Chapter 16
The bullet hole in Liam’s shoulder pulsed in the beat of a war drum—slow, savage, and impossible to ignore.
He’d made it three miles through back alleys and fog-thick streets, slipping past hunters swarming the village like furious wasps.
Now, slumped on the local vet’s metal examination table, the shock was peeling away, leaving a raw electric ache coursing through him and the oppressive weight of what came next.
“Hold still,” Gregory muttered in his soft Irish brogue, forceps deep in the wound. Metal scraped bone, and Liam’s vision flashed white as pain lit up his nerves.
Calan and Kitto flanked him, and their solid presence steadied him.
The vet kept casting anxious glances at Calan’s twitching ears and the patchy dark fur on Kitto’s forearms. Liam sensed the tension beneath the vet’s calm exterior, the way his hands trembled a fraction, though he kept his voice steady and measured.
Gregory’s forceps clamped down, and a sharp tug sent fire racing down Liam’s arm. The bullet clinked against a metal tray. “Got it.”
A groan escaped Liam, and it was closer to a yowl than he’d like to admit. Kitto’s hand clamped over his mouth.
“Easy,” Kitto murmured. “We need you conscious. We can’t exactly carry you through the village.”
“The hunters are everywhere,” Calan added, worry threading his voice. “We’re not going anywhere until they calm down or take a break.”
“You can’t stay here.” Panic edged Gregory’s brogue as he began cleaning the wound. “I have my wife and children to consider.”
Sienna. The not-knowing clawed at him worse than the bullet wound. Had she made it home? Was she safe, or was she lying somewhere, hurt and alone while he was stuck here, useless?
“Sienna,” he whispered.
“She was heading home with the others,” Kitto said. “Don’t worry. Papa trained us well.”
Liam kept his eyes squeezed shut while the vet worked, focusing on that certainty. Hedrek had trained them well. Sienna was smart, capable, and fierce when protecting those she loved. She’d made it home. She was safe.
“I like your parents,” he muttered as the vet began stitching. “Much better than mine ever were.”
“You can tell us later.” Kitto squeezed his good shoulder. “Gregory’s nearly done.”
The sharp hiss of an aerosol can was his only warning before the antiseptic hit the wound. Raw agony lanced down his arm, and this time he couldn’t muffle the scream. His vision grayed at the edges.
“There’s no need to hurt him,” Kitto snapped. “Liam got injured rescuing Sophie.”
“And he’s placed us all in danger,” Gregory shot back, his tone ice-cold. “Because of your family, I have to leave the village to keep my wife and kids safe. Do you know how much I hate staying with my in-laws?”
“Selfish, aren’t you? Only thinking of yourself.” Calan’s voice carried an edge Liam had never heard before.
“If you freaks didn’t live in our village, none of this would’ve happened. The mayor wouldn’t have called in the hunters and the animal collector.”
“Animal collector?” Kitto seized on the words.
“So this isn’t about the Bodmin Beast?” Calan pressed.
“Your kind are beasts,” Gregory spat.
A thunderous pounding echoed from the front of the house, followed by raised voices. Everyone froze.
“My wife. My kids.” Gregory stripped off his bloody gloves and bolted from the surgery, terror rolling off him in waves.
Liam forced his eyes open and struggled to sit up. Gentle hands held him in place.
“Stay,” Calan murmured. “Gregory isn’t stupid. If he tells the hunters about us, he endangers every villager, himself included. Those men saw several of us in leopard form tonight. They know something’s not normal in this town.”
It was the longest speech Liam had heard from the quietest Teague brother.
“We need transport,” Liam said through gritted teeth. “Does anyone know where we can get a vehicle?”
“Not unless we steal one,” Kitto said. “The problem is, you’re in no shape to drive, and Calan and I have never learned.”
“I’ll teach you.” Liam tried to rise again, swayed, and nearly pitched forward, but Kitto grabbed him. “After I can see straight again.”
“You barely made it this far. I doubt you’ll get much farther without face-planting,” Calan pointed out.
“But Liam’s right about moving,” Kitto said. “We can’t stay—Gregory might trade us for his family’s safety. I have an idea, though. There’s somewhere we can hide until things settle.”
Voices in the front room grew louder, Gregory’s placating tone mixing with deeper voices demanding answers.
