CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The chiming of her cell phone snapped Quinley out of her reverie. She’d been staring out of the kitchen window unseeing, caught up in thoughts as to what Isaiah had in store for tonight.

He’d earlier made a passing teasing comment designed to keep her on sexual edge, the shit. And she couldn’t pester him for answers because they had visitors in the form of Tate, Luke, Camden, and Deke—all of whom were chilling with Isaiah in the living area, drinking beers and discussing pride issues that needed addressing before the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow.

She retrieved her phone from the kitchen island. Raya. Smiling, Quinley answered, “Hello?”

“Be smart and alert no one,” a male voice said. A voice that was gruff and cold and unfamiliar. “Believe me when I say that the life of your sister depends on it.”

Dread curdled in Quinley’s belly and caused every muscle in her cat’s body to seize up. “Who is this?”

“I think you know.”

It could only be one of the Vercetti Pack, couldn’t it? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Terror snaked around her throat, its hold tight.

She wanted to go to Isaiah, but she didn’t trust that—unaware of the danger to Raya—he wouldn’t simply snatch the phone once he picked up on Quinley’s distress.

She swallowed. “You’re one of the Vercetti brothers?”

“We can get the introductions out of the way when we meet. And you’re going to want to meet with me if you want your sister and her mate to live.”

Her gut rolled. Raya and Lori? “How do I know you really have them? Maybe you just stole Raya’s phone or cloned it.” After all, it wouldn’t have been easy to capture two black-foots.

A choked female scream sounded in the background and made her cat flinch.

Oh, God.

“Still think I might be bluffing?” he taunted.

Maybe not, but she had to consider that … “All I heard was a scream. That could have been anyone.”

There was a rustle, and then her caller spoke to someone in the background: “Say hello to your sister.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” was hissed in response.

Quinley’s eyes fell shut. Her cat let out a low, drawn-out yowl of distress. That was definitely Raya.

“Good enough?” he asked.

Her pulse speeding up, Quinley opened her eyes. “Yes.”

“What do you say to a trade-off? You for them?” It wasn’t really a suggestion. It was a demand.

It also took her by surprise. Quinley had thought they’d ask for her and Isaiah in exchange. Then again … that wasn’t really the pack’s style, was it? They took women and children, not men. And never dominants.

“I won’t tell you that you’ll walk out of this alive,” her caller continued. “That would be a lie. Hale killed someone important to us. Now we’ll end the life of someone important to him … Or we’ll end that of these two bitches here.”

Right then, Isaiah rounded the corner of the living room and stalked into the kitchen, his brow furrowed. He’d sensed a flash of her anxiety, she thought.

Quinley slammed up a hand and shook her head, warning him with a wide-eyed gaze to do nothing. She put a finger to her lips, and he stealthily made his way forward.

“I only really meant to take your sister, but she was rarely without her mate so I simply took both,” her caller said. “Their stay with us hasn’t so far been very comfortable. They’re eager to go home. You want that for them, don’t you?”

“I do,” she said as Isaiah put his ear close to her cell, doing his best to overhear the other side of the conversation.

“Good. Then be outside the phone box near your local train station in an hour. Alone. If I see anyone else with you, both your sister and her mate are dead.”

Isaiah’s gaze shot to hers, blazing with anger.

Her stomach dropping, she took a shaky breath. “I’ll be there.” As an idea came to her, she added, “Although …”

“What?” her caller prodded.

“I guess I’m just confused about why you wouldn’t rather trade them for Tommaso.”

A long pause. “Your pride does not have Tommaso in their custody.” The statement held a hint of unsurety.

“My Alphas detained him the night he tried assassinating me,” she said, watching as a smile of sly approval pulled at Isaiah’s lips. “He’s been with us ever since.”

Another pensive pause. “Your mate would never have let Tommaso live if he’d tried killing you.”

“Isaiah would like to kill him, yes, but he’s set on first finding out the location of your pack. Tommaso is the only one who can give us that information. But he hasn’t been talkative so far.”

