by Lauren Dawes
Betrayal by a family member was never an easy pill to swallow.
12
Katie stared at the chipped nail polish on her fingernails, fighting the urge to cry. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had sat on Neve’s bed and had them painted. A lifetime ago that she’d talked about Charles with her, although she’d had to use veiled speech. Her cousin couldn’t know that they were seeing each other. Despite his intended mating, she loved him and would take whatever he would give for however long he was willing to give it. Which was until next spring. Charles had told her that it was a political mating, something about solidifying a relationship between his family and his intended mate’s, but it wasn’t a love match. It was simply…business.
Thinking about Charles kissing another female made her chest hurt, and she focused on her nails instead, straining her memories, trying to remember everything about that night, every little nuance and detail and… She couldn’t even remember what the color was called.
Stretching out her legs, she winced as the blood flow returned to her lower extremities and rested her head against the bars of her cell. How long had she been here? Flexing her fingers, she lifted one at a time as she counted along in her head.
Saturday night she was at Neve’s.
She’d left around midnight, making her less than three-mile drive home.
She’d gotten a flat tire. Pulled over. Then…
She’d woken up here, in this cell.
Fixing her gaze on Elsie, who was huddled up in the corner, she found the female’s haunted eyes focused on the floor in front of her. After the assault, her cellmate had said nothing, just covered her body as much as she could and retreated into her own head. Katie wondered whether it was any better in there, or whether her brain just kept replaying the event over and over—a horrible set of events cycling through on an endless loop.
Katie got busy counting again, lifting her fingers one at a time. Saturday, Sunday… Maybe it was—
“It’s pointless,” Elsie said in a hoarse whisper. “It’s pointless to count, just as it’s pointless to think we’re going to get out of here.”
Katie’s lip trembled. “My father will be looking for me.”
“As I’m sure mine is too.”
“Do you know how long you’ve been here? I mean before I was stuffed into this cage with you?”
Elsie shrugged shoulders that were too thin. Shifters needed to maintain a high caloric intake, otherwise the weight just dripped off them. Even Katie was beginning to feel the strain of starvation on her body, even though it couldn’t have been any longer than seventy-two hours.
“Maybe a few days before you. I don’t… I don’t really know.”
Silence settled between them, making it seem as if everything was lost.
“How did they get you?” she asked in a whisper.
“I was walking back to my dorm from my last class for the day.”
“Class? Like college class?”
Elsie nodded. “Yeah. I’m a junior at UC Berkeley. I’m getting…” She paused, frowned. “I was getting my engineering degree.”
The use of the past tense told Katie a hell of a lot about her mental state. Pushing off the metal bars, she crawled over to Elsie and eased down beside her.
“You can’t talk like that,” she said softly, her eyes growing wet. “We’re going to get out of this.”
Elsie looked at her with a hollow stare. “No, we’re not, and the sooner you accept that, the easier it’ll be.”
Katie opened her mouth to reply when the door at the top of the stairs opened with a groan. Everyone inhaled sharply, a fresh trickle of fear sliding like an insidious fog into the room. Burying her head into her arms, she hid her face, terrified to meet the eyes of their captor, but her head jerked up again when the smell of chargrilled meat wafted through the space, warring with the scent of fear pouring from every single female.
She watched, rapt, as one of their captors planted his feet at the bottom of the stairs.Complete with a Stetson, the guy looked like he’d stepped from one of the cowboy romance books Katie’s mom liked to read when she thought nobody was around. Dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, he strolled forward with a takeout bag clutched in his hand until he was standing in the middle of the vast room. He was able to see every cell—and wanted everyone to see him.
The scent of the meat in that brown paper bag got stronger.
“Ladies,” Cowboy said, his voice accented with a Texan twang, “it is your lucky day.” He made a show of opening up the bag and pulling out two burgers, their paper wrappers transparent with grease. Katie licked her lips in anticipation. Her cat was starving.
Cowboy dropped one of the burgers back into the sack and placed it on the ground before proceeding to unwrap the other. He took a bite, making a show of chewing it slowly, savoring it. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and continued to eat. Katie found her mouth moving along with his, mimicking his actions with each chew and swallow. When he was done, he wadded up the wrapper and dropped it into the open sack at his feet.
Cowboy licked his fingers slowly, knowing he had a captivated audience. “Delicious, but I couldn’t possibly have the other one too, so I will offer it to one of you, ladies,” he sneered.
Katie was torn between wanting to retreat and hanging on his every word. She settled for sitting forward a little bit, watching, waiting.
His boots made an odd hissing sound as he tracked back and forth in front of the cells. Cowboy walked closer to hers and Elsie’s, peering in at them. He winked at Elsie, although this was not the man who had assaulted her before. Despite this, Elsie shrank back even farther against the cinder blocks.
Katie looked back at that brown paper bag, already tasting the burger on her lips.
“I’ll give the extra burger to whoever lets me fuck them.” He pointed down at the ground in front of him, a twisted smirk on his face. “Right here. Right now. In front of everyone.” Silence filled the basement, and she wondered whether anyone would be that desperate. Selling their body for a semi-cold burger? It was unthinkable.
