blue glow. The only two people out here are guards, one posted at the doors, the other patrolling the grounds. The one on patrol says something to the other and starts toward the side of the house.
Two guards, and the wolves have to know I’d show. Its amusing how those wards give people such a false sense of security.
I peer at the guards, easily visible with my Tae’agul sight despite the darkness. They don’t look like security, dressed in denims and T-shirts, but they are. The wolf at the door is standing with his feet apart, arms behind his back, and the other moves along the side of the house like he should be in a police uniform. I’ll have to act fast and not give them a chance to transform. Wolves make a lot more noise than humans in a fight, and they’ll draw the attention of whoever is inside.
As soon as the second guard disappears around the side of the house, I take off for the doors.
“Shit,” the man at the door hisses. He rushes at me, dropping into a wolfish crouch.
I flip over his head, land behind him, and throw my arm around his neck.
Gasping for air, he rears back, and I haul him to his feet, dragging him to the door. He bucks. I tighten my hold, cutting off his air.
“Release the ward,” I order.
Choking, he nods. I loosen my grip a little. He reaches out, dragging his hand through the outline of the glowing symbol there. The symbol fades and is gone.
That faint tingling sensation on my skin dwindles, diminished with the threat of the ward gone.
“Key in the code.”
He lowers his hands. “Fuck you, demon.”
I tighten my grip on his throat, pressing his head down with my other hand until he grunts and thrashes. When I loosen my arm again, he reaches out, fumbling over the keys on the security pad.
There is a buzz. I shove the door open, dragging him inside to a set of steps headed down. Down the steps we go. At the bottom, I call the Sword of Shadows. One swipe. He drops. Blood pools around him, spilling from his slit throat.
I hate killing wolves just as much as I hate killing humans. No matter what a lot of people think, weres are not inherently evil. None of Tyruse’s men would have taken her if someone wasn’t ordering them to do it. And if ancient laws didn’t demand justice for atrocities I’ve done. The question is, who’s giving the order, Tyruse or someone a lot more dangerous? It hurts me to take lives, but it’s him or my Cassidy.
I bend down in the silent hall and squeeze the dead were’s nape in apology. He was only doing as ordered.
Pausing to listen for anyone nearby, I pull the door silently shut and make my way down the hall, noiseless, sword in hand.
26
Taken Away
Raul kicks me three times.
His boot hammers into my stomach first. I try to kick him in the shin, to knock his feet from under him, and he kicks me in the chest. When I try to roll away, his boot slams into my back.
“All right, all right,” Boss drawls. “Let’s not overdo it. We want her alive when we throw her at the Champion’s feet.”
Raul growls his frustration, but his footsteps retreat toward the door.
Every inch of me is screaming in agony. A sharp pain stabs at my chest. I’m pretty sure my ribs are busted. I groan, trying to roll over, but I can’t move.
Hatred for Raul, for these two with him, burns in my blood.
“Help her up, kid,” Boss says.
Hands grab me under the arms, and I’m pulled to my knees, then dragged over to the chair. I grab hold of the back of it. Letting him lift me to my feet, I bide my time, gaining my footing. Then I grab the chair and swing it at The Kid’s head with all my might.
It surprises me when The Kid goes down, landing on his stomach. I expected his werewolf reflexes to make it easy for him to grab the chair or move out of the way before it hit him. Maybe the young ones are slower.
Raul gives an unsettling laugh of surprise, and he and Boss back toward the door like men retreating from an angry lioness. Ignoring the searing in my chest and hoping his wolf strength is weaker than the others, I seize The Kid and yank him to me, holding him around