Wild Hunger (The Phoenix Pack, #7)(91)

Her eyes darted around the basement. The only exit other than the stairway was the grimy window behind Cruz. Getting out meant somehow getting past him and his pistol without getting shot. How the fuck were they supposed to do that? She had no idea.

Her wolf wanted to surface and rip the fucker limb from limb. Frankie would have shifted and given the animal the chance if she weren’t so sure that Cruz would put a bullet through her head before she was able to finish the shift.

Hoping to distract him from thoughts of shooting her and Lydia, Frankie flicked a look at the pentagram and asked, “Is that your handiwork?”

Sadness briefly glittered in his eyes. “I missed him. I wanted to apologize for shooting him. I didn’t go there that night to hurt him.”

“You do know that making a blood sacrifice to try to speak to a ghost is pretty fucked up, right?”

“Depends on a person’s definition of fucked up. My definition? Someone tricking a guy into believing she’s their true mate—depriving him of what he truly needs and wants—is fucked up. Caroline trapped him into being with her.”

Frankie clenched her fists. “So you killed her.” Bastard.

“I hadn’t planned to kill her. Just scare her. Make her listen. So I took the gun. That bullet should have killed her, not my Christopher.”

Flicking a look at the pistol pointed at her, she said, “You sure like to use firearms, don’t you?”

“It seems fitting that you’ll die from a bullet, just like your mother should have done.”

Her wolf peeled back her upper lip and lunged for him, but Frankie managed to retain control. “You were Christopher’s lover for a while, before he met my mother.”

His chin lifted. “I was more than that. Sure, we weren’t exclusive. He needed to sow his oats first—I got that. I understood him. Not like Caroline. She didn’t know him the way I did. She didn’t get him like I did.”

Frankie felt Trick regain consciousness. A pulse of his pain traveled down their bond. A lump of sheer terror clogged her throat. Fuck it all, she needed to get to him. Her heart was slamming so hard against her ribs that she wouldn’t have been surprised if one cracked. But she didn’t dare move. Not yet. There was no rationality in Cruz’s eyes, and she knew that she was looking at somebody who was capable of absolutely anything in that moment.

She didn’t want to die. She sure didn’t want Trick to die, but it was unlikely that he’d survive the breaking of their mating bond, despite it not being fully formed. For that reason alone, she’d fight. But really, there was nothing she could do that didn’t involve throwing herself in harm’s way. There was nothing to hide behind. Nothing to throw at Cruz. Nothing to distract him with. He was bigger. Bulkier. Stronger. And motherfucking armed.

He dipped his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a small device that looked a little like an iPod. Without moving his gaze from Frankie and Lydia, he pressed the screen with his thumb and . . . and nothing. He gave them a wide, eerie smile. That was when something above them rumbled, shook, and roared as it collapsed. Shingles tumbled off the roof, and the cabin shuddered.

Frankie swallowed as her stomach bottomed. “What did you do?”

“Made sure that we wouldn’t be disturbed. That’s just parts of the porch roof collapsing near the front and back doors. Can’t have anyone trying to get inside, now can we?” He returned the little device—which was obviously a remote—to his pocket. “I wired the place when I heard you’d asked Josh for permission to walk through the cabin.”

Frankie gaped at him. Was he high? “The entire place could collapse.”

“I know. That’s why it’s so perfect. My world collapsed when Christopher died. Now yours is going to collapse too.” His grin dimmed as he looked at Lydia. “I’m sorry that you’ll go down with us. I really am.”

“Then let her go,” said Frankie.

“It’s too late for that.”

“Why do this?” Lydia whispered. “Why, Cruz?”

“It’s not my fault,” he insisted, indignant. He jabbed a finger at Frankie. “It’s hers.” He sneered at Frankie. “I knew when I first saw you at Phoenix territory that either you or your wolf remembered something. I just wasn’t sure what or how much. Then you started digging, asking questions, poking around in Iris’s attic. I heard you wanted to walk through here too, and I knew it was only a matter of time before you worked it out. I had to do something.”

A light shudder rocked the cabin walls. Things clattered and rolled along the floor above them, and she wondered if they were the glass bottles they’d found.

“See, I ain’t gonna be executed. No. I control my fate. If I’m going to die, Frankie, it’ll happen when and where I choose. Understand? And I choose to die in the same place my Christopher died. And since it’s your fault that it’s come to this, you’re going to die with me. I’ve been waiting for you to finally come here—you sealed both our fates as soon as you walked through that front door. You know, I think Christopher will probably be happy that I’m sending his daughter to him, don’t you?” He laughed, as if that were hilarious.

Frankie’s gut twisted at the glitter of madness in his eyes. “You’ve been riding the crazy train for a long time, haven’t you?”