Dane threw a glance over his shoulder. Lucas barely seemed to breathe. The stench of silver burned Dane’s nose. Dammit, this was not the way the alpha should have been taken out. Not for—
Me.
His breath hissed out. “He shouldn’t have made the trade.”
“Wasn’t him,” Piers said, not looking his way. Piers had locked his gaze on the big Haitian with the seen-the-devil eyes. “Sarah went for the trade.”
Grunts reached his ears. Frantic, wild. Muffled. He turned his head and caught the golden gaze glaring at him. Her. Hell. He couldn’t just leave her bound and gagged. Not forever.
When hell had come calling at that coyote slaughterhouse, he’d grabbed the woman. Human. As far as he could figure, anyway. He’d heard the screams of the coyotes, smelled the blood, and knew that a war had broken out. He’d tossed the blonde over his shoulder and held tight as he fought his way out of that nightmare. He’d gotten away, mostly in one piece.
And he’d taken her with him.
He’d thought they might get information from her. Thought they might be able to use her.
Her head twisted toward the line of men and women in white, and she mumbled something behind the gag.
Hell. He leaned into the van and yanked out her gag.
“Are you crazy?” she whispered. “Do you know where we are?”
“He’s dying.” That was all that needed to be said. If they had to trade with the devil, so be it.
She gulped. “Marie won’t help you for free. There’s always a price.”
“Then we’ll pay it.”
“Even if she wants wolf pelts?”
His fingers brushed her delicate jaw. “He’s not dying.”
Her gaze seemed to bore into him. “You’re playing with some serious fire.”
“For a human, you are, too.”
He caught the flicker of her lashes. Ah . . .
“Bring the wolf.” The voice boomed into the night.
Dane spun back around. The big Haitian had stepped forward. “Marie will take him.”
He caught sight of Sarah’s hair then, blowing in the breeze. A breeze, shit—where had that come from?
Sarah ran toward him, her face stark white. “She’ll help us!”
Hot damn.
“Piers, Dane, bring him in!”
Carefully, he and Piers lifted Lucas. The alpha’s head hung limply and his eyes never opened.
They’d taken four steps when he heard the crunch of gravel. Dane glanced back. The woman—still didn’t know her name—was outside of the van, and the ropes were at her feet.
“Don’t go in there!” She stared at the line of white with narrowed eyes. “Don’t trade with her—just let him go!”
She meant let him die.
No.
She shook her head and backed away slowly. “You already have enough enemies after you. Do you really need more?”
“Get out of here, Karen,” Sarah said. “This call isn’t yours to make.”
What the hell? Sarah knew her?
Karen turned around and ran into the night.
Dane’s shoulders stiffened as they approached the house. Piers was heading in first, his hold on Lucas’s feet and—
Piers froze. No, not just froze. The guy seemed to slam into some kind of brick wall.
“He can’t enter.” The Haitian. He pushed Piers out of the way and grabbed Lucas’s feet. “Too much of the beast inside. Wanting to break free, is he?”
Piers growled. “I’m not letting you take—”
“You know you’re losing control.” A woman’s voice rang out, lifting and rolling like the man’s. “How long will it be . . .” A small woman appeared, skin dark, her eyes blue—blind. Marie Dusean. “Before you lose yourself?”
The breeze was back, stronger now.
Marie turned her stare onto Dane. “You like the pain too much now.” She shook her head. “You won’t make it inside either. Not with the demon on your back.”
What the hell?
“You’ll have a choice,” she whispered to him. “Go back to the shadows and the screams, Dane, or—”
Another man tried to shoulder him out of the way. His hold tightened on Lucas.
“He’s dying,” Sarah whispered, her hands wrapping around his. “Just let her take him.”
That blind stare of Marie’s was still on him. “Screams or sacrifice, Dane. Choose.”
He let Lucas go.
Marie’s men took Lucas inside. Sarah hurried after them. Fuck this, he was going, too. Dane barreled forward—
And seemed to slam into the same invisible wall that Piers had hit.
“Evil can’t cross my line,” Marie’s voice floated back to him.
Line? He looked up, down—and saw the line of red dust. And wait—had she said evil? Dane glanced at Piers. Since when in the hell were they evil?
Too much of the beast inside.
His fist slammed into nothing, but it sure as shit felt like he’d just punched a solid wall.
They lowered Lucas onto a table. Candles were placed at his feet, his head, and near his bound hands.
“Why are you tying him down?” Sarah asked.
“So he doesn’t kill us,” the Haitian—Maxime—said quietly.
“He can barely move.” Wasn’t moving, “Why would you need to—”
Marie threw a gray liquid onto Lucas. Her chants filled the room. The clouds left her eyes and the blue sharpened, too bright, glittering . . .
A howl tore from Lucas. He arched up, nearly ripping his binds apart. Silver began to leak from the deep wounds on his body.
“Hold him,” Maxime ordered.
Sarah jumped forward. Her hands pressed down on Lucas’s chest. His eyes opened, burning as brightly as Marie’s, and they locked on her. “Sarah . . .” The broken rasp of his voice.
“You’re okay,” she told him, talking quickly, babbling.
“She’s getting the silver out, you’re going to be fine, you’re—”
He sagged back against the table. His eyes still stared up at her, but he—he was gone.
Dead?
“Lucas?”
He didn’t move.
Sarah’s gaze flew up. Marie had her hands in the air, her chants came now, fast, but low. “What’s happening?” Sarah demanded.
Marie kept chanting.
“Dammit!” Sarah tore her hands away from Lucas.
“What’s—”
The binds snapped, and he surged off the table.