Though Ryan had stepped out of Stone's office with the same composure he had walked in with, he had left with a storm brewing inside his head.
His body had already healed from the wound Dodge's stake left, but the insult lingered like a rash under his skin. Every part of him wanted to circle back and rip Dodge's throat out, but he'd held his wolf in check long enough to survive the meeting. That alone was proof of strength.
Sandgate's skyline blinked back at him through the dark-tinted corridor windows. Rain slicked down the glass.
For a second, Ryan's chest tightened, not from fear, never fear, but from something darker. It was probably the irritation at having to humor humans, the irritation at Stone's smug threat, and the irritation at being caught lying about the massacre by none other than…Rick.
Ryan's jaw flexed as the memory of his brother disguised as an intern flashed in his mind. The faint nod, the unmistakable scent. His brother had been close enough to hear everything and to understand Ryan had pinned the massacre on the Lawless Pack when, in truth, it had been Ryan's command that put those human hearts in the mouths of their corpses.
If Rick and his pack retaliated…
Ryan exhaled sharply, calming himself. Rick wouldn't expose him to the gang. That would be merciful of him. No, his brother didn't care for mercy. Rick would certainly retaliate but it would be unexpected and unpleasant for sure. The thought of it made his head throb.
A familiar hand brushed against his arm, pulling him back to the present. Dara stood behind him, eyes bright with something between amusement and hunger.
"You look like you're about to chew through a wall," she teased, tugging him toward her. "Come on, Alpha Ryan. I'm not quite finished with you."
Ryan didn't protest. He definitely could use… more distraction. The distraction was fast, rough, and scorching.
Dara gasped against the silk sheets, her nails raking down his back, leaving thin crimson trails that sealed up before her eyes. Ryan had lost count of how many times he pushed her back onto the mattress, how many times he let his wolf roar through the ferocity of his thrusts. She'd begged for more. She always begged for more.
When it was over, Dara collapsed against the pillows, flushed and trembling. Her dark hair tangled around her face with sweat.
"You were… rougher than usual," she whispered between ragged breaths, lips curving into a sated smile. "Not that I'm complaining. I wouldn't. God, Ryan. Werewolf sex really does hit different." She laughed softly, but her humor was lost on him.
Ryan lay beside her, staring up at the high ornate ceiling. Sweat cooled against his skin, but his mind wasn't cooled at all. Her voice buzzed like static in his ears, barely cutting through the fog of his thoughts.
She rambled about the meeting, how Dodge was all bark and no bite, about how her father should have trusted Ryan more. Ryan only half-listened. Every sentence she spoke blurred together, dissolving into background noise behind the questions drilling into his skull.
Why had Rick been in that room?
What was the Lawless pack really up to?
What if Mr. Stone's shaky trust didn't hold long enough to buy him time?
Ryan pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. He hated uncertainty because it was a sort of weakness. And right now, the cracks in his careful system of lies were starting to show.
"Ryan?" Dara's hand slid along his chest, her nails teasing against the muscles she knew were still taut with tension. "You're a million miles away. Don't tell me you're thinking about anything other than this beautiful moment in time."
Her touch should've soothed him, but instead it aggravated the dissonance tearing through him.
"I need some… quiet," Ryan muttered.
Dara pouted but leaned in to press another kiss against his jaw. "You never stop thinking. Think all you want but just… don't forget to let yourself enjoy things once in a while."
Her perfume—rich, floral, suffocating—flooded his senses. He inhaled deeply, but beyond it was something else, a smell that didn't belong. Ryan's body stiffened instantly. The wolf in him bristled, ears pricking, nostrils flaring.
That scent was wrong. It was off, metallic in a way, and undercut with damp earth. It wasn't Dara. It wasn't any of her household staff as he had come to know either. No, it was unfamiliar and very close, perhaps getting closer as seconds went by.
He sat up abruptly, startling Dara.
"What's wrong?"
"Shh." He pressed a finger to her lips, his red eyes cutting through the dimness of the room. "Quiet."
