CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jerking away from the woman sniffing her, Quinley frowned. “What are you doing?”

“You smell like Isaiah, but it’s not that his scent is embedded in your skin like with imprinting,” said Raya. “It’s more like he rubbed himself over every inch of you before you left the house.”

Quinley returned to scrubbing the bath of her grooming station, which she’d just used to bathe a wild-dog shifter. “I didn’t get a shower this morning, since I had one last night. He likes me to wear one of his tees for bed, so …” And yes, there’d been some rubbing.

It had been subtle—his cheek grazing hers, a nuzzle to her neck, a long stroke of her hair. But it had been obvious that he was scent-marking her.

She hadn’t minded. Her cat liked it a lot. In fact, the animal had wanted to return the favor. But Quinley hadn’t had enough time to shift and let her cat spend time with him.

Raya leaned back against the wall. “You all done with your Christmas shopping yet?”

“Pretty much.” Quinley gave her the side-eye. “Are you still sulking that I went without you last weekend?”

“Well, it wasn’t fair.”

Eye roll. Considering it was now Wednesday, you would think that the woman had gotten over it by now. Particularly since … “I asked you and Adaline to come. You were both busy.”

“I know, but I feel left out.” Raya pouted. “And neglected.”

“I’ve already said that the three of us should go shopping together sometime soon. You sniffed and said, ‘No thank you.’”

“It’s not like I really meant it.”

Quinley sighed at her. “Can you not be happy for me that I’ve managed to make friends within my new pride?”

Raya lifted a finger. “Okay, first of all, it was inevitable that you’d make friends. You do that without trying. Like it’s your super power. Second of all, yes, I’m happy for you. It’s a huge relief to me that you’re settling in so fast so well.”

“But?”

“But I like to whine. It makes me feel alive. You know this already.”

Quinley plopped the scouring pad at the side of the bath, teasing, “And you wonder why Adaline loves me more.”

Raya gaped. “Hey!”

Quinley chuckled. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You know I’m kidding. You’re just taking the opportunity to whine. Again.”

“Can’t help it.”

Wiping her hands on a small towel, Quinley said, “That’s me done for the day. My last client had to cancel.”

“She was also meant to have her hair and nails done, so we’re all finished. But Lori’s taking the opportunity to have her roots sorted while Adaline’s got time. You might as well head out, though. No point in you hanging around for no reason.”

“I can sweep and stuff.”

“Already done. I’d leave, too, if I wasn’t waiting for Lori.” Raya pushed away from the wall. “Now go. Shoo. Spend some quality time with your pallas cat.”

“He won’t be home yet, he works enforcer shifts. But I’m not going to fight leaving early. My cat could do with a run.”

So Quinley put on her coat, grabbed the snack that Isaiah had earlier slipped into her bag, and hooked the strap of said bag over her shoulder. Once she’d said her goodbyes, she headed out, biting into her candy bar as she did.

Crossing the road to head for her parked car, she noticed a group of males were hanging at the nearby corner of the road. They appeared to be merely talking among themselves, minding their own business … but something about their body language was a little too casual.

Her scalp prickled, and a sense of unease wrapped around her lungs. She didn’t tell herself she was being paranoid, she paid closer attention to the group. They seemed to be pointedly avoiding looking her way … as if they were trying not to set off her internal alarms.

As she reached the curb, one male edged to his left slightly and she got a clear view of another face. A face she recognized from the warning posters that had been passed around.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Fuck. It was Sebastian Vercetti.

The pack must have somehow seen her with Isaiah and decided to target her in lieu of him, because it was just too damn coincidental that they were loitering near her place of work.

Her car was too far away, as was the salon. The guys would reach her and drag her into their vehicle before she could get to either. And if she did somehow make it to the salon, they’d only barge inside and potentially hurt her family. She couldn’t have that. So, as Sebastian’s attention locked on her, she did the only sensible thing.

She shifted.

Panicked, the little cat leaped out of the puddle of clothes and sprinted toward the parking area.

“Get her!”

She heard growls and snarls and the thundering of paws. Heard boots pounding and voices yelling. The cat kept running, too fast for them to catch.

But they kept coming.

She galloped passed the parked cars and sprinted down an alley. A chain-link fence waited there. A well-timed jump had her halfway up the fence. She scrambled up the rest of it and jumped down into a grassy area.

Curses and growls came from behind her as she darted across the stretch of land. She heard the fence rattling, heard boots thumping the ground, heard those same boots chasing after her again.

A crack of thunder split the air.

Bark flew off a tree.

Bullet.

