Lure of Oblivion
Page 80
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Zander.”
The whisper snatched him out of sleep a few nights later. Zander blinked. There was no one there, except for the female sleeping peacefully at his side. Still, tension began to creep into his muscles. Something felt . . . wrong. Like the air was charged with something.
The sound of fast footsteps was quickly followed by knuckles rapping on the door. “Zander, we got company coming our way,” warned Derren, urgency in every syllable.
Motherfucker. Zander shot out of bed and reached for his jeans. “Ally had a vision? What did she see? Moore?”
“Shifters. Lots of shifters.”
Zander stilled, frowning. “Shifters?” Fuck.
Gwen’s eyes flickered open. “You okay?” Whatever she saw in his expression made her bolt upright, fisting the bed sheets. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
“Z, we have to go,” Derren called out.
Gwen swallowed. “I’ll be okay. Go.”
He could hear in her voice that she didn’t want him to go, but she wasn’t going to ask him to be something he wasn’t and remain behind. He couldn’t leave his pack mates to face the trouble alone, but he didn’t want to leave his mate either. His instinct was to stay with her, protect her. His wolf felt just as torn.
Gwen tugged on her jeans, noticing that Zander was staring at her, jaw hard. “Really, I’ll be fine.” Snatching her handgun from the top drawer of the dresser, she said, “I have claws of my own, remember.”
Hooking his hand around her neck, Zander pulled her close and skimmed his fingertips along her jaw. She meant fucking everything to him, more than he’d thought anything could. “You know what to do.”
“I know.” They’d been through the plan countless times, and Gwen hadn’t forgotten.
He gave a short nod of satisfaction. “Be safe for me, yeah?”
“If you get hurt, I’ll be super pissed. Just note that.”
He kissed her, clasping her nape tight. “I’ll be back.” Since he’d be shifting soon, Zander didn’t bother dressing. He just headed out into the hallway, where his pack mates and the Phoenix Betas were waiting.
As they crossed to the staircase, adrenaline spiked within him, and his pulse began to quicken. He was ready for this. Wanted it over and fucking done with. “Did anyone wake Yvonne?”
“Gwen says she often takes sleeping pills,” Zander told her. Marlon was staying at his boyfriend’s house, so that was one less person for Gwen to worry about. “What breed of shifter are we dealing with, Ally?”
“Multiple,” she replied. “Seems like Moore hired himself a group of mercenaries. In my vision, they were coming from the east.”
As they hurried down the stairs, Dante said, “Then we go east, cut them off.”
Their priority was to make sure the trespassers didn’t get near the house. Gwen and Yvonne would be hiding in the attic. But if any shifters got into the house, they would be able to follow their scents up there; they’d find them eventually. Zander needed to be sure that didn’t happen.
He yanked open the front door, and they all filed outside onto the porch. The night air was cooler than usual, and a mist was rolling along the river. “How long do we have before they cross onto the land?” Sometimes Ally’s visions were of something that would happen only minutes later; sometimes it was longer.
Ally pursed her lips. “I can’t be sure, because—”
A loud rumbling sound seemed to vibrate through the air, and then . . . boom, followed by a pained roar. Which meant someone had set off one of Donnie’s traps.
Harley hissed. “They’re here.”
As one, they shifted and ran toward the trespassers.
The house was so deathly quiet that she could hear the explosions, growls, roars, and gunshots—which meant Donnie had clearly joined the fight. Her stomach churned. Knowing Zander was out there, fighting for her, maybe even bleeding for her . . . it was hard to keep calm.
“Yvonne, we gotta go. Now. Come on.”
Yvonne placed a hand on her stomach and followed her out of the room. “I didn’t think the Moores would be stupid enough to do this. The shifters will eat them alive. Literally.”
“Ezra hasn’t come. He sent a bunch of lone shifters.” Fucking coward. Somehow, Gwen kept her shit together as she led Yvonne down the hallway. A smashing of glass from somewhere ahead of them made Gwen grind to a halt. Her pulse skittered. “Someone’s inside. Must have broken through a terrace room.” Shit.
“Go up,” urged Yvonne. The attic had a secure door and, even better, a decent-size fire exit.
Heart pounding, Gwen grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the staircase. But they didn’t make it. One of the bedroom doors swung open, and a heavy weight crashed into Gwen’s side, tackling her. She landed awkwardly, wincing as pain struck her shoulder.
The male rolled her onto her back and straddled her, and it was only then that she realized it was Thad. His big, beefy hand snapped around her wrist and bent it awkwardly, trying to make her drop the Glock. She balled her free hand into a fist and slammed it into the bridge of his nose. There was a nauseating crack, and he bit out a harsh curse as blood dripped from his nose.
Yvonne came up behind him and yanked so hard on his collar that it dug into his throat. Making choking sounds, his hands flew to his collar . . . releasing Gwen. She dug the Glock into his chest, right above his heart, and fired. He paused, eyes widening in shock.
Gwen propelled herself upward, shoving him out of her way, and scrambled to her feet. Bile rose in her throat. She’d never killed anyone before. Shot them, sure, but never killed. Maybe she’d feel bad about it later, when adrenaline and panic weren’t feverishly racing through her system. For now, getting Yvonne to safety was her priority.