Her eyes widened as he stood, moving across the room like a shadow. The storm outside lashed against the windows, thunder cracking overhead, but Ryan wasn't listening to the storm. He was listening for footsteps. Breathing. A heartbeat.
Someone was in the house.
He pulled Dara up by the arm, moved to the bathroom and shoved her inside. She gave a squeak of protest but he silenced her with a growl that sent a tremor through her spine.
"Stay here and don't make a sound," He ordered before shutting the door from the outside. "Don't come out until I tell you to, no matter what you hear."
Her palms flattened against the door as he stepped back, her trembling breath caught in her throat. "Ryan, what is going on…"
He ignored her. The wolf's vision flared through him, his pupils expanding until the world sharpened into infrared. The cool walls glowed faintly blue. The traces of human warmth burned orange. He scanned the corridor as every sense of his stretched taut.
The scent was stronger now. It was still metallic and sharp. It was also still wrong. Ryan padded down the hallway, his movements silent while his breath stayed controlled. He descended the staircase slowly, every creak of wood under his steps matched against the rhythm of the rain pelting the glass.
When he reached the ground floor, the scent practically clawed at him. The back door was ajar. Wind whipped through the gap, spraying water across the marble floor. It reeked of rain, yes, but also something else; blood. It was not fresh blood, but stale, like a reminder of violence past.
Ryan scanned the backyard. His vision stretched through the trees, the streetlights bleeding in the storm but nothing moved. Nothing breathed or lurked. And yet, he couldn't shake off the presence that lingered in his senses, mocking him.
He shut the door with deliberate care, fingers lingering on the lock. The house was now too quiet. And then, a loud scream sliced through the silence. A woman's scream, blood-curdling and high. It was unmistakably Dara!
Ryan's wolf roared inside him. He dashed upstairs in a blur, the house trembling under the weight of his speed. The scent of blood slammed into him before he even reached the bedroom. Just as he suspected, the bathroom door was ajar. Blood was smeared across the floor. The tiles glistened with it, fresh and wet.
But Dara was gone.
Ryan's chest heaved as his eyes darted around the room, scanning for any sign of a struggle, like a lock snapped or a wall cracked. On the mirror, smeared in blood were the words. Good luck explaining her corpse to her father's gang.
His rage threatened to burst through his veins. His hand curled into a fist, claws threatening to rip through his skin. The storm outside raged harder as he bit down on his lips.
"Fuck you, Rick."
***
Ryan stood motionless in the bloody bathroom for a few more seconds as his mind whirled. Dara's scent clung to the air, sharp with fear. It was also tinged with a bit of perfume. His gaze rose once more to the red smear of words on the mirror.
Good luck explaining her corpse to her father's gang.
He crushed the edge of the sink under his palm, splintering porcelain like glass. His wolf prowled beneath his skin. Every second he wasted thinking was another second Dara might not have. But it was a trap. It reeked of one.
Pursuing the Lawless pack now would be reckless, the kind of impulsive move that got alphas killed. If he died tonight, his pack would splinter, his hold over the city would crumble, and the delicate web of alliances he'd spun with humans like Stone would tear apart.
Still, he knew what would happen if he didn't go. Dara wouldn't live to see the sunrise, and Stone's trust — the bridge between werewolves and Sandgate's power players — would burn to ashes. He exhaled sharply and made his decision. He grabbed his Glock and stashed it in one hand.
The air around him shifted. Inhaling sharply, Ryan flexed his neck as his bones cracked and his skin stretched. His shoulders broadened, the veins in his forearms pulsing with light as claws sprouted from his fingers. Fur rippled along his spine. His eyes glowed red, a sharp contrast to the lightning flashing outside.
Fully shifted, Ryan looked like something sculpted from rage and blood. He lunged at the window, crashing through glass and steel, falling two stories before landing on the rain-slick pavement in a crouch. The concrete cratered beneath his weight.
In one breath, he was gone.
The wind howled against his face as he tore down the bushes, his senses sharpening to a painful clarity. Dara's scent was faint but traceable. Her blood and fear tangled with the heavy musk of the Lawless pack. They smelled of rot and of hunger that had long since forgotten morality.