A gruff hum sounded. “I’m not sure I believe you. What I’ll promise you is this: If you trade yourself for the females I have here, I won’t kill you. I’ll instead offer your mate the option of exchanging Tommaso for you. If Tommaso is alive, you’ll get to go free. If he isn’t, you die as planned.” With that, the line went dead.

The terror that had earlier gripped her throat squeezed, and she grabbed onto Isaiah’s arm as if to anchor herself. “The Vercetti Pack has Raya and Lori.”

Isaiah pulled her into his arms, calling out, “Tate, we got a situation here!”

She sank against him, trying to get a handle on her breathing—it had turned quick and shallow. Her cat was no better. The animal was freaking the fuck out.

He rocked Quinley from side to side, palming her nape. “I got you.”

“What is it?” asked Tate, striding into the kitchen with Luke, Camden, and Deke.

It was Isaiah who explained, “Someone from the Vercetti Pack just called Quinley.”

Tate’s jaw dropped. “The fuck? How?”

Quinley licked her lips. “They used my sister’s phone—that’s why I answered; I thought it was her. The pack has both Raya and her mate.”

“Bastards,” Luke spat.

“Call Havana and Blair,” Tate barked to his brother. “They need to hear this.”

Anger stomping through his blood, Isaiah pressed a kiss to his mate’s hair. A dozen curses hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. She was expectedly shaken, and she needed him to be calm; needed to feel steadied. If he released his own anger, it would only feed her distress.

His cat—anxious to both soothe their mate and hunt down those who’d dare upset her—pushed against Isaiah’s skin to be closer to her. The fuckers would pay for this.

He guided her over to a stool and gently propped her butt on it. “Just sit here, Quin.” He poured her a glass of water and pushed it into her tremoring hand. So she wouldn’t spill her drink, he curved his palm around her hand and helped guide the glass to her mouth.

She tip a sip, visibly striving to pull herself together. “I heard her scream,” she said. “He did something, and Raya screamed. It was my fault. I called his bluff, so he hurt her.”

Frowning, Isaiah set her glass on the breakfast bar and palmed the sides of her head. “Hey, it was not your fault. If he hurt her, it’s because he’s an evil fuck—that’s it.”

Her lips trembled, plucking at his heart. He held her tight again, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

Havana and Blair arrived quickly, accompanied by both Aspen and Bailey.

“What happened?” demanded Havana, her face a mask of unease. “What’s going on?”

“Quinley just received a call from a member of the Vercetti Pack,” Tate told her.

“What?” Bailey burst out.

“They have Raya and Lori,” Isaiah added.

Blair gaped. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Quinley murmured. “I heard my sister’s voice. It was definitely her.”

Camden’s jaw hardened. “Kidnapping people is nothing new for the pack.” His gaze settled on Isaiah. “They want you in exchange?”

“No,” said Quinley. “Me. They want to kill me to punish Isaiah for Samuele’s death.”

Not fucking happening.

Curses rang throughout the room.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.” Her brow creased. “It’s weird that he’d be adamant about that, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” asked Isaiah, brushing a hand over her hair.

“Well, we’re mates,” she replied. “He has to have known you’d sense my panic; that I wouldn’t be able to hide from you that something’s wrong.”

He shrugged. “Maybe he counted on you to lie about why you were panicking, or maybe he doesn’t know we’ve imprinted on each other enough for me to sense your emotions.” He only really felt flickers of said emotions, and not all the time.

“I guess.” Quinley rubbed at her throat. “I’m supposed to go to a meet-up location alone. I’m sure that kind of thing works out okay in movies. Real life? Unlikely.”

“The pack would kill Raya and Lori even if you did cooperate,” Luke told her. “We have a better chance of saving your sister and her mate if we take on the pack as a pride.”

“I know. I’m trusting you to save them.” Quinley paused. “I tried convincing whoever called me that you have Tommaso in your custody; I put the idea in his head that he could instead trade Raya and Lori for him.”

“Clever,” praised Bailey. “What did he say?”

“He doubted I was being truthful.” Quinley began tapping her foot restlessly on the rung of the stool. “He said he still wants me to come to him but he won’t kill me—he’ll instead propose to Isaiah that he could hand over Tommaso in exchange for me.”

