CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

So tense with the sense of urgency thrumming through him, Isaiah almost jumped when his phone rang. Leaning forward in the front passenger seat, he whipped it out of his back pocket. Farrell.

Putting the cell on speakerphone so that Evander would be able to hear everything, Isaiah answered with: “Tell me.” The words came out hard and fast.

Farrell pulled in a breath. “Sebastian Vercetti is in your house,” he reluctantly admitted.

Isaiah hissed out a breath. Rage, powerlessness, torment, anxiety, panic, horror—it all pummeled him like a shower of sharp rocks. His cat went AWOL.

“Jesus Christ,” breathed Evander, pressing his foot harder on the pedal.

“Davide is there as well, and another of their pack mates,” Farrell went on.

Isaiah gripped the edge of his seat as if it could anchor him. Truth be told, nothing could steady him in that moment. “And Quinley?” The question came out choked. He knew she was alive, because he could feel her. But “alive” didn’t mean “conscious” or “uninjured.”

“Unhurt, by the looks of it. It’s hard to tell.”

“Round up some pride mates and get inside the—”

“A bunch of us are discreetly surrounding the house,” Farrell assured him, “but we can’t barge in there.”

Isaiah scowled. “Why the hell not?”

A pause. “They’ve attached explosives to the walls.”

Terror spiked through Isaiah’s blood and made his gut roll. “What?”

“I don’t know if they’ve come ready to die here or if they just intend to blow up the house when they’re away from it. Either way, if they think they have no way out, if they feel cornered, they might set off the explosives.”

Isaiah squeezed his eyes shut.

“We have to move cautiously,” Farrell continued. “Sneaking inside wouldn’t be a problem. But if the pack detects our presence, they might press the detonator.”

Isaiah rubbed hard at his forehead. “Why are they even there if it’s not to kill Quinley?” Were they waiting for him?

“It does seem that their goal is to get rid of her. But, even armed, they’re having a difficult time with that. Mostly because they can’t find her.”

Isaiah’s hand dropped to his lap. “They can’t find her?”

“She’s in her cat form, hiding. She pops out every now and then, deals them a little injury, and then disappears again.”

Jesus. Isaiah didn’t know if he wanted to give her a metaphorical bow for her mercilessness or to shake her for not staying completely out of the pack’s sight. His inner feline was leading toward the first. “So she’s playing with them.”

“She’s a black-foot, Isaiah. What did you expect? They don’t do well with being targeted. They may run, but they’ll circle back and come at you. You personally got some vengeance when you killed Tommaso. She wants her own piece of the vengeance pie. The pack should have expected that, but they have a habit of underestimating females.”

Right then, Isaiah was grateful for the latter. The pack hadn’t arrived prepared for a struggle. That had given her an advantage. “How did they manage to sneak past Joaquin?”

“They didn’t. They found him in the woods and overpowered him, then left him—either thinking he was dead or that he soon would be. We took him to Helena, he’s fine now.”

“That’s a relief at least,” muttered Evander.

“Like I said, we have the house surrounded,” Farrell went on. “If the pack members try to leave, we’ll take them down. But it would be risky for us to try to enter. If you want us to take that chance—”

“No,” Isaiah blurted out. “No, we can’t risk that they’d decide to go out in a literal blaze of glory.” He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. “I don’t get why they’re so set on catching Quinley. They could just walk out and then press the detonator.” He hated to voice that fear aloud, to give it life, but he just couldn’t understand.

“Sebastian watched his baby brother have his neck snapped, and he’ll know there’s a high probability that our pride eliminated Tommaso. My guess, considering he hasn’t been content with attacking her from a distance? Ending her life with his bare hands is the only thing that’ll satisfy his need for vengeance. Plus, well, I’m not even sure a house explosion would actually end a black-foot—they’re freakily difficult to kill. He’ll want to be sure she’s dead before he presses that detonator.”

“He could decide ‘to hell with that’ if he can’t catch her.”

“They’re not trying to hurry, so they must be under the impression that you can’t sense Quinley’s emotions. It means they won’t suspect that you’re on your way home, or that the pride is aware of their presence here. That gives us time.”

Yeah, but would it give them enough time? Isaiah hauled in a jagged breath. “Be ready to take them down if they leave.”

“Will do.” The line went dead.

Isaiah clutched his phone tight, tempted to fling it. “I shouldn’t have left her.”

Evander slid him a sideways look of reprimand. “Isaiah—”

“No, I was suspicious of why the pack would try luring her to a train station. I’ve studied Sebastian—he’s a guy who’d expect a submissive to be too afraid to follow such an instruction. I found it odd that the pack would believe she’d truly do it, but I didn’t question it the way I should have.” Self-loathing filled him, slow and slick. “I didn’t think they’d come to the house for Quinley.”