The cat weaved through bushes and trees, making herself a difficult target as bullets showered the area.

Hot fire punched into her back leg. She staggered. Ignored the pain. Kept running. Sped her pace.

More fire whizzed across her ear.

With an inner hiss of fury, she sped her pace.

Badger hole.

The cat crossed to it fast and dived inside. The tunnel was narrow, but her small body easily made its way through the—

Thuds peppered the ground above the tunnel.

More bullets.

She hurried through the channel, confident the other shifters couldn’t fit into the slim passage but still not wanting to slow down.

The cat came to a junction. Turned left. Ran and ran, still ignoring the pain in her leg.

Home. She needed to get home.

Isaiah sighed at his mother. “Will you stop fussing? There’s no need. All is good.”

Sniffing, she moved aside to let a pedestrian pass. “I’m not fussing.”

He ushered her near the wall, out of the way of the people walking up and down the sidewalk. “Yes, you are. You’re fretting over how there’s no imprint bond yet. You’re the one who told me to be patient; that you can’t rush it.”

“I know. And I’m not worried the bond won’t form. I’m just eager to see you settled.”

Sensing by her shifty expression that there was more to it, he folded his arms. “What’s going on?”

Andaya absently pulled at her earlobe. “I bumped into Cherrie.”

Both he and his cat went motionless.

Distress lining her face, Andaya continued, “She knows you’re mated. I don’t know who told her, but you can be sure she’s not pleased about it. She wants only misery for you.”

“What did she say?” Because the woman had obviously said something that had his mother all wound up.

“That she feels sorry for ‘the girl’ for having unknowingly bound herself to a cold-blooded killer.” Andaya wrung her gloved hands. “Cherrie ‘suggested’ maybe someone should tell her. What if she makes it her business to find out who Quinley is? What if she approaches her?”

His cat’s upper lip quivered at the idea of it. “I’ll be seriously fucking pissed if Cherrie goes near her.” So pissed he’d want to burn shit down. “But there’s nothing she’d be able to reveal that Quinley doesn’t already know. I gave her the full story.”

“Yes, but Cherrie wouldn’t give her the real story; she’d talk complete rubbish. She can be convincing. You know that. She had a whole bunch of people on her side until Vinnie revealed he’d identified the culprit as Eddie.”

Tate caught his eye from further down the street, where he stood with Deke and JP. The Alpha lifted an Everything okay? brow.

Isaiah gave a subtle nod of reassurance.

“I told her that your mate is well-aware of everything. Cherrie said, ‘She might know his version, but not the truth.’”

“Mom, I get why you’d worry that Cherrie could cause problems for me—she’s damn good at it. But I don’t for a second believe that she’d make Quinley come round to her way of thinking.”

Andaya tilted her head. “What makes you so sure?”

He hesitated. “I won’t give you the full story—it’s Quinley’s to share or not to share. But she’s been the subject of bullshit rumors herself. She’s wise to what such liars are like. Wise to how manipulative they are. Cherrie would not find her whatsoever easy to fool.”

Andaya’s face went soft. “I’m sorry to hear Quinley had to deal with that. No one should have to. And Cherrie …” Trailing off, she sighed.

He settled a reassuring hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I don’t actually think that Cherrie will go near her.”

“You don’t?”

“No. Her Alpha male is tough, but he fears Tate—he’d be furious with any pride member who caused trouble for one of ours. She’ll know that. She has probably even been warned to keep her distance from us, given our history. If I was her Alpha, I would have issued such a warning. My guess is that Cherrie just wanted to mess with our heads—it’s kind of her thing.”

Andaya frowned, thoughtful. “You’re right. She probably just took the opportunity to bitchily make us worry.”

Hearing his phone begin to chime, Isaiah told her, “I have to take this. Now, don’t go stressing yourself out over what Cherrie said. All will be fine.”

She gave a weak smile and nodded. “Okay.”

He walked off and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Quinley. He tapped his thumb on the screen and answered, “Hey, you good?”

“Isaiah, this is Adaline.”

He stopped in his tracks at the shake in her voice. “Why are you using Quinley’s cell?” he asked, dread taking root in his belly. “Why doesn’t she have it?”

“As she left work to go to her car, I noticed her shift across the road and flee,” replied Adaline, her words coming sharp and fast. “A group of guys chased her. Some shifted into wolves.”

Isaiah’s blood ran cold, and his cat froze. Fuck. He bolted down the street, heading for the cul-de-sac.

