“Shoot him again,” I think Adam says but I can barely hear over the ringing in my ears.
I close my eyes, point the Uzi, and pull the trigger. I don’t know how many bullets hit home, the gun’s kickback makes it hard to handle, so I think some ricochet. I can’t look at the man when I open my eyes. I don’t need to see. Instead, I glance to Adam who half smiles and reverently nods. No time for pride. I run past Adam back to the kids. They’re both sobbing with their fingers in their ears. I scoop them up and hug them as tight as possible.
“Is the bad man dead?” Dusty asks.
“Yeah.” I set them down. Not safe yet. “Come on. Almost there.”
They cling to my shirt as I rush back to Adam, help him up, and hustle us the fuck out of this tunnel. I’m first up the ladder with the Uzi, punching in the code and lifting the metal trapdoor. The fresh summer air whooshes in. Only remnants of the sun remain, lighting up the thick woods. Dusk. Gorgeous. Even better, there’s no one around. I climb out, pull the kids and Adam up, and slam shut the door. I have no idea exactly where I am, but it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.
“I think I hear something,” Adam says.
Me too. Crackling twigs. We both raise our guns and swing that way.
“Don’t shoot!”
I breathe a literal sigh of relief as I spot Devin sprinting toward us through the trees. “Oh, my God, you guys,” he says as we lower our guns. “You made it.” He wraps his twig arms around me, hugging tight. “You made it.”
I glance at Adam, bloody and wan, then at the children, eyes bloodshot from still-falling tears and clutching onto each other’s hands. Untouched and alive. I did it. I saved them.
It’s a damn good start.
_____
“You are out of your fucking mind, lady.”
I’m sitting in Reid’s RV a half mile from the house off an access road, attempting to convince the eleven lucky ones who managed to escape the house of horror to return inside. No great surprise, it isn’t going well.
“We all barely made it out by the skin of our teeth,” Reid continues. Reid, who at the first sign of cars and werewolves charging through the open gate, put his RV into gear and ran the other way. He did claim to run over a wolf, but if it happened it was an accident. I can see why his wife Katie cheated with Tate. Spinelessness is never attractive.
“Your wife is still in there. Or did you forget about her?” I ask.
“They’re not going to kill the women and children,” he counters.
“I’m sorry, am I the only one who’s ever watched the History Channel?” I ask the group of terrified people. Four children, three women, two teenagers, and three men, one injured. My army. “What do invading forces always do? Slaughter all the men, rape and enslave the women, and unless they’re useful, kill all the children.”
“This isn’t medieval Europe,” Mac, Reid’s son, says. “This is America. They’ll let them go. Eventually.”
“Maybe. After a few gang rapes. You may get a new brother out of this,” I say snidely.
“Shut up,” Reid snaps.
“Don’t talk to her that way,” Adam warns through his wince. Deandra’s doing her best to pick out the buckshot as he lies on the tiny kitchen table. “She’s your Alpha’s daughter. Show some damn respect.”
“My Alpha’s dead. They killed him. Probably Jason too. They won. Tate, your mom, they’re all dead. And going on a suicide mission won’t change that.”
“I told you before, Jason isn’t dead,” Devin insists. “I saw him.”
The air’s knocked from my lungs. “What?”
“When I was waiting to catch more stragglers, I saw him. He’s in wolf form. He was being chased by two wolves and a man with a gun, but it was him.”
Don’t you dare start crying now, Viv. No weakness. Show no weakness or you’ll lose these people. I square my shoulders and straighten my back. “Then we’re in better shape than I thought.”
“We don’t know how many of them are here. We have no weapons—”
“What about the cache of guns in the basement?” Shante asks.
“All the ammo was gone. Like someone stole it,” Mac says.
