the scent down the hallway and into a room that might have been large for a master bedroom, but wasn’t built to hold six Sentinels plus an enforcer. The air was choked with a sizzling heat and the floor groaned beneath the combined weight.
Kaede’s attention, however, locked on the female with thick auburn hair tumbled around her heart-shaped face. Wearing nothing more than a satin camisole and matching shorts, she looked like a man’s fantasy.
Until he caught the cold glitter in the dark blue eyes.
It reminded him of a snake about to strike.
At his entrance that flat gaze turned in his direction, the lush lips twisting.
“You.”
He shrugged, moving forward. “Hello, Stella.”
“I should have listened to Peter. He tried to warn me you couldn’t be trusted,” she sneered, acting as if she didn’t notice the mountain of lethal warriors who had invaded her house.
Kaede rolled his eyes. He had to admit she had balls of steel. “Where is dear Peter?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m afraid he wasn’t prepared to face his punishment.”
Kaede stepped to the side, gaining a clear view of the floor on the opposite side of the bed. He grimaced at the sight of the male lying face down with a large hole in his head.
That explained the scent of blood.
“You’re saying he killed himself?” Kaede demanded in blatant disbelief.
She heaved a deep sigh that was as fake as her tits. “He was always weak.”
Wolfe made a sound of frustration, waving a hand toward the leader of the Brotherhood.
“Take her,” he growled.
Stella gave a toss of her head, not bothering to struggle as the nearest Sentinel grabbed her by the arm and roughly hauled her toward the door.
“You can imprison me, but you’ll never defeat our cause,” she called over her shoulder. “The Brotherhood will eventually prevail.”
Wolfe gave a shake of his head, glancing toward Kaede. “Is she always so clichéd?”
“No.” Kaede shook his head, a frown tugging at his brows. Something felt . . . off.
The woman had not only watched her years of scheming come to a dismal end, but she was headed toward the dungeons of Valhalla. A place that would make the toughest criminal shit their pants in fear.
So why wasn’t she crying? Or screaming? Or at least pleading for mercy?
Wolfe moved to stand directly in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered, unable to shake off his sense of unease. “But that happened way too easy.”
“Maybe I’m just that good,” Wolfe taunted.
Kaede glanced toward the dead clairvoyant. “Or maybe she’s plotting something.”
With a shrug, Wolfe headed toward the door. “We’ll find out once we have her locked in the dungeons at Valhalla.”
Kaede waited until the room had cleared of Sentinels before he was turning toward the windows to make his escape. He had no intention of following Wolfe back to Valhalla. The Tagos might currently be occupied with dealing with the Brotherhood and the fear Myst might create some mysterious weapon. But eventually he would remember that Kaede was an outlaw.
He intended to be far away when that happened.
Before he could find a way to open the windows, however, there was a prickle of heat and he turned to discover Wolfe standing in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest.
“Don’t even think about it, enforcer,” he growled. “For now we’re all in this together. That means you’re coming back to Valhalla with me.”
Kaede’s breath hissed through his teeth in frustration.
Well, hell.
* * *
Myst hammered her fists against Bas’s unyielding chest. She wasn’t usually a violent person. Actually, she didn’t think she’d ever struck anyone in her life. Not even the monsters who’d imprisoned her.
But in this moment she needed some way to vent her rising panic.
“Answer me, damn you,” she snapped, wishing she was strong enough to shake some sense into his thick head.
What was wrong with him? He wasn’t stupid. He knew that with every tick of the clock, the risk increased she would fulfill her horrifying vision.
And now Molly was at Valhalla.
She had to put an end to it now.
So why was he shaking his head, his hands lifting to grasp her tight fists in a gentle grip?
“No.” His voice was low, unyielding.
She trembled with frustration. “Because you know I’m right.”
He shook his head, his ebony hair glowing with a satin luster in the afternoon sunlight.
“Because I won’t be baited.”
“Bas . . .” Her words ended in a shriek as he grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder.
“This subject is closed,” he informed her,