by Paige Tyler
“What the hell hit me?” Spencer rasped. “I feel like my head has been used for batting practice, then recycled as the lining in a canary cage.”
Yeah, that was a good way to describe it.
“They darted you and Peter while you were patrolling the perimeter of the camp,” Tanner said. “They must have hit you with enough to put you guys under without giving you a chance to raise the alarm.”
Spencer growled and yanked on the chain that held him prisoner. “Did they get Peter, too?”
“No. At least I don’t think so,” Tanner said quickly. “I was able to hide him in the trees before they got him.”
All Tanner needed right now was for Spencer to completely lose it and rip his own hand off in an attempt to get free. He decided not to mention Lillie. If Spencer even got a hint she might be in trouble, there’d be no controlling him.
“Speaking of those assholes, any idea what they want with us?” Spencer asked. He’d given up on the manacle and chain. “It’s got to be more than just kidnapping and murder, or they would have killed us already. And there’s no way they’re holding us for ransom.”
“They’re using us for sport,” Bryce said, his lip curling. “And so far, the only people who have gotten out of here are the ones who’ve died.”
Tanner frowned. “What do you mean, using us for sport?”
“He means they put us in a cage like the octagons you see on those pay-per-view MMA events and make us fight.”
Josh sat up and slowly scooted around on his butt to face them. Tanner stared at him, stunned. The kid’s nose had been broken, and his lip was busted. From the way he was slurring his words, his jaw was probably broken, too. Dried blood stained the front of his shirt, and more covered the legs of his jeans.
“They put me and two other people in the cage against five guys from the audience,” Josh continued, staring into the darkness his regular human eyes couldn’t pierce. “They let them have baseball bats while we had to fight with our bare hands. It was brutal. The crowd kept shouting for more even after the first person went down so hard, he couldn’t get back up.” He swallowed hard. “They beat a woman to death right in front of me, and people cheered.”
Tanner didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but getting thrown into some kind of gladiatorial fight wasn’t it.
“The octagon is one level up from where we are now,” Bryce added when Josh fell silent. “There’s a dance club of some kind above that. At night, I can hear the music. I haven’t had to fight yet. They said something about holding me back for the Saturday night crowd. Unless I’ve completely lost track of my days, I think today is Saturday, right?”
“Yeah,” Spencer said.
Bryce nodded. “I guess I’m up next then.”
Tanner couldn’t believe how well Bryce was holding it together. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of Spencer. The hybrid’s breathing was getting faster, and his heart rate was climbing. Rage was getting the best of him.
Tanner opened his mouth to say something to calm him down when a loud clank outside the room interrupted him. A moment later, the heavy wooden door opened, and a row of overhead fluorescents flickered on. The sudden brightness was almost blinding after the near-total darkness. It was even enough to shock Spencer out of his shift.
Tanner had to shield his eyes with his hand until he pushed his hybrid half firmly into the background and his gaze returned to normal. If he hadn’t been so focused on the four men entering the room, he might have spent a few more seconds celebrating the fact that his control of the beast seemed to be getting stronger by the hour.
Ryan led the way into the room, looking even more arrogant and smug than he had back at the prepper camp. Two big men followed at his heels, spread out wide to either side like they were protecting a frigging dignitary. One was the blond, Scandinavian-looking guy—Anton. The other was darker skinned, South American maybe. Both had the look of professional muscle, definitely prior military. Tanner had seen their type before. They were well-trained men who lacked any form of moral compass. They evaluated threats and dealt with them as violently as necessary.
As they moved closer, Tanner caught sight of the large handguns each had tucked away in their underarm holsters beneath their suit jackets. A quick glance revealed the outline of backup weapons strapped to their right calves. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were carrying other weapons, too.
There was another man with Ryan, too, a middle-aged Asian guy with shrewd, dark eyes.