“Probably the same person who took down the witch’s wards, gave those assholes the tunnel code, and opened the fucking gate,” Pookie says. We’ve all pooled stories of the attack and escape to get a better picture of what occurred. The men in the tunnel were the first wave, and when the first shots rang out, it signaled the three trucks, each with two men and a werewolf in a cage to ride in through the open gate to invade the house. Our rat rolled out the red carpet.
“So we have no guns, we’re outnumbered, our Alpha’s dead, and you want us to charge in and kill them using what? Our bare hands?” Reid asks.
“I want you to stop being such a selfish asshole and start being pack,” I say. “That is your family in there. The people you’ve laughed with. Spent holidays with. Ran with, cried with, loved and who love you in return. They are scared. In pain. And they need us. Can you really, really live with yourselves knowing you turned your backs on them? Literally fed them to the wolves? Because if you can … shame on you. You don’t deserve to be pack. Hell, you don’t deserve to breathe.” I rise from the bench, scanning the faces of my people with a scowl affixed that’d put Jason’s to shame. “We are smart. We are pissed. And they will not be expecting us. We can do this. But we can only do it together. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather die fighting for the people I love than having a lifetime of misery knowing I didn’t step up for them when they needed me. They need you now. They love you. Earn that damn love. So, who’s with me?”
I meet Reid’s eyes, Mac’s, Shante’s, but they all glance down in shame. Shit, I—
“I’m with you.”
All eyes jut to Devin, who rises from the floor. “They killed my dad. They killed Frank. Claire’s still in there. Maureen. The children. I’m with you.”
“Me too,” Adam says.
“And me,” Deandra adds behind Adam. “For Omar.”
“And me,” Mac says.
“Son—”
“Mom’s in there. Troy too. If I can do something, Dad …”
“Guess we’re in too,” Pookie says, taking Shante’s hand.
Which only leaves …
We turn our gazes to the holdout. Reid squirms in his chair. “Shit.” He sighs. “You better have a hell of a plan, lady.”
“Well … I am my father’s daughter.”
eighteen
Going back into the wolf’s den. Voluntarily. I have lost my damn mind. No question. No sane person would walk into almost certain death for people I haven’t even known a week. God, being a good person really sucks. I don’t know how Jason does this all the time. If we survive this, I’m signing up for more lessons. Until then, I’ll have to fake it until I make it. Please help me make it.
Deandra, wonderful Deandra who is handling the death of her husband, Omar, with useful, spiteful vengeance, waits in the tunnel with me. She agreed to sneak into the house with me. And since she was in the army, I am more than glad to have her.
“You sure about this?” she whispers.
“Hell, no.” I give her a half smile. “No matter what happens to me, stick with the plan. Get them out.”
“Just get that gate open.”
I nod. Let’s get this over with. Don’t want the pre-show jitters to paralyze me.
As quiet as mice, we creep up to the top floor, and I punch in the code. Deandra flips the safety off the Uzi. For the first time ever, I’m putting my faith in the basic decency of a human being. And if it doesn’t work, then I’ll just shoot him. I slink out of the staircase into the master bedroom, stopping at the door to peek out into the hall. My new friend is still walking the line. I step into the hall, and the guard’s mouth drops open. I wave
him over before returning inside and positioning myself beside my father. The guard walks in, brown eyes bugging out.
“What are you doing back here?” the man whispers. “You need to go!”
“What’s your name, kid?” I ask with a smile.
He does a double take. “R-Rory.”
“Hi, Rory, I’m Vivian. Vivian Dahl. How old are you, Rory?”
“T-Twenty. Why?”
“I’m twenty-nine, Rory. I’ll be thirty in two days, can you believe that? Two days. Happy fucking birthday, right? And you see that man at our feet? The dead one? Well, that’s my father. I just met him about a week ago. He walked out on me when I was a baby. You know why, Rory? You know why my father, who loved me more than life itself, did that? To protect me. From you. From this exact situation. That man walked away from me, then walked in front of bullets for me, all because of you and that fuckhead boss of yours downstairs. The same one who, in a matter of minutes, will tell you to take that gun you’re holding, go down to the basement, and begin shooting small children because he has no use for them. We’ve both met the man. We both know he will.
