Rogue Breed (Rogue Huntress Chronicles Book 2)

by Thea Atkinson

  "Never mind," he said and pulled the pistol back out from his trousers. "We're going in blazing."

  He set off on a run sideways to the other more eastern side of the perimeter. I realized with a start that what he'd seen in the moments I was looking at him was one of the women fall. Two of the women with her were leaning over her, obviously trying to staunch the wound in her stomach that was even now bleeding into a pool of red visible from my distance away.

  And the men were taking aim once again.

  FLEUR-DE-LIS

  They didn't expect to be attacked from the back and certainly not from a man who strode as calmly and purposefully forward as Jeb did. He made no sound as he took to the grass and crossed the yard toward the men, never dodged in and around things to take cover. He was dogged in his approach, a casual observer might think him over confident or foolish. I knew better. He would draw the attention, shooting where he could or needed to, while I decided who should live or die beneath my teeth. I would have stayed back and watched from the sheer pleasure of seeing him move except lives were on the line, and I was faster on my four feet than his two. He could fire six shots and take each one of them down if he needed to, but he wouldn't. He knew the risk to those women as well as I did. He'd want closer range for the pistol, make sure he had the perfect shot and draw out the others' attention from the women.

  My worries weren't because the women were too physically vulnerable. They were shifters, like I was. If any of them took a shot, they could shift to heal if the injury wasn't too great. No. Those women were vulnerable mentally and emotionally, and I worried that by nature, they would wait too long to fight. I knew it had taken each one of them a considerable amount of courage to flee their packs in the first place, a courage that might be spent.

  It was an agonizing few seconds as we plodded forward, Jeb with that casual and steady stride, raising his pistol for perfect aim, me sidling to the side so I could use the unexpected vantage to neutralize those who believed he was one and only attacker. The women weren't screaming. They weren't even whimpering. I couldn't imagine why they weren't transforming either and attacking except I had to remind myself that they'd no doubt been trained to submit, accepting violence as part of their norm. I seethed inside as I thought of that. I'd make each one of these bastards pay. Then I'd make their packs pay for that injustice.

  It seemed to take an eternity for any one of the guards to notice Jeb and adjust his attention, and then only because one of the women had pointed at him. By then, he was within fifty yards and fired off a single shot in response. It struck one man in the chest and he crumpled to the ground next to the injured she-wolf. An agonizing heartbeat and the man struggled to his feet, lifting his weapon with a wavering hand. In that heartbeat, Jeb got off another shot, this time in the face and the man went down for good.

  I waited until the others spun around to face the immediate threat, imagining no doubt that they were more than up to the task. Pistols were raised and ready as they spun in unison. I saw the shoulders of one of them shake as though he were laughing at one paltry defender striding forward with his one gun hefted. Then I launched myself from the side, straight at the first man's throat. I was in the air when Jeb fired off the next two shots, one after the other with barely a heartbeat between.

  Two of the men's firing arms recoiled when the shots struck them. The three others spun around to face the assault, leaving their backs open to the remaining and standing she-wolves. Jeb might have decided to injure the men, perhaps hoping to question them like a soldier might, but I was going for the kill. No one attacked any member of my pack without consequences.

  The very fact that they were here firing upon helpless women let alone shifters was evidence enough to me that they should be neutralized without question. I expected shots to be fired at me, even half expected the bullets to be laced with silver, but I did not expect to feel the immovable impact of armor beneath my teeth when I launched myself at the nearest man and brought him down to the ground. The sudden jolt of trying to sink my teeth into material that had no give was enough to make me shake my jowls as I tried to rid myself of the pain deep in my gums.

  My shock gave the man time to twist from beneath me spilling me, sprawling on my side, onto the grass. No matter. If his chest and throat were covered with armoured material, his face certainly wouldn't be. I didn't feel the least bit squeamish as I bit down on his nose. Several shots rang out around me and I smelled the distinct aroma of silver.