“Where?” Calan asked.
Kitto’s ears flattened against his skull. “Jules has a painting studio. Her father doesn’t know I still visit.”
Calan gaped. “The mayor’s daughter? The same one who called in those hunters? The one who got you beaten to a pulp?”
“We’re friends. She helps me with art techniques. I help her with other things.”
“Other things?” Calan’s eyebrows lifted. “Kitto, you’ve been holding out on us.”
“It’s not like that.” Pink crept up Kitto’s neck. “We paint together. She’s got a studio in her garden that her parents never visit because they hate the smell.”
Gregory returned, opening the door so abruptly that all three of them jumped.
“They’ve gone, but you need to leave. Now.”
“We will,” Kitto said. “Thank you for treating Liam’s wound. What do we owe you?”
Gregory’s expression softened fractionally. “Nothing. You saved Sophie when everyone else turned their backs.” He paused. “But don’t get caught. I doubt anyone else will bother helping you.”
Liam groaned as he hauled himself off the examination table. His legs went rubbery, and only Kitto’s quick reflexes kept him upright.
“Rear exit?” Calan asked.
Gregory led them through his cottage and cracked open the back door, peering both ways. “Clear for now. Move fast.”
The fog had rolled in heavier while they were inside, a veil that offered cover but made every step treacherous. Each slow shuffle sent jolts through Liam’s shoulder, and he had to grit his teeth to keep silent.
“This way.” Kitto guided them away from the village center, taking a route Liam wouldn’t have expected.
They glided like ghosts through the narrow lanes between cottages, pausing whenever voices echoed through the fog. Twice, they had to duck into doorways as hunters passed, their heavy boots and easy chatter marking them as confident predators. Occasionally, their radios squawked.
By the time they arrived at the edge of the mayor’s property, Liam’s vision was swimming. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool, damp air.
“How much farther?” he mumbled.
“Just to that building.” Kitto pointed through the gloom toward a small structure barely visible beyond an ornate fountain. “Wait here while I check if Jules is around.”
He melted into the shadows, leaving Liam swaying against Calan’s steady bulk.
“My brother is full of secrets,” Calan muttered, but there was affection in his tone.
Kitto returned within minutes. “Jules is here. She says it’s safe to come in.”
“Will she tell her father we’re here?”
“No.” Kitto’s voice held absolute certainty. “She’s furious with him for bringing danger to the village. Her mother isn’t speaking to him either.”
They skirted the fountain—a Greek goddess pouring water from an urn—and Liam tried not to look at the dark windows of the mayor’s mansion. His legs were barely holding him up, and paranoia whispered that someone was watching from behind those curtains.
Kitto tapped on a door. It opened right away, and a pretty blonde stepped aside, her movements smooth, her gaze already scanning the street behind them.
Jules wasn’t who Liam had expected. Beautiful, yes, but her bright blue eyes held intelligence and determination rather than the vapid entitlement he’d expected from the mayor’s daughter. She took in his condition with one sweeping glance before springing into action.
“Put him on the couch,” she said, closing and locking the door behind them. “He needs to lie down before he falls.”
The studio was larger than it had appeared from outside, with easels and canvases arranged around the space. The sharp, pungent scent of turpentine and oil paints filled the air. Under any other circumstances, Liam would have been curious about her work.
They guided Liam to a paint-spattered couch, and his knees gave out the moment they let go. He collapsed onto the cushions with a pained grunt.
“Easy,” Kitto murmured, guiding him back. “Rest while we figure out the next step.”
“I should help plan,” Liam said, his voice thin.
“You’ve had two head injuries and got shot tonight,” Calan replied. “Rest. We’ll need you tomorrow. You’re no use to us if you’re unconscious.”
Liam blinked up at him, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. The quietest Teague brother was speaking up, and his words carried the same steady weight as his father’s.
Around them, low conversation stirred as the others mapped their next move. Outside, hunters prowled with renewed purpose. And somewhere in the fog, Edwin Smith was likely plotting how to grow his collection.
But here, surrounded by the fierce loyalty of the Teague family and an unexpected ally, Liam let himself relax. They’d rescued Sophie. They’d bloodied the billionaire’s nose.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but tonight, they were alive and together.
That had to be enough.