My fault. All my fault.
The words echoed in his head. Frankie. Allsún. The countless bodies piling up in filthy alleyways. All his fault. He choked down a battle cry that would have shattered the windows.
Shane cleared his throat and leaned in between the two front seats, his face hovering between Jace and David. “We need a plan.”
Jace growled. “I’ll tell you the damn plan. We kill that motherfucker and then carve his eyes out with a dull blade.” Jace’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “No one touches my woman.”
His woman.
Was she his woman?
He thought of the first time they’d made love, the way he had slammed into her and she had taken every inch of him and reveled in it. The way being inside her had felt like coming home. The way her lips had sweetly caressed his.
Damn right she was his woman. Because even when she was ripping out his heart and stomping on it, calling him a liar, he was still fucking in love with her. A weight lifted off his chest. Yeah, he could admit it. He loved her. He didn’t give a flying shit if she were a werewolf, if she were packmaster, if she’d lied about her name and who knew what else, even if she hated him. He loved her, and he would be damned if he was going to let anyone hurt her.
“If either of you want this to be successful, we need a plan,” Shane said, raising his voice, louder than Jace had ever heard it.
“What’s the point in making a plan?” David said. He twisted around to look at Shane. “We’re going to be massacred. Robert has been a Skinwalker longer. He knows his abilities and how to control them. He has the upper hand, and there’s no way Jace can ever one up him, because with his father dead he’ll never be able to access his Berserker powers.”
“Dead?” Jace asked, stunned. “What the hell are you—”
“Uh, yeah,” Shane said from the backseat. “I did some online research after you ran out like the hounds of hell were after you, and...I’m sorry, Jace, but David’s right. He’s dead.”
Jace felt as if the world had been placed on pause. There was no room for anything in his mind except for the news David had delivered and Shane had confirmed. He continued speeding toward the warehouse, but his vigor and anger flickered for a moment before reigniting. His father was dead? The old bastard was finally dead? He wasn’t quite sure how to feel. Sadness—that was what he should have felt, if he’d had a normal childhood. Instead, all he could feel underneath his drive to kill Robert was a sense of relief.
And then the rest of David’s words finally penetrated his brain.
He shook his head to clear it. “Wait. Is that true? That no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to use any of the Berserker powers?”
Shane sighed. “Unless you can go back and talk to your spirit guide again and he has something else to suggest, yeah, it’s true. You’re the last of your bloodline. There’s no one else left for you to kill even if you wanted to. And even with your Skinwalker abilities, Robert still has the advantage, because he’s been using his gifts so much longer. You can’t even shift at will.”
The tension filling the car was staggering. Jace felt suffocated. Several minutes of silence passed before he finally let out a long sigh. This was it, then. He was almost certainly going to die. But that was okay. He would do anything, give anything—even his life—if he could just save Frankie. Finally he spoke.
“Here’s the plan. We do whatever it takes to get Frankie and Allsún out of there. Shane, your job is to drive them to safety. I’ll give you the keys to the H3. David, it’s your job to get them out, then go with them and Shane and make sure they’re safe. Don’t even consider coming back to help me. There are demons in this city you need to take care of. The Execution Underground can’t lose you, and once I’m out of the picture, Damon will see that. I’ll take care of Robert. No matter what it takes.”
David shook his head. “Are you sure, J? Can you do this?”
Jace nodded. “I have to. All I can do now is pray it’s my lucky friggin’ night and I don’t go down with him.”
* * *
ALLSÚN’S SCREAMS ECHOED off the warehouse walls and rang in Frankie’s ears. Adrenaline shot through her, and she fought to hold in her anger—she couldn’t allow herself to shift unintentionally—but the rage filling her was on the point of exploding.
“Let her go, you sick bastard!” She shook the cage bars so hard the damn thing nearly tipped over.
Blood poured down the front of Allsún’s torso, staining her shirt and jeans. All the color had drained from her face, and Frankie could tell she was fighting not to pass out.
