flinched.
“She’s in an old building near the St. Louis Cemetery. She won’t hurt anyone, not as long as she stays chained up.”
St. Louis Cemetery.
Aidan was going to that cemetery. Oh, hell.
“She won’t stay chained up long,” Annette announced. “She’ll break loose.” She grabbed the vampire. “You’ve been using your witch’s magic to vanish?”
He nodded.
“Good. Then use it now. Get us to Jane, as fast as you can.” Before it was too late.
***
Quint Laurel smiled at his prey. The police captain was spread out, her blood still seeping from her wounds, as she lay before the old crypt. The blond reporter—Sarah Steele was sobbing, too terrified of him to move.
Soon, the whole world would be terrified.
“You’re going to film me,” he told the reporter. Then there would be no denying what he was. The humans would all understand. He motioned to the phone in her hands. The woman was so far gone, a freaking wreck, that she hadn’t even thought to call for help. Not that he would have let her but…still, her fear was incredibly gratifying. It was like she was his puppet on a string. Pull that string, pull it. “You’ll record every moment. Then you’ll show it on the news. You’ll show the world.”
“Please,” the news anchor whispered as heavy tracks of mascara bled down her cheeks. “Let us go. Just let us go.”
“No.” Then he turned back to the cop. The bitch who’d dared to call him a coward. He let his claws out as he closed in on her. She gave a low moan when he approached, and Quint smiled. A moan meant she was conscious. A moan meant she was about to feel all the pain he would give to her. “I think I’ll start with your face,” he decided. “Women can be so vain. Let’s take that pretty face away first.” He lifted his claws.
But…but she moved. She was bleeding heavily, but she lunged up at him and she sliced into his stomach. His blood pumped out. “What the—”
“Did you think…” she panted, “you were…the only one?” Her hand lifted and he saw claws sprouting from her fingertips. “Think…fucking…again…”
Quint stumbled back. “No.” He put his hand to his stomach. “No.” Thatch had tried to tell him some bullshit about there being other werewolves in town, when Quint had made the mistake of flashing his claws at the guy one drunk night. Thatch had heard tales…tales about wolves going into Hell’s Gate, but Quint had gone there and seen nothing.
No one else is like me. I’m the power. I’m special. I am everything.
“Yes.” Vivian Harris dragged her body upright. “There are more…and you…you broke our laws. Werewolf laws. Human laws.” Her eyes seemed to glow. “You will die. The alpha is coming. He will come…for me.”
“The who? The fucking what?” Quint surged toward her but she slashed him again—right across the face. He howled in pain.
Vivian laughed, the sound pain-filled and mocking. “Now…who’s the vain bitch?”
Rage nearly blinded Quint as he jumped on her.
And—
He heard another howl split the night.
***
She was so hungry. Thirsty. Pain burned through her constantly, and Jane just wanted that savagery to end.
This wasn’t living. This was hell.
Her mind was trapped in chaos. The need to feed controlled her. Her lips were swollen, raw, and—
A howl.
Jane stiffened. She’d just heard a howl. Aidan’s howl. She knew the sound of his wolf. Her nostrils flared and she caught the scent of blood in the air. Only…it wasn’t human blood.
Werewolf blood.
Jane began to salivate. She yanked at the chains that bound her. Jerked again and again. The scent of that blood grew stronger. Her need burned hotter.
Her wrist broke—the right wrist. She kept jerking against her bonds. Harder. Harder.
The chain snapped free from the wall. Her broken right wrist slipped from the manacle and she shattered the manacle that had bound her left wrist. Then Jane looked at the chains around her ankles.
I need that blood.
Snarling, she locked her fingers around those chains. She pulled and pulled and pulled—
Free. The chains broke. Jane stood there, breath heaving, fingers broken. Blood covered her ankles and her hands.
Her nostrils twitched. The werewolves are close.
And she liked the way they smelled.
Jane straightened. She was still wearing his coat. Aidan’s coat. His scent was on her. She pulled the coat closer. Zipped it up her body. The jacket fell to the top of her thighs, shielding her nakedness. Her bare toes slid across the dirty floor as she crept forward.
I’m free now.
Get the blood.
Get the werewolves.
Free.
Jane started