“None of us suspected they’d do something like that.”

“But we should have. They’ve done far worse and far riskier shit. Like they get off on riding that edge between life and death.” Most especially Sebastian, from what Isaiah had gathered.

“This isn’t just risky, it’s reckless. There are all sorts of variables. They can’t know that you and Quinley aren’t bonded. They can’t be sure she wouldn’t receive a visitor, who’d then likely spot them. They can’t be certain you wouldn’t return early. Yet, they made this move regardless. They’re never careless, but this? Yeah, this is careless.”

“Careless” was a good word for it. “Arrogant” would be another. As Isaiah saw it, the only people who’d blindly ignore the variables that Evander had mentioned were people who’d be desperate for vengeance. Which brought to mind the surviving Vercetti brothers.

Sebastian seemed to call a lot of the shots, so he was likely the main person behind this plot. For him to take so many risks … it was as if the death of Samuele, the disappearance of Tommaso, and the pack’s subsequent failures to come after the pride had chipped away at his feelings of power and control—things a person with his upbringing might crave; things he’d feel unsteady without—and, thus, somehow destabilized his thought processes or something.

“If they do catch her, they’ll sense the partial imprint bond,” said Isaiah. “They’ll know then that they’re not flying under our pride’s radar.”

“They won’t know for sure that we’ll be aware she’s in danger, because a partial bond means you don’t feel everything your mate is feeling,” Evander pointed out.“What do you plan to do once we get to your house?”

The only thing that Isaiah really could do. “Walk in there like I don’t know she has company.”

Evander flicked him a sharp look as his brows snapped together. “They could shoot you dead the second you enter.”

“No, I don’t think they’ll do that. They’d want me to first watch Quinley die.”

“You could be wrong.”

Isaiah raised his shoulders. “What other choice do I have? Someone needs to be able to get into that house to help her. If the pack sees others, they’ll fire without hesitation and maybe panic that their game is up. Me? They’d like that I was there.” And neither he nor his cat were prepared to sit safely outside the house while their mate was inside without backup.

It struck him then just how difficult it must have been for Quinley to agree to stay home while he and the others waltzed into a dangerous situation. If only he’d taken her along, or if he’d just stayed with her …

Evander sighed. “Maybe don’t go in alone, then. Maybe take just one person with you. Three against three is better odds.” He paused. “It’d need to be someone as hard to kill as a black-foot.”

Isaiah twisted his lips. “I can think of someone.”

“Isay we just leave,” declared Davide, his face lined with pain.

Sebastian stiffened. “What?”

His brother sighed, his shoulders drooping. “Seb, my back isshredded. So is Wattie’s Achilles tendon. The scratches on your face are deep, and your eye needs seeing to.”

As if Sebastian needed the latter reminder. His eyeball still blazed like someone had shoved a boiling hot chunk of coal in the socket. His vision was fucked.

No way was he leaving without doing what he’d come to do, though. Besides, he owed that little bitch. He was going to stab her eye with his goddamn claw before he killed her. “We can go to a healer once we’re finished here.”

“Let’s consider the job done,” Davide pushed. “The place is wired to blow. She won’t survive the explosion.”

Sebastian cast him a hard glare. “Wasn’t it you who earlier insisted it would take more than that to wipe out a black-foot?”

Davide spluttered. “Yes but, on second thought, I’m pretty sure I’m wrong.”

Lying asshole. “You want to admit defeat to a goddamn tabby?”

“What else are we supposed to do? None of us can catch her. She’s too fast. The longer we’re here, the more we risk detection. Let’s just do what Wattie suggested earlier and cut our losses.”

“I vote for that,” said the hyena from the armchair.

Ignoring that, Sebastian arched a brow at Davide. “Thought you wanted Hale to suffer?”

“I do, but we wouldn’t be letting him get away with what he did to Samuele,” said Davide. “We’d just be putting a pin in it. We can come back at another time when he won’t be expecting it.”

“And what about Tommaso? I thought you wanted answers about our brother.”

“Again, I do. But he wouldn’t blame us for regrouping if it meant we survived. As I said, we could return later. We can kidnap a random pride member and demand Tommaso in exchange for their life. What we clearly can’t do is catch that bastard cat.”

“You really want to flee from her? A submissive, female, teensy weensy cat?”

Wattie grunted as he shifted position on the armchair, his face pale. “Seb, it don’t matter that she’s tiny or a submissive or a woman—it doesn’t change that we can’t get a grip on her. We can’t even get a bullet in her. What else are we supposed to do?”

Sebastian felt his lips flatten. This was what he got for bringing pack members who thought it their place to question him. “We’re not leaving until she’s dead. You hear me? Bitch and moan all you want, but we’re not moving from this house until she’s a goner.”

