hugged the purring panther beside him, whispering, “Vicki, Vicki, Vicki, by the Gods.”
The huge, shaggy-haired male’s love for his female was almost a visible glow.
Training brought Margery back to common sense. The blood on Vicki’s fur—was it hers or someone else’s? Margery looked closer. As a pup, she’d seen shifters whose stomach fur and skin had sagged like that.
The female had recently given birth.
At the front of the compound, something crashed so hard the ground shook. Metal screeched. A pistol barked, then more guns fired in a torrent of noise.
Margery’s hands turned to ice. The guards were alerted. The captives would never get out.
The back door opened again. A dark-haired male emerged with arms around several bundles. “Hey, Alec. I think these cubs belong to you.”
When the huge male didn’t move, the dark-haired male looked around and spotted Margery in the bushes. He jerked his head. Come here.
She pulled in a breath, drew on her waning stock of courage, and stepped forward.
He handed her a baby, one of three.
Like the clear waters from a sacred spring, wonder welled up through the cracks in her soul. She held new life, a spark from the Mother of All. Her heart turned to mush, before fear blossomed again. This was no place for a newborn.
Her lips raised in a silent snarl. Nothing would hurt this kitling.
The male handed another baby to Alice. Idelle took the third.
When the male named Alec moved toward the infants, the dark-haired one blocked him. “Cubs come later, Cahir. We need to get everybody to the garage.”
The garage. Where the cars were. Yes, yes, please.
“Dammit, Owen,” Alec said under his breath, looking with longing at the babies. Then he sighed and raised his voice enough so all the captives could hear. “Aye, let’s get them out of here. I’ll take the lead. Vixen, stay by the cubs. Owen, left flank. Darcy, you bring up the rear. Let’s go.”
Darcy shifted to human, yanked on her black tank and tight sweatpants, and spoke to the females hiding in the bushes. “Come on. It’s time to move to somewhere safe. Hurry.”
No one budged.
Margery’s mouth was so dry, she couldn’t even swallow. But they couldn’t stay here. Guards, gunfire… None of that mattered. The infants must be saved. She forced her feet to move forward.
No one else stirred. Just stared at the huge, naked male.
No one trusted males.
Seeing the frozen captives, Darcy shook her head. “Alec, I’d better lead.”
“Aye,” he agreed after a second. “I’ll take rear guard.”
As Darcy started across the lawn, Margery turned to the others and jerked her head, conveying an order of her own. Let’s go.
Silently, the others rose and followed her. Behind Margery, Idelle carried the second cubling, Alice the third. They moved in a line across the soft grass, staying in the shadows.
Suddenly, Alice’s baby began to cry.
Loudly.
Eyes wide as a fleeing deer, the girl froze.
Oh no.
Margery hurried back and took the babe in her free arm. Cuddling it, she rocked side-to-side, calming herself and the kit. “Shhh, shhh, shhh.”
It quieted, staring up at her, pink lips pursed. Silent. Margery’s talent for soothing had won.
Too late.
“What the fuck!” a man shouted. “What was that?” Guards charged around the side of the building—straight at them.
Their flashlight beams spotlighted Darcy in the front.
“There’s the freak that escaped!” It was the worst Scythe guard—Huber.
If he caught Darcy, he’d kill her.
Instinct drew Margery forward to shield her, but she stopped mid stride. The babies. The babies in her arms were helpless.
In a flash, Darcy dashed forward, luring the men away. They chased her like a vicious pack of dogs. More guards cut across the lawn, fanning out. Shooting at her.
Margery turned to the captives. “Move farther back.” With babies in her arms, she couldn’t motion, but they heard her and faded back into the deepest shadows.
A guard spotted her before she could follow. “Stop right there!”
She froze. Arms full, she couldn’t run fast enough. If she tried to hide, the guard would see the others.
Looming over her, he grabbed for one of the infants she held.
She spun, keeping the babies out of his reach.
“Freak bitch.” His cane struck her shoulders. “Give me that monster.”
Blow after blow rained down on her, and her shoulders hunched under the agony.
He will not get the kits. In captivity, all the babies had died; these newborns wouldn’t stand a chance. As fury rose inside her—all those deaths—she kicked backward with all her might. Her bare foot hit his knee.