Robert laughed as he glanced at Frankie. “Don’t worry. I’m not killing her.” He brandished the knife again and stabbed the tip into Allsún’s arm.
She shrieked and writhed from the pain.
“See that right there.” He pointed to the wound, raising his voice to be heard over Allsún’s screams. “It’s a shallow wound. Deep enough to cause pain, but nothing that will cause her any permanent damage.”
He plunged the knife into Allsún’s thigh, inches away from her femoral artery. “Actually, you should be thankful I haven’t taken her life already. I find myself growing bored.”
Seeing him torment Allsún conjured thoughts of her parents. Had Robert tortured them the same way? Her body trembled with fury. She couldn’t let herself think about it.
“You are a sick, pathetic excuse for a human being,” Frankie spat.
Robert paused with the knife in the air and turned toward her. Blood dripped from the blade onto his hand as he began to laugh. His laughter filled the warehouse—the cackling of a madman.
“A pathetic excuse for a human?” He walked toward the cage. “That’s where you’re wrong, you filthy mutt. You see, I’m not human. Not in the slightest.” He knelt in front of the cage and pointed his blade toward her face. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “I’m more powerful than any man will ever be.”
He stood and backed away from her, but his eyes never left hers. “And now, courtesy of your little outburst, I’ve become very angry, and believe me, you really won’t like it when I’m angry. Because when my anger builds up, I need to relieve it, so if you’ll excuse me, the faerie and I have some much-needed business to attend to.”
He turned away, and Frankie heard him unbuckle his belt before he unzipped his pants.
Allsún screamed and struggled against the chains holding her. “No, please. Frankie, help!”
Frankie pulled against the bars so hard the metal bent several inches and the cage actually toppled over. “Don’t you fucking dare!”
Robert chuckled. He pushed his body flush against Allsún’s, and she cringed at his touch. “Don’t worry. I won’t rape her.” He ground the bulge in his pants against her small hips. Allsún whimpered, and he placed the knife against her throat. “At least, not while she’s alive.”
* * *
SHOTS ECHOED THROUGH the warehouse as Jace fired three rounds from his Mateba straight into Robert’s back. The bastard staggered, falling forward and sending Allsún, who was shackled and hanging from a chain, swinging in the air.
Jace’s eyes darted around the room. Frankie was struggling with the metal bars of a large cage that had tipped onto its side, her attention trained on him.
Tears poured down her face and blood covered her chest. “Jace!” she yelled.
Jace placed a single finger over his mouth to silence her and pointed to the rear exit door where David was even then slipping inside the building. As Jace watched, David limped toward the cage, making sure Robert didn’t spot him.
Slowly Robert rose to his feet, still much too close to Allsún. The bullets pushed their way out of his back as the skin stitched itself back together, visible through his torn shirt. He turned to face Jace, the desire of a murderer burning in his eyes.
“Haven’t you learned? Your silly little bullets can’t kill me, Jace.” Robert smirked.
Jace held his gun steady, pointed straigh
t at Robert’s head. “Maybe. But they can sure as hell cause you a lot of pain.”
Robert stepped forward, arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “Why bother fighting, Jace? Give yourself up now and I’ll let them both go. Untouched.”
Jace shook his head. “You really think I’m that stupid?”
A wide grin spread across Robert’s face. “That’s debatable. But considering your bloodline, for my own sake, I hope your lineage alone makes your intelligence above par.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jace focused his eyes on Robert, trying hard not to glance in Frankie’s direction as David quietly picked the lock on the cage. If only Robert would move toward him, David could get to Allsún, too.
Robert stepped toward Allsún and ran his hand down the length of her thigh. She writhed in a fruitless attempt to avoid his touch. “You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you?” he said, then turned to leer at Allsún.
While Robert wasn’t looking, Jace inched forward. One step. Two.
Turning to face Jace again, Robert wiped the blood off his knife with the edge of his shirt. He eyed Jace up and down. “You never once questioned why? Why your name was carved into the arms of my masterpieces? Why that werewolf bitch was attacked just after you fucked her like the whore she is?”
