Branded by Fire

CHAPTER 15

“He’s safe.” Bowen said, no hint of sweat or panic in him.

Mercy wasn’t fooled. People could learn to regulate their breathing and bodily reactions if they practiced hard enough. “I’d like to see him.”

“After we talk.” No charm now.

“So talk. Explain why you traumatized a young girl and stole her brother.”

Bowen blew out a breath, his hands fisting. “It was meant to be a straight grab, no harm, no foul. The little one . . . we didn’t realize she was outside until it was too late.”

“What do you want?” she asked again.

“To talk with the DarkRiver and SnowDancer alphas. There are things you need to know about the Human Alliance.”

“And you want to tell us out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I have a price on my head as of the night of Nash’s kidnapping,” he said, tone blunt. “So do the rest of my men and women. We’re a crack team, but there are only ten of us. We need to ally ourselves to someone stronger or we’ll be dead in a matter of days.”

Mercy raised an eyebrow. “I can tell you now, your chances aren’t high.” Maybe it wasn’t what a human negotiator would’ve said, but if Bowen knew anything about changelings, he’d know a less hostile response for a lie. Even now, she could feel the tidal wave of enmity from the men and women at her back. Cat or wolf, it didn’t matter—they all wanted to tear Bowen into a million small pieces.

“Yeah, well, it’s better than no chance.” Bowen shrugged, shoulders moving with a fighter’s grace under a battered leather-synth jacket.

“Long as you continue to hold Nash, no one will talk to you.” She made her tone as unyielding as his own. “Nonnegotiable.”

High cheekbones cut sharply against skin the rich, exotic shade of the finest caramel. “He’s sitting in room 10 at the Happy Inn down the street.”

“Unconscious?”

“No.” Bowen actually looked shamefaced. “We told him we’d gone back and grabbed his little sister so he’d cooperate.”

That explained why the Rats and trackers had struck out. Hiding an angry lynx was a far different cry from holding a cooperative one. “Nice.”

For the first time, the mask of civility slipped. “Hurt feelings can be mended. Dead men won’t rise.”

Mercy didn’t say anything. “We’ll wait while my people check out the inn.”

So they did. In silence. Riley’s energy was a violent heat against her skin, but he held his position outside.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a commotion at the front and then someone yelled out, “We have Nash!” A pause. “And he wants blood!”

Mercy met Bowen’s eyes, not dropping her guard. “You going to make trouble?”

“I gave you back your boy, didn’t I?”

“True. So I could kill you right now.” She wasn’t as hostile as Riley, but she didn’t like those who preyed on the weak. Nash and Willow had been under DarkRiver’s care—they were hers as much as Tammy’s cubs were. “A claw slash to a few important spots and you’re out of our hair for good.”

Time stood still.

Many miles from the chill standoff in that abandoned building, a slender male drove his car into the San Gabriel Mountains. His face was covered with sweat, his hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel. There were no embedded roads this far up, no way to put his small, city-use car on automatic. Even if it had been possible, he wouldn’t have chosen it.

He needed to focus, to concentrate.

His eyes saw only gravel and rock, an endless twisting pathway.

Take the gun hidden in the trunk of your car. Drive to the enclave of artists on the edge of the Mojave. Kill as many of them as you can before the ammunition runs out. Remember, save one bullet for yourself.

The car shuddered as it fell into a pothole, rattling his brain, throwing those whispering thoughts into chaos. He managed to get it out but the tire was flat. Hitting the hover-drive, he continued on his way. He couldn’t stop. If he stopped, the gun would find its way into his hands. And men, women, and children would die.

The compulsion crushed his mind, creating pinpricks of darkness behind his eyelids—veins were starting to shatter, to bleed inside his skull. He couldn’t go any farther. Twisting the wheel, he brought the car to a halt on the side of the rough mountain road. Then he got out—his gaze going immediately to the trunk. No. He willed himself to turn. That cliff, it was close enough. Holding his head in his hands, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other.

All he had to do was get to the edge. He didn’t trust himself with the gun. But a fall would shatter his brain just as well.

