled with them. But if you insist on breakin
g your neck because you won't take my help, then go right ahead.”
I huffed my annoyance before gesturing for him to help me. I clung to his shoulder, but he simply whipped me into the air and I fought the urge to punch him for it. Several moments later, we met the bottom floor and Colt carried me to an old kitchen. It smelt vaguely of onions, making my nose wrinkle. There was a large fridge on one side of the room, shining and new, looking completely out of place in the ancient house.
Lynch was sat at a small table at the heart of the room, sipping on a cup of steaming black coffee. His eyes followed me as Colt walked to a chair opposite him and helped me into it. A moment later, Colt opened the fridge and gleaming light fell over the table in a rectangular shaft. I spotted row after row of Vampire blood, stored in small bottles. Guess Alfric had lied when he'd said he didn't keep the stuff.
Colt plucked one out, placing it down in front of me.
“Hey!” Lynch objected, but Colt lifted a hand to shut him up.
“We have to take her with us. She's only going to slow us down if she's injured. And I want to get to Ulvic ASAP.”
“She's more likely to escape if she can run,” Lynch countered.
“More my problem than yours, don't you think?” Colt folded his thick arms.
Lynch shrugged, leaning back and placing his feet up on the table. “On your head be it, then.” He sipped his coffee, rocking onto the back legs of his chair. “But I vote we snuff out the problem here and now.” His eyes met mine as he sipped casually from his mug. I glowered at him, giving him my best scowl. Which I knew from experience, was pretty damn good.
Colt didn't answer, moving across the kitchen.
“You used to kill Hunters for fun,” Lynch continued. “You could always teach me the ropes...”
Colt remained silent as he poured two more coffees from the brewed pot then placed one in front of me. He sipped his own, staying on his feet as he eyed his colleague.
Tension crackled through the air.
Lynch licked his thin lips, his eyes still trailing over me.
Colt placed his coffee down, moving around Lynch like a hawk.
Lynch didn't seem to notice, continuing his cocky speech. “So how did you do it, huh? Did you have your fun with them first?”
Colt's hand slammed down on Lynch's shoulder, forcing the front two legs of his chair to crash onto the tiled floor.
In a flash of movement, Colt brought a huge kitchen knife to Lynch's throat, dropping his mouth to his ear. “The easy part is slicing through the oesophagus. But it takes a hell of a lot of strength to cut right through the spinal cord, the bone. Then the head just...falls away.”
Lynch turned deathly white, then a violent shade of green. He laughed nervously, reaching for Colt's hand which was still holding the knife at his throat. Colt retracted it smoothly, throwing me a glance, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
I didn't know whether to be terrified or amused.
“So what's the plan?” Lynch asked, trying to recompose himself, but the colour hadn't yet returned to his cheeks.
“We ride to Montague,” Colt said, dropping into the seat between Lynch and I, picking up his coffee as calmly as if hadn't just threatened to behead someone. “He can get us to Ulvic.”
A part of me was happy to be leaving the old house. Even if our destination was Rockley Jones.
Colt pushed the bottle of V blood toward me.
I picked it up, downing it quickly, despite the vile metallic taste it left in my mouth. A tingling sensation swept through my body, travelling directly to my bad leg. In moments, the pain eased and ebbed away entirely. A smile caught hold of my mouth.
I may have been on route to Rockley Jones, but these two had to get me there first.
Jameson
“Broccolli Jones,” I announced loudly, rolling the R. From the look on his face, he didn't much appreciate that nickname.
He stood in what I guessed was Ulvic's guest bedroom, seeing as his stinking trench coat was hanging on a hook on the wall. Rockley had a gun tucked into a fancy-looking holster on his hip. He was dressed like an upside down mermaid. Which just wasn't a good look for anyone.
Ulvic shut the door behind us, pressing his back to it.
“Ah, de mutt,” Rockley said, smiling coolly. He stepped closer and Ulvic muttered an order for me to keep still. “You are quite de thorn in my friend's side of late.”
“Yep,” I replied.
Rockley glanced over my shoulder in the direction of Ulvic. “You sure he's worth de trouble?”
“Yes,” Ulvic replied immediately.
“Den I will make a deal with Silas,” Rockley said, stepping past me.
I snorted a laugh. “Good luck with that.” I may not have liked Silas much, but I didn't think he'd be selling me out anytime soon.
Rockley frowned as he passed by and the door clicked shut a moment later.
Ulvic came into view, glaring at me like he was an angry father.
“How is Cassandra still alive? I ordered you to kill her,” Ulvic demanded.