Jace let out a low growl. “I don’t try to understand the logic of psychopaths. If you wanted to kill me, you should have just done it that night at the park. Enough with the theatrical games.”
Robert frowned. “Killing you then would have been too easy and entirely lacking in emotional satisfaction. I wanted you to know exactly why I chose you as my sacrifice. We have so much more in common than you realize.”
“I am absolutely nothing like you.” Jace’s jaw clenched into a tight line, and he ground his teeth together. If he didn’t fight back his rage, he would charge Robert right then, and that would be a mistake. He needed to wait for the opportune moment.
“We’re both a rare breed. Skinwalkers destined to follow the Berserker bloodline.” Robert laughed mockingly. “To think that you were convinced you were half-werewolf. Self-righteously killing for years to atone for your absent-daddy issues. No reason to cry in fear now, Jace. He’s long dead.”
Jace stepped forward. He couldn’t let this creep get into his head, under his skin. But how...?
“How do you know about my father?”
Robert shook his head and clicked his tongue as if he were disappointed in a small child. “I thought you would have been smarter than this, Jace McCannon.”
Anger pulsed through Jace’s veins. “You heard me, asshole. How do you know about my father?”
A twisted look twinkled behind Robert’s eyes. Jace had seen that look before. His breath caught.
Robert grinned in triumph. “Because Thomas McCannon was my father, too.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JACE STOOD FROZEN in a vacuum of his own thoughts as he processed the words Robert had just spoken. His stomach churned.
Robert was his brother?
No, there was no way. He didn’t have any brothers. He had been his parents’ only child.
Jace shook his head. “You’re bluffing—another one of your sick mind games. Are you so desperate that you have to fuck with my head? Be a man and just fight me already.”
Robert wagged his index finger at Jace. “Now, now, don’t throw a hissy fit because you’re no longer the only child, big brother.”
A snarl tore from Jace’s throat before he could stop himself.
Robert took a step toward him. “Don’t try to kid yourself, Jace. You know it’s true. I know you can see the resemblance.”
Jace stepped back. “I don’t give a shit whether we look similar or not, you’re not my damn brother. It’s not possible.” Jace couldn’t hear this. He couldn’t. Not another damn word of it.
Robert made a tsking noise, then sighed. “Explain to me how it’s not possible, brother. How many times did our father stumble home drunk after he’d spent the night fucking countless whores? Tell me. Tell me how many times he tossed your mother aside to sheath himself inside some nameless slu—”
“Shut up!” Jace roared. Was it really true? And if it was, how the hell had Shane missed that bit of information? He fired another round into Robert’s torso.
Robert’s body jerked with the hit, but he didn’t fall. Laughing hysterically, he stared Jace down with the same fucked-up look Tom had always given him. “When our father finally left you, he shacked up with my whore of a mother. But unlike you, dad took me under his wing. He told me all about you. How you were weak, not man enough to follow in his footsteps. But I was stronger. So much stronger.”
He gestured to his chest and pulled his shirt open to show the bullet emerging from his body and the skin healing over, as if to demonstrate his superiority. “He taught me how to kill, how to live. I knew I was a Skinwalker. I knew.”
Jace’s breath caught. “You killed him so you could become a Berserker.”
Robert smiled. “Unfortunately, no. By the time I spirit-walked and learned I needed to kill our father to become a true Berserker, he was long dead. After all that time, can you believe the lucky old bastard died in his sleep? A heart attack from old age. Such a normal, boring way to go, don’t you think? Especially for someone who spent a hundred and fifty years on this earth.”
He flipped his knife around in his hand, admiring the gleam of light on the bloody blade. “I traveled the world for a while, perfecting my technique before I came home again. It started out as nothing but good fun—killing the women here in Rochester. The occasional wolf. But it became so much more than that.”
Robert gazed down at the knife blade. “I realized I could use them to lure you to me. I realized I didn’t need to kill our father to gain my abilities.” He met Jace’s eyes. “I just needed to kill you.”