“Now, I don’t know how you got involved in all this, or why you thought you had to come into this house and slaughter innocent women and children, but considering I’m not being raped like those women in those rooms, and my five-year-old niece and nephew are safe, I’m going to assume somewhere inside you, you know how wrong this is. I’m also going to assume you are a good person. Are you a good person, Rory? Do you believe what you’re doing is right? Really? Truly?”
His mouth opens and closes without sound before he says, “No, ma’am. I don’t. I-I-he attacked me. Three days ago. My cousin called me up, said he wanted to take me out for drinks. I ended up bitten by a damn wolf. Been in hell since.”
Got him. “Then let’s pull your ass out of there, huh? How many of you are there?”
“We came with eighteen, don’t know how many are left. I know for a fact you got four of us, maybe more. Some of those who came as wolves are missing too.”
“How many guarding the cages in the basement?”
“Two.”
“Anyone in with the teenage girl now? Claire?”
“Yeah. Another new one like me. Think his name’s Benny. Guys are in with the other two as well.”
“Do you have a knife or gun with a silencer?”
“Wh- hy?”
“Because I need to free Claire so she can change. Heal. I figure if we can kill one, we can kill all three, but only if we do it quiet.”
“I-I don’t—”
“Rory, this is war. I understand you got drafted, pulled into this against your will—believe me, I more than sympathize—but we’re in this now. And you can either be on the side of the child murdering, women-raping assholes who turned you into a monster in every way conceivable, or you can help me strike back at these fuckers. Save women and children. Maybe even get some damn payback for ruining your life. What do you say? Want to join the good guys?”
The boy’s mouth continues to flop open and closed with indecision. I understand. We are the losing side. “W-What would I have to do?”
Oh, I could hug this guy. If he didn’t say yes, option B, I was to kill him. Instead, I grin. “Just three little things, then you get your soul back. Not a bad bargain, huh? Step One: Claire. But first …” I lightly knock on the panel, and Deandra opens it. “He’ll bring Claire to you. Tell her what to do. Then wait for the cue. Two in the basement.”
“Scream if you need me,” says Deandra before she rushes into the bathroom to wait.
I turn to Rory. “Our main objective is to get the front gate open. I have people waiting out there. That’ll be your job. The button’s by the intercom next to the front door. Just make sure no one sees you. But first …” I hold my hands behind my back as if handcuffed but with easy access to the hidden pistol riding up my spine. “Congratulations, you just captured me. Now take me to Claire’s room.”
Holding onto my hands, Rory escorts me down the hall as if it were the Green Mile. Could very well be if everything doesn’t run like clockwork. He lightly knocks on the door. When no one answers, he knocks harder. We wait a few more seconds before I hear footsteps. A man with long, grayish hair wearing only pants opens the door. “What?”
“I was told to switch them,” Rory says.
Benny, the rapist fucker, eyes me up and down. “Haven’t had a redhead in years. Bring her in.”
Dear God. My throat closes when I spot the seventeen-year-old girl tied to the bed by silver chains. She stares up at the ceiling but probably doesn’t see it. She’s gone far, far away. “You bastards.”
Rory positions me with my hands against the wall. “Do you have the keys?” Rory asks, moving toward Claire.
Benny gestures toward the dresser. As Rory unshackles the catatonic girl, who doesn’t even blink, Benny all but licks his chops at the sight of me. In his mind I’m already spread-eagled like Claire just was. Rory wraps her in the bloody sheet then carries her like a bride out of here, hopefully hustling to Deandra. I just need to buy him twenty seconds.
“So, what’d he promise you? Your Alpha?” I ask.
“Looking at it. Pussy, nice house, hanging with the boys. Someone even brought cold beers. What more could I want?”
“Humanity? A soul?”
