Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)(82)

“Human,” Morgan corrected. “I never expected him to look so human.”

“Well, he isn’t human,” Andrew barked. “And he’d rip your friend’s throat out just as soon as he’d stick his cock in you.”

Morgan flinched and Cal pushed forward, banging his fist into the back of Andrew’s seat. “That’s enough, Andrew.”

“Stop the car,” Andrew ordered, and Ken quickly obliged. “I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. There’s no reason to sugarcoat things.” He turned his hard gaze toward Morgan again. “If you fail, your friend dies.”

“If I fail, I die,” she countered, her look just as hard and unflinching.

Several heartbeats of silence passed with the two of them staring angrily at one another. Finally, Andrew broke away and shifted back in his seat, staring out at the scene ahead. “We’re not going to screw around here. It may look like he wants to start this off with a conversation, but be prepared for a full attack when you step out of this vehicle.” He shifted his gaze back to Morgan. “Put that damn hood up and stay close to the vehicle until we tell you to move. Got it?”

Morgan nodded, but she wasn’t looking at him, instead her eyes were riveted to Lazarus. A pricking of fear ran through Cal’s body as he watched her stare. Was she mesmerized already? He nudged her shoulder. “Morgan? You ready for this?”

She nodded again as she slowly raised the hood of the cloak.

Cal sucked in a deep breath, his hand on the door handle. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to let her out. “I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

Morgan’s head bobbed under the cloak. Cal wished she’d answer him, speak to him, tell him he had nothing to fear. But instead, she nudged for him to move, impatient to get going. With another deep breath, he obliged. All four doors were opened, weapons tightly clenched as everyone rolled out of the SUVs.

Lazarus stood waiting for them. Several of his pack, still in wolf form, paced about a hundred feet away. Watching, waiting.

Cal and the rest of the Hunters approached tentatively, eyes scanning, bodies tense. Everyone expected an attack. Morgan followed close behind him, her hand lightly brushing his lower back as he slowly moved forward. With his sword raised, Cal eyed Lazarus, the prickly feeling of a looming ambush playing across his neck.

“If you want your friend to die,” Lazarus said, his smooth voice echoing over the open space. “Then please, do come closer.”

They all froze. Morgan laid her hand fully on Cal’s back and he felt a tremble flow through her.

With a nod of Lazarus’s head, one of the wolves came forward, walking on its hind legs as it dragged a small woman behind it. Cal could only assume that this was Rachel—behind him, Morgan’s gasp confirmed that indeed it was.

The poor woman was clearly terrified, her clothes disheveled and dirty, her entire body trembling as she was half walked, half dragged, toward Lazarus.

Cal felt Morgan shift to his side, and he held his hand out to stop her from going forward. A small shake of his head and soft growl warned her to stay put.

Once Rachel reached Lazarus’s side, she crumpled to her knees and the other wolf retreated, loping away on all fours to pace with the others around the perimeter of the baseball diamond. The beast’s yellow eyes shifted from one Hunter to the next as if deciding which one it wanted to fight.

Lazarus smiled as he lowered his hand to Rachel’s head, his fingers entwining in her hair almost lovingly. Rachel shuddered at his touch, her chin quivering as her eyes welled with tears.

“You see, my pet?” he cooed. “They did come for you.” His smile faded into a twisted sneer as he laced his fingers further into her hair. He gripped the strands tightly as he yanked her up to stand. She screamed as he pulled. He hauled her up until her body rested against his chest, his other hand gripping her throat. “Now, where is my bride?” he bellowed.

Andrew shifted his head to the side. “She’s here. Let the girl go,” he called out.

Lazarus’s face twisted into an ugly smile as he tightened his grip on Rachel’s neck. “You’ve got her wearing that cloak of yours. I want to see her. Now. Or this bitch will die.”

Morgan gasped and pushed past Cal, yanking the hood from her head and unclasping the cloak. It fell into a useless lump on the ground, and his heart dropped with it.

“I’m here, I’m right here. Now, let her go,” Morgan said loudly, her voice steady and strong.

Lazarus’s greedy gaze fell on her and he sucked in a deep breath, his tongue darting out to touch his lips as they curled into a satisfied smile. “Ah, yes, it is you.”

Cal reached for Morgan as she started toward Lazarus, his bond reacting to the growing distance between them. He wanted her next to him, not walking straight toward the bastard. “Morgan.” Cal’s gut clenched as she moved out of his reach, ignoring his call.

“Yes, Lazarus, it’s me. Your bride. I’m here just as you wanted. Now let her go.”

Lazarus contemplated Morgan for a moment, and the way his golden eyes scanned her from head to toe had anger flashing through Cal’s body. Mine.

Cal shifted his feet, taking a step toward her, fist clenched as he raised his sword.

Lazarus turned his gaze to Cal, an eyebrow cocked as his grip tightened once again around Rachel’s throat. Rachel gagged, her hands rising to try to pull his fingers away as her eyes bulged.