Anton and his buddy scanned the room before focusing their attention on Tanner. Maybe they thought he represented the most serious threat. That made sense, especially if they had no idea that Spencer and Bryce were hybrids, too. Tanner might be able to use that to his advantage.
“Told you he’d wake up fast, even with all those tranquilizers in him,” Ryan said with a laugh. “But this is even better than I thought. You can’t even see all that damage I did to his face from kicking him.” He regarded Tanner admiringly. “Damn, you’re one amazing freak.”
Tanner would have preferred to stand toe-to-toe with Ryan, but the chain around his wrist made that impossible. So he settled for making himself comfortable on the floor. Bending his knee, he rested his forearm on his thigh. When he looked up at his old friend, he saw nothing but a piece of shit.
He swung his gaze from Ryan to the middle-aged Asian guy who had yet to say a single word or even crack an expression. He studied Tanner for a few moments with dark, flat eyes before surveying the other captives in the room.
Tanner glanced back at Ryan, who was still regarding him like a bug under a microscope. “You’re the one forcing people to fight to the death in the basement of your club for money. So who’s the freak here again?”
Ryan smirked. “We all do what we have to do to get by, old buddy.”
Tanner shook his head as he surveyed the other captives. Like Josh, every one of them had bruises and were covered in blood. He turned back to Ryan. “No, we don’t all do what we have to do. Some of us still remember what the hell we used to fight for and the things we believed in. The Ranger I used to know, the man I fought and bled with, wouldn’t do shit like this.”
Ryan’s jaw clenched. “The man you fought and bled with was an idiot. He watched his brothers die so the rest of America could binge-watch their favorite TV shows, drink their soy lattes, and eat their avocado toast. War does strange things to us all, but it taught me an important lesson—take care of yourself, because no one else gives a shit whether you live or die. This is just me taking care of myself.”
“We all had a hard time over there, Ryan. I lost friends, too. But you don’t see me feeding innocent people to a bloodthirsty crowd for a few bucks.”
“No, but I do see you growing fangs and claws,” he answered. “War turned me into an entrepreneur who sees the profit potential in a little spilled blood. It turned you into a freak.”
“Enough!” the Asian man snapped. “You said you had something to show me, Ryan. Something that would move the needle.”
Ryan glanced at the man, then gave Tanner a speculative look. “So, how about it, old buddy? You going to show Mr. Nguyen what you’re made of? Impress him as much as you impressed me?”
Tanner lifted a brow. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I know how to get what we want.” Grinning at the other guard, Anton pulled a large knife from behind his back. “The monster came out when he was in pain. I say we stick him once or twice in the leg. Something tells me that will work.”
Even though he’d gained a lot more control over his inner beast lately, thanks to Zarina, Tanner felt his gums and fingertips tingle as the hybrid tried to take over and protect him against the attack it knew was coming.
Tanner did his best to keep the beast at bay, promising it that he’d make his move when the man got close enough to strike. He could take Anton hostage
and pin the knife to the man’s throat. If he did this right, he might be able to get everyone out of here.
But Ryan put a hand on Anton’s shoulder. “Stand down. You too, Emilio. You’d only be wasting your time anyway. That’s not how it works with Tanner. All that’ll do is piss him off. If you really want to get a reaction out of him, you don’t go after him. You go after someone else. Someone innocent.”
Tanner stiffened, his fangs elongating ever so slightly. Ryan knew him too well.
“Someone like…” Ryan glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the middle-aged woman. She had a nasty bruise on her left cheek and an ugly gash starting at her right temple and disappearing into her hairline. “Her.” He gave Anton a grin. “Stab her anywhere but in the leg. I want her to be able to stand in the cage.”
Tanner’s fangs and claws ripped their way out before he could stop them. He lunged at Anton with a roar. The man froze, and Tanner could have finished him right then and there if it wasn’t for the damn manacle around his right wrist. He groaned in frustration as the chain stopped him short, his arm nearly ripping out of the shoulder joint as the claws of his left hand tore into the man’s suit jacket. While he grazed the skin, he did no real damage beyond that.
