Lure of Oblivion

Brandt snarled. “All we’ll have done is killed two measly humans. You and Yvonne are no one to them. They won’t bother avenging you.”

“Yeah, little boy, they will . . . because I’m part of the Mercury Pack now too. I mated Zander.”

Ezra’s face went slack. “That’s a lie.”

Gwen smirked. “No, talking bullshit is your thing. I wear his mark. He wears mine.”

Nelson hissed a curse. “She’s no better than one of them now, Ezra. Let’s get this done. We need to get on with this and leave. If she’s telling the truth, he’ll feel her pain through that weird mating-bond thing. He’ll come for her.”

Very true, and that made Gwen smile.

“I’m not rushing this,” said Ezra.

“Then we need to go down to the second floor and do it there,” insisted Nelson.

Ezra’s face scrunched up. “Why?”

Nelson’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t like it up here. I heard the third floor is haunted.”

Ezra snickered. “Don’t be so ridiculous.” But his eyes darted around, wary.

Gwen hid her smirk, but Yvonne didn’t as she said, “He’s right, you know. This floor sees the most paranormal activity. Didn’t you notice the lights flashing on and off? Don’t you feel that draft? I don’t think the ghosts like what you’re doing.”

“Ask them for me after we kill you and you join them,” Moira snarled. And then she backhanded Yvonne so hard that the woman almost fell back against the wall.

Without thought, Gwen lunged for the bitch, but Nelson wrapped his big, thick arms around her and pulled her out of the way.

“Now you get to watch as they hurt her,” Brandt said with a cruel smile. “You get a front-row seat.”

Ezra’s boot slammed into Yvonne’s stomach, and Gwen tried lunging again. She failed again. One of Nelson’s arms released her, and cold metal dug into her forehead.

“Try that again, and I’ll shoot you right now.”

Fuck.

The wolf clamped his jaws around the leg of the barely moving cheetah. He spun the cat, sending it sliding into the murky river. Then he stood, sides heaving. His fur was matted with blood, mud, and the odious marsh water. His injuries burned, but the wolf ignored the pain.

The mercenaries were strong. Fast. But they did not work as a unit—not like the wolf, his pack mates, and the Phoenix wolves. That made the mercenaries vulnerable.

Sharp teeth dug into his rear leg. The wolf whirled hard enough to dislodge the attacker. The fox tumbled, rolled. The wolf pounced, biting down on the fox’s neck and raking open its stomach . . . watching as the life left its eyes.

At the sound of a roar, the wolf snapped his head up. A lioness was charging through the high grass, eyes blazing. The wolf braced himself, snarling.

Gunshot. The lioness stumbled. Staggered. Crumpled to the ground.

A shadow fell over the wolf. The human. Donnie. The wolf approved of him. He was fierce. Bloodthirsty. A predator.

“I don’t know if you can understand me, but a few other wolves are trying to take down a grizzly over there. They may need your help.”

The wolf did not understand the words. But his inner human urged the wolf to head in the direction that the human was pointing. The wolf ran, leaving prints in the mud, splashing the water pools.

Soon, he heard the distinct booming roar of a bear. The wolf skidded to a halt. Two of his pack mates were charging at the grizzly from either side—clawing and biting. The bear batted them away with its large paw, but it was bleeding heavily. Tired. Weak.

The wolf charged at the bear’s front and leaped. Hit it hard. Sank his teeth into fur and flesh. The grizzly batted him away. The wolf hit the ground, but the mud cushioned his fall. He stood, shaking his head.

A margay dropped down from a branch above them and landed on the bear’s back. The bear arched with a roar, and the wolf knew the margay had raked her claws down its back as she slid down to the ground.

The grizzly whirled to find the margay, who had jumped to expertly miss the human’s trap. The bear did not see the trap. It fell right into it and disappeared into the pit. Its agonized roar told the wolf that the grizzly had fallen onto the bed of spikes.

The wolf turned. Looked for more enemies. There were many dead bodies. He could not see or hear—

He froze as hate rushed through him. Hate and fear. Echoes of his mate’s emotions. Heart racing, the wolf whirled and ran for the house. He tasted his own fear. Fear for her. Fear of losing her.

As he neared the house, he heard human cries of pain. Female cries. But they were not coming from his mate. He knew through their bond that she was not hurt.

The wolf ran for the steps that would lead to the porch. A hard weight barreled into his side, sending him sprawling. The wolf crashed into the truck. Spots dotted his vision.

Rory stood over him. “Hello, brother. You’re supposed to be dead by now. Shame. But I don’t mind taking care of that problem.”

The wolf growled. He did not understand the words, but he heard the cruel intent in them. The wolf stood, snarling. He did not care that the male was his sibling. He wanted him dead. Wanted to taste his blood. Wanted to watch the life leave his eyes as he had with the fox.

“I didn’t want it to come to a fight between us. You’re my twin, after all. We’re part of each other in a weird way. Right? All you had to do was give me what was mine. I told you what would happen if you didn’t. I warned you. But you didn’t listen. You brought this on yourself, Zander. And now your little human will die, and so will you.”

Rage exploded inside him—the emotion came from the man within the wolf.

“I can smell her on you. Your scents have mixed. Congratulations on your mating. A pity you had such little time to enjoy it.” Rory lifted a gun, pointed it at the wolf. “I told Ezra that I’d let him have her, but . . . maybe I’ll claim that pleasure myself once I’m done with you and—”

Another wolf launched himself at Rory, knocking him down. The gun slid under the truck. Zander lunged for the surface so hard that the wolf did not have the opportunity to fight him for dominance.

Standing, Zander glared down at his brother, nostrils flaring. “You’ll never touch her again.” He signaled for Jesse’s wolf to back away from Rory—this was something Zander had to do himself. Jesse’s wolf let out a disgruntled growl as he moved aside. Zander rolled back his shoulders. “You want to fight, Rory? No, I won’t give you that. People fight to win. I don’t want to win. I want to kill you. You know I can.”

Rory staggered to his feet, putting a hand to the claw marks on his side. “You’re bleeding—”

“Now, so are you.” Not near as badly as Zander, but bad enough. “And how fucking typical is it of you that you wouldn’t attack until you thought I was too weak to beat you. I’ll always beat you, Rory. Every time. Because you’re the weak one. You always were. A part of you even knows that. You’ll just never face it because, as I said, you’re weak.”

Rory sniggered. “Not so weak that I didn’t get dear old Mom and Dad to leave me everything.”

“And what was it you thought I wanted from two people who were as equally pathetic as you? Abusive people are weak, and that was what Pearl was. Dad wouldn’t stand against Pearl, not even to defend his own kids. He was spineless, like you. So, where’s your victory?”