Mal glared at Dante.
“I get it.” Dante held up his hands. “But Finn’s right on this one. Why take unnecessary risks?”
“We know his routine,” Anders argued. “What risks? I’m thinking there’s never going to be a perfect time to kidnap the son of a bitch.” Anders glanced at Olivia. “Sorry.”
Olivia nodded, her eyes red-rimmed and shadowed.
No matter how many times he told her none of this was her fault, she took her brother’s sins onto her shoulders. Her dreams were haunted by Cyrus, the only place he couldn’t physically protect her. And her days were full of plotting ways to bring down her brother. Gentry and Brown had reported everything they’d learned the last few weeks of watching his activities.
Chase had bodyguards. Some wolves, some not.
If Miss Rangell wasn’t with him, a guard was. The redhead was intent on assuming Chase’s place, the large rock on her left hand announcing to the world—and the pack’s surveillance cameras—that she would soon be Mrs. Chase. And once that happened, Mal suspected Olivia’s brother would meet with a sudden, untimely death. If Ellen was right, Teresa Rangell was the brains of the operation. Clearly, she was done standing in Chase’s shadow.
While the pack was unified in their goal, Finn’s focus wasn’t as razor-sharp as Mal hoped. Finn’s preoccupation with Jessa’s pregnancy was understandable, but also infuriating. Time was slipping away, time that Olivia seemed to be tracking by the second. He hated seeing her this way, hated being helpless—especially now that they had intel they could use.
“We wait?” Anders asked, frowning at Mal. “Again?”
“Unless you come up with something foolproof, we have no choice.” Dante rolled his neck. “I’m starving.”
“Me, too,” Olivia said, pushing up out of the chair.
Mal fought the urge to keep her close. If she ate, it was good. She smiled at him, stood on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, and left with Dante.
“She stressing out?” Anders asked.
Mal nodded, sliding one photo aside. Images of Chase covered the long table. Chase going to the gym, going to the warehouse, going out with Miss Rangell, going to his favorite club—without Miss Rangell. No Cyrus. No Byron the butcher. It was for the best. If Mal had seen the giant sadist, he’s not sure he’d be able to keep his shit together.
He still woke up in cold sweat with the feel of Byron’s teeth on his throat. Nothing could erase the pain he’d felt. Or the fury. Byron had been the one to string him up, forcing Jessa to watch.
“We could do this,” Anders said, glancing at the door. “You know we could.”
Mal nodded. He wanted to.
“We wait too long, and we’re condemning more girls to this shit. I can’t shake it, Mal.” He shook his head. “Tess—think she’ll ever get over it? Lead a normal life? I can’t pretend I don’t know this. I can’t keep doing nothing.”
Mal agreed, 100 percent. “We go.”
Anders stared at him. “No shit?”
“No shit.” Mal nodded. “I’m on perimeter tonight.” He slid more images aside, studying Olivia’s brother with his guards. No matter how much he wanted to take the fucker out, he had to do this right. “These aren’t wolves.” He tapped the image. “They should be with him tonight. We go in as clients, get what we need, and leave.”
“Easy,” Anders nodded.
“No. Clients go through Cyrus,” Ellen said, walking to the table. “He’ll know.”
Mal stared at her.
She pushed through the pictures. “But if you show him you’re rich, get him drunk, pretend you’re interested, suddenly he is your best friend.” She looked Mal in the eye.
“How do you know this?” Anders asked.
“I found a way to stay useful.” Her smile was hard. “It’s easy to be quiet and listen. Cyrus complained about Chase, how he likes to talk and be important.” She rifled through the photos. “This one drives him to the club?” she asked, tapping the man in one picture.
Anders nodded.
“Because this one’s job is to keep him happy, to let him…let off steam? And clean up messes. If Chase leaves with a woman, he hides it. If Chase drinks too much, talks too much, he takes care of any problems. He is dangerous, but he works alone.”
“Wolf?” Mal asked.
She nodded.
“Fucking great,” Anders growled.
“Not so easy,” she agreed. “Nothing important is.”
Anders nodded. “Damn straight. But it’d be nice to catch a break.”