Anton scrambled back, his eyes huge as he reached for his gun. Beside him, Emilio did the same. Tanner didn’t care. He snarled and lunged again, straining against the chain holding him as he fought to get a piece of the men.
It was Ryan’s applause that snapped him out of his rage. That and the fact that he could sense both Spencer and Bryce getting ready to lose it, too. Knowing how bad that would be was enough to get him to rein his inner animal back in. It complained but conceded much faster than Tanner would have ever thought possible given the situation.
Breathing hard, he let his fangs and claws slowly retract.
“Think that would move the needle?” Ryan asked Nguyen.
The man nodded approvingly. “It will indeed. In fact, he’ll be tonight’s main event. One flash of those fangs, and our offshore bets will go through the roof.”
“I’m not going to fight for you,” Tanner growled. “I don’t care what you do. I won’t hurt people for your entertainment.”
Ryan glared at him. “You’ll do anything I say, or I’m going to do all kinds of unspeakable things to that girl I grabbed.”
Tanner went still, terrified his worse fears had come true and that Ryan had kidnapped Zarina. “If you hurt Zarina, I’ll—”
“Tear me apart with your claws, I know.” Ryan sneered. “Believe me, I wish I’d been able to get my hands on that beautiful Russian girlfriend of yours, but it didn’t work out that way. However, I do have the dark-haired girl you tried to save, the one with the scars on her neck. A gift from you, I’m guessing?”
Ryan barely got the words out before Spencer shifted and lunged for him, Bryce at his heels. Ryan might have been careful to stay out of Tanner’s reach, but he’d put himself dangerously close to the other two hybrids. He would have died right then if it wasn’t for Emilio. The man moved fast, yanking Ryan out of the way just as Bryce and Spencer got there.
Bryce pulled up, but Spencer refused to give up. Eyes glowing red, he snarled and yanked at the chain so hard, Tanner heard his arm bones crack.
Ryan laughed. He looked like a frigging kid at Christmas. “This keeps getting better and better. I had no idea there were three of you freaks. Is there something in the water out there or what?”
Tanner didn’t answer, not that Ryan seemed to need one. The asshole turned to Nguyen. “I think we have some more opponents for the main event. With these three in the ring, we’ll have a hard time counting all the money we’re going to make.”
Nguyen nodded, his mouth curving into a smile. After a moment, he turned and walked out, leaving Ryan and the other two men behind.
“If you hurt that girl—” Tanner started, but Ryan cut him off.
“That’s up to you, not me. You do exactly what I tell you, and she’ll live through the night. You try anything, and the pain she’ll go through before she dies will make you sorry you were ever born.”
The threat drove Spencer even further over the edge. He jerked at the manacle until his wrist bled, but it did no good.
Tanner bit back a growl as his old friend—or the man who used to be his friend—turned and walked out of the room, taking Anton and Emilio with him, slamming the door shut as they went.
It took almost an hour to calm Spencer down, during which he roared and howled so loudly, the human prisoners put their hands over their ears to block out the sound. Tanner could have told them it wouldn’t work. He knew because he’d tried it when those doctors had injected Spencer with the hybrid serum all those months ago. Tanner hadn’t been able to do anything to help the man’s agony then, and there wasn’t anything he could do now.
* * *
“How do we know that Tanner and the others are even in there?” Zarina tried to keep the terror out of her voice as she looked at pictures of Ryan’s club spread out on the table, but she was sure she failed. “What if they’ve already killed them?”
Zarina had done all she could to keep it together, but the endless hours of doing nothing but sitting on her hands at the DCO’s storage unit in Seattle had been hard as hell. She’d practically made herself sick imagining all the horrible things that might be happening to Tanner. Was he hurt—or worse?
