The Wolf's Bait (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 2)

by Patricia Blackmoor

  I felt a blast of cold air and opened my eyes to see Conor and Adam gone, their clothes in tatters on the floor of the coach. I was torn between watching the battle outside, keeping track of what was going on, and shutting my eyes again and waiting for it to be over.

  Beside me, Bridget struggled to breathe. Her dark eyes were wild and her chest heaved. I knew what she was going through. I had seen what she had seen, my whole world changing as man changed to beast. I needed to reach out, to comfort her, to apologize for the secrets, but no words came. Without warning, she jumped from her seat, and Hazel tumbled to the floor. She clawed and finally shoved open the opposite door of the carriage.

  “Bridget!” I called out, but it was too late. She had jumped into the snow and ran straight for the woods. I sat there stunned. I couldn’t blame her; after all, I had done exactly the same when I had first discovered the existence of werewolves. However, this timing was less than ideal. She was running out in the middle of a werewolf war, and the only two who could logically go after her were in the thick of things. Annabelle couldn’t leave Daniel behind, and in my pregnant, off–balance state, there was no way I could run through the woods after her. Hazel would never leave Adam.

  So, one of two things would happen. Either Conor and Adam would win the fight, then have to go find Bridget, or they would lose, and we’d all die. Obviously only one of those solutions was the good one, but there was nothing I could do to swing the pendulum either way. I had no weapons, no way to protect myself. The only one of us with any sort of self–defense training was Bridget, and she’d already abandoned ship.

  Annabelle had the quick thinking to pull the door closed behind Bridget, but as the door was nearly latched, something blocked it. Annabelle tried to pull, but with Daniel in one arm, she was weakened. Hazel and I broke from our frozen panic to help her, but we were no match for the monster on the other side. One claw grasped the edge of the door, then another, yanking it open. A wolf the color of soot growled at us, saliva and blood dripping from his jowls. He leered at us, and collectively we cowered back. As we did, the door on the opposite side of the carriage was pulled off its hinges. Another wolf blocked the door. We were surrounded.

  With no other options, we pressed ourselves against the side of the carriage. Annabelle clutched Daniel to her chest, pressing him between her and the wall as he cried. One of the wolves grabbed onto Annabelle’s skirt, tearing at the layers, trying to pull her out of the carriage. She stumbled, nearly dropping Daniel, and I reached over to steady her. The wolf bit at her, and she cried out as he clamped his jaw on her leg. She struggled to keep her balance and keep Daniel protected. I flung my foot out and kicked at it, slamming my heel into his nose. He snarled, launching at me, grabbing at my coat, pulling me to the ground. I twisted my body to protect my stomach, landing hard on my hip. The wolf continued to pull me, and my fingers clawed at the floor. Hazel grasped at my wrists, trying to keep me inside, while Annabelle sank onto the seat, blood spilling from the wound on her leg. The wolf from the other side of the door, momentarily disturbed by either Conor or Adam, sprang back up and snapped at Hazel’s heals. She cried out and collapsed to the floor, releasing my wrists. The wolf that was latched onto my coat continued pulling, and I had nothing to grab onto, no leverage until I managed to grab at the door frame as I slid out. My knees hit the cold ground, but I held on for dear life until I couldn’t hold on anymore without dislocating my shoulders. My hands slipped and I tumbled to the ground.

  Blood was splattered all over the white snow. The wolf dragged me through the gravel and ice, my hands scraping across the ground. We came to a stop in front of a wagon, and as my body seared in pain, I felt myself being lifted up.

  Chapter Twenty–Two

  I was thrown unceremoniously onto the floor of the wagon. The whole thing smelled sour and mildewy, like wet dog. The odor made me sick as I struggled to my feet, splintered wood biting into my palms. My entire body hurt. Oh, to be a werewolf, with their amazing quick–healing abilities! No such luck for me. These injuries would be lasting a while; I was sure my entire body was covered in bruises or scrapes. Crusted blood from my wounds coated my leg. I hiked up my skirt. My stockings were soaked, but it wasn’t anything serious. Thankfully.