“She just gave us one,” Mal argued. He glanced at the dates on the pictures. “Tuesday and Thursdays are club days.”
Anders shook his head. “It’s Sunday.”
“Finn?” Ellen asked. “Your Alpha won’t be pleased.”
Mal shook his head. “A club is public. The guard is a wolf. Too many variables.”
Ellen’s eyes narrowed. “Your mate?”
Mal frowned. “Doesn’t need to know.”
“Secrets are dangerous.” She sighed. “But I will not waste my words warning you.” She left the office as silently as she’d entered.
“Think she’ll spill to Finn?” Anders asked.
Mal shook his head. “She wouldn’t have told us if she didn’t want this done.”
“Unless it’s a trap,” Anders muttered.
But Ellen’s eyes were proof enough. Ellen had been kept by the Others, but she wasn’t part of their pack. One blue eye, one green eye—all the Others Mal had ever encountered had the same pale, almost colorless, eyes. Like their bastard Alpha: Cyrus.Whatever questions he had about the woman, her origins, and her loyalty, he had one answer. They shared a common enemy, and she wanted vengeance almost as much as he did.
...
Olivia took a bite of her apple, watching Oscar wriggle and kick on the floor. He squealed with glee, batting at one of the toys that hung off his play gym.
“Who’s the strongest little guy?” she asked, wiggling his foot.
Olivia had taken one look at Jessa and told her to go to bed. She didn’t know much about pregnancy or childbirth, but Jessa looked close to popping. Her poor feet and hands were swelling, too, something Hollis has sighed over before agreeing with Olivia’s nap suggestion.
“You’re going to be a big brother soon, Oscar,” she said, smiling down at him.
He smiled back, making a long gurgling noise.
“You don’t say?” She lay on her side. “What else is happening down here?”
Oscar turned his head toward her, those big, blue eyes fathomless. He blinked, inspecting her features carefully.
“Your dad looks at me like that sometimes.” Olivia giggled. “I’m pretty sure he thinks Uncle Mal has made a colossal mistake.”
Oscar gurgled again.
“No, no, I’m pretty certain.” She stroked Oscar’s little cheek. “But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”
“How is a one-sided conversation supposed to make you feel better?” Hollis asked, striding into the room. Hollis always seemed like he was late on the way to somewhere important, even when he was just getting a cup of coffee.
“We’re just hanging out,” Olivia offered.
Hollis glanced at her. “You and Oscar?”
She glanced behind her. “Tess was here a minute ago.” No matter how hard Olivia tried to engage the woman in small talk, Tess didn’t budge. She listened to everything being said around her, never interacting or responding. Most of them acted like she wasn’t there. But Olivia and Jessa kept at it while Ellen watched her with narrowed eyes.
“She does that,” Hollis said.
“What?”
“Moves on silent feet.” He came around the couch to sit, carrying his mug with him. “Ellen has the same knack.”
“I trip over my own feet,” Olivia said.
“You look tired.” Hollis peered at her, his gaze thorough. “Not sleeping?”
She shook her head. “Dreams.”
He nodded. “Vivid?”
“So real,” she agreed.
“What about, if I may ask?” He sipped his coffee.
“A white wolf—Cyrus, I guess.” She shrugged, making a silly face at Oscar. Oscar’s giggle was enough reward.
“Often?” he asked.
She nodded. “It starts the same. I’m running from him. I realize I’m a wolf and turn back to fight him, but he’s gone. Other times he charges me. The ground, the snow, is covered in blood.”
“Sounds distressing.” Hollis set his cup down.
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Are you always alone?” he prodded.
She shook her head. “Sometimes there’s someone else with me, in a cave. I’m protecting the entrance. I have no idea who or what is inside, but I can’t let anyone in.”
Hollis sat back.
“Mal is with me sometimes. But sometimes he chases after the white wolf and leaves me alone with the rest of them.” She made a funny noise, scrunching up her face at Oscar.
“Rest of them?” he asked.
“A large pack. They all have the same eyes.” She smiled as Oscar yawned. “Tired little thing.”