  These men knew exactly what we were. And they had come here to kill not to abduct. Around me, the she-wolves had finally taken their forms and had set upon the men. What Jeb might be doing, I had no idea but I suspected one of the invaders was giving him some trouble. I could hear his grunting somewhere beside me as he wrestled an assailant.

  The man beneath my teeth let out a curdled scream that told me I had found his eye sockets with my canines. He flailed about beneath me, and as I shook with my teeth sunk deep, I felt his torso spasm once and then go still. I peeled myself away from him, panting, tasting blood, and saw that several other of the men were undergoing the same sort of attack by the rogue shifters. As each man fell and lay injured on the ground, Jeb methodically pumped rounds into the front of the masks. What any shifter missed, the human man finished. Some of the women sat cross-legged on the grass, looking dazed and a little sick.

  I shifted and found myself scrambling over the grass to the original fallen woman. Not Rena. Thank god.

  "Where is Dara?" I asked the nearest woman, a timid looking thing with scrawny arms and legs. She unfolded herself from the ground and pushed herself to her feet. She took one look at the dead woman beneath my hands and strolled over to the man I had attacked. She kicked him in the stomach but he made no move to recoil. Dead. The girl crossed her arms and smiled down at him with a nasty, broken toothed grin.

  "Dara left for her sister's," she said without looking at me. "Won't be back for three more days. It's Rena you should be worried about." She swung her narrow eyes to mine. "She took the girl to the kitchen," she said. "No doubt the little bitch is the one they were after."

  "The girl?" I said, but she had already strode away, sidling up to Jeb and following along with him, kicking each man to make sure he was dead. I caught Jeb's eye and he nodded in acknowledgement. I didn't need to ask him to make sure everything was okay here.

  I had already pointed my feet in the direction of the kitchens when the scrawny girl addressed me from her spot at Jeb's side.

  "I'd be careful if were you," she said as I looked at her over my shoulder. "There's still two more of these bastards somewhere."

  I nodded without a word.

  I picked my way around the edge of the farmhouse, careful to keep my back to the wall as I edged forward. Naked, I felt every splinter in the wood as I scraped against the building. When I reached the door to the homestead, I stayed on one side like a sniper would and peered around the threshold. Based on what had greeted Jeb and me outside, I didn't want to take any chances. Two more men, the scrawny shifter had said. Well, two more meant anywhere, and I couldn't be sure they weren't lurking somewhere watching my every move. Somehow, I preferred to imagine them inside, holding Rena at gunpoint. That I could handle. That was the sort of thing I did on a regular basis. It didn't matter how hardened an assassin was, it never felt good to believe someone was watching you in secrecy and examining your every movement.

  Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't what met my sight as I craned my head around the door sill and caught sight of Rena standing next to a cold fireplace hearth with a rather stunted looking runt of a she-wolf cringing at her feet. Something appeared to be wrong with the girls' leg, but from my vantage I couldn't see exactly what.

  I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or relieved. Neither of them looked to be in any immediate danger, but I got the distinct impression Rena was trying to encourage the girl to shift and that she was refusing. Under the circumstances, I couldn't say I blamed the girl. I mig
ht have preferred my wolf form if I thought those four feet could carry me faster from the inherent threat than two legs. But what was surprising was the note in Rena's voice. The hint of something different in her tone that spoke of impatience and not anxiety or fear.

  "Hurry up," Rena urged. If those bastards make it in here –"

  I stepped inside. "What?" I said. "They'll murder the lot of us?" I panned my quick study left and right, peering down the hallway and into the shadows to be certain no one hid there. "Whoever was outside is done for now," I said. "Just two of them left. Hopefully, Jeb is already taking care of them."

  Rena swung her gaze to mine, clearly expecting someone other than me to be standing there. She relaxed visibly when she saw me.

  "You got them?" she asked. I nodded my acknowledgement. Got them was an understatement.

  "Yes," is what I said, fixing my gaze between her black eyes, all the better to take in her whole expression. Something was off, and I didn't want her guessing from my hesitation to meet her eyes, I suspected anything other than what I saw in front of me.