“It was probably Sebastian who made the call,” hedged Aspen.

Quinley’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Isaiah stroked a hand over her hair again. “Why?”

“He never once referred to Tommaso as ‘my brother,’” she explained. “He’d say ‘your sister’ and ‘your mate,’ but he didn’t use similar terminology when talking about Tommaso.”

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter who made the call,” said Deke. “What matters is that we act fast.”

Havana nodded, her gaze sliding to Quinley. “Where exactly are you supposed to meet the pack?”

“The local train station in an hour. You need to be careful how you go about this. He said he’ll kill them if I don’t go alone.” Quinley looked at Isaiah, and whatever she saw on his face made her breath hitch. “You’re thinking they’re already dead,” she sensed.

Isaiah clamped his lips shut, not wanting to confirm her assumption. But the fact that he didn’t—couldn’t—deny it was enough for her face to briefly crumple. He kissed her forehead, silently apologizing for being unable to give her any reassurances.

“What’s the plan, then?” Camden asked no one in particular.

Tate twisted his mouth. “We get to the spot well in advance. We scope it out. We try to anticipate where he may wait for Quinley to appear.” His attention zipped to her. “You’ll stay here.”

She tensed. “I’m submissive, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be of any help here.”

“We know that,” Isaiah assured her. “This isn’t about you not being a dominant. You’re the furthest thing from weak that any person can be.” She was strong, brave, smart, and cool under pressure. “But I’m not using you as bait.”

Her expression went tight. “Isaiah, I can’t do nothing.”

“Baby, I’ve been studying how this pack works. I’ve read up on every job they’ve ever completed. And what I feel right down to my bones is this: They have no intention of doing any trade.”

Her brows flicked together. “What?”

“They took Raya and Lori so they could draw you out into the open and ensure you stay in one spot. They mean to shoot you where you stand; kill you right there and then flee.” Just the idea of it made his chest pang and his cat lash out in fury.

Quinley’s lips parted. “That’s why you think my sister and Lori are probably dead.”

He dipped his chin. “If the pack keeps them alive, it’ll be with an intention to traffic them—nothing more.” He hadn’t wanted to confess that, but she was smart enough to figure it out on her own anyway.

She squeezed her eyes shut and ground her teeth. “Shit.”

“I get that you want to be part of this, Quinley,” Havana cut in, “but it wouldn’t help to throw you out there as bait. The pack hasn’t evaded capture this long by being careless. They’ve already messed up their past three attempts at trying to kill members of our pride; they’re not going to risk it happening again. That means they won’t take the chance that you haven’t told us about the phone call.”

Camden nodded. “They wouldn’t make a grab for you—they wouldn’t risk putting themselves out in the open like that. They’re more likely to decide on a drive-by shooting.”

Quinley let out a long sigh. “Okay.”

Tate frowned, seeming surprised she’d backed down. “Okay?”

“Well, you’re all right in what you say. So if I wouldn’t make good bait, there’s no sense in me going. I’m not an enforcer. I don’t want to be in the way or take up a car seat that should be given to someone who’s trained for this type of situation.” Quinley zeroed in on Isaiah again. “I need you to promise me you’ll be careful.”

Relieved she’d agreed to hang back, Isaiah palmed her neck, giving her a pointed look. “I promise you.”

“Do we tell the Crimson Pride Alphas about the kidnapping?” asked Bailey. “I mean, as Raya and Lori’s Alphas, they have a right to know. Not that I care they have that right, just asking.”

“It would be fair to notify them,” Tate allowed, “but they wouldn’t work with us. Especially not Zaire. I honestly wouldn’t trust him not to cause problems just to push Isaiah’s buttons so they finally end up having that brawl he wants. We don’t need those kind of distractions. Raya and Lori don’t need them, more to the point.”

Everyone murmured their agreement, including Quinley.

Tate’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, peeked at the screen, and then quickly answered, “I was beginning to wonder if you three were still alive … Okay, no need to take that tone … I’m not home, I’m in the house next-door; Isaiah’s place … Right.” He lowered his cell. “That was Sergei.”

