Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
LUPE
T he handcuffs bit into my skin as we were paraded through the center of camp.
I cast a glare at the shifter to the right of me, baring my teeth, but he simply stared straight ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line.
All around me, the men and women I’d led into battle—my friends and family—were being restrained and even killed in some cases. I felt sick to my stomach.
I’d failed them.
I’d failed them all.
This was my mission. I’d promised Z I could handle it.
How did everything go to shit so quickly?
The plan had been fairly simple. Our best snipers would take out all of the guards manning the perimeter at once. Then a rather large group of us would storm through the front gate, serving as a distraction. Smaller groups would infiltrate from the side entrances.
Killian was assigned to enter through a lone door in the back, surrounded by guard houses. He would, hopefully, sneak through the camp unnoticed until he came across the humans. Then he would use his incubus gifts to calm them and lure them towards the exit. Easy.
However, there were nearly quadruple the number of troops stationed here than there were last night. All of them were armed and angry.
Like they knew we were coming.
A growl ripped free before I could contain it, and I debated my options, glancing in all directions.
If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that there were at least seventy of my soldiers still alive. Of those, half of them were injured, though I couldn’t tell the severity.
Bash was being pushed forward in front of me, his hands tied behind his back in an attempt to prohibit him from doing any magic. Killian was to the right of me, blood trickling down his cheek from a wound on his head. He, too, was tied up, but he had the addition of a gag in his mouth—probably to prevent him from “seducing” the guards. His eyes flickered from face to face, wide with fear.
Think, Lupe, think! I mentally growled to myself.
I could shift, but I wasn’t sure what good that would do in my current predicament. Every guard here was a shifter. My bear was large, but it would be no match against one hundred ferocious animals, all intent on sinking their teeth into my flesh.
“Move.” The guard behind me shoved at my shoulders, and I threw him a glare.
As soon as I was free—and trust me, I would be free—I would rip his head straight from his body. I had never considered myself a violent person before, preferring to use my words over my fists, but currently, my veins hummed with the desperate need for blood and vengeance.
Both my bear and I knew it would be the only way to get back to our mate.
“Turner! You piece of shit!” Bash raged from in front of me.
I redirected my attention to see my mage brother glaring straight ahead.
Turner, the human we’d reluctantly recruited, stood near a stone-faced guard—probably the warden of this camp, if the war medals decorating his chest were any indication. I couldn’t determine what type of shifter he was from this far away, but he was huge, with grizzly, gray hair, an eye patch, and numerous scars slicing down his neck.
Turner lowered his head at Bash’s shout, shame darkening his cheeks.
He was the traitor? I should’ve seen it coming, but stupidly, I’d believed that his need to free the humans outweighed his hatred of us. How could he? No…the real question was…how dare he? How fucking dare he?
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I bellowed, lunging forward. The guards reached to restrain me, but I easily swatted them away, continuing my forward momentum. “Do you even know what you’ve done? Do you?”
I was close enough now that I could see the whites of his eyes. I growled at him, the noise low and threatening, and he staggered back a step before catching himself. Stopping. Straightening his shoulders.
“I did what I had to do for my family,” Turner said stiffly, his glare penetrating.
“You killed dozens of your own kind,” Bash snapped.
Behind his back, green fire lit his hands, but with no way to direct the magic, it sputtered and then flickered out.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Turner bared his teeth at the mage before turning to me. “It’s your fault they were in this situation to begin with! You deserve to die for what you’ve done. They don’t!” His anger and fear were making him hysterical. Desperate. He whirled towards the warden with bloodshot eyes, a tremor raking down his spine. “Please. I told you I could get you the shifter prince. Let my family go. Please.”
“You fucking dumbass,” Bash muttered, too low for Turner to hear.
He shook his head ruefully and looked away, his jaw clenched.
But I remained watching, unsure of what the fuck I should be feeling as the warden stepped up to Turner, grabbed his head between his meaty hands, and gave it a sharp twist.
Turner dropped to the ground, dead.
What was this emotion bubbling in my chest? Guilt? Regret? Happiness? Triumph? Something else entirely? I didn’t know for sure, and that terrified me.
I didn’t want to rejoice over the death of another man, even one as awful as Turner. All he wanted was to save his family, and could I blame him? If Z had been the human in this camp, I would’ve done whatever it took to free her, consequences be damned.
But at the end of the day, there was nothing I could do to change how today had transpired. Turner didn’t trust me and my brothers enough to follow through on our plan. He’d always intended to turn us in.
Now I just needed to figure out a way to get us out of this mess. Z would have my balls if she had to save me.
“This is what happens when you’re a traitor to the crown!” The warden moved to stand on the rickety front porch of one of the buildings, the wood beneath him beginning to rot and decay. He flashed his fangs in a malicious smile and lifted a fist into the air. “We serve the true king!”
The guards around us all began to cheer and laugh. One of them purposely elbowed me in the stomach, though I didn’t stumble or allow even a smidgen of the pain I felt to appear on my face. I wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction.
Bash shot me a look from across the way, his eyes expressing everything he couldn’t say out loud.
What the fuck do we do now?
Killian flicked his eyes my way before very purposely looking in the other direction—towards a large stone building covered in rows of unwashed windows. Thin, sunken faces peeked out, dirt smeared on their cheeks, their hair disheveled.
Humans.
They must’ve moved all of the humans into this building when they caught wind of our impending attack. I had no idea what it served as—maybe a cafeteria—but if the humans were there…
But no. I couldn’t expect them to fight. They were more than likely weak from years of malnutrition and beatings.
Scenario after scenario flitted through my head as I analyzed our strengths and weaknesses. Bash couldn’t use his magic currently, but that didn’t mean he was without protection. And Killian couldn’t speak, but if we could just get the gag out of his mouth?—
“Soon, the body before us will be that of the Liberator!” The warden flashed another grin, the motion tugging at the scars on his face and neck. “She’ll come for her mates, and when she does, we’ll show her how real men fuck.”
A red haze descended over my vision.
Bash bellowed something I couldn’t quite make out, and Killian screamed around his gag, rage emanating from his eyes. I processed this all in a way that felt almost disembodied, like someone else was experiencing this, and I was simply an observer.
Not Z.
Never Z.
I would not be used as a trap to capture and harm my girl.
I metaphorically popped back into my body with a snap, my veins alight and my pulse pounding. I was the embodiment of wrath.
And everyone here would die.
With a roar, I shed my human skin and threw myself into the fray.
Die.
Die.
Die.