swept over her and he turned to mouth “Exit” as he pointed to the opening. Then he gestured ahead and mouthed, “Hall.”
Thea nodded, and they made to move off when voices from outside caused them to halt. It sounded like the two voices were getting nearer.
“I’ll be glad to be out of this place,” a deep male, American voice said.
“Yeah, me too. I’m sick of being this close to vamps.”
A snort. “Yeah, lucky bastards, get to sleep in the fucking wine cellar while we do all the grunt work.”
“Let’s just get Rick and Drew and get this bitch on the boat.”
Their footsteps came closer.
Thea gently pulled Devon toward her and then urged him behind her. He scowled but acquiesced as she pressed her back to the entrance wall and waited. Twin earthy scents hit her nostrils. They were werewolves.
As soon as the first booted foot appeared, Thea attacked. She grabbed the large wolves by the scruff of the neck and yanked them deeper into the castle hallway so no one outside would see. Before they could get their heads around what was happening, Thea smacked them together. They snarled, staggering apart, and she threw a punch at the bigger out of the two, hard enough to knock him on his ass.
Once he was down and dazed, Thea spun as the other swiped out, claws protracted. She ducked, narrowly missing a hit, balanced her hands on the cold castle floor and swung a leg out, catching his with enough force to put him on his ass too.
Thea whirled to her feet as the big guy recovered, fists guarding his face, ready to fight.
So she opted to hit him in the place he wasn’t protecting. His balls.
He dropped with a muffled yell; Thea cut him off with a quick twist of his neck and the sickening crack echoed around the entrance hall. She hoped he was the one who’d broken her neck earlier.
Tit for tat and all that.
A popping sound startled her, and Thea jerked around to find Devon pointing a gun at her.
The color drained from her face.
But then a loud thump behind her drew her attention.
The second wolf was laid out on the floor with a bullet hole in his head.
Thea swallowed the bile in her throat. She’d been determined not to kill anyone. Glancing warily back at Devon, she saw nothing.
There was nothing in his eyes as he lowered the gun.
“You were taking too long,” he whispered. “Help me hide them.”
Thea brushed Devon’s assistance aside. It was quicker for her to move the bodies. She hid them in the pantries they’d passed, closed the doors, and tried not to worry about the emptiness in her adoptive brother’s eyes.
Hurrying down the hallway, she followed Devon past the entrance and up another small flight of stairs. They turned left at an open landing and up two more steps where he shoved open a large, gothic wooden door.
They were back in the great hall.
He led her across the room to another door near the fireplace. Beyond it was a small drawing room with no windows. It was lit by wrought iron sconces on three walls. “Stay here. Hide. I’ll be back with my father and then you can come out and do what needs to be done.”
Distrust niggled at Thea as Devon disappeared. She stared up at the massive tapestry covering most of the wall opposite the door. It depicted a battle scene. Probably a famous Scottish battle but Thea didn’t know enough about Scottish history to figure out which one. Conall would know.
She immediately threw her mate out of her head.
She needed to focus, and she couldn’t do that if she worried about how Conall was dealing with her disappearance.
Thea focused on Devon and why he’d brought her to this room. She had to consider if this was a trap to hurt her further, why kill the guards and bring her here? He could have easily tried to dispatch her in that bedchamber.
The thought made her stomach turn.
The last person Thea wanted to hurt was Devon, but if he betrayed her, she would.
It felt like an age as she waited with her ear to the drawing-room door. Despite her vow not to think about him, Thea wondered if Conall was already on his way to the castle with the pack. She knew he would come for her, there was no question of that. But Thea feared how many of the pack would lose their lives trying to rescue her.
Gut churning, sweat