An hour after finding Nash, Mercy drove a still alive and uninjured Bowen out of the city, Indigo by her side. Bowen’s hands were cuffed, his eyes blindfolded. Dorian had come out and used his toys to search for—and remove—two tracking devices.

Bowen wasn’t worried. “I’d have been stupid if I hadn’t had backup.”

Assuming his team was following, Mercy took him out through a number of back roads, making any pursuit highly visible to the large SUV following her vehicle. By the time they circled around and pulled into a deserted section of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area on the other side of the bridge, Bowen was very much alone.

He held up his wrists when they removed the blindfold and let him get out. “I think you guys can take me on even if I’m free.”

Mercy shifted in front of Riley as he exited the SUV and walked over. “Don’t irritate us,” she said to Bowen. The Alliance man might be a tough son of a bitch, but Riley was a very experienced wolf in a cold rage.

Jet-black eyes went from one to the other. “Something’s going on that I clearly don’t know about.”

“The last time our people were abducted, one ended up dead and the other was tortured so badly most people thought she’d never recover,” she said, letting him glimpse the leopard’s need to hurt, to punish. “So your chances of convincing us of anything are about zero.”

Bowen swore. “Our intel was wrong. We’d never have done it this way if we’d known.”

“Excuse me if I don’t sympathize.” Mercy could all but feel Riley’s wolf, a hot, angry breath against her nape. It was as well that Dorian had left after doing the technical search. She didn’t know if she’d have been able to keep Bowen safe from two men who continued to bear the vicious wounds of their sisters’ abductions.

It didn’t matter that Willow was young, it didn’t even matter that she was female and Nash male—the girl had been traumatized by being unable to help her brother, her fledgling confidence dented. Mercy knew that if she wasn’t handled right, little Willow would stop sneaking out at night. And for a changeling to curl up like that . . .

She turned. “Indigo?”

“I’ve got him.”

Letting the SnowDancer lieutenant escort Bowen into position, Mercy shifted to face Riley. “I need you to deal.”

Amber glittered in his eyes but he didn’t argue. “I’ll hang back. Tougher to rip the bastard’s head off from here.” With that, he took a position close to the outer perimeter of the protective semi-circle around Lucas and Hawke.

Of the two alphas, Lucas was the more calm. Part of it was because he was built that way. But mostly it was because he had a mate who grounded him. Hawke, on the other hand . . . his ice blue eyes were those of a wolf, his hair the silver-gold of his pelt in his animal form. He looked exactly what he was—a predator uncontained by any loyalty save that to his pack. And by threatening SnowDancer’s biggest ally, Bowen had threatened that pack.

The wolf alpha’s eyes met Mercy’s as she came up beside Bowen, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Hawke was fully capable of killing Bowen then and there. Glancing at Lucas, she saw him spear the Alliance man with a green-eyed look that spoke of the panther within. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

Yeah, Lucas could put on the civilized act much better than Hawke, but when you got down to it, he was as lethal as the wolf. “Why did you take one of us?”

“Because Nash was in danger of being captured by the paramilitary arm of the Alliance.”

“Seems like that would be a stupid move on the Alliance’s part,” Mercy said. “After what happened to the last group that tried to come after one of us.” Every single intruder had died, some falling prey to a sniper’s rifle, the others to claws and teeth.

“You’d think so.” Bowen’s tone was bitter. “The men who died in your territory were my friends, my fellow soldiers.”

“You’re not going to get sympathy here,” Indigo said from her position to his right, her voice icy.

“I didn’t expect any.” Bowen held Lucas’s gaze. “They said Ashaya Aleine would help the Human Alliance take its rightful position in the world. We believed the rhetoric coming from the top. We thought they had only our future in mind.”

Leaves rustled in the midmorning breeze, but even the gulls had gone quiet.

“Later . . . it was obvious we were inviting war.” Bowen’s voice grew rigid with withheld anger. “That wasn’t what I signed on for. The leadership seemed to realize that at the same time and we were told to go quiet. But two days ago, we heard there’d been a decision to snatch Nash.” He went to raise his cuffed hands but dropped them midway. “Look at the back of my neck.”