  "No one came in here?" I whispered.

  A shake of her head and a twitch of her hand in the young wolf's direction. Rena pointed at the stunted she-wolf. "Just her," Rena said. "She's the one that brought the bastards here. If you can get anything out of her, that is. Won't let me near her."

  The way she said it, I realized she'd been trying to get close enough to the girl to help her and the little runt was having none of it. I knew Rena well enough to know that alone was enough to make her impatient, but to be left impotent while danger lurked about, she was no doubt ready to thrash someone.

  "Have you checked the rest of the house?" I asked.

  "Never had time," Rena said. "This little thing came sailing in here like her tail was lit a fire and then we heard a noise outside, and all the others ran out to see what the trouble was." She sighed audibly, directing her gaze to the runt who cringed closer to the open mouth of the fireplace. "So here we are."

  "Girl outside said there were two more," I said, slipping closer to the wall and out of sight of the windows.

  Rena went immediately on guard. "Which girl?"

  "Scrawny thing. Rude."

  Rena started to unbutton her shirt. "Jennifer," she said. "That thing has been a handful." I could see in her eyes she was planning to strip off her clothes and transform. I shook my head at her. Men would be coming in with weapons. She needed a weapon. Or she needed to hide.

  "They have silver," I said. "They know what we are." The whole place reeked of the metal. It reeked of sweat, human blood and that darkly pungent aroma of fear. It clouded my senses and twisted everything into a miasma.

  She already had her shirt pulled off but her fingers paused on the back snap of her bra as I lifted my hand to stall her. I'd heard something.

  "Surely the two of us can handle them..." she started to say as her eyes flicked toward the strange little she-wolf. It was a heartbeat and no more that Rena's eyes left mine on the way to take in the girl, but it was in that moment the stunted shifter scrambled backwards as though to press herself deep into the fireplace cavity and disappear. I knew without considering it what her terrified reaction meant. The men were behind me. If I had any doubt in me at all that they were, then the way Rena reached behind her for the fireplace poker solidified it.

  Reflex took over from rational thought as I stepped smoothly sideways with every intent to ram my elbow backwards at just about the height to strike a man in his voicebox. Indeed I felt that crunch. On instinct, I dropped to a crouch, expecting the injured man to fire off a round in reflex. From my low vantage point, it was easy to reach up and shove my fist into his balls. He collapsed like an empty bag of flour. I grabbed for his pistol, twisting it from his hand with ease.

  If I was at all worried about the second assailant, I need not have given him a second thought. From the corner of my eye Jeb's arm snaked almost lazily into view from beyond the doorframe. The muzzle of his pistol came to rest lightly against the second assailant's temple.

  "Drop it or die," he said. The sound of his voice was such that I nearly dropped the pistol I was holding. I wasn't surprised when that second man relinquished his pistol onto the body of his groaning partner. It made a soft kind of thudding sound.

  I wanted to kill them both, but I supposed Jeb had a point. There were questions that needed to be answered first.

  Then the bastards could die.

  I accepted the shirt Jeb had peeled from his chest and held out to me, but I didn't pull it on. There was nothing shameful or vulnerable about my nudity. Instead, I slung the shirt over my elbow and stepped forward on bare feet to face the man who still stood, held captive by the threat of a gun pointed close enough to his brain matter that the synapses were no doubt scurrying for cover. I crossed my arms as I stood before that second assailant, looking directly into his cold gaze through the eyeholes in his mask. The bastard didn't so much as blink. It didn't even run down my bare skin like a regular man's eyes would even in the face of death. Cold, this one. Even with the muzzle of Jeb's pistol pointed at his temple, the man didn't bother to conceal the hostility in his gaze.

  "What in the hell are you doing here?" I said. "And you have very little time to answer because I'm not predisposed to sparing men who kill my pack members."

  I watched as his eyes flitted over my shoulder toward the cringing she-wolf.

  I followed his gaze and noted that Rena had gone to her knees next to the girl.

