9. Orion

Igunned the truck's engine, the radio cranked to some twangy country song I didn't know but felt like whistling along to anyway. My mind raced ahead to Brielle, picturing her sorting through some rich bastard's dusty trinkets. She'd probably have that little crease between her brows, the one that made me want to kiss it smooth. I couldn't wait to see her face when I told her the news—tonight was the night she'd finally meet my pack. My family.

Not even Elise's reluctance could ruin my good mood.

The road curved and I caught a glimpse of Briar House's spired roof stabbing the sky. I'd never understand why humans built houses to look like they'd eat you alive. Give me a cabin in the woods any day. But then again, Brielle was slowly changing my mind about a lot of things.

I pulled into the gravel drive, rocks pinging against the truck's undercarriage. The house loomed, as unwelcoming as ever, but I hardly noticed. All I could think about was sweeping Brielle into my arms and?—

The thought died as I stared at the empty spot her car should have sat.

I raked through my mind for any detail I might have missed, some plan for Max to look at the failing engine or Cassidy needing a hand. Something. Anything.

The gravel crunched under my boots as I leapt from the truck, not even bothering to shut the door. Unease coiled in my gut, a snake ready to strike. The porch steps groaned under my weight, but I hardly heard them over the blood pounding in my ears.

I reached for the door handle, and that's when it hit me—a scent that didn't belong. Or rather, the lack of a scent. A void. I wouldn't have noticed if Brielle's hadn't also disappeared.

My lip curled in a snarl. My hands shook. Every instinct screamed danger.

The lack of a scent, that was all over Fiona's murder scene. Only Max had been able to scent the underlying wrongness of the magic used to erase the trace of shifter hunters.

I shouldered through the door, Brielle's name on my lips. "Brielle? Baby, you here?"

Silence. The kind that makes your skin crawl.

I pulled out my phone, already dialing her number. The line connected and I held my breath, straining to hear her voice. Instead, a muffled ringing echoed from somewhere in the room.

My head snapped toward the sound. I followed it like a beacon, each ring ratcheting up my pulse. There, peeking out from under the couch, was the edge of Brielle's phone.

I snatched it up, my hand shaking. Scenarios raced through my head, each worse than the last. Brielle hurt, Brielle scared, Brielle taken from me.

"No," I growled, clenching the phone tight. This was the work of those bastards who'd come sniffing around before. The memory of their stench filled my nostrils, mixing with the foreign scent still hanging in the air.

Fury built in my chest, burning hotter than any shift. They'd taken my mate. My Brielle.

I wouldn't let them get far. Couldn't. She was mine to protect, and I'd failed.

Like I'd failed Fiona.

My wolf howled inside me, ready to tear into the world. I shoved aside the twin images of Fi and Brielle, one dead and one nearing death. I couldn't fail again. Couldn't lose my fucking mate. I'd lose my mind.

I brought the phone to my nose, drawing in a deep breath. Her scent, warm and sweet, filled my lungs. Under it, faint but unmistakable, was the acrid tang of fear.

A roar built in my throat, primal and raw, and burst from me in a howl that shook the windows. The wolf inside me clawed to break free, to give chase, to save our mate.

Rage and terror poisoned me from the inside. I'd hunt the fuckers down, rip them apart with my bare hands if I had to. And if they hurt Brielle, if they laid one fucking finger on her…

"Fuck!" I roared, slamming my fist into the wall. The plaster cracked under the impact, a spiderweb of fractures spreading out from the point of contact. I welcomed the pain, let it ground me in the here and now.

I had to think. Had to fucking focus. Where would they take her? What did they want?

Barrett. The name hit me like a freight train in its obviousness. Brielle's father, the man who'd killed Fiona. The man who'd started this whole fucking mess. And clearly, they thought Brielle could be used in some way. Information, bait, I didn't give a fuck as long as they were dead and she was safe.

My phone was in my hand in an instant, fingers already dialing Elise. The line rang once, twice. Each second stretched into an eternity.

"Orion?" Elise's voice crackled through the speaker, tense but controlled.

"They took her," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "Brielle. She's gone."

There was a pause, a beat of silence that felt like a lifetime. "Stay where you are. We're coming to you."

The line went dead and I was alone again, just me and the suffocating silence of Briar House.

* * *

brIELLE

"Out of the car."

I tightened my hands on the wheel and licked my lips. Nothing but trees surrounded us, and despite the churn of the engine, the car wouldn't budge. I didn't even know where we were stranded, exactly, except far past the very end of Mill Road, deep in the isolated valley Orion called home.

"Dad, please?—"

The cool metal of the pistol pressed against my temple, and I flinched.

"Out, Brielle. Do not make me tell you again."

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded, fumbling for the door handle. A gentle breeze caressed my face and birds trilled in the trees. Normal sounds for a normal day.

