Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(113)

She didn’t know how else to explain it—he was a psychopath, but to an empath like Memory, psychopaths did have the facility to feel pleasure, though their version of pleasure wasn’t anything a person with normal emotions would understand.

“Of course, of course,” he said, his voice modulated into the soothing tone he’d used with her when she’d been younger.

Memory had never fallen for it; in the forefront of her mind was the memory of the same voice saying ugly things to her mother as he hurt Diana Aven-Rose. At times, she’d pretended to listen, but only because she had to survive so she could get her revenge.

“We’ll make it a quiet place,” Renault said in that same rage-inducing voice. “You know you’ll be more comfortable that way.”

Memory’s eye fell on a wrench sitting on the shelf in front of her. Sweat broke out on her spine as she stared at it. Forcing herself forward, she tried to close her hand around the tool, but her hand trembled, froze. Before, vengeance had always been an idea, a future concept that made her bare her teeth in relish. The thought of doing actual violence, however, of causing bloodshed, made her gorge rise.

Damn it! This was the exact wrong time to discover she was very much an E.

But . . . Es fought back when monsters threatened their own. And Alexei was on his way to her. She wasn’t about to stand back helplessly while her mate took on a psychopath who would never fight fair. Setting her jaw, she closed her fingers around the wrench and held it firmly to her side.

Renault did not get to hurt her golden wolf.

Once again, she thrust destabilizing emotions at Renault while watching him from her hiding spot. He frowned and touched his temple, but remained otherwise unaffected. Memory’s own head ached.

“Enough talking.” A punch of telepathic power.

Memory bit down so hard on her lower lip that she tasted blood. Barely able to breathe past the pain caused by the attempted breach, she began to make her way back toward Renault. The mating bond surged inside her, a protective thing with claws and teeth. Pressing her hand against her heart, Memory tried to convey that she was all right.

The idea of Alexei frantic for her made her hand tighten on the wrench.

Stop, she telepathed to Renault. Stop. I’m coming. All the while, she told herself to think like the most dangerous, most calculating person she knew. The facts hadn’t changed—she couldn’t win physically against a Tk of Renault’s strength. Not in a fair fight. But the way he’d set up the chair in an open space in the warehouse meant she couldn’t sneak up behind him and whack him over the head.

Memory, Memory, Memory. A sigh from the ghost of Amara in her head. Have you learned nothing? We don’t whack people over the head. We make them whack themselves.

Memory’s gaze fell on the rope at his feet.

Smile slow, she squared her shoulders and focused her tiny amount of Tk to nudge the rope around his ankle. Gently. Gently. Tie the knot.

A keening sound in her ears, her telekinetic ability burning out.

Shaking in the aftermath, she went to stall again somehow . . . and sensed a piercingly familiar wildness in the air. Her heart kicked. Alexei was here. That changed everything. She had to put herself in position to help him and stop Renault from teleporting.

You hurt me again. Once more, she tried to infuse her telepathic voice with fear instead of anger and protective fury. How do I know you won’t put me in the hole?

“I own you!” Renault yelled, his cool demeanor cracking under a wave of red-eyed rage; whatever drug he was on, it was seriously destabilizing his psyche. “Come here right now or I’ll teach you pain!”

Memory looked again at the wrench in her hand as Renault began to assault her mind with warning strikes that were shallow but still bruised. She had no way of knowing if Alexei was ready, but she had to take action before Renault lost it and launched a deadly assault.

He’d be sorry afterward, but she’d still be dead.

She sent her determination and readiness down the mating bond, not sure if it would work. The returning wave of feral resolve nearly had her growling. Teeth bared in a primal smile, she hefted the wrench and threw it as far from herself as possible. It clanged loudly against a bookshelf.

The sound had Renault jolting to his feet, his eyes glimmering. “There you are.” He went to move.

His foot hooked on the rope and he fell onto his face.

She heard the crunch of his nose breaking.

Even as rage contorted his bloody features, a wolf launched itself at him with lethal fury.

“Renault!” Memory yelled and stepped out of her hiding spot.

Turning his head toward her, he pushed up to his knees. Ugliness twisted his face. “I’ll make you pay—”

The wolf hit him hard, taking him to his back.

That wolf had its jaws around Renault’s throat before the man could recover enough to teleport. It was over in seconds, blood spilling onto the warehouse floor, the wolf’s muzzle drenched dark red.

Memory collapsed to her knees. Right in front of her lay a blood-splattered plas packet, a lock of hair within. Memory didn’t pick it up; that wasn’t her mother. Diana had been smart and gentle and protective. Memory would not reduce her to a memento kept by a psychopath.

“He’s dead,” she whispered, her mind free; the PsyNet was alive around her once more, stars appearing in the darkness in an endless carpet. “Finally, he’s dead.”