“Overrated.” Benny saunters toward me like the cock of the walk, eyes zoomed in on my breasts. “You gonna fight me?”
My hands lift up the back of my shirt, and I grasp my gun. “Hell yes.”
He steps in front of me, hand immediately snaking up the front of my shirt to grasp my breast. “Good. I like it—”
I bring my knee square into his groin. Twice. The rapist bastard doubles over with a groan, stumbles a step back, and I kick him in the stomach. He falls on the bloodstained bed as I swing the gun around, training it on him. I know what I have to do, it’s my plan after all, and staring down that waste of space amid the stains of torture, I really do feel nothing when I pull the trigger. Again. And again, literally blowing his brains out. Jason was right, it does get easier each time.
Running footsteps move closer out in the hall. A second later Rory opens the door. His mouth drops open. “What was that?” another man asks behind him.
Rory steps in and points his shotgun at me. “Drop your weapon,” he orders.
I obey and hold up my hands in surrender. Another man, then a third, the Italian stallion from the Inn, rushes into the room. “My name is Vivian Dahl, Alpha Frank Dahl’s daughter and mate to Jason Dahl. Take me to see Seth Conlon. He’s been looking for me.”
“Then too bad he’s dead,” one of the men says.
My throat closes up so I can barely squeak out, “What?”
“Took a shotgun to the head from one of your people,” Italian snarls.
Okay, not anticipating that. Not sure how to proceed. Once again Rory saves my bacon, stepping forward and grabbing my arm. “The new boss’ll probably want to see her anyway. She might be useful. Come on.” He yanks me toward the door. I pretend to struggle, but he shoves the shotgun barrel into my side. The others watch as he drags me into the hall toward the stairs.
“So, who’s your new Hitler?” I whisper.
“Never met him. This is the first I’m hearing this too,” he whispers as we descend the gore-covered staircase.
“Doesn’t matter. Just remember: open the gate, then the front door, then hide. I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. The cue is when I start singing.”
“Singing?” We pass two men lifting Troy’s body from the hallway floor as we walk toward my father’s office. A tall man holding an M-16 stands in front of the door. “This is Frank Dahl’s daughter.”
“Let them in,” a familiar voice says on the other side.
Of course. I am never wrong about a person.<
br />
Not a single part of me is surprised when we walk in and I come face to face with the mole, sitting at my father’s desk as if it’s always belonged to him. “Moved right in, I see.”
“It is technically my birthright now,” Tate says as he rises. He glances at Rory. “What happened, son?”
“I don’t know. She must have been hiding somewhere. Benny must have caught her, and she shot him.”
“Well, good job, son. I won’t forget this.”
“Thank you. Sir.”
“You may go,” Tate says, bowing his head reverently to his minion. Rory glances at me before releasing my arm and stepping out. I’m left with evil incarnate, who just grins. “Surprised?”
“Nope. I had you clocked as an asshole the moment you opened your mouth. Just didn’t realize how big a one. Killing your own mother, brother, friends for a house and money?”
“For power, princess. For my birthright. I am now the eldest living male heir of Bobby Conlon.”
“I assume it was you who killed Seth tonight. Shot him, blamed one of us because you couldn’t beat him in a fair fight?”
“There can be only one. Brains before brawn, right? Besides, he outlived his usefulness. Don’t need a front man now I’ve captured the castle.”
“Was it you from the beginning?” I ask with a sneer.
“More the middle. Seth got the ball rolling months before, rounding up rogues, making his own army, but the guy always was a fucking moron. He wanted to start an entirely new pack in this territory, rub Frank’s nose in it. What he forgot was many tried and all failed through the centuries. The Eastern Pack always put them down. He probably would have thought of a hostile takeover eventually but was shit scared of Frank. No fear is a top requirement of a true Alpha. That’s why Seth’d never make a good one.”
“That and you have to give a shit about people,” I say snidely.
Werewolf Sings the Blues Page 29