Chapter 55
fifty-five
DANE
“Listen, we both know how this ends.”
The guy strapped to the chair in front of me writhes, spitting curses behind the scrap of fabric tied around his head. It’s dirty and I feel weirdly guilty about that; but what am I supposed to do? Launder our hostage restraints?
We don’t exactly abide by the Geneva Convention down here.
I sigh, tapping the flat side of my knife against my open palm.
“Normally, I’d let you say your piece. Have your last words.
Beg for mercy and try to turn on your whole operation to save your own miserable guts,” I tell him.
“But the thing is—my omega is going into heat any day now. And my packmate over there already found the names of the rest of your guys on your phone.”
I nod at Rhys, who flashes a menacingly bright grin, spinning this piece of shit’s phone in his palm. Tonight’s arrangement was his idea—we typically have safe houses where we do our dirty work, but neither of us wanted to be too far from Briar.
Honestly, I wish this could have waited. The closer she gets to her haze, the worse her nightmares have gotten. Last night, it was so bad that Cillian barely managed to snap her out of it with one his alpha barks.
Every time I close my eyes, I hear her whimpering in her sleep. Saying Violet’s name.
I just want to hold her, damn it.
We’ve been tracking this cartel for years, though. They’re the ones who set our building on fire that night; and then disappeared completely until they resurfaced a few months ago, operating out of a flop house in the Bronx.
“And when we told our girl we had a trace on one of the bastards who tried to kill her mates…” Rhys starts, trailing off ominously. He grins wider. “Well, let’s just say she gave us permission to deal with you however we wanted.”
Our target’s eyes flare wider. He starts struggling in earnest, shouting around the gag.
Rhys rolls his eyes, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know when a man is desperately pleading for his life and when he has something of value to say.
This is no underling, either—this guy is the cartel leader’s little brother.
If he has actual information he thinks we won’t find on his phone…
“Christ,” I grunt, flicking my knife so it cuts the gag. And a little bit of his cheek, too. “Fine. Just make it quick. We don’t want to be late for dinner.”
The fucker spits stained, saliva-soaked fabric out of his mouth, panting as he shouts, “Who the—who told you we tried to kill you? That doesn’t even make fucking sense. We bought our weapons and shit from you!”
Rhys crosses his arms, coming to stand beside me as I consider the criminal’s bulging brown eyes. “Is he lying?” my packmate asks. “We have a ton of intel about this group setting the fire. Cillian even cleaned out their borough rat holes that night in retaliation.”
Our human pincushion chokes. “That was you guys?! We hit a rival gang back for that shit! Why the hell would we have taken a hit out on you fuckers? You sold us everything we needed!”
We assumed they’d discovered our true plans—to lure them into a false sense of security with the rifles and then take them out. That night, Cillian had gone to avenge the attempt on our lives, but where did he get his information?
Rhys was unconscious. And I was in surgery for nearly a full day.
I don’t make the mistake of looking at Rhys, giving away my sudden doubts. I sense his scent shift, though, the eucalyptus sharpening until it’s a blade every bit as cutting as mine.
“Look,” he says, sighing. “We appreciate your contribution to our little operation here, but even if you’re right and your brother didn’t order the hit on us, we still have a bigger issue.”
“Yeah,” I agree, getting back on task. “Something about your cartel cutting an entire shipment of Molly with fentanyl? And planning to focus sales in northeastern college towns?”
Ah. There it is.
The moment this guy realizes he’s well and truly dead.
My usual wave of guilt swells in my stomach, but Briar’s whispered words come back to me.
Last night, when the others had fallen asleep, our omega sensed my restlessness—the worries I had about bringing our work here, near her. How much I struggle with what I am now that I have her.
In typical Briar fashion, she didn’t turn it into a therapy session or make a scene.
My mate simply gazed up at the elegant ivory patterns on her ceiling and sighed, “Have you ever thought you might not be a bad guy? You protect so many people who would have been harmed, before they ever have to know they were in danger. And yeah, the way you do it is… grisly. But…”
She turned to me slowly, with a look I knew I’d remember until my last breath. Warm and soft and bright. My moonbeam. Whispering, “What if you’re not the monster in this story, big man? What if you’re the hero?”
Because that’s the thing—if these fuckers live, innocent people die.
And if being the person who stands between evil and the rest of the world, holding that line, makes me a beast?
Well, at least I’m Briar’s beast.
The rest of my work is quick. We only have about half an hour before dinnertime and we need to take showers first. Rhys helps me clean up, his expression ponderous while we go through our usual disposal motions.
“It was Gideon, wasn’t it?” he finally mumbles. “He was the one who gave Cillian his intel on this cartel? Said his packmate—the nerdy one—skimmed it off some FBI database?”
I had the same thought. At the time, Cillian probably thought nothing of taking his cousin’s help; we weren’t rivals competing for the company yet.
“Yeah. It was.”
I remember Gideon’s face at the bookstore—his overeager eyes and the insistent way he grabbed Briar’s wrist. The simple choice that changed my whole world.
“No. No I don’t.”
She didn’t want to get away from me. She wanted to stay.
I’ve spent every day of the last two weeks trying to be worthy of her decision. It’s too easy, with Briar. She inspires me to be better—share more, open myself to her and the rest of our pack.
I figure I need to practice… in case she ever wants to bond with us.
Rhys senses the shift in my scent and smirks. “Alright, let’s go. My Alpha wants to check on her, too. Especially after this shit.”
I see his point. Between the way Gideon harassed Briar and now the fact that he was trying to divert Cillian’s attention from whoever actually burned us…
What’s that guy’s angle? And why was he gunning for us so long ago, before our race for an heir?
Is he still gunning for us now?
Or is he after something else?