have four who didn’t show up, but I don’t know why.”
Bane’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He started to ignore it but then thought, Ryan. But when he pulled it out to look at it, it was Meara, and it was a pin with her location.
Wolves. Hurry. Ryan’s here.
“I may have found your wolves,” he snarled and then shot up into the sky, headed for Whitaker Street.
Chapter Thirty-Three
At first, Ryan had no idea who or what they were, the four men who detached themselves from the shadows edging the street and coalesced into a choreographed quartet of menace around them. But in the light from the streetlamps, the Wolf Pack MC on the patches embroidered on their vests gave her the who of it.
The why was less clear.
“What is happening?” She looked to Meara, who was—shockingly—smiling, her fangs glinting in the golden light.
“Oh, boys,” Meara purred, moving to stand between Ryan and danger. “Did you ever pick the wrong women to try this on. If you wanted to mug somebody, you should have stuck to Broughton Street.”
“Shut up, bitch,” the tallest one snarled, and Ryan instinctively edged closer to Meara, who sighed.
“Okay, as much as I’d love to kill you all, I don’t want my human to get hurt. So how about this?” Her brilliantly golden eyes gleamed with inner fire. “Go home to your mommies.”
Compulsion didn’t work on Ryan, but she knew it would on others, so she watched eagerly as…nobody moved an inch.
“Yeah, my mother is dead, bloodsucker,” one of them growled.
“Then you can go to the cemetery and spend the night apologizing to her that you grew up to be such an asshole,” Meara said sweetly.
He growled, low and feral, but one of his friends put a restraining hand on his arm.
A different one stepped up. “And we’re warded against your magic, so you can give up on compulsion now.”
“Warded?” Meara scanned the group. “Since when do shifters use magic for warding? And don’t we have a treaty with your MC? What is this? Have you gone rogue?”
“Enough questions. Our new mistress told us we need to make a point with Bane.”
“New mistress? She doesn’t stink of rot, does she?” Meara said, taunting them.
“The mouthy one is his sister,” the ugly one—ugliest one—said. “The other one doesn’t smell like vamp. She must be food.”
“Do we kill them both here?”
The big one grinned with a mouthful of broken teeth. “They’re going to die, sure. But nothing says we can’t play with them first.”
“Incorrect,” Meara purred. “I say you can’t.”
Ryan, who’d been frozen for a few minutes while this all happened, reached into her purse, but not for her phone. This didn’t seem like the kind of situation that 911 would help.
“I also say you can’t,” she said. “And I’m sure as hell not food.”
The four thugs cracked up. Apparently, they weren’t used to the food talking back. Ryan realized she had never been so afraid in her entire life.
Which might be over soon, actually.
“Here we go,” Meara sang out, and three of the men—shifters?—headed for her, claws starting to extend, so yeah, shifters.
There are freaking werewolves in Savannah, Ryan’s amped-up brain shouted at her, but she had to focus, because yes, there were freaking werewolves in freaking Savannah, and one of them was coming straight for her.
Meara sprang into action, and it was like a martial arts movie on steroids. If Wonder Woman and Bruce Lee had a baby, it would be Meara. She kicked and punched and twirled, and two of the attackers were down on the ground, groaning, before their friend even reached Ryan.
Right.
Time to focus.
She burst into tears. “Oh, please don’t hurt me, sir, please. I’m a doctor, I can’t be part of this, please, if you’ll just let me give you my money, let me get my wallet…” She dug in her purse, shaking violently and cringing away from the oncoming shifter.
He let loose with a truly nasty laugh. “Pathetic. I can’t believe Bane’s sister would put up with even food who was so cowardly. Maybe I’ll break your neck now and do the world a favor.”
He reached out, almost casually, with one huge, meaty hand, and the tips of his claws scratched her face. Ryan ducked beneath his arm, cold and steady, all pretense over, and brought up the scalpel she’d hidden in her purse earlier, back at her place, back when she thought that vampires were the scariest things around.
And she sliced it across his carotid artery with every ounce of