“He’ll be starving tomorrow. The full moon. Should be interesting.” He shook his head.
“Why?” she asked, sitting up. “Something different?”
“A lunar eclipse,” Hollis said.
Olivia hadn’t been aware of Ellen, leaning against the doorframe until she said, “The first of the blood moon. It will look red, ringed—quite a sight.”
“First?” Olivia asked.
“A lunar tetrad.” Ellen sat on the arm of the couch. “Four lunar eclipses in a row. There are legends linking a lunar eclipse and the wolf. Some foolish, some not.”
Oscar squeaked, his mouth pulling down at the corners.
“Oh, Oscar, don’t do that,” Olivia cooed, scooping him up. “No tears little guy.” She patted his little back, oddly giddy at holding him so close.
“You’ll be a good mother,” Ellen said, nodding. “This pack will grow strong.”
She’d never expected a compliment from the woman—even though she and Mal weren’t ready for a child, it was nice to hear. Olivia glanced down the hall, toward Jessa’s room. “You’re not worried about Jessa? Or the baby?”
Ellen shook her head. “No. There is no danger between mates. It will be better for you, as a wolf. But I believe Jessa will be fine.” She paused. “These dreams you have, do you ever fight the white wolf?”
Olivia glanced at Hollis, uneasy. “No.”
“Why not?”
“A voice tells me I’m not ready.” She shrugged. “And I wake up.”
“You are ready Olivia. Oscar, Jessa, and the baby need you to protect them.” Ellen’s eyes locked with hers. “Your wolf can do it, but you must believe in yourself, in your wolf.”
“How do you know?” Hollis asked.
“Her wolf is still uncertain.” Ellen stood. “You need to learn to shift at will. Come, I will show you. It will help.”
Olivia glanced at Oscar, sleeping in her arms.
“I’ll take him,” Hollis offered, holding out his hands. “You don’t have to do this, Olivia.”
Ellen snorted, dismissing Hollis. “Her wolf wants her to.”
Olivia tried to shut out the noise and listen, really listen. “She does.” Olivia handed Hollis the baby and followed Ellen outside.
Ellen glanced at her. “You think too much.”
Olivia laughed. “I’ve been accused of talking too much.”
“That, too.” Ellen smiled. “Your wolf needs attention, room to bond with you. Instinct rules the wolf.”
“I—”
“You don’t trust your instincts,” Ellen finished. “But you must.”
Olivia sucked in a deep breath.
“She is always with you. The only thing you can count on, Olivia.” Ellen stripped, talking the whole time. “You must respect her and what she needs. What she is capable of.”
Olivia tried not to stare at the woman. She was incredibly fit, her form feminine and strong and lovely. But every inch of her, save her face, was covered in scars.
“What is she capable of?” Olivia asked, suddenly nervous.
Ellen smiled. “Anything. Once you defeat him, the dream will go away. Now, shift.”
Olivia watched the woman shift, mesmerized by how easy she made it look. It was quick, almost fluid. She shrugged out of her clothes and focused all her energy on one thing. Not the shift, or her fear, but her wolf. Her wolf was ecstatic.
Chapter Twenty
Mal passed through the kitchen, but there was no sign of Olivia. She wasn’t in their room, with Jessa, in the yard, or reading in her favored armchair by the fire. She was devouring books on wolf lore faster than Hollis could find them. Considering how extensive Hollis’s library was, he assumed she’d have plenty of reading to do. Why wasn’t she there?
His agitation was misplaced. He was the one who got caught up in plotting, leaving her to her own devices. But so far, her devices had been reading or playing with Oscar or trying, unsuccessfully, to get Tess to engage in some sort of conversation. She seemed more than willing to continue her one-sided conversations with the woman—Mal admired her tenacity. But Tess was alone, dozing in front of the fire under one of Oscar’s blankets, and Olivia was nowhere to be seen.
No Olivia.
His hands fisted.
Hollis glanced up from his book. “She’s gone running.”
Mal paused. “Who?”
Hollis cocked an eyebrow. “Olivia? Who else would you be looking for? She went running—with Ellen.”
