Tegan lost track of how long they ran, his muscles settling into an easy pace. He hated jogging. Male lions were built more for brute power than endurance runs, and the human half of him had never really been fond of running for the sake of running. Kanon’s unhappy grunt beside him told him his partner wasn’t enjoying the workout anymore than he was. But Lennox was out there, wounded.
Most likely still in danger. There would be no slowing down, no breaks. He glanced at Brandt, then Bree, but both Hounds had settled into the run as easily as the dog loping ahead. They were made for this, trained for this. Lennox was too, he reminded himself. Hurt or not, she stood a damn good chance at making sure she stayed alive.
The bloodhound gave a low bark and picked up to a run, breaking out of the forest. Tegan inhaled sharply, the scent fresher here, thicker. The dog ran for cliff edge, water somewhere close by. The bloodhound wormed his way through a pair of large boulders and up a short rocky path before disappearing over the edge, Brandt fast on his heels. Bree was next and Tegan clamored up after them, Kanon huffing behind him.
The scent was fresher here, recent. They’d lingered. Fresh blood filled the air and Tegan paused as the bloodhound circled it then, moved on. Tegan stepped up and drew in a sharp breath. Another fight between Lennox and Torres. Bree’s eyes met his and he could see her trying to work it out, put the pieces together.
She opened her mouth, no doubt to try and find a way to make this right with words when the bloodhound gave a sharp bark from the edge of the cliff. All four of them bolted for the edge, but there was no one hanging to the rocky edge. Nothing in sight at all, except for the raging river a good thirty feet down. Maybe more.
“Shit,” Kanon muttered and stepped back.
The scent ended here.
Brandt snarled and headed back the way they’d come. “Let’s find a way down. Now. Merlowe, let’s see if you can’t resume your track at the river’s edge.”
It took them a good ten minutes to find a safe way down to the bank below, slick rocks shifting under their feet as the water lapped at the edges, bubbling on by. The current was fast, strong. Merlowe, the bloodhound, loped up and down the side scenting but only shook his head. If they’d come out of the water, it hadn’t been on this edge.
Brandt reached for the radio to call it in as the other bloodhound barreled down the way they’d come, the second pack in tow. Gaston alongside them. The older lion was breathing heavy, his face a little pale with the effort—a sympathy Tegan could share with him—but every bit as determined as they were. Then again, he’d smelled the lioness and cub here.
Gaston still had family to find.
“There’s a crossing downstream, about a mile.” He pointed downriver. Gaston glanced back at the edge of the rock they’d tumbled from, teeth raking over his bottom lip before he glanced back at Brandt. “Sawyer’s a good swim and the water’s deep. There’s also a road another four miles out on the other side of the river. That has to be where she’s heading.”
“Then let’s go.”
Tegan grunted and reached for Kanon, holding hands this time as they ran. Muscles in his thighs screaming, he wasn’t about to give up. “Just be okay,” he whispered and felt Kanon’s hand tighten over his.
Please be okay
.
Suddenly the bloodhounds bayed and jerked off the trail, darting back towards the woods. Brandt sprinted ahead, and then Tegan caught the scent. Lion. Very, very wet lions. Gaston let out a whoop of a roar and bolted after them, right before a young cub, all gangly limbs ran straight out of the brush towards him.
Tegan drew to a stop and glanced at Kanon, watching as Kanon’s father scooped up the cub, happy tears trailing down his cheeks. A lioness appeared a second later, the bloodhounds skirting around her nervously before she shifted. Slim. More slender than Lennox, not at all like the typical lion-shifter female.
Her hair was soaked; her clothes still drenched from the water clung to every curve—or lack thereof. Gaston’s body relaxed as he held out an arm. “Sawyer.”
She closed the distance between them, stepping easily into her father’s arms, because there was no denying she was anything but Gaston’s daughter. The same nose. Same eyes.
Kanon’s eyes
. Tegan pulled his partner closer, but Kanon shook his head. “I’m good.” He tilted his head back so that he could breathe the words along Tegan’s skin. “You’ve been all the family I’ve needed until now.”