Isaiah had figured it was one of Alex’s uncles, since Tate had said “you three.”

“Have they found the pack?” asked Havana, her hands joined.

“I don’t know yet. He hung up before I could ask.” Tate pocketed his phone as he left the room. Moments later, the front door hinges squeaked and Tate again spoke, “I called and called. None of you answered your phone.”

“We were on hunt,” said Sergei, his voice indignant. “We do not use phone when hunting.”

The front door slammed shut. “You said you’d keep me updated regularly,” Tate griped.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Then I lied.”

Tate reappeared, grumbling something beneath his breath. The uncles came in behind them.

Dimitri immediately went to the fridge as he announced, “We found Vercetti Pack.”

“Where?” asked Isaiah, his cat going still.

“Burned-out compound near old textile factory,” said Isaak.

Camden cocked his head. “The one that used to house human anti-shifter extremists?”

“Yes.” Isaak planted fists on his hips. “It is derelict now.”

Camden’s mouth tightened. “I searched that area and found nothing.”

Dimitri pulled a pear from the fridge. “Of course you found nothing. You are not wolverine.”

Quinley leaned into Isaiah. “We have pears?”

Apparently so.

“The pack uses old mine tunnels beneath compound,” Sergei told them.

Aspen looked at Camden. “If they’re hiding underground, that’ll be why you didn’t realize they were in that area.”

Dimitri scowled. “No, it is because he is not wolverine.”

“Right,” Aspen drawled. “Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if whatever humans own the building are aware that the pack’s using the mines.”

“It is probable,” Isaak decided. “I think extremists once used tunnels to traffic weapons. They have done it before in other locations.”

Sergei cricked his neck. “Scramblers were used outside to mask scents so no one would pick up trail to follow.”

Tate looked at Camden. “That’ll be why your nose didn’t lead you to them.”

Another scowl from Dimitri. “No, it is because he is not—”

“Wolverine,” Tate finished. “Whatever.” He swept his gaze over everyone. “This changes our plans. I say we invade the mines and rescue Raya and Lori rather than scope out the train station.”

“Makes more sense,” Havana agreed. “Camden was right that they’ll probably choose to do a drive-by shooting, so it’d be hard to catch them anyway.”

Deke’s gaze bounced from wolverine to wolverine. “How did you find the pack?”

Dimitri gave an easy, arrogant shrug. “It was not so hard.”

“Then what took you so long?” Deke challenged, a brow inching up.

Dimitri narrowed his eyes and chucked the rest of the pear in his mouth, core and all. “Do not annoy me, dumb cat. I am too hungry to argue. I would only eat your head, and then you would scream like babe.”

“Without a head, I can’t scream,” Deke calmly pointed out.

“I said, do not annoy me.”

Quinley twisted on her stool to better face the uncles. “When were you last at the compound?”

“A few hours ago,” Isaak told her. “We came straight here when we were sure it was their hidey hole.”

“Did you see the pack take any females inside? They’ve kidnapped my sister and her mate.”

Isaak’s eyes rounded. “Ah, I thought those two looked familiar. They were at your party, yes?” He turned to Sergei. “Did I not say we had met them before? I was so sure, but I could not remember where.”

Quinley grasped her knees tight. “They’re alive?”

“They were,” said Isaak. “I do not know if that is still so.”

“We’ll find out once we’re inside the mines,” Tate piped up. “On that note …”

His simple prompt had everyone readying themselves to leave.

Isaiah kissed Quinley on the temple. “I won’t be long.”

She squeezed his lower arm. “You come back to me.”

The anxiety in her expression was killing both him and his cat. Neither wanted to leave her, but taking her along was not an option. “Nothing could stop me from coming back to you.” His concern was that he wouldn’t be able to return with good news about her loved ones. “Raya and Lori—”

“You are not to blame if something happens to them. I know you’ll do your best to bring them home alive if they’re not already dead.” She choked on the latter word.

Swallowing, he touched his forehead to hers. “I’ll see you soon.”

Watching several shifters file out of the house in the cul-de-sac, Sebastian Vercetti smiled from his position in the woods at the rear of it.