Mercy nodded at Indigo to push down Bowen’s collar, while she covered the SnowDancer lieutenant. “He’s got a scar where the chip should be.”

“We all got them, all the Alliance soldiers.” Bowen lifted up his head. “They told us it would help protect us—we figured it had to do with shielding us against Psy interference.”

Interest spiked in Mercy. Humans were the most vulnerable to Psy intrusions—changelings had rock-solid natural shields. “Did it?”

“Never tested.” He shrugged. “One thing it did do was allow the leadership to track us. Like we were fucking GPS-chipped.”

“We found one of those things in Nash’s house.”

“That lynx had sharp claws,” Bowen said. “Three went in, but only one of us had the chip by that stage—so the Alliance would know who’d taken the boy, but not where. Nash saved us the trouble of removing the chip after the op.”

“You telling us you flipped off the leadership?” Hawke asked point-blank.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Why not just warn us so we could protect Nash?” Mercy asked.

“One—there wasn’t enough time. Two—because we wanted you aware of what we can do,” came the unflinching response. “We aren’t easy prey, so don’t mistake us for it.”

“You’re in our city,” Lucas said softly. “We’ll get each and every one of you sooner or later. Name Lily ring a bell? Sloppy of you to leave her alone on watch at your hideout.”

Bowen froze. “Hurt her and we’ll strike back. Your people will die for no reason.”

Mercy guessed the intel about the hideout had come in while she was negotiating with Bowen. Likely, the Alliance people had given themselves away when they moved to protect Bowen’s back—a fresh trail made all the difference.

“We don’t kill innocents,” Lucas said. “But you’re not exactly innocents.”

“What the Alliance is becoming”—Bowen’s hands fisted—“it’s not anything we want to be a part of. And we’re not the only ones.”

“So you want us to allow a pit of vipers to set up house in our territory?” Indigo’s sarcastic voice.

Bowen looked at her. “Are you all the same? All the wolves? We believed in our leadership. We were betrayed. Now we’re taking steps to move out of their shadow.”

“And we’re supposed to take your word for it, permitting you to ally yourself with two powerful groups?” Mercy shook her head. “Nice and opportunistic of you.”

“Like vultures,” Indigo added.

The two women’s eyes met. Mercy smiled.

“If we don’t,” Bowen said, white lines of strain around his mouth, “they’ll kill us through sheer strength in numbers. And I think both SnowDancer and DarkRiver would prefer that didn’t happen. Because if it does, then the militants take complete control of the Alliance.”

Mercy saw Lucas glance at Hawke and the wolf nod. Lucas clearly spoke for both of them when he said, “Go back to your hideout and stay there. Don’t cause any problems. The second you do, you’re dead.” Flat, cold words.

“We can’t sit still,” Bowen argued, shoulders tight with frustration.

Hawke shrugged, and though he was in human form, it was as if the wolf had made the movement. “So move. And die.”

“You want to play power games with your leadership—find another location.” Lucas’s face was pure alpha, no hint of give in him. “We’ll take care of the Alliance our way.”

Most humans would’ve backed down by now—hell, so would most changelings, but Bowen held firm. “We can help you,” he said. “We’re strong, well-trained, and we know how to be loyal.” His mouth twisted. “At least until that loyalty is betrayed.”

“Are you saying you’re willing to swear allegiance to us?” Lucas asked.

Bowen nodded. “If that’s what it takes.”

“The instant you do,” Lucas continued, “you fall out of Enforcement jurisdiction. I could tear out your heart for breaking Pack law, and they’d stand aside and let me.”

“Forget about tearing out your heart,” Hawke said casually, “I’d rip you limb from limb.”

Riley spoke for the first time. “I don’t want anyone in our pack who thinks kidnapping a teenager out of his home is a good tactical move.”

Mercy knew the second Bowen realized that though two alphas stood in front of him, the real danger lay at his back. Riley was ready to gut him. The human male turned. “We saved Nash from a far worse fate. Check all flights from Europe over the past forty-eight hours. I bet you you’ll find a hell of a lot of men and women coming in who walk like mercenaries. That new Alliance squad is still here.”