Mal ran a hand over his face, biting back the litany of obscenities that clogged his throat. “You didn’t think I might want to know this earlier?”
Hollis shrugged. “She’s a grown woman, Mal. Ellen offered to teach her how to shift—”
“She did what?” Mal snapped. Did she want to fight him? Because for every useful thing Ellen did, she did three things to piss him off. And most of them pertained to Olivia. “When?”
“I’m not sure,” Hollis said, turning his attention back to his book.
“Try,” Mal said, slamming his hand down on the pages.
Irritated, Hollis stood, hands on hips. “You’re tense. Why? Because your mate has gone on a run as a wolf? She is a wolf and needs to learn what that means, even if you aren’t there to help her every step of the way.” He leveled a hard look at Mal. “She’s independent and strong, qualities I’m sure you noticed?” He shook his head. “Acting like an overbearing asshole all the time is getting old. She wanted to go with Ellen. She wanted to learn from her.”
Mal’s anger crowded in on him, red tinging his vision and heating his blood. He brushed past Hollis and onto the porch, scenting the air.
Damn her.
Damn Ellen.
And fucking Hollis.
Where the hell had was the rage coming from? He wanted Olivia to connect with her wolf. Nothing was as freeing as those moments he and his wolf worked together, without thought or awareness. He wanted that for Olivia. And teaching her was beyond his comfort zone. Still, a little notice would have been nice.
Not that she needs permission.
Fucking Ellen.
He stared out at the towering pines and the massive peaks of the Grand Tetons beyond, reining in his temper. The cold air burned his lungs, stealing some of the fire in his blood. He gripped the wooden porch railing, searching for some sign of Olivia…and Ellen.
A snapped branch. A scar in the moss and earth of the forest floor. There was a path if he chose to follow them.
Overbearing asshole.
He could wait. Ellen might not be his favorite person, but he no longer considered her a threat to the pack. His sanity was another matter.
He stormed back inside, stomping across the living room and toward the gym.
“Not going after them?” Hollis called after him.
“Fuck
you,” he snapped, loudly, then slammed the door to the gym.
By the time he was done exercising, he was drenched and weak-limbed. He’d pushed himself hard, sweating out the stress and anger. Every voice, every closing door, every sound in the goddamned lodge made him tense, hoping she was back.
He glanced at the clock on the way back to his room, his anger returning with a vengeance. Where the hell was she?
He was in the shower when he heard the howl—long and husky and close—calling to him as if she was calling his name. He tried to ignore it. He was pissed, and she should apologize for making him worry.
His wolf pushed back. Go to her.
He rinsed the soap from his face, ignoring the pull and tug of his skin as she howled again.
Now. It was a growl. A threat.
Mal sighed, resting his forehead on the tile in the stall, his body aching to shift.
“Fuck it,” he groaned, turning off the shower and climbing out. He was on all fours before he’d had a chance to dry off. His claws tore through, clicking on the granite floors. The wolf was ecstatic, impatient for the realignment of bone and tendons, muscles and fur. Mal was panting as the wolf trotted out of the bathroom and down the hall.
Ellen stood just inside the front door, wearing a tattered shirt and a smug smile. “You’re a stubborn fool,” she said as he brushed by her.
He growled.
She laughed.
He’d have been more than happy to take a bite out of her, to teach her to mind her own business. But his wolf didn’t care about Ellen or staying angry with Olivia. He tore through the door and into the yard, the call of his mate demanding his presence.
Olivia waited. Her hazel eyes fixed on him, steady and warm. With a lazy stretch and long whimper, she rubbed along his side. She groaned deep in her throat and circled him, sniffing his shoulder and neck and ear.
Mal watched her, giving up the fight. She was so goddamn happy, ears perked up, tail curled. His wolf would do whatever she wanted. Her scent was all wolf and Olivia—now one.
His resistance crumpled, returning the full-body rub with a moan. His head slid under her jaw and nipping her ear playfully. It was more than a greeting this time. A new tension rippled along both wolves. His wolf’s instincts had been to defend and fight, to hunt and kill. But a new and distinct drive was coursing through his blood.
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