  I pulled myself up on the wooden seat. I had turned my ankle at some point, and putting too much weight on it was excruciating. I wiped my hand off on my coat, but my coat was as wet and dirty as the seats were. I dragged myself over to the door and tried to turn the handle, but something heavy was against it. I struggled futilely against the door and whoever was guarding it, but I was unable to break free. From inside my prison, I watched the brawl outside. Our men were hopelessly outnumbered. I pounded my fist against door, the goal to get Conor or Adam’s attention, but they were otherwise occupied and eventually I gave up. I was in too much pain to continue. With my injured ankle, I needed to use extra support, and with one wrist possibly sprained, trying to pound through the window was getting me less help than it was worth.

  The wolves were tumbling around on the ground, blood staining the snow. I had lost track of how many wolves there were; everything was a blur of fur. I tried screaming, hoping that perhaps that would attract attention. It did, but not from the right wolves. Adam and Conor were tied up in their own fights. One of Seth’s wolves threw himself at my door, a non–verbal indication that I needed to be quiet. He didn’t scare me. If I stayed in this carriage, I would die, and if he attacked me, I would die. It wasn’t that my life didn’t matter to me, it was that I wasn’t going to die without a fight.

  To hell with my injuries. I would rather be in pain than allow myself to be taken by these savages. I pounded. I screamed. Both Adam and Conor glanced at me, but they were unable to get away from their opponents.

  The door flew open.

  I had been leaning my weight against it as I slammed my fist against the windows, so the sudden absence of the door nearly made me tumble out of the carriage. Instead, I was slammed backward by a hard ball of fur and claws and teeth. My head hit the floor, and I blacked out.

  When I came to, I was tied up, bound at my wrists and ankles. I was still on the floor of the carriage, but this time we were moving. I blinked slowly, trying to adjust to my surroundings, pain shooting through my head with every beat of my heart. I thought I might vomit. I groaned, and someone kicked my back.

  I was surrounded, not by wolves anymore, but by men. They said nothing, looking out the window, six of them in total. I’m not sure all of them even realized I was awake.

  I began to scream.

  A boot slammed into the small of my back again and I curled up, trying to protect my baby bump. Who even knew if the baby was still all right? I was determined to protect him until I knew otherwise.

  “Shut up, bitch,” a voice said from behind me, unfamiliar and sharp. I pulled my knees up to my chest as best as I could and buried my head into my knees. I began to cry.

  “I said shut up, bitch!” the voice said again, before I felt the boot against my spine.

  “Hey,” another voice said. “Don’t.”

  “What do you care?”

  “I don’t,” said the second voice, and I opened my eyes and looked up. The words were coming from a blond man, his skin fair as he clenched his fist. “But Seth will. If he doesn’t get his turn first, it will be our heads. Do you want to get strung up like Levi?”

  The other man was silent. He pulled his boot away from my back, and I heard it scuff along the floor. I slowly uncurled my body. My face was pressed against the wet carpet of the carriage, pebbles digging into my cheek. I struggled into a sitting position, made all the more difficult by my protruding belly and my bound arms and legs.

  The boot was on my back again. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I didn’t look at him. “I just want to sit up. Please. I’m hurt.”

  “Let her,” said the blond. I continued to struggle, and eventually he leaned over, assisting me.

  “
Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Don’t see why you’re bothering,” said one of the other men. “She’ll be dead in a week anyway.”

  I swallowed, trying to contain my tears.

  “We had orders to bring her back alive,” said the blond.

  “Alive, not unharmed,” said another.

  I stayed curled in the corner for the remainder of the long drive. My entire body hurt. My ankle and wrists were both swollen, and made worse thanks to the sharp, frayed bindings tying them up. My clothes were freezing in the cold, the water that had soaked them turning to dirty, pebbly ice. The clothes I wore provided a layer against the cold, but it wasn’t doing me much good. They were too heavy, too wet to protect me, and I shivered no matter how tightly I curled my body.

