Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Isaiah looked at Tate, who was fast approaching him. “She’s at your house. Just arrived.”
“And?” prodded the Alpha, falling into step beside him as Isaiah hurried back the way they came.
“And she took a bullet.”
Tate swore. “She’s alive, Isaiah.”
“Yeah,” he bit out, wanting to feel relieved but all he could taste was fury.
As they reached the car, Tate spoke, “Deke, JP—track the scents of the pack, find out where they went. Me and Isaiah are gonna go and check on Quinley.”
As they both slid into the vehicle, Isaiah gave the Alpha a sideways look. “You don’t have to stay with me, I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
“I’m not leaving you on your own while you’re like this.”
Isaiah started the engine and pulled out onto the road. “Like what?”
“Mentally all over the place. You think I don’t know how you’re feeling? Havana was once shot out in the open, remember? I was ready to blow by the time I got to her.”
Isaiah remembered. It was he and Deke who’d sensed the danger and yelled at her to duck. They’d also watched over her until Tate had arrived. “I’m not going to blow.” Because Quinley needed him to be calm.
“But you’re probably going to start blaming yourself for this. Don’t.”
Too late. “I should have waited before mating her,” muttered Isaiah. “I should have made sure we’d dealt with the Vercetti Pack first.”
“If you’d have waited, she’d have mated someone else,” Tate pointed out.
The thought of that made Isaiah’s breath catch and his pacing cat halt.
“Quinley wasn’t in a position to give you time. You didn’t do anything wrong. The pack is in the wrong, not you.”
“Why is it so hard to find them?”
“I don’t know,” replied Tate, his voice dark. “But they can’t hide forever.”
It wasn’t long before Isaiah was once more parking in his driveway. He all but leaped out of the car and then jogged to the Alpha pair’s house. The front door opened before they got to it, revealing Havana. She waved them inside, saying, “She’s in the den.”
Isaiah stalked into the room, and his belly roiled. Quinley sat in an armchair in clothes a little too big for her, her skin far too pale. Blood loss, he thought.
She stood as she saw him, her expression going soft. “Hey.”
Isaiah made a beeline for her, ignoring everyone else in the room. He took her face between his hands, a growl rumbling in his chest at the faint smell of blood that clung to her—a growl that came from both him and his cat.
“You were shot?” The words came out guttural.
She placed a palm on his chest. “In my cat’s hindleg. Bullet went straight through. Helena healed me.”
He skated his hands up to her hair, pinning it back to fully expose her face, needing to just look at her. “Who shot you?”
“I’m not sure who held the gun, but it was someone from the Vercetti Pack.”
His teeth snapped together. Bastards. “What exactly happened?”
“As I was heading to my car, I noticed a group of guys and … I just knew something wasn’t right. Then I recognized one of the faces. It was Sebastian Vercetti. I shifted and ran, knowing it was my best chance of escape. They followed but couldn’t catch up to my cat. All the shots went wide bar one. She disappeared down a badger tunnel.”
“We figured your cat used it to escape. We noticed it when tracking the wolves.”
“When she got out of it, she tried getting into our house but it was all locked up tight, so she came here.”
He carefully let her hair fall back to her shoulders and topple down her back. “The wolves seemed to have backtracked after your cat did her disappearing act.”
“Not surprised. They had no way of knowing where she’d pop out. Did you track their scents to see where they headed afterward?”
“Deke and JP are on it.”
“I called Deke about ten minutes ago,” Bailey cut in from the sofa. “He said the scents vanished in an alley. Looks like the pack left in two four by fours.”
Isaiah felt his nostrils flare. The fuckers had gotten away yet again, and so now the threat to Quinley was still very real. Curving an arm around her neck, he hauled her closer.
“I’m okay,” she said, leaning into him.
“Not the point,” Isaiah bit off. “I thought they would come for me, not you.”
She lightly pinched his arm. “Stop feeling guilty. This isn’t your fault. Dominants are strong, but they aren’t all-powerful. You can’t control other people’s actions. The pack did what they did because they wanted to, and because they’re assholes—plain and simple.”
“What she said,” muttered Aspen, pointing at Quinley.
“Listen to your mate, Isaiah,” Tate ordered. “Don’t take the weight of this.”
Easier said than done. He tightened his hold on Quinley and spoke against her hair, “I’ll kill them. I’ll fucking kill them.”