“There’s no need. Our plans have changed.”
Caine stiffened. A change in plan usually meant the first plan had gone to hell. Not what he wanted to hear.
“What do you mean?”
“Congratulations, cur,” Briggs hissed. “Your day of glory is at hand. Soon you will be transformed, as you always dreamed.”
Caine slowly lifted his head, suspicious. Briggs had always been far too vague on how this transformation was supposed to take place.
“How? Harley has escaped.”
“Forget the bitch.”
“But…”
The crimson eyes flared with lethal anger. “I must have Salvatore.”
Caine swallowed his demand to know the hows, whens, and wheres of the mystical transformation that had been promised to him for years.
His personal vision had revealed his blood running over barren stone, shimmering with the power only true Weres possessed, but interpreting such a vision was always difficult.
“My pack is on his trail.”
“Salvatore will destroy your pathetic excuse for a pack without breaking a sweat.”
Caine ground his teeth. “I’m aware of Salvatore’s superior strength.”
“Then you will pull back your servants and allow me to deal with the bastard.”
“Deal with him, or kill him?”
“Oh, I’ll kill him in due time.” The Were’s voice was thick with anticipation. “First, I have need of him alive.”
The memory of the violent battlefield he’d left behind spoiled Caine’s pleasure at savoring Salvatore’s impending downfall. Briggs might boast about his plans for the King of Weres, but Caine was no longer willing to believe that Briggs was invincible.
“You intend to capture him?”
“Yes.”
“By yourself?”
An icy power slammed into Caine’s chest, stopping his heart.
“Surely you don’t doubt my ability to do so?”
Caine’s hands dug into the dirt, the pain radiating from his chest through his body in sharp bursts.
“I would never be so foolish,” he groaned.
“I wonder.” The repulsive smell nearly choked Caine as Briggs moved closer. “Could it be that your loyalty is wavering, Caine?”
Caine pressed his head to the ground. Damn. He’d gone too far. Briggs wouldn’t tolerate having his superiority over Salvatore questioned. Certainly not by a mere cur.
Time for damage control.
“No, master, but Salvatore has often joined powers with the vampires. He will be next to impossible to capture if he is protected by the bloodsuckers.”
Briggs snorted, not so easily deceived. “Then it’s fortunate I have no need to capture Salvatore.”
“You believe he’ll turn himself over to you?”
“That’s exactly what I believe.”
“I’m going to admit that would be my last guess.” Caine was careful to speak into the mud. Briggs was still too close for his peace of mind. “Salvatore might be arrogant, but he isn’t suicidal.”
“No, but he’s desperate to kill me. Once I offer him the opportunity, he’ll be more than eager to join me.”
“He’ll sense it’s a trap.”
Briggs laughed. A hollow, sinister sound that made the distant coyotes howl in alarm.
Gallows humor. Had to love it.
“And yet, he’ll still come. Salvatore is nothing if not predictable.”
Warily, Caine lifted his head, meeting the crimson gaze. “I assume I have some role in all of this?”
“There are a pack of curs camped near your lair, believing you still hold Salvatore.”
Caine shrugged. He’d received a call from his pack the minute the curs had surrounded his house.
“They’re being watched.”
“I want you to bring them to me here.”
As the words left Briggs’s lips, an image of barren caves below an abandoned Victorian church seared through Caine’s mind. Not just figuratively seared, but actually and painfully seared. Like a map had been branded into his brain tissue.
Holy hell. Hadn’t the bastard heard of GPS?
“Why?”
“Because I want Salvatore to suffer before he dies,” Briggs said, his hatred for the King of Weres pulsing in the air. “There are few things that give me more pleasure than the thought of watching Salvatore’s anguish as he’s forced to kill one of his loyal servants.”
Caine hid his shudder. He’d always considered himself a badass who ruled his pack with an iron fist, but Briggs made him seem like a freaking pansy in comparison.
“Yeah, I can just imagine.”
“Ah, but you won’t have to imagine,” Briggs taunted. “You’ll be at my side.”
Rising to his feet, Caine covertly stepped back from the biting cold that surrounded Briggs.
“And I’ll be given the secret to unlocking the Were’s blood?”
“Don’t worry, Caine. Soon you’ll be given the reward you so richly deserve,” Briggs crooned, the crimson eyes mocking. “Don’t fail me.”
There was a loud pop, and the Were disappeared.
Caine didn’t hesitate. Spinning on his heel, he darted back to the Jeep. No way he was waiting around for an encore performance.
Glad he’d taken the doors out of his vehicle, Caine vaulted into his seat and rammed the Jeep into drive.
“Shit.”
Andre gripped the dashboard as Caine thundered over a wooden bridge without slowing.
“Are you okay?”
Caine shivered, the nasty cold still clinging to his skin.
“Soon you’ll be given the reward you so richly deserve…”
He should be delirious. He should be tap dancing on top of the freaking world.
Instead he wished that Briggs had taken his damned visions to some other gullible cur.
“What I am is screwed,” he muttered.
Andre narrowed his dark gaze. “Do I need to scout a new lair? The Bahamas? Australia? The Antarctic?”
Caine had to admit it was tempting.
He could keep driving and start over far, far away from the feuding Weres. To hell with becoming a pureblood.
Then he gave a shake of his head. “It’s too late to run,” he grimly admitted. “There’s nothing left but to hope we can survive this f**king train crash.”
Salvatore paced the floor of Harley’s bedroom, the disposable cell phone that Santiago had left for him pressed to his ear. Listening to Hess’s recorded voice echo in his ear, he halted to gaze down at the black-and-gold bed that was still rumpled and warm from his last bout of mind-blowing sex with Harley.