Both males sagged, anger washing over their features and mingling with the pain there.

Sebastian’s wolf sneered, disgusted by their weakness. “Now, for God’s sake, let’s nab this damn cat.”

Unable to properly walk, Wattie remained seated as Sebastian and Davide searched high and low for the black-foot. It was like trying to search for oxygen—you knew it was there, you just couldn’t damn see it.

Sebastian kicked a half-smashed vase across the floor, making more pieces of it break away. “How can it be possible for her not to stand out? She doesn’t exactly blend in with the décor.”

Davide gave a clueless shrug. “I don’t know. I still say we should—”

“Don’t. I told you already, we’re not leaving until …” Sebastian trailed off as something outside caught his eye through the window. His pulse jumped, and his wolf went still. “Hale’s home.”

Wattie sat up straighter, his eyes widening. “What?”

“He’s walking up the driveway as we speak,” said Sebastian, his hand flexing around his gun. “He isn’t with the others. Just one male—I haven’t seen this one before.” In which case, the guy couldn’t be an enforcer or anyone important. “We can take them both easy.”

“Or,” began Davide,“we could just walk out—”

Sebastian growled at his brother. “Stop being a bitch. Get out your guns, both of you.”

Red staining his cheeks, Davide begrudgingly pulled out his gun. From the armchair, Wattie did the same.

Not trusting that either of the Olympus Pride males wouldn’t scent Sebastian or his pack mates, he didn’t wait there. He pulled open the living room door and aimed his weapon just right.

Both Hale and the other male casually strolled inside. Hale froze as his gaze landed on Sebastian. A gaze that bounced from him to the gun and back again. Behind him, his companion went rigid.

“If either one of you runs back out that door the other takes a bullet to the heart,” Sebastian warned, the dark promise heavy in every syllable.

Neither male tried to run. They both pinned their gazes on Sebastian, their expressions hardening.

He smirked. “Hale, stay right where you are. Other Guy, shut the door. Then both of you put your hands up.”

The Olympus shifters moved stiffly as they followed his orders, every movement begrudging.

“Thanks.” Sebastian shot Other Guy in the chest.

The male reared back, hit the wall, and slid down to the floor as blood poured from the wound. Seconds later, he went limp.

Hale hissed, clearly eager to help his friend, but he remained still like he’d been told.

“How nice of you to drop by,” Sebastian quipped.

Looking at the motherfucker, it was hard not to pull the trigger. Images flashed in his mind. Hale diving at Samuele. Hands gripping his brother’s head. Those same hands wrenching hard, snapping Samuele’s neck.

“Where’s my mate?” Hale predictably demanded.

“Somewhere,” Sebastian fudged. He held up his cell phone. “See this? It’s a detonator for the explosives I’ve put around the house. Make a wrong move and I press it.”

Hale clenched his jaw tight.

“Now, we’re going to go into the living area. It’s cozier that way.” With every step Sebastian took back, Hale took one forward until they were fully in the room.

The pallas cat’s gaze darted around, taking in everything—Davide, Wattie, the weapons, the explosives.

“You know, I wasn’t sure you’d really leave her alone here,” said Sebastian. “A smarter man would have realized it was a trap. Did you really think I’d actually rely on a submissive to put herself in danger?”

A muscle in Hale’s jaw ticked. “I thought maybe you believed she’d rush to the aid of her family regardless.”

Idiot. “You thought wrong, as you can see.” Sebastian tightened his grip on his weapon. “Where’s Tommaso?”

“The place we put all our captives,” Hale vaguely replied.

“Which is where?”

“Put down your weapons and I’ll tell you.”

Sebastian felt his mouth curve into a mocking smile. “No, I don’t think so.” Knowing there was only one way to make the asshole talk, he called out, “Kitty cat, you need to come out now. I swear to God I will put a bullet in your mate’s brain if you don’t.”

Moments later, she appeared from … Sebastian didn’t even know where. She just materialized a few feet away like magic. It was downright eerie, but he’d never admit it aloud.

Noticing Hale’s muscles bunch as if he might make a grab for her, Sebastian flicked up a brow. “Careful. There are bombs planted all over, remember? One push of this button on my cell and boom.”

“You’d be killing yourselves,” said Hale, clearly doubting his word. He shouldn’t.

“You think any of us are afraid to die? We’ve been tempting Death for a long time—he hasn’t come for us yet.” Sebastian took sideways steps over to the armchair on which his pack mate sat. “Wattie, take the phone.”

Obediently, Wattie carefully took it and hovered his thumb threateningly over the screen.

“Davide, keep your gun aimed at the son of a bitch. He moves, shoot him.” Sebastian bent over and roughly grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck. He immediately jammed the barrel of his gun against the side of her head. She didn’t even have the downright decency to hiss in pain.

