Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(103)

“We were hired to follow the wagon.”

“And that’s all?” Wolfe prompted.

He gave a jerky nod. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to tell you what I do to liars?” he drawled in soft, lethal tones. “Or maybe I’ll just show you.”

The second man gave a squeak of alarm. “No. Wait.”

“Tell me.”

“We were hired to track down the wagon and to kill the witches, but to keep the female who would be sleeping in the back of the vehicle alive.”

Wolfe flashed a grim glance toward Lana. If they were hired to kill the witches, then whoever had done the hiring wanted Anna’s destructive power unleashed on the world.

But why?

He returned his gaze to the men. “And then?”

“And then we were supposed to contact a specific number and say the deed was done.”

Lana strolled forward, her eyes breathtakingly beautiful as they caught and reflected the silver moonlight.

“Who hired you?”

“I don’t know.” The man fell to his knees, his hands pressed together in a pleading motion. The Mave tended to have that effect on people. “I swear. We were hired by some dude who found us at a fight club. He said he worked for the new leader of the high-bloods and that we could expect some serious cash if we were willing to eliminate her enemies.”

“Name?” Wolfe snapped.

“He didn’t give it.” The man sent him a wary glance. “And before you ask, he didn’t give us his boss’s name either, but I’d bet my left nut that she’s a witch.”

The revelation caught Wolfe off guard.

He’d somehow leapt to the conclusion that the men had been hired by another norm.

Why would a high-blood hire humans? Unless these men were mere cannon fodder?

And why would a high-blood be willing to release such dangerous powers on the world?

He gave a frustrated shake of his head. More questions without answers.

“Why are you so certain the leader is a witch?”

“I spoke to another . . . employee who said he was taken to a dark room and a female came in and put some sort of spell on him,” the norm said. “He swore she was in charge.”

Lana studied the two men with a searching intensity. “But she didn’t put a spell on you.” Her gaze moved to the dead men lying on the ground. “Or any of the others.”

“Hell, no.” The man gave a shudder of revulsion. “I ain’t letting any freak screw with me.”

Wolfe choked back a laugh as Lana narrowed her gaze. Had the idiot forgotten that he was speaking to the most powerful witch in the world?

Clearly he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.

Which was no doubt the reason he was chosen for what could easily have turned out to be a suicide mission.

Wolfe yanked his dagger from the sheath at his lower back, moving toward the moron with a lethal smile.

“I’m going to do more than screw with you.”

With a fluid motion, Lana was abruptly standing next to him, her hand resting on his forearm.

“Wolfe.”

He sent her a questioning glance. “Shall I kill them?”

She shook her head. “I prefer to take them to Valhalla to stand trial for attempted murder of high-bloods.”

Both men gave low groans, the one on his knees trying to reach for Wolfe.

“No, please,” he begged. “Just kill me.”

Wolfe kicked away the man’s hand, offering Lana a wry smile.

“Your reputation terrifies even norms.”

“Enough.” With a rare display of her stunning power, the Mave lifted her hand and spoke a soft word of command.

An instant later both men were sprawled face first on the ground, knocked unconscious by her spell.

Wolfe sheathed his dagger, studying his companion’s tense expression.

“I could have taken care of them.”

“We don’t have time to play.”

With a swift movement she was heading toward the end of the SUV, her gaze locked on the nearby wagon.

Wolfe was on instant alert. “What’s going on?”

“The spell is fracturing.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Serra struggled to regain consciousness, feeling like she was drowning in molasses as she forced her heavy lids to lift.

It took a minute for her eyes to focus and she felt panic threaten to explode within her. She could tell she was lying on a hard surface and that she wasn’t in Valhalla. There was a stench of must and mildew the Mave would never tolerate.

So where the hell was she?

And what happened to her?

Then her eyes slowly settled on a stark, beautiful male face hovering mere inches above her and her panic immediately receded.

Fane.

If he were near then nothing could hurt her.

Her hand lifted to touch his clenched jaw, but Fane grabbed her fingers and pressed them to his lips.

“Don’t move,” he urged.

Concentrating on the concern in his dark eyes, Serra flinched in surprise when a lean male face shoved itself next to Fane.

She grimaced, recognizing the astonishing bronze eyes.

Bas.

As the name tumbled through her brain, so did the recent events that led up to her current presence on the floor with Fane’s arms wrapped tightly around her.