Makenna stretched her own arms out and called her magic. Remembering what Bowen had told her, she didn’t imagine the power as swords, like she usually did. She pictured it as small waves. Deep red columns formed, swaying in her palms. She waited for Bowen’s signal.
At his sharp nod, the spheres moved out from his hands, suspended between them. Makenna let her power surge. The waves reached out like hands and grasped the orbs. The red swallowed the orange. Makenna imagined Bowen’s spell breaking into tiny particles within the river of red. The particles dispersed, infusing her power. She jerked at the charge. But her magic didn’t fight the new power. It welcomed it. Man, the guy packed a punch. She smiled before turning toward the target about fifty yards from them.
Her eyes narrowed. Colors swirled, then cleared, and her vision sharpened to deadly focus as her eyes went wolf.
Picturing the target as Brianna, she threw.
Twin blasts of red fire left her hands. They hit their target dead on. Straw filling flew in every direction as it smoked out of existence. The wooden stand shattered, smoldering splinters sailing into the air. Chunks fell back to the ground.
Each impaled by multiple spikes of what looked like frozen flame.
Makenna glared at the embers and wished it had been Brianna. Once the bitch was dead, her magic would die as well, releasing Amanda. Leaving Kylian without his deadliest weapon.
She took a deep breath before turning back to Rhys, Bowen, Talon, and the wolves. Smashing the target hadn’t been enough. She wanted more. She wanted Brianna’s blood.
Not from a distance hit. She wouldn’t hide under cover and watch Brianna go up in flames. No, she wanted to feel the life drain from her. Wanted to smell the fear, the defeat, waft from her evil bitch of a sister as she faded to nothing. Wanted to smell the blood. And she would.
As the power surged in her, she smiled. In the past months, she’d grown stronger by the day. She was becoming one with the goddess, learning to be precise and lethal. Bowen had once told her that the power could consume her. She used to worry about it. Not anymore. Makenna fully accepted the magic that formed her. It wasn’t something she used, it was a part of her. As natural to her as breathing.
Soon, she’d be more powerful than Brianna. And she’d use every bit of that power to destroy her and their asshole of a father. With pleasure.
Makenna broke out of her thoughts as the group congratulated her.
Talon gave her a side hug. “Nice work, sis. Man,” he shook his head. “You’re a natural.”
“Aye.” Bowen smiled. “That she is. The most powerful Morrigan we have seen.” Pride glimmered in his eyes, but something flickered behind it. Worry? Whatever. He always worried.
Makenna brushed it off and glanced at Rhys. He watched her with narrowed eyes. Sensing concern swirling with his own pride, she crossed her arms and widened her stance. Preparing for yet another lecture. Almost daily, he reminded her not to let the power seduce her. She had no idea why he kept harping on it. Maybe he was tempted and was projecting onto her. Whatever the case, she wasn’t in the mood to hear it again.
Rhys ate up the space between them. “That was quite a show.” He lowered his voice. “Be sure and save some of that fire for later.” He kissed her jaw before moving back.
Makenna’s eyes widened. Okay, so that wasn’t what she’d expected. She just might get what she wanted tonight after all.
Bowen addressed the group again. “Your magic may not have quite the punch as Makenna’s. But you can do plenty damage. Are there any─”
“Can I get a little help over here?”
Every head turned toward the woods.
A bloody, limping Trystan dragged an even bloodier body behind him and carried a severed head. He wobbled on his feet as he trudged toward them.
Makenna instantly stiffened. Fire lit down her spine like someone had set off a fuse. The goddess rose tall, her eyes blazing.
Rhys, Bowen, Talon, and several other warriors rushed to Trystan. Some took the body, who was actually an enemy slowly regaining consciousness and putting up a fight. They dragged him to the cabin reserved for holding prisoners. Rhys slipped an arm around Trystan and took the head from him. He tossed it to Talon, who caught it, snarling. Bowen raced to Trystan’s other side and helped Rhys get him back to the infirmary.
Makenna froze.