“She sprinted past the lot opposite the salon. She seemed to be heading in the general direction of the park behind it … but after that I don’t know. She will have gotten away, Isaiah. Whoever they are, they won’t have found her. There’s no way they’d have managed that.”

“I’ll call you back when I find her.” He hung up, running faster, panic powering every step.

“Hey,” Tate called out as he, Deke, and JP caught up to him, “what’s happening?”

“Quinley’s on the run in her cat form,” Isaiah replied, turning into the cul-de-sac. “Fucking shifters are chasing her.”

A curse burst out of Deke.

“Where about is she?” asked Tate, his face hard.

“No clue.” Nearing his car, Isaiah unlocked it with the fob. “She ran past the lot where she leaves her car and seemed to be going in the direction of the park behind it—that’s all her sister knows.” He ragged open the driver’s door and hopped into the seat, unsurprised when the other three males slid into the vehicle with him.

Isaiah dumped his phone in the cupholder, gunned the engine, and then sped out of the cul-de-sac. His cat hissed at him, insisting he go faster; intent on getting to the feline they’d claimed as theirs. Because yeah, Isaiah might have been the one to do the branding, but his cat had come to mentally claim her—he just hadn’t realized it until that moment.

“Either Zaire’s mate targeted her, feeling a little bitter,” said Tate, riding shotgun. “Or it was the Vercetti Pack.”

Isaiah had already considered both possibilities.

“If it’s the brothers,” began Deke, “they might have done this to lure Isaiah into a spot where they’re better able to get to him.”

Isaiah felt his grip tighten on the steering wheel. “Or they mean to either kill her or offer a trade—her for me.”

“I don’t think they’ll have her,” said Tate. “Black-foots run at the speed of fucking light. I’ve seen Quinley’s cat run—she’s no exception.”

No, she wasn’t. His woman was like a goddamn blur when she went at full speed. “But the pack carries guns,” Isaiah reminded him, sharply taking a turn. “They could’ve shot her.”

“More than bullets would be needed to take down a black-foot and you know it,” said Tate, his tone firm, insisting Isaiah think, not panic.

But how the fuck could he not panic, especially when … “Bullets could have slowed her down enough that they—”

“Don’t go there. We don’t even know they’re definitely armed. Let’s operate on the assumption that she got away. We won’t be able to track her, but we can track whoever chased her.”

That was exactly what they did, following the scents of wolf and gunpowder—and yeah, the latter made the bottom fall out of his stomach—eventually ending up in the park that Adaline had mentioned. There was grass, bushes, trees, an old rusty kids playground. But there was no Quinley.

Isaiah clenched his fists. “Where the fuck is she?”

“The wolves seemed to have paused here and then backtracked,” said JP, studying the ground.

“Maybe Quinley’s cat disappeared down there,” mused Deke, pointing at a hole. “It would explain why someone seemed to have been shooting at the ground here. It might have been some desperate attempt to hit her with a bullet, hoping it would penetrate the earth.”

His cat hissed, furious that she’d been shot at. Isaiah crouched near the hole and shouted, “Quinley! Quinley!”

Nothing.

Squatting beside him, JP sniffed. “I don’t scent her.”

“You wouldn’t. Her scent trail disappears as fast as she does.” Isaiah shot to his feet. “It’s fucking uncanny.”

“Nature tends to give the smaller breeds cool defenses to compensate for how vulnerable their size can make them to bigger creatures,” Tate reminded him.

Deke set his hands on his hips. “Our cats are just a little too big to make their way through that tunnel. It’s a shame Bailey ain’t with us. She would have fit.”

“Why didn’t Quinley run back to the salon?” asked JP as he stood upright.

“The pack would have just chased her inside and then possibly killed everyone in there,” said Tate. “She did the right thing by shifting and taking off. She had more chance of losing them than she did of taking them on.”

Isaiah’s phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw that it was Havana. “Yeah?” he answered, his tone clipped.

“Thought you might want to know that your mate just appeared at my door,” she told him.

Isaiah went very still, the knots in his gut beginning to loosen. “She all right?” he gritted out.

Havana hesitated. “Uh …”

And like that, the knots inside him went tighter. “Is she all right?”

“She’s been shot, but she’s okay.”

Motherfucker. His cat clawed at Isaiah’s insides, needing an outlet for his anger.

“Helena’s on her way to my house as we speak—Aspen just got off the phone with her. Quinley will be healed by the time you get back.”

Isaiah drew in a breath that did nothing to calm him. His mate was alive, she was out of the pack’s hands, but she’d taken a fucking bullet. “Put her on the phone.”

“I would, but I haven’t managed to coax her cat to shift back yet.”