“You were right, Seb,” said his brother Davide beside him. “She told the others.”

“I knew she would.” Feeling his upper lip curl, Sebastian rasped a hand over his buzzcut. “You can always count on a submissive to turn to dominants when panicked. They can’t handle shit themselves.”

Their mother had been the same—a weak, spineless damsel. One who’d cowered from her father, even when the bastard was beating or caning her own sons.

On his left, Wattie noted, “A lot of them are leaving. Why that many?”

Sebastian spared the dark, burly hyena shifter a quick look. “They probably plan to surround the train station and catch us in action.” And they’d fail, because there would be none of the pack there for them to find. Just imagining the bastards scratching their heads and chasing their tails made him smirk.

That smirk widened at the sight of the black-foot waving them off from the porch. “There, Hale’s left her behind.” It had been a given that he would, since a submissive would be no good in a fight. She would be too scared to go along in any case. Probably begged Hale to leave her at home.

The only reason Sebastian and his pack had had trouble with this particular submissive was that she was a black-foot. Running one to the ground had its … challenges. That was why they’d shot her sister and the other female with tranquilizers before dragging them from their car.

The pack had originally thought of capturing Hale’s black-foot the same way, but none of them could ever get close enough to her for that—the pride’s security was too tight, and Hale acted as her guard at all times.

Sebastian had known that if they could somehow draw away several of the strongest members of the pride, they’d have a chance of getting to her.

That chance had arrived.

Their plan had been successful. The Olympus shifters had fallen for it, thinking the pack intended to use Hale’s mate as bait. Nah, it was her relatives who were the lure.

Davide turned to him, a glimmer of conflict in the amber eyes they both shared. It was hard to look at him sometimes; made Sebastian’s throat ache. Aside from having different colored irises, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the baby brother they’d lost, even down to the scruffy haircut.

“Are you sure they won’t contact the Crimson Alphas?” asked Davide. “The females we took are under their protection. They’d have the right to know that their pride mates were kidnapped.”

“Hale isn’t going to include the true mate of the woman he claimed—he’ll want to be her hero,” Sebastian pointed out with an inner eye roll. Once shifters mated they lost their edge and turned into fucking pussies. “Besides, what does it matter? The involvement of an additional pride won’t help them. They’ll be looking for us in the wrong place.”

Davide didn’t appear reassured. “But if the Crimson Alphas do hear of it, the Alpha male would probably come straight here to protect her—then he’d find us.”

Sebastian shrugged, unconcerned. “Then we’d kill him.” Simple.

His brother and Wattie exchanged an uneasy look. Something they did a lot lately. Samuele’s murder had thrown the entire pack, and it had turned these two shifters into fucking fretters who hesitated to take chances. His wolf swiped out a paw, annoyed by their lack of confidence in Sebastian and his plan.

He looked from Davide to Wattie. “Remember: We need to move carefully. The Olympus shifters won’t be expecting this, so they won’t be prepared for it. But the enforcers who are left will still be on the lookout.” The fucking pride seemed to have eyes everywhere.

But not here. Because Sebastian had already shot the cat who’d been patrolling the wooded area.

His brow knitted, Davide caught him with a probing gaze. “You don’t still mean to kill her, do you? I want Hale to suffer as much as you do, which means I want her to suffer. But if we snuff out her life, we’ll never get Tommaso back.”

Sebastian licked over his front teeth. He’d known there was a high probability that the pride was somehow responsible for Tommaso’s disappearance. So many times his brother had ranted about how someone needed to go blow Hale’s brains out. Sebastian had insisted it was too predictable and they needed to proceed carefully.

But whereas Davide and Samuele had always been fairly easy to maneuver and manipulate, Tommaso was too erratic and impulsive to be controlled. So when he’d snuck off and then hadn’t returned, the pack had figured it was likely he’d gone after Hale and been subsequently killed. Sebastian had been shocked when their packmate Peter—who’d made the call to the black-foot—notified them that she’d claimed Tommaso was alive and in the pride’s possession.