Just as faintly, Tegan whispered back, “And now?”
He asked, but he knew the answer. Kanon smiled. “Lennox. We just have to find her.”
Kanon’s half-sister pulled herself out of her father’s arms and turned to the approaching Hounds, glancing between Bree and Brandt, the two so obviously Alpha. Brandt took charge, holding an arm out at Bree as if to hold her back. His Hounds moved in closer, circling her.
“You all right?”
“Fine. There’s a woman out there, a Hound. She was trying to help us.”
Brandt gave a slight nod. “We know. Anyone else?”
“Another Hound. Ridgeback, male. Like her. He kidnapped me and Tilly outside of our house when Tilly ran out the back door. She was fighting him off when he shot her again... I did the only thing I could think of and jumped. But you have to find...”
“They’re working on it, Sawyer.” Gaston laid a hand on her shoulder. The woman was shivering under the cold. Her clothes were soaked and the sun had begun to set, late afternoon giving way to the dusky light of evening.
“He kept screaming something about Arianna—”
Bree jerked like she’d been slapped, a raw gasp sliding from her and Sawyer turned to glance at her then back to Brandt. “He leapt after us; I think she fell with him. But I didn’t see either of them when I drug us out of the water. We shifted to stay warmer.”
Her hands flexed at her side, like claws unsheathing and the hidden message was just as clear. She was stronger as a lioness.
Brandt turned to Bree, but the other Hound had crumpled. There was no fight in her gaze, just raw acceptance. Hurt. “Arianna?”
Bree nodded. “Our daughter. Dead. Murdered in our own home by a rogue lion.”
Her lips thinned a little at the memory and she wrapped her arms around herself as if to hold herself together. “But Caesar...” She closed her eyes.
Brandt turned back to Sawyer. “Anything else that you can think of? That might help.”
She shook her head. “The woman? She was shot twice and he attacked her. I think she’d broken her arm.”
Brandt nodded and let her go, Gaston leading his family away under the escort of a pack of Hounds. They radioed in for medics to meet them in the clearing. Tegan stared grimly out at the water, Kanon the only thing that kept him standing. Shot twice with silver, a broken arm, and one hell of a fall into a freezing river.
And she still had a crazed, armed Hound to deal with.
“Breanna,” Brandt started but she cut him off.
“Don’t.” Tegan turned to watch as she lifted a shaking hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, fighting for control. She blew out a heavy sigh, shoulders hunched. Then her gaze lifted and met his. Sorrow stretched between them. He remembered the woman in the interview room, the one willing to believe in him, to trust him.
The woman who had so obviously been Lennox’s friend.
He took a step forward, not sure what to say or do, and she smiled, a sad curve of lips.
“Arianna was our daughter. Caesar loved her, I knew her death hit him hard and he’d changed, more withdrawn, falling deeper into his work but I never...”
Tegan nodded and looked away, the orange strip of sunset fading on the horizon. They didn’t have long before dark set in and Lennox was already wounded.
“Lennox is strong. If there’s anyone out there who can stand against my husband, it’s going to be her.” She crossed the distance between them and touched Tegan gently on the elbow. “And I wasn’t lying. She’s a like a daughter to us. If anyone can talk my husband back to sanity…” her voice broke and Tegan turned to wrap her in a hug. She let him, head resting against his chest.
“We’re going to find them both,” he said.
He didn’t tell her—or anyone else—that he would make damn sure Caesar Torres was a dead man before they left this forest. If the Hounds couldn’t follow their own laws and execute the son of a bitch, Tegan would do it himself.
One glance at Kanon and he knew he wasn’t alone.
Bree straightened against him and turned to Brandt. “Let’s find them.”
“I don’t think you should—”
She stiffened, fists clenched at her sides as Bree turned to meet Brandt’s gaze head on. “I deserve to be with my husband when you put a bullet through his head.”
The wolfhound glanced between them, but not a single one of them could think of anything to say to deny her that. She deserved the right to say goodbye.
