Cry Wolf (Wolves of Angels Rest #7)(33)

“What is it with their pretentious names?” Mal muttered. “Omega? Kingdom Guard?”

“Zane’s mate, the historian, said they think of themselves as protecting the animal kingdom from monsters like us,” LT said. “Mahalia’s been piecing together the communications she’s managed to confirm are theirs, and they legit believe the shifter gene or virus or magic or whatever it is that triggers the transformation is going to wipe out humanity.”

Mal snorted. “As if they weren’t doing a fine job of it themselves.”

But Diesel was stuck wondering what Willow would believe. Would she think his kind an abomination? Or would she be willing to join him?

Dammit, Mal wasn’t wrong about his mind not being on the op. As Diesel panned his binoculars across the facility, he fixed on another van.

Despite its lack of markings, a familiar van.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“You’re kidding me,” Mal said. “She’s here?”

“That’s her van. Tucked behind that second outbuilding.”

LT angled beside him. “You sure?”

Since he’d had the best sex of his life in it less than twenty-four hours earlier… “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“She a spy for the KG?” Mal mused.

Diesel snarled at him.

“Reasonable question, man,” LT said.

Diesel clamped down on his outrage. “She’s been standing on a stage in Vegas, tricked out in sequins and singing her heart out twice a day for the last year. So nah, she ain’t a spy.”

“Then what’s her van doing here?” Mal asked.

Diesel drew back from the ridge though his muscles tensed with the urge to charge down the hill directly. The wolf fought him with every step, and he had to snarl through gritted teeth, “I’m going to find out.”

“Deez,” Mal called.

He didn’t look back.





Chapter 12

As daylight had done its best to brighten the gloomy warehouse, Willow had heard more sounds to indicate activity elsewhere in the building. But it was muted. Either far away or not a lot of people.

Her growling stomach was louder.

Not that she wanted the raw meat back. Much.

The strange creature in the cage beside hers had settled against the bars closest to her although it didn’t look her way.

With nothing else to do, she studied it. More light had revealed more details: fresh wounds on the creature’s body, welts around its limbs, round burn marks that she could imagine only too well came from the hotshot applied for far too long.

Something had hurt the beast, and for all its bear-like power, it hadn’t been able to protect itself.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, holding back the emptiness in her belly and a sob that threatened to rip up from deeper yet.

“What are you?” she whispered.

The creature stiffened but didn’t turn, and then she realized it was focused on the far end of their hall of cage bars.

Someone was coming.

The clatter/rustle echo resolved into multiple footsteps, and a trio of men appeared. She recognized the world’s worst waiter who’d brought the raw meat, the cattle prod swinging in his hand, but he was hanging back beside the other two.

Wait for Professor Kurtz, he’d said.

If she had to guess, the taller man in the middle in the cliché white lab coat must be the professor. The third man had a pistol in his hand.

She came from a land of open carry, but she’d never felt such a sleeting rush of fear. Her shoulder blades and throat tightened where she’d been darted before.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that the bear creature moved away from her side of the cage.

It apparently knew what was coming and wanted as far away as possible.

When the three men stopped in front of her cage, she bit the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from shrieking at them.

“It learns fast,” said sucky waiter guy. “Taking a female was a good idea. Doesn’t fight like the males.”

“It wasn’t our idea,” the professor said quietly. “It was happenstance. I don’t like happenstance. Why was it snooping?”

Willow frowned. “I wasn’t—”

The man with the gun slammed his hand against the cage door. The bars were too solid to rattle, but Willow flinched back, startled.

“See?” said the waiter. “Much easier to handle.”

Cold rage, the same as she’d felt from the other caged creature when she first arrived, flashed through Willow, so cold that the rest of her bare, half-frozen skin felt warm by comparison. Even when the band had gotten big enough to finally earn a manager, she’d never been handled. And she wasn’t going to start now.

But after a long night and morning of searching her cage for a way to escape, she knew she had to play her cards right. Except, hell, she didn’t even have any cards.

They wanted her to be meek and scared, so that’s what they’d get.

For now.

She cringed, drawing one knee up to her chest protectively. She let out a little whimper for good measure.

Actually, that sounded a little too convincing.

But to her surprise, the professor seemed to agree with the waiter.

“Enoch,” he said to the gun-toting bar-slammer. “You said you shot a female before, correct?”