Sebastian was also highly skeptical that Hale would have allowed his brother to keep breathing. He let that skepticism show on his face as he cocked his head at Davide. “The Olympus Pride isn’t known for being merciful. You really think they wouldn’t have executed him?”

Davide’s square jaw firmed. “What I think is that he’d never give up on us. If he thought there was a chance we were alive, he’d keep looking until he found us or had proof we were goners. And the pride isn’t merciful, no, but they might have decided to hold off on killing him until they have our pack’s location—they’ll be intent on wiping us all out.”

True, but … “I’m not convinced he’s alive. Hale’s mate seemed to know a lot, though. If the pride really has him, she’ll know where. She can point us in the right direction. And if she doesn’t, or it turns out she lied, I’ll just make her death that much more painful.”

He wasn’t going to make it an easy death. No fucking way. Blood was owed, and it would be taken.

Wattie rubbed at the back of his head, ruffling his tousled dark hair. “Maybe we should just back off.”

Sebastian glared at him. “Haven’t we been over this already?”

“Yes, but I still say it might be best to cut our losses,” said Wattie. “You can’t say you don’t wish we’d targeted a different pride. We thought it wouldn’t be too hard, since the Olympus shifters don’t live on a massive stretch of land somewhere. That was a huge miscalculation on our part. These assholes are proving tough to take out.”

“We just killed one of their enforcers, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. One. We also went after several of the pride—a kid, an enforcer, and a black-foot. Every attempt went to shit.” Wattie lifted his shoulders. “We could just walk away.”

“But we’re not going to. Their fucking enforcer killed Samuele.”

“Maybe we should have listened to him. He had doubts about going after the pride.”

With that, Samuele’s words flitted through Sebastian’s mind … “I say we pick another pride to target, Seb. You know their reputation. Pallas cats are crazy motherfuckers. I don’t feel like pitting myself against them.”

Sebastian had waved that off, undeterred. To go after a pride with such a rep would only lead other shifters to fear the pack more. “Are you saying it’s our fault he’s dead?”

“No. I’m saying we made a mistake in dismissing his concerns.”

“Stop being a fucking pussy, Wattie. We’re not cutting our losses. End of.” The days when Sebastian ran from anything were long gone. He wasn’t that reedy little kid anymore who’d been preyed on by his own grandfather. Sebastian did the preying now.

Once upon a time, he and his brothers had been a mere group of lone shifters—no pack, no land, no other family, no protection from shifter groups. So they’d built their own pack. They’d pulled in other loners, expanding it one by one.

Their pack was what shifter groups should be. There was no hierarchy. No ranks. No weak links like submissives or omegas or females.

When they wanted to fuck, they brought in women—shifters, humans, it didn’t matter—and had their fun. Then they either killed them or sold them.

Occasionally they’d let a female leave so she could spread the word that the pack was still something to be feared.

Fear was important. It kept people in line. It kept them cooperative. It kept them at bay.

For years they’d been public enemy number one. They liked it that way. No matter what group of shifters they took on, they always came out on top. Always.

This time would be no different. Sure, they’d had a few … issues here and there. But that would just make their triumph over the Olympus Pride so much sweeter.

Wattie exhaled heavily. “Let’s at the very least back off for a little while; let them think it’s over. We could come back months from now, when they won’t be expecting it. Come on, Davide, you have to agree it’s the best option.”

“I would agree … but we can’t walk away when they might have Tommaso,” said Davide. “They know he’s missing, so they either have him or they’ve killed him—just as we’d already suspected. We have to know what happened to him.”

Wattie swore beneath his breath. “We need to make this quick, then, or we’re not going to get out of this alive. As soon as she realizes we’re in the house, Hale will know something’s up. He’ll feel her fear. He might not know what’s wrong, but he’ll know she needs help.”

“He’ll only sense that if they’re fully imprinted. There’s no way they’re that tightly bonded. They were mere strangers when they mated.” Sebastian glanced at his wristwatch. “We’ll give the cats time to drive a fair distance away and then we’ll head over there. We have questions to ask, a black-foot to kill, and a nice surprise to leave for Hale to find when he gets home.”