“Freeze!” A man’s snarl this time, not a wolf’s, but she hadn’t been moving anyway. Sarah let her stare dart to the doorway. To the two scared-looking cops. Their eyes weren’t on her. They were staring at the bodies. Four bodies. And a hell of a lot of blood.
Lucas was stronger than she’d realized and so much more dangerous. Was she really up for this game?
“Holy f**king shit . . .” One of the uniforms swallowed quickly and it looked like he might be sick.
Now what was she supposed to say? The older cop, the one who’d gone two shades paler, had his gun pointed right at her. “I didn’t do this,” she finally managed. Yes, that sounded good. “There’s no blood on me, I don’t have a weapon—I didn’t do this.”
“Then who the hell did?” The older cop barked.
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Who did this?”
Her mouth snapped closed. She wouldn’t trade Lucas’s secrets for her life.
A groan had her attention shifting to that blood-soaked floor. Marley blinked up at her. “Wh—”
“Is someone else there?” The cop yelled, and the guy’s partner finally seemed to get control of himself. Now two guns were pointed right at her.
“Look, officers—”
“Cops?” Marley’s whisper. “No.” She sprang to her feet, and then the fire erupted. A line of flames snaked across the cabin, burning the dead shifters as the fire crackled and spread—and those flames, they headed right for the cops.
“Sonofabitch!”
Bullets blasted. Pain burned across Sarah’s arm. From the fire? From the bullets? The flames raged higher. The demon vanished in the growing smoke, and Sarah was left to face the fire alone.
The echo of gunfire reverberated in Lucas’s ears even as the scent of smoke burned his nose. He froze in the woods, his head tilting back. His body still had the form of a wolf, but the man inside was all too aware of the dangers around him. Bullets and smoke. His head turned . . .
The old cabin.
He lunged forward, but Michael plowed into his side, knocking him back.
Have to get away. Michael’s desperate thought, one that was reflected in the eyes of the wolf. We left too many dead back there. Can’t let the cops get us.
Like he f**king cared about the cops. Sarah. She couldn’t handle fire and if one of those idiots so much as scratched her—
You can’t help her as a wolf. Michael’s fierce reminder.
No, the wolf couldn’t help her.
The cops will take her in, Michael continued, panting from the run they’d made. We’ll get her out. We’ll do whatever we have to do, but we’ll get her out.
He spun away, a howl ripping from his throat as he let the hot pain of the shift sweep through his body.
He’d promised to protect Sarah, and he damn well planned to keep his part of the deal.
Dane slowly opened his eyes, aware that something wet was dripping down his face. His nostrils flared—shit, that something wet was blood. That scent was undeniable, and so was the scent of . . . coyote.
Fuck. He was sitting down, his body slumped in a chair, and his arms were behind his back. He tried lifting his hands, but metal bit into his wrists. Hard, burning metal.
“It’s silver,” a soft voice told him.
His gaze flew to the left. There she was. The pretty little thing who’d screwed his concentration in the woods. A weakness for women—when the hell would he learn?
“Sorry about that,” she said, not sounding sorry. “But I didn’t have a lot of choice.”
His lips stretched in a mirthless grin. “I’m sure you didn’t.” He made sure she saw his lengthening fangs.
“We needed you.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug that had her red hair sliding back over her shirt. “At least you’re still alive.”
Why was he still alive? Coyotes didn’t usually let their prey survive.
Her gaze tracked to the blood sliding down his face. “Shouldn’t you have healed from that?”
And shouldn’t she know that not all shifters healed at the same rate? “Silver’s slowing me down,” he muttered.
A fast blink from her. “Right.”
Bullshit. “What’s the plan? You gonna let the dogs in so they can take turns swiping at me?” Or was she going to save all the torturing fun for herself?
Now her eyes darted to the window on the left. The only window in the room. He jerked against the cuffs once more. No damn give at all. But . . . he let his claws break through the skin.
“They’re not here right now,” she whispered.
His brows snapped up, and he felt the faint pull from the torn skin on his forehead. He vaguely remembered slamming into the rocks when the ass**le behind him attacked. “Where are they?”
“You don’t really want to know.”
The claw on his left index finger slipped inside the lock. “Where?” His voice was loud, the better to cover the scratch of his claws as he worked on the cuffs. The silver burned, but he was used to pain. Pain had been his intimate friend since before he could even shift, and he had the criss-cross of scars on his body to prove it.
“Why do you think you’re still alive?” she asked instead. Fine, he’d keep her talking. “You want to use me.” He let his gaze rake her. “Can’t say that I’ll mind you using me.”
She blushed. What the f**k? Since when did coyote women blush? Sex was as natural to them as breathing—and killing. His nostrils flared again. The scent of coyote was everywhere and it was strongest around the woman.
“If they don’t succeed, we’ll trade you.”
The claw snagged on the locking mechanism. “For the charmer?”
He caught the faint widening of her eyes. “She told you what she could do?”
“Even gave us a little demo.” He kept his smile in place. “So what does a bunch of dogs want with a little lady who only works with wolves?”
“You know the bounty on her.”
He whistled just as the lock popped open. “Can’t say I wasn’t tempted to take that myself.”
“You’d turn on your alpha?” No missing the doubt heavy in her voice. “Don’t lie to me.”
He wouldn’t.
“He should have just turned her over. Now there will be no chance for him.”
Tension had his body tight. “Your dogs went after Lucas?”
“The truce is over. They’re going to drag his body back.”