Echoes of Fire (The Mercury Pack #4)(79)
Her mouth tightened. “You can’t be with me every time I leave pack territory.”
“Can’t I?”
Hearing voices outside, Madisyn cursed, knowing he’d use the excuse of having visitors to escape the conversation. And that was exactly what he did. Heading to the bedroom, he pulled on some clothes and then disappeared downstairs.
Dressed, hair wet, Madisyn headed down a few minutes later to find the Alphas, Betas, Jesse, and Zander spread around the den. And they were all watching Bracken very carefully. Rather than pacing and growling, as another male might have in his situation, he was standing utterly still near the window, his expression completely deadpan.
Shaya gave Madisyn a wan smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Madisyn replied, staying near the outer edges of the room. She couldn’t explain it properly, but she didn’t want to walk farther into the den. Didn’t feel welcome at the lodge right then while Bracken was looking at her like he didn’t even know her. It made her feel like more of an outsider than ever.
“Bracken said the wounds are pretty shallow,” began Ally, “but I’d still like to heal them if you don’t mind.”
Feeling a little awkward, Madisyn shrugged. “Have at it, I guess.” Crossing to her, the Seer slipped a hand under Madisyn’s T-shirt and gently placed her palm on one of the wounds. A strange, pleasant warmth trickled through Madisyn, soothing and healing. “Thanks.”
“Makenna said to tell you she’d call you tonight,” said Ally. “I have to say, I got the feeling that teaming up on someone wasn’t a first for you and her. It would have been fun to watch if we didn’t want the hyena dead so badly.”
Madisyn looked at Nick. “Where is he?”
“The shed,” replied the Alpha.
Her brow creased. “Shed?”
“Eli’s guarding him,” Nick added. “Don’t worry, the bastard isn’t going anywhere.”
“What did he have to say for himself?”
“No one’s questioned him yet. Bracken wants his turn first.”
Madisyn cut her gaze to Bracken, who was watching her closely, and then slid her eyes back to Nick. “The hyena hasn’t said anything?”
Nick shook his head. “Didn’t even fight us when we forced him into the SUV. He was meek and compliant. Halfway here, he sprang to life.”
“The dumb prick thought we’d buy that he wouldn’t try to run,” said Derren. “But Zander had anticipated that he’d try it, so he was ready for the move and sucker punched him. The bastard was still out cold when we tied him up in the shed.” Derren looked at Bracken. “You ready?”
Bracken nodded and then sliced his eyes back to Madisyn. “Shaya and Ally will stay here with you.”
Tension stiffening her spine, Madisyn felt her lips thin. “In other words, you don’t want me to go with you.”
“Let’s think of it this way,” said Bracken. “You had your fun with him. Now it’s time for me to have mine.”
Bottle of water in hand, Bracken shoved open the thick wooden door and stepped into the shed. It was like walking into a wall of heat. The musty air was hot and heavy and thick, and it stank of wood, dust, and the coppery scent of old blood.
Shafts of light streamed through the roof beams, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air. Like with most other sheds, the walls were lined with garden tools, paint cans, toolboxes, and car tires. The shelves were typically stacked with cans, Mason jars, and glues. If it wasn’t for the torturous implements on the worktable, the bloodstains on the floorboards, or the male bound to a sturdy chair, it would have looked perfectly innocuous.
The wooden planks creaked and groaned beneath Bracken’s weight as he walked purposely toward the captive, shoes scraping over the dirty floor, crunching bits of dead grass and pine needles. He sensed Nick, Derren, and Eli step inside and take up positions near the doorway.
Halting just a few feet in front of the hyena, Bracken stared at him, eyes cold and unblinking. Outside, the breeze rustled the grass, and a bee buzzed around the grimy window.
The hyena sat very still, claw marks spiderwebbing across his face, bites marring his flesh, sweat dampening his clothes and glistening on his skin. His eyes darted from person to person, but there was no fear in them. They didn’t even glitter with apprehension. There would be no crying or hysteria from this one—at least not yet.
Bracken could almost hear the hyena telling himself to think, plan, stay calm. And as he stared at the male, smelling his sweat and blood, Bracken’s mind flicked back to another time, another place. Flicked back to the basement of a derelict house where he’d taken each of the extremists he’d tracked and executed.
Unlike the shed, the basement had been dark with shadow and boasted only one window. The cracked walls were as cold as the concrete floor. He’d had a worktable topped with hooks, hammers, pincers, and other implements—all of which the extremists had at first believed were “for show.” They’d soon learned they were wrong.
Bracken remembered how they’d each started off scared but cocky, sure they’d be rescued. Then, realizing the situation might not be so easy to escape, they’d tried to reason with him, tried to build a rapport with him. When they’d finally accepted that no one was coming for them, they’d cursed and raved and provoked him. But once the blood started flowing and the bones started crunching, they’d pled. Wept. Screamed.