Savage Urges (The Phoenix Pack, #5)(55)

A few days later, Makenna woke to the sound of voices. Lots of them. Shouting. Chanting.

She groaned, wondering if the noise was responsible for her pounding headache. Forcing her eyes open, she saw that Ryan was gone from what had become his spot on her bed. She wasn’t surprised. Sleeping over at her apartment didn’t stop him from rising at the crack of dawn to go begin his enforcer duties. His scent lingered, tickling her senses and pleasing her wolf.

Rolling onto her back, Makenna stretched. And winced. Ryan had been exceptionally rough with her the night before. Not that she was complaining. She didn’t mind those little aches that reminded her he’d been there.

She did mind all those damn voices.

God, she needed some Advil or something.

With a huff, Makenna slid out of bed and pulled on her robe. In the bathroom, she opened the cabinet. No painkillers. Fucking grand. Turning on the faucet, she jerked back as the pipes groaned and water spluttered out in three short bursts. Then nothing. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Silently, she grumbled as she brushed her teeth—which was not a pleasant experience when she had no water to dilute the toothpaste. And when she dropped the roll of toilet paper into the toilet, she was more than a little pissed. Her wolf found it kind of amusing.

By the time Makenna returned to the bedroom, her headache was worse and she was seething. And those voices were still yelling. She marched into the living area. Halfway to her tiny window, she halted. She didn’t need to look outside to know what was happening. Not when she could now clearly hear the words they were chanting.

“We won’t be an animal’s mate. Exile all shifters before it’s too late. In the name of God, we stand and yell, ‘Shifters must return to hell!’”

Her wolf’s good mood fled. Oh, f*ck. Anti-shifter extremists. Not just any extremists, but the religious nut jobs—better described as people who’d been deprived of oxygen at birth and turned loco as a result. They were completely unhinged. Religion had nothing to do with why they did what they did; it was simply something they latched on to and used as justification.

Could her morning get any worse?

It couldn’t be a coincidence that they were outside a building wherein a lone shifter lived. Someone must have tipped them off to the whereabouts of a local loner. Prejudiced humans often sold the identities of loners to extremists.

She doubted the extremists knew what apartment was hers or they would have smashed her tiny windows by now—maybe even have tried to get inside. A few months ago, she’d chased off a lone shifter who had been bullying a human female outside the building. That meant that some of the human tenants knew she was a loner. If the extremists offered enough money to them, one might be persuaded to point the extremists in her direction.

One thing was for damn certain: she needed to get out of there.

She could try just walking out. If she were casual enough, they wouldn’t suspect her . . . unless they had a photograph or physical description. Crap.

The only other option was to use the fire exit. It was a small window, but she’d be able to slide through it. While there could be some extremists covering the rear of the building, it was only a matter of time before they found out which apartment she lived in, and Makenna didn’t see any other option.

She thought about calling Ryan and asking him to collect her, since she had no way of reaching her Mustang. But she couldn’t risk the extremists spotting her with him. They would take his license plate, find out what pack he was from, and then switch their attention to the Phoenix wolves. She couldn’t allow that. For the same reason, she couldn’t call Madisyn. She’d have to slip away alone and then call someone when she was a safe distance from the building.

Plan in place, Makenna pulled on a tank top, jeans, her denim jacket, and her side purse. She opened the fire exit window and slid out into a small space that was covered by a white hatch. For a moment, she didn’t move as she listened for voices or movement outside. Picking up none, she unlocked and lifted the hatch slightly. The small communal garden—if you could call a cluster of weeds a garden—was empty, which, to be honest, she found a little suspicious. Still, she didn’t have the option of sticking around.

Fully opening the hatch, Makenna quickly and quietly climbed out before closing it shut. After merely six steps, she halted. She scented them before she saw them. Several humans came out of the shadows, wearing long hooded robes. Some were holding small wooden crucifixes. Makenna sighed at the ridiculous spectacle. If her wolf could have snickered, she would have.

“Move no further, demon!” ordered one of the robed figures.

Yes, they insisted that shifters were a form of demon. Makenna didn’t see the point in correcting them. It wasn’t possible to have a rational conversation with these people. Whatever you said was hit with a quote from the bible and branded “words of the devil.” They were right, you were wrong, they were good, you were bad, they were on the righteous path, and you were on a descending elevator heading to the fires of hell.

“Child of the Devil, you shall be—!”

“Look, guys, I’ve had a really rough morning.” And now this. The basic message Makenna was getting from the universe today was: just go back to bed. She would have done just that if it weren’t for the noise these bastards were making.

“Renounce the Devil!” he shouted as they spread out and began to loosely circle her. “Confess your sins! Repent!”