  The blond man noticed me shivering and pulled something from behind him; a blanket. It was damp and smelled terribly, but he draped it over my legs and it gave me a little warmth. I thanked him quietly.

  None of the other men paid me any mind. They stared down at their hands or out the window. No one spoke; the only sounds were the clopping of the horses or the sounds of the wagon wheels turning on the road. I allowed my eyes to wander over them, taking in my captors. There was the blond man, sitting between two others to my left. On his sides were two men with dark hair and sharp features, utterly familiar. Roderick’s nephews. One of them, Edgar, gave me a sharp, lecherous smirk, and I quickly looked away.

  On the other side were three more men. One had bright red hair and a fat face. The other was bald, his features almost flat. The third, with steel–toed boots still aimed at me, had long, oily black hair. He didn’t give me a second glance, but I was well aware that if he wanted, he could kick me hard enough to break a bone or cause me a miscarriage. I pressed myself into the corner as far as possible. I wanted to be far, far away from him. Unfortunately, that meant I was pressed into Theodore’s leg. He gave me a nudge that sent his knee into my spine. I curled myself up as tightly as I could to avoid touching him anymore.

  I had questions I wanted to ask, but of course I didn’t want to ask these men. I had no idea where on earth we were going. I had no way to track time, but we had to have been traveling for hours, at least, while I was awake. There was no telling how far we had gotten while I had been knocked out. My body was stiff from being curled up for so long. Though I dreaded what was to come, I hoped we’d get out soon.

  And what was to come? Why hadn’t Seth’s minions killed me already? They could have slaughtered me easily and left the others to take my body and Lowell’s body back to Jasper. That would have been properly devastating, and Jasper wouldn’t have enough time to have a new baby before he turned thirty. Seth would get what he wanted.

  Instead, he had kidnapped me. Why? What could he possibly hope to accomplish from this? Why go through so much work? Seth certainly had a flair for the dramatic; he had proved that time and time again. Was he willing to risk everything to make a statement?

  I suspected that he was.

  That meant that my death would almost certainly be spectacular. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing, though. A spectacular death required spectators and some sort of ceremony. He wouldn’t have his men go through this work only to slit my neck the moment that we arrived at our destination. Perhaps, if I was lucky, his need for drama would give me a chance to escape. For once, I was thankful for Seth’s madness.

  I wouldn’t be thankful much longer, I suspected. The carriage began to slow down, finally coming to a stop. Two of the men picked me up, grabbing me by my arms. They yanked me from the carriage, dragging me along the cold, wet ground until we reached the door of a square stone building.

  The heavy double doors flew open. Seth stood there, his arms outstretched.

  “Christine!” he exclaimed. “So good to see you.”

  Chapter Twenty–Three

  I stared at him as he stood there, anger and rage twisted onto my face. That didn’t seem to faze him; he held his arrogant smirk. Despite my fatigue, fury welled up inside of me. This was the man who had ruined my life. He had destroyed everything that I had worked for.

  The moment the men loosened their grip on me, I bolted.

  I didn’t have much hope of getting far, but I didn’t care. I was going to take every chance I had to escape. I was not going to die, to give up my and my baby’s lives, without a fight. It would make him mad, irritated, and irrational, but I didn’t care. Damn it, I was going to give this everything I had.

  The entire situation was working against me. My ankle throbbed in pain even when I was sitting, so to put any sort of weight on it, especially while running, was excruciating. The ground was covered in thick ice, some obvious and streaked with dirt. Other ice was hidden under snow or so clear the black ground was visible underneath it, like thin glass. My clumsiness had already been elevated to a whole new level since my center of gravity was shifted. These things all combined meant I slipped and nearly tripped as I ran away.

  Of course, I had nowhere to go. I had no idea where I was, aside from the middle of nowhere. There were hardly any trees here like at Wolf’s Peak or Ashford Castle. The land here was flat and expansive with visibility for miles. If I looked behind the castle I saw a hint of a tree line, but it would be impossible for anyone to sneak up on the place undetected. It would also be difficult for me to flee.