She’d known it would take time for Landon to get help out here, but she’d never dreamed it would be close to sundown before most of the DCO operatives showed. And now that they were here, all they were doing was wasting time looking at stupid maps and satellite photos.
Why the hell weren’t they already at The Cage, going in to get Tanner and the others out?
Beside her, Cam reached out and covered her hand where it rested on the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It didn’t help very much. Tanner’s brother looked as worried as Zarina felt.
It was Danica Buchanan, FBI-agent-turned-DCO-operative and one of her best friends at the covert organization, who answered. “There aren’t a lot of traffic cameras around the Wenatchee area, but we accessed enough of them to get an idea of which direction the three black SUVs you shot up this morning were heading. They made a beeline for Ryan’s club, which is located about forty-five minutes outside Seattle, just west of Redmond.”
Zarina gazed down at the big map with the red circle drawn on it. The corners of the map were held down with boxes of ammunition that were merely a small sample of the hoard of bullets and explosives stored in the place. In fact, there were enough weapons, night-vision goggles, computer equipment, and communication gear to start a small war. Apparently, the DCO kept places like this all over the world in case their operatives needed anything special for a mission. She was glad they did, even if the thought of them having to fight their way into Ryan’s club to rescue Tanner and the others scared the hell out of her. Not enough to dissuade her from going in with everyone else, but enough to make her stomach clench even more than it already was.
“Satellite photos confirm the vehicles showed up at the club immediately after they grabbed Tanner and your friends,” Clayne Buchanan, Danica’s husband, wolf shifter, and DCO partner, said softly. “There’s no indication they’ve left since.”
Danica and Clayne had gotten to the storage unit forty-five minutes ago. The two DCO operatives had immediately gotten the computer equipment running, then printed maps, photos, and intel reports. Zarina was glad the couple were there. Danica was extremely good at thinking through problems and making plans, while Clayne was equally good at skipping those and going straight to the fighting and killing. Zarina only wished they’d spend less time on Danica’s part and get on with Clayne’s.
“As far as them still being alive, we have to believe they are,” Chase said, leaning forward to catch Zarina’s eye, even though the movement made him w
ince in pain. “We don’t know why Ryan took them, but the asshole went to a lot of effort to tranquilize them and take them to his club. He must have a purpose for them. That means they’re going to be alive long enough for us to get in there and rescue them.”
Tate and the sheriff’s deputy from Maine had shown up twenty minutes after Danica and Clayne, somehow swinging a nonstop flight from Boston. Chase was obviously dealing with some kind of injury, but when she offered to take a look at it, he waved her off and told her he was fine.
“I can’t believe the DCO doesn’t have a single clue why Ryan kidnapped Tanner and all those other people,” Staff Sergeant Carlos Diaz said. “I thought you people could find anything on anyone.”
Zarina had been stunned when Diaz had shown up. A Special Forces soldier from Landon’s old A-team, he’d fought alongside the DCO on several occasions but had only recently discovered he was a coyote shifter. She’d assumed the soldier would be deployed off to some dark corner of the globe with the other members of his A-team, but luckily, he’d been home on leave in San Diego and had decided raiding a night club to rescue a hybrid who tried to kill him two months ago sounded like fun. Zarina didn’t understand why most men did the things they did, but she was glad to have him there.
Danica frowned. “I wish we knew. When Landon told us about Westbrook and his club, we spent a good portion of the flight from Mexico trying to come up with a possible connection between a club and the abductions. We considered everything. Drugs, illegal gambling, human trafficking, the black-market organ trade, even hybrid research. But nothing fits with the facts as we know them so far.”
Walking over to the printer, Danica pulled off a stack of photos and spread them out on the table. Zarina thought they looked like mug shots, but she wasn’t sure.
“When one of our analysts discovered a Vietnamese gang out of Tacoma with known ties to the LA drug trade paid for the renovations to The Cage, we were sure drugs were the answer,” Danica said, setting down the last picture.