  "You better see something," Rena said to me. Her investigative hands roamed beneath the girls' fur, examining her coat and the skin beneath it. At her feet puddled a plush blanket that she'd somehow pulled from some secret nook nearby. It was obvious Rena had tried to throw it over the shifter's shoulders as she transformed but it had fallen off. Next to that was a small pool of blood. The girl's jowls dripped with it and mingled with blood droplets coming off her shoulders. She had been beaten. Perhaps stabbed a couple of times. Certainly shot.

  My nostrils flared as my anger rose. The smell of this man, of the blood and sickness stoked a rage that I found hard not to quench with a squeeze of the trigger beneath my finger.

  "Careful, Shana," Jeb said, but that was all. He knew I was furious, but he knew not to give these remaining men any information or call to doubt our solidarity.

  I clicked the safety switch and inhaled purposefully, drawing patience from the very earth I stood on. Faithful, patient, Gaia.

  "Why didn't you use silver on her like you did with the others?" I demanded of the assailant. I knew he hadn't. If he had, the girl would have been forced by the metal to relinquish her wolf form to human.

  He gave me a baleful, green-eyed stare from behind his mask.

  I pointed behind me at the rogue. I narrowed my eyes as I looked into his. "Obviously you either didn't know she was a shifter or you shot her with regular lead because you didn't have time to load the silver before she ran."

  I stepped close enough so all he could see were my eyes and the fury inside them. "What do you want with her?"

  I thought I felt Jeb's hand reach out for the man's shoulder, perhaps to coerce him, but I saw something shift in the hunter's eye. It was brief but I saw it, that flare of hatred that comes just before a hunter decides he or she has just one last chance to kill what it loathes. I felt his right hand move against my side and I didn't think. I just acted. My arm snaked out of its own accord and snapped over his wrist, half expecting to feel a knife in my ribs. Instead, it thudded onto the top of my foot as I twisted, and he spun hard into my chest. I wasted no time. I caught Jeb's eye just as I toppled the man onto my bended knee and reached for the knife. His throat was opened and bleeding before I could question my actions. Seconds later, he was twitching on the floor at my feet. I supposed I might have felt more resigned that I'd just killed one the only leads we had, but all that came from me was a low whistle in the back of my throat.

  Jeb's mouth twitched, whether in imp
atience or humor I couldn't tell. Without a word, he laid his boot down over the other, living man's throat.

  "I wouldn't try that if I were you," he said.

  The man had reached for his partner's dropped pistol. I kicked it backwards into the middle of the room. Then I crouched down over the fallen man. With a yank, I had the mask up over his face and was staring down into the pitted face of the man who had at some time allowed his cheekbone to surrender to a handmade ink gun. The marks were uneven, but they were discernible enough. An upside down fleur-de-lis rode his cheekbone in black ink that bled through its borders and made infinitesimal ink pools outside the confines of the tattoo. Sloppy work. Homemade. But very clearly familiar. I spun on my heel to face Rena. She didn't look at all affected by the revelation.

  "Let me see your tattoo," I commanded her. I'd taken note of it the day we'd met, respected her for it as well at the time. No one succumbed to homemade ink who was squeamish.

  With a shrug and no more, she pulled up her sleeve and twisted her wrist so I could see it. At one time it might've been a fleur-de-lis, but now it was a series of symbols held together by a string that tattooed itself around her wrist. She turned her hand over in the light, showing me how it very clearly wrapped around her entire wrist like a bracelet and snaked up her arm. I chewed my lip in thought, not quite ready to surrender my suspicions. Sure, I had met her here at Dara's and she had helped me overthrow Caleb, but how well did I know her anyway? Barely, came the answer.

  "Where did you get it?" I demanded, not bothering to soften the tone of the question.

  "I got it when I was a kid," she said, tossing the blanket in my direction and avoiding my eye. "And I understand your suspicions, but right now we have more troubles." She jerked her chin toward the young wolf who still cringed next to the fireplace.

  "She's hurt pretty bad."