It wasn’t the gore. She couldn’t care less about the head Talon was affixing to the end of a pole. What had her utter focus was Trystan.
Her friend. Her Beta. Her baby sister’s mate.
Yet again not able to walk under his own power. Beaten. Deep claw marks and gashes covering his body. His left eye nearly swollen shut. Covered in the red life that should’ve been in his veins. For the second time in a single day.
It was the proverbial straw. The crack sounded in her soul.
Her wolf growled and bared razor-sharp teeth.
The raven let out a vicious screech.
The goddess screamed. The sound echoed in her mind, forcing its way out of her mouth. Everyone stopped in their tracks as the savage war cry tore through the camp. Rhys and Bowen exchanged a worried look. Then Trystan’s eyes met hers.
In them, Makenna saw the same rage, the same need for justice that raged within her.
Through the pack link, she sent Trystan a promise. He nodded and allowed Bowen to guide him inside while Rhys stalked across the yard to Makenna.
Through their bond, Rhys forced calm into her system. At least, he tried. But she shoved it back. She didn’t give a flying fuck about calm. Didn’t want him to try and soothe her.
What she needed was the location of their enemies.
For Trystan, for Amanda, for Rhys, for their pack, she would see justice done.
She’d get her vengeance.
Consequences be damned.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Heart of the Darkness
Rhys’ greatest fear was coming to fruition right in front of him.
As he drew closer to his mate, the change became all too apparent. Her rage vibrated the air. Her power seared his skin even from a distance as she glowed a dark red. Darker than he’d ever seen. Her eyes were a deep gold, sparking in the coming dusk.
The goddess was taking over. If he didn’t intervene, his Kenna could disappear completely.
The god within raised his head in concern. It wasn’t time for them to rise yet. Makenna wasn’t ready. She hadn’t learned to control the power within her. If the god and goddess joined now, it could be disastrous.
Rhys wiped sweat from his brow. The heat from her fury and the oppressive humidity converged to make his skin blister. Waving a hand at the crowd that’d gathered, he warned them away. They scattered to a safe distance. She’d never hurt them. A great portion of her rage was on their behalf. But he couldn’t chance the pack getting caught in the blow back if the worst happened.
Makenna was two seconds from overloading. At least, that’s how it appeared. He edged closer and delved deeper into their bond. No fear. No concern she couldn’t handle the surge. Quite the contrary.
Makenna was calling it forth. Embracing it.
“Kenna.” He stopped a few steps from her. Rhys hated the insecurity that roiled in his gut, the worry that his own mate would reject his touch. His wolf pushed against his skin, whining.
Those golden eyes turned on him. Then her gaze shot to the warriors walking by with the prisoner. That blazing gaze turned cold. Hard. A feral growl rumbled from her. The ground shook beneath his feet.
She lunged.
Rhys caught her with an arm around her middle. “Not yet. We need him to talk.”
She struggled a bit, then seemed to consider what he’d said and settled. He wrapped both arms around her and held her back to his chest. She burned. Flames licked her skin, singing his own. But he held tight.
“Come back to me, love.”
Tension permeated her muscles. But she didn’t pull away from him. It was a start.
Her fury
infected him. He wanted Kylian and Brianna as much as she did. When he’d seen Trystan injured yet again, it’d nearly driven him over the edge. But experience told him lashing out in anger would get people killed. If he could maintain control, then she could too.
“They have to pay.” The guttural words didn’t sound like his Kenna.
Fear spiked within him. Rhys breathed deep, imagining a cloud of calm wrapping around them. Soothing and beige. If he could turn her focus on him, get the goddess to settle, he had a chance of keeping her from falling over the brink.
“They will. But we have to do this the right way.” More tension drained from her. The goddess took a step back. “We’ll get what we can from him and we’ll make a plan. He might have a location.”
Makenna’s head tilted, then she turned in his arms. Her eyes had returned to their normal shade of rich brown. The heat blasting from her ebbed. Relief sagged his shoulders. She was controlling it. For now. But she stood on a fine edge.