He cursed. “Don’t leave her side, Havana.” He needed to know that someone he trusted was with her.

“She will remain under my watchful eye until you get back, I promise.” The line went dead.

Isaiah looked at Tate, who was fast approaching him. “She’s at your house. Just arrived.”

“And?” prodded the Alpha, falling into step beside him as Isaiah hurried back the way they came.

“And she took a bullet.”

Tate swore. “She’s alive, Isaiah.”

“Yeah,” he bit out, wanting to feel relieved but all he could taste was fury.

As they reached the car, Tate spoke, “Deke, JP—track the scents of the pack, find out where they went. Me and Isaiah are gonna go and check on Quinley.”

As they both slid into the vehicle, Isaiah gave the Alpha a sideways look. “You don’t have to stay with me, I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I’m not leaving you on your own while you’re like this.”

Isaiah started the engine and pulled out onto the road. “Like what?”

“Mentally all over the place. You think I don’t know how you’re feeling? Havana was once shot out in the open, remember? I was ready to blow by the time I got to her.”

Isaiah remembered. It was he and Deke who’d sensed the danger and yelled at her to duck. They’d also watched over her until Tate had arrived. “I’m not going to blow.” Because Quinley needed him to be calm.

“But you’re probably going to start blaming yourself for this. Don’t.”

Too late. “I should have waited before mating her,” muttered Isaiah. “I should have made sure we’d dealt with the Vercetti Pack first.”

“If you’d have waited, she’d have mated someone else,” Tate pointed out.

The thought of that made Isaiah’s breath catch and his pacing cat halt.

“Quinley wasn’t in a position to give you time. You didn’t do anything wrong. The pack is in the wrong, not you.”

“Why is it so hard to find them?”

“I don’t know,” replied Tate, his voice dark. “But they can’t hide forever.”

It wasn’t long before Isaiah was once more parking in his driveway. He all but leaped out of the car and then jogged to the Alpha pair’s house. The front door opened before they got to it, revealing Havana. She waved them inside, saying, “She’s in the den.”

Isaiah stalked into the room, and his belly roiled. Quinley sat in an armchair in clothes a little too big for her, her skin far too pale. Blood loss, he thought.

She stood as she saw him, her expression going soft. “Hey.”

Isaiah made a beeline for her, ignoring everyone else in the room. He took her face between his hands, a growl rumbling in his chest at the faint smell of blood that clung to her—a growl that came from both him and his cat.

“You were shot?” The words came out guttural.

She placed a palm on his chest. “In my cat’s hindleg. Bullet went straight through. Helena healed me.”

He skated his hands up to her hair, pinning it back to fully expose her face, needing to just look at her. “Who shot you?”

“I’m not sure who held the gun, but it was someone from the Vercetti Pack.”

His teeth snapped together. Bastards. “What exactly happened?”

“As I was heading to my car, I noticed a group of guys and … I just knew something wasn’t right. Then I recognized one of the faces. It was Sebastian Vercetti. I shifted and ran, knowing it was my best chance of escape. They followed but couldn’t catch up to my cat. All the shots went wide bar one. She disappeared down a badger tunnel.”

“We figured your cat used it to escape. We noticed it when tracking the wolves.”

“When she got out of it, she tried getting into our house but it was all locked up tight, so she came here.”

He carefully let her hair fall back to her shoulders and topple down her back. “The wolves seemed to have backtracked after your cat did her disappearing act.”

“Not surprised. They had no way of knowing where she’d pop out. Did you track their scents to see where they headed afterward?”

“Deke and JP are on it.”

“I called Deke about ten minutes ago,” Bailey cut in from the sofa. “He said the scents vanished in an alley. Looks like the pack left in two four by fours.”

Isaiah felt his nostrils flare. The fuckers had gotten away yet again, and so now the threat to Quinley was still very real. Curving an arm around her neck, he hauled her closer.

“I’m okay,” she said, leaning into him.

“Not the point,” Isaiah bit off. “I thought they would come for me, not you.”

She lightly pinched his arm. “Stop feeling guilty. This isn’t your fault. Dominants are strong, but they aren’t all-powerful. You can’t control other people’s actions. The pack did what they did because they wanted to, and because they’re assholes—plain and simple.”

“What she said,” muttered Aspen, pointing at Quinley.

“Listen to your mate, Isaiah,” Tate ordered. “Don’t take the weight of this.”

Easier said than done. He tightened his hold on Quinley and spoke against her hair,“I’ll kill them. I’ll fucking kill them.”

Her arms looped around him. “I know you will. I know.”