The Were jerked back into motion, leading Styx down a corridor to the isolated cell. The true dungeons were a level below. These rooms were for vampires awaiting sentencing from the Anasso, or for the nonmagical demons who could be held by conventional means.
They had taken less than two steps when they caught the sound of a muffled female voice.
“Caine, can you hear me?”
“Cassandra?” Styx demanded.
“Yes.”
Pure relief flowed through Styx. “Alive.”
“At least for now,” Salvatore said, racing toward the end of the corridor and throwing open the heavy steel door.
Styx entered the cell directly behind the King of Weres, his fangs lengthening as he caught sight of the mutated beast that rose up in fury at their entrance.
Holy . . . shit.
Even after Salvatore’s warning, he was shaken. He’d seen any number of creatures, some so grotesque they could turn the stomach, but this was . . . wrong.
Perverted.
Distracted, Styx nearly overlooked the tiny female until she darted in front of the beast, her arms spread wide.
“No, stay back,” she cried, her delicate features so like Darcy that it made Styx’s heart clench in fear.
She had to be kept safe. His beautiful mate would be devastated if she were to lose her sister.
Not to mention the danger to the world at the loss of their prophet.
“Salvatore,” he muttered in low tones. “Do something or I will.”
The Were ignored his threat, focusing his power on the stubborn female who stood between them and the feral beast who could kill her with one blow.
“Cassandra, come to me.”
The force of his words crashed through the small cell, sizzling through the air with enough power to make Styx hiss in annoyance and Caine whine in pain.
Cassandra, however, stood without flinching, her eyes flashing emerald fire and the fine strands of her blond hair floating in the sudden breeze. “No. I won’t let you hurt him.”
“He’ll kill you,” Salvatore muttered, taking a step forward. “Now come to me.”
She scowled as the beast behind her growled in warning, his eyes glowing with madness and his large body poised to attack, despite the heavy silver manacles wrapped around his ankles.
“He won’t hurt me,” she ridiculously tried to convince them. “He only wants to protect me.”
“I’m sorry, Cassandra, more sorry than I can say, but he isn’t trying to protect you,” Salvatore said, lifting the gun. “He doesn’t even recognize you. He’s too far gone.”
Her eyes widened, the scent of her agitation making Caine howl in fury. “You’re wrong,” she hissed, her hands lifted in a pleading motion. “I reached him.”
Salvatore shook his head. “It’s impossible.”
“Not for his mate.”
Styx heard the King of Weres suck in a startled breath. “Mate?”
“He . . . no.” The prophet waved a frantic hand as Salvatore took a step forward when the feral beast wrapped a clawed hand around her arm. “Stay back.”
“Cassandra, it doesn’t matter.” Salvatore slowly continued forward, his gun aimed at the center of Caine’s chest. “I have to get you out of there.”
Cassandra winced as the beast dug his claws into her arm, his glowing gaze watching Salvatore with a growing fury, but still she tried to keep her body between her approaching king and the creature who had once been her mate.
“Listen to me. We’re connected,” she said in desperate tones. “He’s part of my family now.”
The words had barely left her lips when Caine thrust her behind his large body. The rough shove sent the much smaller female sailing through the air, her head hitting the lead wall with a sickening thud.
“Shit,” Styx rasped, watching Cassandra crumple to the ground before he turned to glare at the Were standing silently at his side. “What are you waiting for?”
A muscle in Salvatore’s jaw knotted, as if he were battling back his wolf. “She said family,” he replied, his voice harsh.
“So what?” Styx snapped, his attention shifting to the beast, who was pacing as far as the silver chains would allow him, his fangs bared in warning. The only good thing in this most recent debacle was that he seemed to have forgotten the unconscious woman behind him. “She’s desperate to save her mate. She would say anything to prevent the inevitable.”
“Sí. Her mate.”
Assuming that the King of Weres was regretting the need to sacrifice one of his pack, even if he had more than once desired Caine’s death, Styx held out a hand. “Salvatore, allow me to deal with this.”
“No.” The Were shook his head. “They weren’t mated before.”
Styx grimaced. “She completed the mating even knowing his madness is irreversible? Foolish female.”
“Not foolish,” Salvatore said in low tones, turning to meet Styx’s frustrated gaze. “Actually, she’s been very, very clever.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t reach Caine because he was transformed into a pureblood by the demon lord. He’d never been a part of a pack.”
Styx didn’t know the ins and outs of the mangy mutt society, but Salvatore’s words made sense. “And now?”
“Now he’s bound to Cassandra.”
Styx glanced toward the unconscious female. “But wasn’t she raised in isolation with the demon lord?”
“She was.”
“So she isn’t a part of a pack either.”
“Her connection was formed in the womb with her sisters, as well as through her mother, Sophia, to me.”
“What does that mean?”
“That there’s a chance I can call him back.”
Their gazes clashed, a silent battle between Salvatore’s grim determination and Styx’s fierce refusal to endanger the prophet.
At last, Styx reached to pluck the gun from Salvatore’s hand, conceding with ill grace to the Were’s need to try and salvage his newest pack mate. “Here, give me that.”
Salvatore narrowed his gaze in warning. “Styx.”
“You concentrate on doing your thing and I’ll make sure the rabid wolf doesn’t kill us all.”
Salvatore arched a brow. “Doing my thing?”
“Just get on with it.”
Convinced that Styx wasn’t going to go Tony Montana the minute his attention was diverted, Salvatore turned back toward the crazed beast and lifted a hand.