Before Jace could react, Robert threw his knife. The blade hit Jace’s shoulder, lodging in his flesh. Blood gushed down Jace’s arm. Pain shot through him, and he fell to his knees. His grip weakened and he dropped the gun, which skidded across the floor. The knife must have nicked an artery.
The old man died of a heart attack. His heart stopped. His heart stopped. Jace’s thoughts screamed the truth at him. Robert’s not a Berserker—yet. We’re both Skinwalkers.
He scrambled for the knife. If he could stab it through Robert’s heart, he might have a chance. He ripped the blade from his shoulder and launched himself at the other man. At his brother.
* * *
FRANKIE’S HEART STOPPED when she saw Robert throw the knife at Jace.
“No!” she screamed.
Her heart kicked into high gear when the blade lodged in Jace’s shoulder. His blood poured out, but thank goodness the hit hadn’t killed him. She would never forgive herself if he died. Damn it. She was a fool. She couldn’t lose him.
“Frankie,” David said, shaking the bars to get her attention. “This isn’t working. Take this.” He handed her the lock pick he’d been using. “Keep working at it. I need to get to Allsún, get her out of here and hand her over to Shane. She’s losing too much blood. She—”
“David, it’s all right. Robert is busy with Jace. It’s your only chance. Go.”
He threw her a grateful look and said, “When you get out, go to Shane. He’s waiting outside. Don’t try to fight Robert.” Then he left and made his way to Allsún’s side as stealthily as possible, and began working at her handcuffs.
Frankie’s eyes darted to the other side of the room, where Jace was rolling on the ground with Robert, a tangle of punches and kicks. Forcing herself to look away, she shoved the lock pick into the keyhole, feeling around for the tumblers.
Come on. Come on. Come on.
She continued working at the lock. The hell with David’s instructions. She needed to help Jace, She would be damned if she was going to abandon him when he needed her most. Damned if she wouldn’t avenge her parents, herself, Allsún.
There was a thud as Allsún’s shackles opened and she fell to the floor. She tried to get up and toppled into David’s arms. He hoisted her onto his shoulder and ran awkwardly toward the rear exit.
Damn it, Frankie thought. The lock wouldn’t budge.
She kept working frantically, and just as she felt a small shifting as the lock yielded to her efforts, a loud bang echoed through the warehouse as the front doors burst open. Mr. Ice stepped in, followed by Blondie and Jersey. Ice’s cold blue eyes locked onto her.
Shit. Just what they fucking needed.
* * *
JACE SLAMMED HIS fist into Robert’s jaw with a disgusting crack. Bone crunched beneath his hand, but he knew it would heal in a matter of minutes. Robert slashed at him with the silver knife, which he’d managed to wrest back. Warm blood covered his body, flowing from multiple wounds on his chest, shoulders and arms. Heat burned through him, rushing to his wounds. He felt the skin knit together and regrow seconds after the wound had been made.
An equal playing field. It all came down to sheer ability.
With a massive shove, Robert pushed Jace off him. Jace fell back onto the floor, and Robert was on him in seconds. He slammed the knife down toward Jace’s chest. Jace grabbed his wrist and struggled to hold back Robert’s arm.
A tingling sensation ignited beneath his skin, and he was faintly aware of the glowing blue markings covering his body and glowing through his clothes. Electricity pumped through him. He felt stronger, faster.
But Robert retaliated, quickly channeling his own energy. Energy that was more practiced, more refined, than Jace’s. The knife shifted down an inch, closer to plunging into his chest.
Fuck. He was going to lose this fight. He couldn’t lose. He couldn’t.
The image of Frankie’s face clouded his mind. If he had one wish, it was to see her gorgeous smile one last time.
He needed to see her. Needed to talk to her. He couldn’t die without telling her he loved her. In an instant Robert was ripped off him and the bloodied knife skidded across the floor as Jace’s fellow hunters attacked the bastard. Damon’s fists collided with Robert’s face in an angry frenzy.
Twilight Hunter (The Execution Underground) Page 25