Hale tensed, his fists clenching as he visibly wrestled with the urge to rush to her rescue … just as Sebastian had once wrestled with the urge to retrieve his baby brother’s body before driving off. God knew what the pride had done with it.

“Where’s Tommaso?” he asked Hale. “Either you tell me where he is, or I shoot her.”

Hale’s nostrils flared in outrage, every muscle in his body rigid. “You shoot her, you’ll never know his location. I’ll be on you before you can fucking blink.”

Sebastian held back a snort. “Davide.”

His brother fired a bullet into each of Isaiah’s kneecaps, making the son of a bitch drop like a stone.

“Not now you won’t,” said Sebastian. He almost laughed as a rumbly growl of fury slid out of the cat in his grip. Who knew she had that in her?

Davide spit at Hale. “That’s for Samuele. Unless you want more bullets in you, talk.”

Propped up on one elbow, Hale slammed hateful, agony-filled eyes on Sebastian. Blood stained the legs of his jeans, and the smell delighted Sebastian’s wolf.

“Let her go, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Hale swore, pain coating every syllable.

Sebastian hummed, pretending to consider it. “I don’t think so. She’s the only thing keeping you cooperative.”

“Fuck,” muttered Davide.

Sebastian spared his brother the briefest look. “What?”

“I just saw someone sneak by the window,” Davide clipped. “We’ve been spotted.”

Sebastian inwardly cursed. The pallas cat on the floor didn’t look the least bit surprised. “Did you already know we were here when you arrived?” It was possible. Maybe he was bonded to the black-foot after all.

“Does it matter?” Hale tossed out, lines of agony etching themselves deep into his face.

“No, I don’t suppose it does.” What did matter was that the house was likely surrounded by pride members. That meant that neither Sebastian nor his brother nor Wattie were going to get out of this alive.

Fury zipped through Sebastian, heating his blood, making a tremor run through the hand still jamming the barrel of his gun into the black-foot’s head. If he and his pack mates were going to die, they were going to take Hale and his little bitch with them.

Sebastian shot her point blank. Hale’s head jerked as he felt a ghostly impact of the bullet sinking into her brain. Huh. So they were bonded after all.

The animal sound of pained rage that tore out of Hale was quite something.

Smirking, Sebastian tossed her lifeless body aside like it was trash. The look Hale gave him … oh, he would have flung himself at Sebastian if he could have.

Hale looked as if he’d army-crawl toward her, so Sebastian shot at the hardwood floor in front of him. The pallas cat stilled, his eyes flashing cat.

“You don’t have siblings,” Sebastian gritted out, “so you can’t know what it’s like to lose a brother. But now you know what it’s like to lose a mate. So there’s that. Why shifters are stupid enough to claim mates, I don’t know. Nothing good comes of it. They weaken us. Case in point. And now you—”

“Seb?” Davide interrupted.

Sebastian pressed his lips together. He loathed being interrupted. “What?”

“She’s, uh, she’s still moving.”

Sebastian glanced down. The feline was writhing on the floor, though she made not one sound. Freaky little shit.

He fired two bullets into her flank, satisfied when her body went limp; loving that each one made Hale flinch.

Davide sneered. “Doesn’t feel good losing someone you love, does it? Oh, we know that pain well. Don’t we, Seb?”

“We do.” Sebastian took a lurching step closer to Hale. “I would have snapped her neck like you did Samuele’s. That was my original plan. But I’m nothing if not adaptable. You know, it’s funny, but if you hadn’t—” He stopped talking when his peripheral vision caught sight of her wriggling once more. “What the fuck is with this cat?”

He fired. Again. This time, he aimed at her neck.

As her body sagged, he turned back to Hale. “Now where was I? Oh yes, you were about to tell me where Tommaso is.” Sebastian paused. “Is he alive?”

Hale glared up at him. “Yes. And I already told you where he is.”

“I want the exact location, and I want it now.” Sebastian narrowed his eyes as something occurred to him. “Or are you stalling for time, thinking your pride mates have any chance of helping you?” He couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculous idea. “That’s not going to happen. All of us here are going to die today.”

“Then what do you care where Tommaso is?”

“I want his location so I can notify my other pack mates where to find him.” Something flashed in the enforcer’s eyes. It was there and gone in a heartbeat, but it made Sebastian’s gut seize.“What have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything. As for my pride mates? Well, they could have gotten up to all kinds of things while down in the mines.”

Davide swore, and Wattie growled.

As for Sebastian … rage surged through him, singeing his lungs so every breath hurt. “You motherfucker!”

“Uh, Seb?” Wattie warily cut in.

For the love of God. “What now?”

“She’s gone.”