“I will,” someone said.
Katie’s eyes widened in surprise and beside her, Elsie buried her face in her arms. In the cell across from theirs, a young woman came to stand at the bars, her fingers clutching at the cold steel.
Cowboy cupped his ear, leaning closer. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, what was that?”
She sucked in a breath. “I said I’ll do it.”
Katie couldn’t see from where she was sitting, but she assumed the bastard was smiling. Reaching into the front pocket of his Levis, he pulled out a key and opened up the cell. Crooking his finger, he invited her to come a little closer. When she was within reach, he yanked her out of the cell and shoved her face-first against the bars. He ground his hips into her ass and wrenched her head to one side to expose her throat.
Katie jammed her fist into her mouth to stop herself from making a sound, her hot breath streaming out from around her hand. The woman whimpered when Cowboy yanked her yoga pants down to her ankles and tore the underwear from her hips. At that point, Katie squeezed her eyes shut. Mirroring Elsie, she hugged her legs to her chest and buried her face in her arms. But just because she couldn’t see it, didn’t mean she couldn’t hear it. The sound of it, the smell of it was something that was going to be branded in Katie’s memories forever.
She tried to block out the ugliness she was powerless to stop by humming the tune to one of her favorite songs. She jumped when Elsie’s hand snaked out and grabbed her own and together, they hummed.
When there was a groan that could’ve only come from Cowboy finding release, Elsie and Katie stopped humming in unison, but their hands remained fused together.
The rustle of clothes.
The crinkle of paper and a barely concealed sob.
The sound of the cell door opening and shutting.
It was only when Cowboy’s boots receded that they both looked into the cell opposite them. The woman
was holding the brown paper sack, trembling, her knuckles white as she stood motionless with her prize. For just a moment, Katie envied her. She was holding something everyone wanted, but she had paid the price none of them had been willing to pay.
She watched as the human opened things up, pulling out the burger and freeing it of the grease-soaked wrapper. Bringing it to her mouth, she took a bite and chewed, her eyes shuttering closed. When her lids popped open again, she stared down at the burger and turned around, holding it out to her cellmate. The jaguar she was sharing with took a bite then gave it back. Katie thought that was nice of her—to share what she’d rightfully earned—but then she was shocked when the woman actually went to the side of her cage and stretched out her arm as far as it could go, passing the burger to the others in the next cell over.
After each female took a bite, they passed on the rest of it until it finally reached Katie and Elsie. Katie was the one who’d taken it, nodding in thanks first to the woman who had given it to her, then to the human who had given up a piece of herself so she could feed them all.
“What’s your name?” Katie asked softly.
The woman stared dully at her. “Bethany Scott,” she replied before sitting down at the back of her cell, hugging her knees close to her chest.
“Elsie,” Katie said, crouching down beside the other cat. “Take a bite. Here.” She shoved the remnants of the burger under Elsie’s nose, but her cellmate simply looked away.
“I don’t want any.”
“You have to eat,” she pressed. “To keep your strength up.”
Elsie said nothing else and still wouldn’t look at her. Katie looked around, hoping for some guidance. When another one of the females made a gesture for her to eat, Katie brought what was left of the burger to her mouth and chewed.
Swallowed.
God, she felt so hollow inside.
13
Asher studied his opponent’s fingers as they clutched at his pawn. The glass piece had yet to be moved, but all its brothers-in-arms had left the relative comfort of home base and were falling quickly beneath Asher’s sharp mind and even sharper tongue. He took a moment to look at the male who had wanted to have this audience with him, wondering why he’d chosen now.
All the pieces in the game were in motion, capturing their opponents’ pieces as if he had orchestrated every move…wait, he had orchestrated every move, and it was a beautiful game to watch.
“You do understand what you’re about to do, don’t you?”
The male’s hand paused over his pawn, hesitant for the first time since he’d walked into Asher’s home.
“You aren’t talking about my pawn, are you?” the male asked.
“I am not.” Asher’s voice was as smooth as the glass chess pieces—completely in control of the situation. Like everything in his life, he liked control.
The male’s gaze darted to the side, taking in the grand fireplace and the marble mantel and the Manet painting Asher had paid a small fortune for three decades ago.
“I want in. I’ve seen what my brothers-in-arms have been able to do, and I want that power.”
Ah, yes, more power. It all came down to that. The guy finally moved his pawn, as if his declaration had gotten him thinking about not just the square in front of him, but the whole damn board. The game that was already finished in Asher’s mind.
“I understand. You know what I expect of you then, if I choose to give you this?”
While he waited, Asher made his next move, shifting his knight to capture the pawn his opponent had just moved. The male still hadn’t answered, so he lifted his gaze up to find the jaguar staring.
“I need unwavering allegiance from you. In return, I’ll give you what you need to stay riding high on the power you seek.” Holding out his hand to the male, he murmured, “Do we have an accord?”