She gripped his shoulders as tears pooled. “We need to end this, Rhys.” Her voice was hers again, breathy and rough, but no trace of the shrillness of the goddess.
“I know, love.”
Rhys pulled her head to his shoulder. She shuddered and exhaled a ragged breath. Rhys buried his face in her hair. He let her scent bring him peace and flooded their bond with it. They held each other for a long moment. Both hanging on by a thread. Drawing strength from the other. The distance between them was weakening them. Fraying their control. Rhys was determined to fix it. Especially now that he knew how close Makenna was to falling into a dark place where he couldn’t follow.
Makenna pulled back, now the picture of calm. Rhys knew better.
He cradled her face in his hands. “We’ll win this. I promise. We just have to stand together. Stay strong.”
She smiled. There was an edge of viciousness to it. Something flashed in her eyes. His neck tingled. “Well then, let’s interrogate the prisoner.”
Rhys tensed. “I’m not sure it’s wise for you to be a part of that.”
It wasn’t only her present state. He never wanted her to be involved in torture. Didn’t want her exposed to the brutality. She may be a warrior goddess, but she was his mate. He’d protect the humanity and compassion that made her so beautiful.
“You’ve never sat in on an interrogation. There’s no need to start now. It’s not pretty.”
She laughed, fire licking her eyes. “Oh, I know it won’t be pretty. I’ll see to it.”
“Kenna, don’t─”
“I’m Alpha female.” Makenna stepped out of his hold. Her gaze grew hotter. “You can’t keep me out of this. It’s my right.”
She was correct. Her place was beside him, no matter where he stood.
“Fine. But we need answers. You can’t just rip him to shreds.”
Which is exactly what she wanted to do. Her blood lust was so fervent, it infiltrated his own system, vibrating through his blood.
Makenna charged for the cabin. “Don’t worry. We’ll get what we need.”
Rhys closed his eyes, then tensed as he felt Trystan’s dark energy at his back. He whirled on his Beta. The male was walking steadier now but looked like he’d been chewed up and spit out by a gator.
“You should rest, Trys.”
Trystan growled. “I’m still standing.” He eased around Rhys and winced, holding his side. “I’m Beta. Interrogating prisoners is my job. If I can walk, I can do what needs to be done.” He didn’t wait for Rhys to reply before he took off, limping.
Rhys sighed as he followed. People said he was stubborn. Hot-headed. Trystan and Makenna were taking those concepts to entirely new levels. Now he had to keep everyone, including himself, rational enough to refrain from gutting the enemy warrior before they got the information they so desperately needed. They all wanted blood. But they had to keep their heads.
Rhys skipped the two porch steps and landed behind Trystan as he stalked in the door. Before Rhys could follow, a small hand landed on his arm.
Amanda lifted her chin. “I’m coming too.” Determination straightened her spine. Yet she couldn’t hide the twinge of fear zipping through her.
He scrubbed at his face. Everyone around him was going crazy. “Amanda, there are already enough wolves in there who are seconds from losing it. It’s going to be all I can do to hold them back until we’ve extracted whatever he knows. I don’t need to add another.”
Her face hardened, and she crossed her now thin, wiry arms. “I’ve always sat in before. You said I had the same place I’ve always had here. Is that no longer true?”
Using his own words against him. Smart.
Rhys didn’t have it in him to fight her. He was tapped out. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” His voice was gruffer than he intended, but Amanda didn’t appear to be bothered. She edged around him and preceded him into the room.
Rhys slammed the door behind him. He was pissed and needed an outlet before he faced their prisoner. Calm. Cool. He’d keep everyone contained until he got the job done, then they could demolish the fucker. He looked up to see the chair where their guest should have been empty. He glanced around the room and sighed.
Maintaining control of the situation was going to be a bigger task than he’d thought.
Makenna had the prisoner, who was several inches taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier, by the throat. Snarling. His muddy boots dangled above the floor as she banged his head against the wall so hard the single, grimy window rattled. Trystan stood near, chuckling.
“Spill, asshole!” She screamed at the wide-eyed, gurgling male. “We don’t have all fucking night!”
