The burning need to find Salvatore continued to plague her, but she wasn’t stupid enough to rush blindly through the dark. Briggs was somewhere crawling through the shadows, not to mention a demon lord, and who knew what other nasties.
Contrary to popular opinion, she didn’t need anyone telling her to be careful.
Pulling the silver knife from the holster her sister had fitted around her ankle before leaving Chicago, Harley allowed the sense of Salvatore that echoed in her blood to lead her through the cold, oddly barren passageways.
She felt like a damned homing pigeon, she ruefully acknowledged, wondering if Salvatore was deliberately doing something to afflict her with this overwhelming need to find him. That suspicion was certainly preferable to the thought that this growingly desperate urge was coming from her.
Coming to a halt as the tunnel branched into three separate directions, she hesitated as she caught the faint whiff of cur. It was muted, but unmistakable.
Alarm raced through her.
She wanted to believe that the curs were Salvatore’s servants who were here to rescue him, but that would be way too convenient for her current streak of luck. Besides, Salvatore had been adamant in not allowing his pack near. Not when they could be used as a weapon against him.
Which could only mean that they were either strange curs, or ones under the control of Briggs. And yet another danger to have to worry about.
Perfect.
Gripping the knife tightly enough to make her knuckles crack, Harley swallowed her reluctance and forced her feet forward. She wasn’t opposed to killing a few curs who got in her way, but she suspected that Salvatore would blame himself if anything happened to them.
And that bothered her, why?
Harley gave a shake of her head. She might as well accept she was currently out of her mind. It would be easier than trying to make sense of her recurring bouts of crazy.
Prepared for an ambush, Harley cautiously followed the sharp curve in the tunnel, halting in surprise when an oversized, bald-headed cur staggered toward her.
Her first thought was that he was stark naked, as if he’d recently shifted. Her second thought was that he was taking up way too much space for one man. His shoulders almost brushed each side of the passageway. And if his head hadn’t been bowed and covered by his hands, she suspected it would have been in danger of bumping the ceiling.
Warily, she watched as he weaved and stumbled toward her, muttering beneath his breath.
Okaaaay. If this was an ambush, it was the strangest one she’d ever heard of.
The cur had nearly reached her when he belatedly realized he was no longer alone. Jerking his head up, his eyes flashed crimson and his lips curled back in a snarl.
“Just hold on, Rambo,” Harley held up her hands in a nonthreatening motion. Well, nonthreatening if you didn’t count the big knife. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
The cur tilted back his face to sniff the air, and Harley realized that he was bleeding from a wound on the temple and that the left side of his face was a painful shade of black and blue. He looked like he’d just come out the loser of a Bully Beatdown.
“You’re not Darcy,” he at last growled.
“No shit, Sherlock,” she muttered, not entirely reassured by the knowledge he was familiar with her twin.
Would she be able to tell if he was under the influence of Briggs?
“Who are you?” the cur demanded.
“Darcy’s sister, Harley. And you?”
“Hess.” He sucked in a deep breath, coming back from the edge of shifting. Not that he was any less dangerous. “Why do you smell like Salvatore?”
Hess. The name clicked into place.
Salvatore’s most trusted soldier.
She could see why. He was a freaking mountain of muscle.
“The idiot seems to think I’m his mate,” she said.
His brow furrowed, as if stumped by her explanation. “Weres can’t mate.”
“Yeah, well, that’s something you need to take up with your king.”
“Salvatore.” Instantly distracted, the cur slammed his fist against the stone wall, his expression twisted with regret. “Shit.”
Harley instinctively stepped back. “What?”
“I attacked him. Christ, I knew he was my master and I still tried to kill him.” He stepped toward her, his expression wild. “I couldn’t help it. I swear to you, I couldn’t help it.”
Anger exploded through Harley. Damn Briggs. He had to know that forcing Salvatore to hurt his own pack was the worst torture that Salvatore could endure.
“Save your pity party for later. I need to find your master,” she snapped, sensing that Hess was in need of a strong leader, not a shoulder to cry on. A good thing. She wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of gal. “Where did you see him last?”
As hoped, Hess was jolted out of his shame and squared his shoulders in determination.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, the muscles of his jaw knotted as he struggled to control his emotions. “He knocked me out during our fight and when I woke up, he was gone, so I took off. I wasn’t going to risk being used against him again.”
Which explained the bruises and his stumbling.
“How did you get here in the first place?”
He growled, his eyes flashing red. “Caine.”
Stupidly, Harley was caught off guard. It wasn’t that she thought Caine was above using and abusing his fellow curs. He was so lost in his delusions of grandeur that he was willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to make his vision come true. But he usually preferred to leave the grunt work to others.
Precious Caine didn’t like to get his hands dirty.
“Someday soon I’m going to rip out his treacherous heart,” she muttered.
“Not if I find him first.”
“Did Caine kidnap anyone but you?”
“Three others.”
Harley grimaced. “Where are they?”
“The cur had us in silver cages before the whacko Were came to take me away.” He waved a hesitant hand to the left. “That way…I think.”
Harley didn’t fault him for being confused. The place was like an endless maze of barren stone.
“Go find them and get them out of here,” she commanded.
Hess instantly bristled. “No, if you are the mate of Salvatore, he’d kill me if I let something happen to you.”
Harley swallowed the urge to tell him exactly what he could do with his macho bullshit. It didn’t matter that she could kick this cur’s ass with one hand tied behind her back. Just because she had a uterus rather than a c**k meant he had to protect her.