“You’re holding the information hostage?” Riley again, sounding oh-so-calm. It had taken her six months of working with him before she’d realized the calmer he got, the angrier he was.

“I don’t have it,” Bowen responded. “One thing humans have gotten very good at over the years is blending in. The Alliance team is in the city, that’s all I know. My contact at HQ tells me they also have a new target, but we don’t know who or what.”

“Mercy,” Lucas said, “debrief and take him back to his people.” To Bowen, he said, “As far as we’re concerned, you’re still the enemy. You prove us wrong, fine. But until then, you so much as lift a weapon in this city, we’ll take you out.”

In the San Gabriel Mountains, another struggle continued to take place under an unforgiving sun.

The slender Psy male was almost to the edge of the cliff when he fell. His knees bled as the gravel shredded his pants but he barely felt the pain. His head was about to explode. A trickle of liquid slid from his nose and when he touched it, his fingertip came away stained red.

The compulsion didn’t like being denied.

Determined, he tried to get up. His body refused. It hurt. Everything hurt. But he had to get to the edge. So he pitched himself forward and started to crawl. A few more meters and he could end this without doing that which should never be done. He was Psy. He couldn’t pick up a gun and mow down innocent men and women.

Inside his mind, the compulsion slammed up painfully against the solid wall of Silence. His nose bled faster. When he heard a wolf’s howl on the breeze, he realized he might not have to make it to the edge. Perhaps nature would end this for him.

Mercy drove a still-angry Riley back to the cabin so he could head up to the den. “You’re making my teeth ache.”

The wolf in the passenger seat stared at her out of human eyes. “No questions even now?”

Surprised he’d brought it up, she shrugged. “Some promises you don’t even think of breaking.” He’d trusted her with his pain last night, and she knew just how difficult that kind of trust was for him. The leopard had been startled by it . . . but that startlement was growing into something stronger, something that threatened the distance she was trying to keep.

Riley opened his mouth as if to reply when something beeped into the silence. Taking out his cell phone, he checked the message and swore.

She tore her mind away from the implications of the previous night. Because she’d let him in. And that, too, was a rare kind of trust. “What?”

“Nothing. Just kids being stupid.” He stuck the phone back into his pocket. “I have to go bust some heads up at the den.”

“Why do you have to be the one to hand out punishment?”

“Because the kids got caught hatching a plan to toilet-paper Jon. Not Jon’s home. Jon.” He sounded like he had a spike being driven into his eyeballs. “And since I’m the DarkRiver liaison, Judd finds it highly amusing to make me deal with it.”

Mercy moaned. “Oh, God.” Jon had been adopted into DarkRiver by Clay and Tally a few months back. He’d not only fit right in, he’d become the undisputed leader of his age group—and Jon wasn’t changeling, which said something about his skills. “Jon probably did something first.”

“And didn’t get caught.” Riley shook his head. “I wish this lot would’ve been better at hiding their tracks.” His eyes glimmered amber when he glanced at her. “Where are the South Americans?”

Her leopard bared its teeth in a soundless growl at the unwelcome change in topic. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” Though she had every intention of making her opinion of the pair clear to her grandmother. “And those two have nothing to do with whether or not we share skin privileges.”

Riley snorted. “Please. Your grandmother threw them at you because there’s a high chance your mate will be a dominant leopard.”

“What’s that to you?” It came out without thought, and she wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a dare.

His phone beeped again before he could answer. Riley checked it with a grimace. “You’ll have to come up with me.”

“Hey, wolves are yours to deal with.” She meant to have a hard chat with Eduardo and Joaquin during that time. No one was going to push her into a situation she didn’t choose. “I have enough—”

“They had Jon duct-taped to a tree. Judd just sprung him—but he was found with a suspicious amount of itching powder in his pockets. And several of the wolf juveniles have been squirming for hours.”

Mercy wanted to beat herself with a blunt object. “Please, God. Kill me now.”

“I’d rather work out my frustration by stripping you naked and letting you use those claws on me.”

And that quickly, all she wanted to do was to crawl all over him.