Rhys gritted his teeth. The female would make him lose his mind. Still, he couldn’t stop the surge of pride at her strength. Deadly calm, authority in his voice, he addressed his mate.
“Makenna, he may find it difficult to speak, given that you’re strangling him.”
Her eyes whipped to Rhys. All wolf. “I guess you’re right.” She smirked and threw him against the opposite wall. A shower of splinters shot out at the impact, and the cabin quaked. She stalked to the gasping wolf and yanked him up by his long, blond hair. “Manhandled by a girl. That’s gotta be embarrassing.” She tossed him back into the chair. “Trystan, restrain our visitor.”
“With pleasure.” Hiding the pain Rhys knew had to be stabbing him and walking tall, Trystan grabbed two lengths of rope from the table.
When the gasping male was secure, Makenna and Trystan circled him. Teeth bared. Rhys eyed the prisoner. The male was a seasoned warrior. Scars decorating his corded arms and the side of his angular face told of many brutal battles. His deep blue eyes were cold, nearly lifeless.
As Rhys watched him, he had no pity. No regret at what he was about to do. Not today. Not after watching his best friend almost die and struggling to keep his mate from losing herself to her rage and pain. This day, no mercy existed in him.
Rhys motioned for Trystan and Makenna to step back. Makenna did, though not without a defiant glare.
Trystan, however, wasn’t ready to give up his position. “Rhys, I can handle this.”
Rhys didn’t move his eyes from their captive. His blood boiled at Trystan daring to question him. In front of an outsider, nonetheless. “I appreciate your skills, Trystan. But this one is mine.” He glanced at his Beta, reinforcing the order resonating in his deadly words.
The prisoner laughed as Trystan took one step back. “Ah, dissension in the ranks.”
Trystan beat Rhys to an answer. “Not at all. We just all want a piece of you.” His voice was lethal, chilling.
The male’s smile faded. Rhys smirked as the wolf’s eyes scanned the room. Amanda stood behind a glowering Trystan, looking every bit the vicious warrior. No one who didn’t know her would be able to guess she had the strength of a human. Makenna paced the length of the room, never taking her eyes off the enemy. Eyes of a wolf that promised she’d enjoy dishing out a long, brutal death. Her power
glowed red around her. It was only a hint, but it could darken at a moment’s notice.
The male swallowed hard, the knowledge his journey to Néamh would be slow and painful glittering in his eyes. He wasn’t getting out of here alive.
Rhys pounced on the fear scenting the room with burnt leaves. “That’s right. There’s no escape. The only choice available is deciding if you’ll die quickly, or if we get to play.”
The male straightened. His eyes cleared. Defiance etched lines into his scruffy face. “Do what you will. I will give you nothing.”
Rhys grinned. “As you wish.”
Two hours later, Rhys surveyed the bloody mess they’d made as he wiped his hands on a rag. They’d called Bowen to break Kylian’s thrall, and discovered the male hadn’t been bespelled. He’d joined Kylian’s army of his own free will. That knowledge had erased any mercy that may have crept in.
The walls were splashed with crimson. It pooled on the floor beneath the chair. The prisoner’s head hung to a battered chest. His clothes had been slashed to bits by deadly claws and charred, still smoking. What skin wasn’t bruised bore deep gashes and scorch marks. Despite their rage, each of them had been careful to avoid vital organs. To keep the wounds just shallow enough so as not to sever arteries.
For maximum pain.
Makenna stood to the side, wiping her claws with a cloth. Satisfaction glinted in her eyes. Rhys had never imagined her capable of the torture she’d inflicted. But he could understand it. This male was part of a force trying to destroy her home, the family she’d just found. Just as mercy had deserted him, she’d set hers aside as well.
Trystan had taken special joy in asking a question, then doling out punishment for the wolf’s sarcastic remarks. Considering the day Trystan had had, Rhys was surprised he’d kept the control he did. But as always, Trystan worked with cold precision.
Amanda had stayed close, needing to be part of it in some way. She’d taken turns questioning and goading the male as the rest of them worked.
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