Satisfaction sprawled through me and a grin took shape on my mouth. “Your chains are breaking, Ulvic. One by one. Reckon I’ll be free soon actually.” I examined my nails, pretending I was as cool as a cucumber in sunglasses. “Are you scared?” I asked casually, sparing him a glance. His face had discoloured to a nasty shade of purple. My smile grew. “I’d be terrified if I were you. You know why?” I soaked in every drop of this moment. I had a little bit of power again. And damn did it feel good.
Ulvic grabbed my throat. “Don't fight back,” he growled the order and I felt it take hold of my body. I ground my jaw. “You're bluffing,” he said satisfactorily. “I still have control of you.”
“Do you feel like a big man right now?” I gazed down my nose at him and he dropped his hand from my neck. “Because you're looking pretty small from my perspective.”
“You won’t get free,” Ulvic hissed, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. “It’s impossible.”
I raised two fingers, index and middle. “Actually, there are two ways I can get free. One: you die and the pack bond dies with you. Or two: I shake off your commands and kill you with my bare hands. Or teeth. I might even string you up like a puppet and play games with you for a while to get some payback first.” Ulvic lifted his chin, working very hard not to seem afraid. “Either way, your death is on the cards, friend. You can consider it prophesised.”
I clapped a hand on his shoulder and his knees nearly gave out.
“You won’t get free,” he repeated, but seemed less certain this time.
I tilted my head, scratching an itch behind my ear. “High stakes, Ulvic. The bet’s your life. You sure you wanna play your hand?”
Ulvic reached for a blade at his hip, his gaze growing cold. “There is an easy solution to your rebellion, Jameson.”
I snatched Ulvic's wrist, drawing the knife for him and bringing it to my throat. I'd had a seriously long day and I was not in the mood for games. I pressed the blade hard enough that blood dribbled down my neck. “Go on then, Ulvic. Make me go away.”
I felt his hand trembling in my fist. It was a bold move, but I was acting on more than just a hunch. Ulvic loved me. Kinda like a son, I reckoned. Which was its own special brand of screwed up.
Ulvic gritted his teeth, his lips peeled back. His face said murder, but his eyes didn't. He shoved me hard as he retracted the blade.
“Can I move now?” I muttered and he nodded. The command released me in a wave. “So where does this leave us?” I asked, moving to his bed and dropping down. “I've been giving this a lot of thought actually. So I reckon this is where we stand: I'm not going to stop fighting you. Period. And you're not going to stop commanding me to do things and feel pissed off when I fight back. So I'm thinking...you cut your losses and expel me from the pack.”
Ulvic toyed with the blade in his grip, seeming to consider my words. “That's not going to happen.”
“Why?” I de
manded. “Is this really what you want? To force me to stand at your side no matter what?”
Ulvic sighed, bowing his head. “Of course not.”
“Then what do you want?” I begged, feeling at my wit's end. “Just let me go, Ulvic. End this insanity.”
He drifted toward the door. “I can't,” he said softly, his gaze trailing over my face. Love blazed back at me. Fatherly love. Urgh.
“Stay here,” he commanded, opening the door. “There's clothes in the wardrobe.”
He stepped out of the room and I heaved a sigh, standing and heading into the en-suite.
Guess I might as well wash.
When I was done, filthy water circled around the plughole of the shower. I headed back to Ulvic's room, picking out the only clothes that would fit me: some grey joggers and a t-shirt that I had to squeeze into.
I gazed at the door, longing to go out there, to find Cass. And knowing, that any chance of freedom was now firmly in Silas's hands.
Don't let me down, bro.
Cass
When I was dressed in a vest and leggings, I waited for Silas to return, chewing on my thumb. Food was brought to my room and I drank the glass of blood and ate the cheese sandwich in three bites. I'd been ravenous. Now I was finally starting to feel myself again. But the longer I waited, the more anxious I grew.
Perhaps Silas was talking with Rockley? Making a deal? I knew he'd pull through for Jameson and I. He had to.
The door opened and I turned sharply to face it.
Silas entered, dressed in trousers and a shirt, his expression flat.
“What's going on? Have you spoken to Rockley?” I asked, hurrying toward him.
He gripped my hand, giving me a soft smile. “Yes. He's quite insistent that Ulvic keeps Jameson. And he wants you, too.”
I tsked. “And what did you say?”
“I told him he can't have you,” he replied evenly.
“And Jameson?” I asked, stepping closer.
He remained silent.
“Have your guards get rid of Rockley and Ulvic,” I insisted. “You have plenty of employees here. So make them leave the wolves behind!”
Wolf Games: Island of Shade (The Vampire Games Book 5) Page 20