The creak of the passenger door made a mockery of my denial.

Barrett Simmons kept the gun trained on me as he muscled a few branches to poorly conceal my car. I stiffened when he gave up and stalked toward me. My back hit the warm hood, but he latched onto my arm and shoved me in front of him.

"Walk." The gun pressed hard into my spine as encouragement.

Leaves crunched beneath my feet, the only sound in the oppressive silence of the forest. My heart hammered against my ribs, each breath shallow and strained. I wanted to hope wolves lurked in the trees, wanted to believe they'd come streaming in with fangs and howls.

The wild look in my father's eyes made me pray they stayed away.

"Dad, please," I tried again, my voice trembling. "We can talk about this. This isn't you."

I stumbled over a root, and he yanked me upright, his fingers digging deeper into my flesh. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. I couldn't show weakness. Not now.

"You don't understand," he growled, his breath hot against my ear. "The bridges I've burned, the debts I've accrued. There's no going back."

A shudder ran through me, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air. I'd seen my father angry before, but this? This was something else entirely. Something darker, more dangerous.

"Those fucking shifters won't be satisfied until they've taken everything from us. Scum, that's what they are," he spat, his words dripping with rage. "Imagine my disappointment to learn my child has mixed with them."

A chill ran down my spine. He knew too much for a man supposedly missing for a year.

"Shacking up with those beasts like it's natural. Like it's right. I knew you'd never amount to anything, but this? This is a step too far, Brielle." His voice rose, echoing through the trees. "You're just like my disgusting sister and her deviant whelp."

I flinched at the hatred in his words. But I didn't dare interrupt him. Not with the gun still pressed against my back.

"I thought I'd put a stop to it with her death," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "But that was just the beginning, wasn't it? They've been here, growing in power, the whole fucking time."

He fell silent for a moment, and I could hear nothing but the pounding of my own heart and the ragged sound of his breathing. My stomach turned. I'd always been told my aunt passed away in a motorcycle accident before I was born. But now?

He had even more blood on his hands than suspected.

I stumbled again, my legs shaking beneath me. I wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for mercy. But I knew it would do no good. My father was beyond reason, beyond redemption, and he meant to drag me down with him.

The unfairness of it slammed into me. I'd gotten out from his influence. I'd started making a life for myself. I had a tenuous relationship with Cassidy, a mate that lived for my happiness, a job that I thoroughly enjoyed, and he wanted to take it all. For what? Because he didn't like something other than human existing?

The trees thinned as we neared a decrepit house, its paint peeling and shutters hanging askew. The only signs of recent life were the boards covering the broken windows. I shot a look to my captor, but he shoved me up the rotten wood porch and through the creaking front door.

Dust coated every surface, and the air hung heavy with the scent of mildew. My father's grip on my arm tightened as he led me into what must have once been a living room.

There, in the center of the room, sat a woman I had trouble placing. Then it clicked. My first night in Crescent Hollow, at the bar. Orion met with her then, and my father didn't exactly have the best track record with keeping the locals breathing.

She was surrounded by a circle of salt, her hands bound in front of her. Two women stood outside the circle, their faces obscured by dark hoods.

The kneeling woman's eyes met mine, and my heart clenched. Dark circles marred the skin beneath them, and her face was gaunt, as if she hadn't eaten in days. What had my father done to her?

"Caught this one sticking her broom where it didn't belong," Barrett said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But she'll serve her purpose now."

I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but before I could form the words, he nodded to the women. "Begin."

They started to chant, their voices low and guttural. The language was foreign to me, but the effect on the woman was immediate. She sucked in a sharp breath, her back arching as if an invisible force was pulling something from within her. A scream tore from her throat, raw and agonized.

"Stop!" I cried, struggling against my father's hold. "You're hurting her!"

But Barrett only laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "These abominations must be destroyed before they destroy us, Brielle. I will use any weapon against them, even their own kind."

Horror washed over me. He was willing to torture this woman, to use magic against her somehow. Against Cassidy and Max.

Against Orion.

Tears streamed down my face as I watched the woman writhe in pain. One of the outsiders drew a vial from the pouch at her waist and held it before her. Twisting, black strands of… something gathered in the bottom as more and more color fled the kneeling woman's face.

I couldn't let this happen. I had to do something, anything, to stop this insanity.

Instead, I heard the crunch of footsteps outside, the creak of the porch. My eyes flew open, hope surging through me. Could it be Orion? The pack? Had they somehow found me, come to my rescue?

The door burst open, and for a moment, I let myself believe. But as the figures stepped into the room, my hope shriveled and died.

They were men, hulking and rough, with cold eyes and cruel smiles. I recognized them from that day at Briar House, the men who had threatened me over my father's debts. His associates. His thugs.

"Ah, gentlemen," my father said, his voice smooth and oily. "Right on time. I believe I have something that will leave us all very happy."