He had to tamp down his greed as he stared into the male’s eyes, waiting for him to pull the trigger. His plan was foolproof, his synthetic enhancer guaranteed to bring them back time and time again. All it had taken was one—one jaguar to drink the Kool-Aid as it were, and he’d had them.
And then he would have his deepest desires.
“We do,” the other male replied, shaking Asher’s outstretched hand. “We do.”
14
Jett was staring out the window, his gaze fixed on the way the morning sun played over the fall-ravaged manicured gardens at the front of their compound. Considering the rest of their place was traversed by lodgepole and cottonwood, the uniform plots of spindly rose bushes and the soft gray-green leaves of lavender were out of place, yet he found himself enjoying the symmetry and order. Maybe it was because his fucking life was so out of control…
Turning back to the boardroom-style table that had been set up in the dining room, he looked at Drake, Mateo, Grayson, and Sasha. None of them had parked it at the table yet. In fact, the only people sitting were Greg Bolton, the Leo of the Black Claw pride, and Callum, the captain of the Phantom unit Shadows. Greg was stock-still, his hands folded neatly in front of him. His body may have been motionless, but the turmoil behind his eyes was fucking off-putting.
Jett swung his attention to the front door, a combination of anxiety and barely restrained aggression battling with his self-control. They were awaiting the arrival of the Trinity along with the Leos of the four remaining North American prides and their Shadows.
Fifteen alpha males inside one room was like sitting with drums of gasoline beside a naked flame. All it would take was one nudge, and it would all go to shit.
Boom.
He took a mental tally of what could go wrong at this meeting.
Option one—one Leo takes offense over what another Leo says, and it ended in a bloodbath.
Option two—one of the Shadows looks at him wrong, and it ended in a bloodbath with him wielding the dagger.
Option three—they all got twitchy with their trigger fingers, and it ended in a bloodbath.
Whichever way, there was a high possibility they weren’t leaving this thing without a colossal dry cleaning bill.
“Remind me again why this couldn’t be a conference call?” he asked Drake.
His leader’s mouth curled into a slight grin. “Because the Trinity don’t know how to make that happen on a rotary phone.”
A wave of laughter boiled up around the room, the levity much needed, considering they were staring down the barrel of a gun. Jesus, all this waiting was making him twitchy.
Jamming his hands into his pockets, Jett started to whistle, but when Drake threw him a ball-shriveling glare, he stopped. Right. Not cool. Dipping his chin, Jett got to tapping his feet instead. At least that sound was dampened by the deep nap of the carpet beneath his feet. Outside the room, the grandfather clock announced it was ten a.m.
As if the deep knells of the clock were the official announcement, the doorbell rang. Jett pushed off the wall to answer it. Any excuse to burn off the nervous energy, right? Strolling to the door, he tried to keep his emotional grid clear before he pulled it open.
Elian of Ghost Unit stood on the stoop, his green eyes serious. Behind him was Martin Worther, Leo of the Gray Fur pride. Jett stood back—his shoulders stiff and his aggression leaking—not bothering to close the door behind them. Out on the pea gravel drive, another three cars were pulling up. The Leos and Shadows of the White Fang, Yellow Eye, and Red Paw prides got out, and Jett’s skin tightened in warning, his palm heating up. Flexing his hand into a fist, he let out a breath and allowed the wildfire that burned to be used extinguish.
He scrutinized the males who filed in. He didn’t like any of them and having them in his house only cranked out his anger a little more. Slamming the door shut behind them, he walked back into the meeting room and took up position on the wall beside Sasha. The Leos were talking softly to their Shadows, their combined voices buzzing around the room, and Jett took to studying each of them—you know, just in case he needed to size them up for a casket or some shit.
> Tavaris, captain of Shade unit, sat back in his seat, the wood groaning under his substantial weight. The guy was built like a linebacker and operated like one, too. Turning his head, he whispered to his Leo, Thomas Vecchio, who nodded once before resting his hands on the tabletop, palms down.
The front door opened once more, and then the Trinity strolled in like they had all the time in the world. Even though they were all pushing two hundred and seventy, the trio didn’t look a day over forty-five. Ah, the beauty of shifter DNA.
Zed, Zepher, and Zeke took the three seats reserved for them at the head of the table, and Jett caught Drake staring hard at the trio, which was unusual. Their fearless leader didn’t show his emotions so easily…unless it was anger, and then he was all over that.
Zed cleared his throat, calling the meeting to attention. “I want to thank you all for coming today. I know this meeting was arranged at short notice, but there’s something of utmost importance to discuss.”
Jett frowned. What it could be? Drake hadn’t mentioned anything to them in the last couple of days, so whatever it was, it must’ve happened in the last twenty-four hours. He straightened and clasped his hands together in front of him.
“Females are going missing,” Zepher announced, his voice a quiet rasp reminiscent of dried paper. With that announcement, there was a collective hiss. Male jaguars were territorial by nature, but if their females were threatened? They got downright murderous.
“Where? Who?” William Tallow, Leo of the White Fang territory demanded, his fist coming down hard on the table.
“Mine,” the Leo of Yellow Eye, Tony Scheller, said. “They’re disappearing from my territory.”