The water made the rocks slick, her hand slipping over the moss covered stone as Lennox struggled to drag herself out of the river. She staggered up the bank, shoes slipping as she half-crawled, half-ran for the tree line. Torres gave a hoarse gasp from the river, followed by the scrabble of stones behind her. Lennox shoved through the trees, running towards the rocky embankment that shadowed the edge of the river.
Rocks slipped under her feet and she skidded down into a gulch, using one hand to brace herself. Dizzy, she slipped and slammed into the rough ground, sharp pebbles biting at her already raw skin. One glance at her side and she’d lost a lot of blood, the silver still eating away at her veins. Breathing hard, Lennox started to roll to her feet when a hand wrapped in her hair and pulled her head back.
Torres stared down at her, dark eyes narrowed. “What is
wrong
with you?”
He shoved her back to the dirt and stepped around her, only to whirl around, arms spread wide. “They’re monsters, Lennox. You fucking know this.”
One booted foot slashed out at the ground and a spray of pebbles bit into her skin. Lennox yelped and turned away, shielding her injured side. “They’re aggressive. Killers. How many have you dragged in over the years, claws bared, your Hounds slaughtered?”
His fingers burrowed into her hair as he wrenched her head back again. “Answer me!”
Lennox twisted in his grip, slashing out at his face. It was enough to make him jerk back, slipping over the loose gravel; he slid down a few feet into the gulch. “Then let me speak.”
Her tongue ran over a roughened spot on her lip, tasting the coppery tang of blood. It filled her mouth, bitter and sharp. Damn. She’d bit more than her lip when he’d attacked her that time. She spat red on the ground to her side and lugged herself to her feet, wavering a little as nauseous gripped her stomach. She’d be lucky if she made it through this alive. Even if she managed to kill him, she was out in the middle of nowhere. No phone and she was so damn wet she’d be lucky if her frozen fingers could work well enough to get a fire going.
Shivers rattled through her bones, just in case she wasn’t aware that she had enough shit going wrong. Torres glared up at her and spread his arms wide again, demanding an answer.
When she glanced away, he roared, slamming fists down against the ground in another spray of gravel. His breathing was ragged, labored. “They’re fucking
lions
, Lennox. They have no loyalty.” He reared back, lips twisting as something horrific dawned on his face. Disgust finished curving his lips into a sneer. “Like you. You fucking bitch. Bree and I were your friends. We trusted you. I trusted you! Taught you everything I know.”
He rammed a fist against his chest. “You were like a daughter to me and yet, you screw the fucking monsters that stole my daughter.”
Lennox spun on him. “Arianna is
dead
, Torres, and it wasn’t Kanon or Tegan who killed her.”
“How do you know? Tell me.” He lunged at her, still faster than she could ever hope to be, especially this wounded. One hand caught hold of her calf and he yanked her down. Her right arm slammed into a boulder and she bounced to the ground, dirt and rocks digging into her open cuts.
Lennox bit back a scream as he tugged her underneath him, towering over her. Spittle dripped into her face as he talked. “They’re lions. You don’t know a damn thing about them.” He leaned closed and scented her skin, nostrils flaring wide, the edges reddened. “Except how they feel in bed.”
Torres backhanded her hard enough her head snapped back into the ground, her split lip bleeding freely. Lennox tasted the fresh blood with her tongue. “So far the only person killing people right now is
you.”
Torres rammed his hands into her shoulders, shoving her harder into the ground. White hot pain seared straight through her right side under the force of his weight. “They took her. They made me think she was
dead
. Slaughtered in her own bed.”
He shook her, the raw desperation in his voice making him scream. Lennox closed her eyes and forced herself to talk through the pain. “She’s dead, Torres. A year ago. No one took her.”
“You saw her!”
“No.” Lennox rammed a leg up between them and Torres let her go, rising to stand over her. He shook his head, dark eyebrows slashed at an angle over his face as he struggled to speak. Lennox slumped her head back against the ground. “No. What I saw was a lion cub. Did you even smell her?”