Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(108)

The lights moved toward the corridor.

Vicki broke into a run toward them.

She couldn’t take them on alone. He’d have to leave the cubs in a room. Owen shoved open a door—and a huge tawny shape shot past him.

Alec had arrived.

As Vicki reached the men, a man yelled in pain. A flashlight danced wildly before falling.

Cubs in his arms, Owen hastily stepped into a side cell as gunfire and shouting filled the air.

The cub in his right arm squirmed, not liking the noise. “I don’t like the noise either, youngling,” Owen murmured. By the God, he wanted to fight, not stand here, helpless.

A feline mrow reverberated down the corridor. All clear.

Owen jogged toward the sound. At the guard station, the floor under his bare feet was wet and slick. Ignoring it, he ran up the stairs, following the scent of Alec and Vicki.

*

In the back of Z Hall, Darcy had gotten the females hidden behind the privet bushes before the lights went out. Once everyone was safe, she’d stripped and returned to cat form—hearing the gasps, then delighted murmurs of the females.

The grounds were dark, and angry shouts came from the front. “Someone fucked with the machine guns, killed the guards.”

“Get those lights on!”

With heavy footsteps, two guards pounded between the two manor houses toward the generator. Thank you, Wells. The spymaster’s “gift” was designed to fry every circuit in the board.

Tonight…darkness would reign.

Crouching low, Darcy crept out of the bushes far enough to monitor all approaches. Her tail twitched nervously as she scented the cool night air.

From the front came the sound of a roaring vehicle, then a horrendous crash. Metal whined and clanked. The engine stopped abruptly.

As planned, Ben and his construction crew had rammed the front gates with a bulldozer.

Shots rang out. Individual shots—not the rat-tat-tat of machine guns. But still…bullets. Oh, Mother of All, keep our shifters safe.

The back door of Z Hall opened.

Darcy dug her claws into the earth, bracing to spring.

A cougar female ran out the door. Vicki? Alec, also a cougar, was right behind her. Both were drenched in blood. Ignoring her mate, Vicki looked right and left. On guard.

Alec shifted to human and bent to stroke his mate, rubbing his face against hers. “By the God, are you all right?” he whispered.

Her purr was a soft sound under the yelling and shooting coming from in front.

In human form, Owen appeared in the door, moving funny, as if walking on eggshells. His arms were filled with…babies.

Darcy stared.

All his attention on his mate, Alec frowned. “You’re…thin, cariad. What—”

“Hey, Alec. I think these cubs belong to you.” Spotting the females in the bushes, Owen motioned them over and handed off the cubs to Margery and Idelle.

Staring, Alec straightened. “Mother’s blessing, Vixen. We have cubs?”

The wonder in his choked voice sent a surging joy through Darcy.

When Alec moved toward the steps, Owen blocked him. “Cubs come later, cahir. We need to get everybody to the garage.” After using the Scythe’s vans to transport the hostages, they’d abandon the vehicles somewhere in the city.

Alec sucked in a pained breath. “Aye, let’s get them out of here. I’ll take the lead. Vixen, stay by the cubs. Owen, left flank. Darcy, you bring up the rear. Let’s go.”

As Alec started away from the manor, the female villagers remained crouching under the hedge. Darcy understood all too well. Gunfire, guards everywhere. They’d been prisoners too long—and wouldn’t follow a strange male.

Darcy shifted to human. “Come on. It’s time to move to somewhere safe.” She waved for the females to come out of the bushes. “Hurry.”

Step by step, Margery ventured out, and Darcy felt her heart swell with pride. No one on the planet was as brave as Margery. She was followed by Idelle, then the rest.

Darcy turned. “Alec, I’d better lead.”

“Aye. I’ll take rearguard.”

Staying human so the females wouldn’t panic, Darcy led them along the back wall of the manor, scouting for danger. Soon they’d have to cross a long wide patch of lawn to get to the garage in the back east corner. Between intervals of gunfire, shouting, and screams from the front lawn, she could hear the soft footsteps of her villagers behind her.

As she moved out and away from the far side of the manor, one of the babies started to cry, a thin, high wailing. Someone shushed it.

“What the fuck!” a man shouted. “What was that?”

The sound came from her left. Heart pounding wildly, Darcy cringed as several guards appeared along the manor’s east wall.

A flashlight caught her full in its beam. “That’s the one that escaped!” It was Huber—the guard who’d raped Fenella.

Hatred flamed in her heart—and was swamped by fear. If the guards reached the back of the manor, they’d see the line of females behind her.

She saw the dark glint of pistols. They’d kill her friends.

Never.

Darcy sprang forward and sprinted directly away from the villagers. Come on, chase me.

Like a poorly led wolf pack, the guards mindlessly tore after her, their flashlights flickering on her and past her. Pistols barked, their shots going wild.