  I tried anyway, running off the road and into the snow. It was deep, coming up to my knees, making it all that more difficult to move with any sort of speed. I trudged along, trying my hardest to get away, pulling my knees up to maneuver through the heavy, ice–laden snow. This wasn’t the soft, powdery snow of Christmas, or even the heavy, wet snow perfect for packing. No, this was hard ice, and my injured body couldn’t move fast enough through it to make any sort of proper escape.

  The men didn’t even try to catch me. They knew I wasn’t going to get far. They waited until my foot caught in the snow, the other ankle collapsing in pain, and I tumbled to the ground, snow spraying into my face. Then two of the men, not the blond nor the Melle brothers, came and picked me up, grabbing me roughly by my shoulders and dragging me back. The building had perhaps been an old castle, massive, but not as impressive after my weeks at Ashford. There were no fancy turrets or arches here. The building was square with sharp corners, dark stone rising high against the pale gray sky. A perfectly cold place for its similarly cold inhabitant.

  My captors led me back in front of Seth.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” I spat at him, my angry words bursts of fog in the cold.

  “I believe you’re the one being dragged,” he said with a maddening smirk. “Are you surprised to see me?”

  “Not in the slightest,” I said. “You are perhaps the only one in all of England willing to kidnap a pregnant woman. Are you Jack the Ripper, also?”

  He scoffed. “I would never be so sloppy.”

  “Really? Because your murder of Roderick would suggest otherwise.”

  “You’re very insolent for a woman, do you know that?”

  “There’s no one here worth being polite to.”

  He shook his finger at me. “You’ll wish you hadn’t said that.” He motioned toward the building. “Let’s bring her inside, shall we?”

  I was pulled into the castle. I tried to fight, twisting and yanking and pulling, even reaching out to land a few kicks, but I was weak and in such a terrible amount of pain. My struggle did nothing.

  The interior confirmed to me that this castle had long ago been abandoned. Like the outside, the inside was entirely made up of stone, with the floors, the walls, and the stairs all of the same material. The only break from the gray rock was the moth–eaten tapestries on the wall and the worn–down rug on the floor. All the decor was dirty, dingy, and torn, having been forgotten much like the structure itself.

  A maze of hallways converged here, with several hallways spiraling off this main room. A staircase twisted itself up to the next level. The only light in here was the faded g
ray of the winter sky as it filtered through the windows, dust dancing in the beams.

  “Welcome,” Seth said, throwing his arms out to show off the room. A dramatic gesture for a dramatic man.

  “Where are we?” I asked him, both anger and curiosity rich in my voice.

  “Langdon Castle,” he said, “or, what used to be Langdon Castle. They built a new one over a hundred years ago, and they left this one sitting here, ripe for the taking. Quite provincial of them, don’t you agree?”

  I didn’t give him the dignity of a response.

  “I found it a few months ago,” he said as he strutted about the room like a proud peacock. “I was instantly taken. It was perfect! Oh, of course, it had been neglected and was in need of repair, but nothing a little time and love couldn’t fix.”

  “And here I thought you weren’t capable of love,” I told him. He paused, giving me a hard look for a moment, before striding over to me and taking my chin firmly in his grip so that I couldn’t turn my head away.

  “I’m capable of love,” he assured me. “I’m just very selective of who I give it to.”

  He released me, and I shook my head. “You couldn’t even love your own parents. Your mother and father! You believe you’re capable of love, but you aren’t. You’re a coward.”

  “That had nothing to do with love!” he shouted at me. “That had everything to do with power! You should understand. You married my brother to become duchess.”

  The insinuation sickened me. “I love your brother more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream!”

  For a moment, I thought he was ready to hit me. He certainly raised his hand to do it, his face a sort of ugly shade of red with anger and frustration. His nostrils flared and jaw squared, he finally lowered his hand.

  “You’re trying to goad me,” he finally said.