"Ryan." Athena, his wolf, growled low in his mind. "You're chasing death. You know that."
"Not death," he snarled back. "Retribution."
"You can't fight an entire pack alone. They're luring you out here. This scent trail is too easy."
"I know what I'm doing."
"You're lying." Her tone hardened. "Your heart's racing, and they'll smell that fear a mile away. You think you can save her, but this is what they want you to think. You're desperate, exposed and predictable right now."
"I don't care." His paws slammed against the wet ground, sending sprays of mud flying. "I'm not letting her die."
"Then at least call for backup. Let me reach the others through the link—"
"No." His growl cut her off. "No one else dies for my mess."
Lightning illuminated the forest ahead, white light flashing through a haze of rain. The scent trail thickened as he entered the trees. Dara's fear filled his nose, and with it, the collective stench of the Lawless pack. They were close.
Ryan slowed, lowering his body. Every sound magnified: raindrops slapping leaves, the crunch of his claws in the mud and the distant heartbeat of a dying thing. Then it all went silent. The forest, that was moments ago alive with sound, now faded to a low hum.
Athena's voice also dropped to a whisper. "Something's wrong."
Ryan inhaled deeply. The scent of Dara's blood was strongest here. It clung to the wind, saturating the air so he stepped into a clearing. The moon was shrouded, but he didn't need its light to see her. Dara's body lay against a tree stump, her nightdress soaked through, one arm draped limply over the roots.
"Dara…" His voice broke.
He shifted back, skin reforming where fur had been. His claws shrank, his fangs retreated. The rain plastered his hair to his forehead as he crouched beside her. For one hopeful moment, he thought he saw her chest rise. He touched her wrist. Her pulse was very weak.
"Dara, …" He gathered her into his arms, his hands slick with blood. Her head lolled back with eyes half-lidded. He shut his eyes as the weight of failure pressed down on him like chains.
Athena's growl reverberated through him, low and mournful. "Hear that? Footsteps, lots of them. They set you up, Ryan. We must get out of here before…"
A blinding light flared just then. Ryan's head snapped up, pupils narrowing against the glare. He smelled gunpowder, cigarettes and fury in the air. The forest ahead was suddenly crawling with armed men emerging from the dark with rifles and flashlights; the burning blade gang.
At their center stood Mr. Stone himself, rain running down his black suit, his eyes brimmed with rage as they locked onto the alpha werewolf kneeling in the dirt, holding his daughter's seemingly lifeless body.
"YOU ANIMAL! How could you kill my girl?" The father cried out. The night split open with the sound of safeties clicking off.
"Boss," Dodge's voice thundered through the storm, each word laced with venom as he stepped forward "It will be my greatest pleasure to blow his cursed head off where he kneels."
Ryan said nothing. His mind ran cold as it calculated. There was no version of this where words would save him, but he had to get a few words out.
"The wolves that put Dara in this condition are close and if you value your lives, you'll let me save her like I was doing, and run while you still can."
The first bullet tore through his shoulder from Dodge's rifle. "Shut the hell up, you beast. Your scare tactics won't work on us. It's just you against us!"
Ryan gritted his teeth at the fool as his wound closed up. His eyes found Mr. Stone's. "She's not dead. I can help her and you can ask her yourself who attacked her." His ears tingled with the sound of werewolves crawling close. "Shit, it's too late. They're here."
Their eyes widened in horror as fur swept over his skin like a carpet. Bullets came flying and as much as they hurt, Ryan pulled Dara behind the tree. Then he heard the first scream as a rabid werewolf lunged at a gang member. Chaos, blood and gunfire ensued following the slaughter.
With seconds to spare, he grabbed Dara's hand and took most of the pain coursing through her. She let out a huff of breath, then settled into a comatose sleep.
Ryan surged in his human form, turned to the blinding light of battle and fired a silver bullet, taking down the most ferocious werewolf that had already gutted three gang members. He fired another, saving Mr. Stone's neck from being slashed open by fangs. The rest of the werewolves retreated, bolting into the forest with their injuries.
Ryan threw his arms up in the air as a gesture of sincerity. "They will likely return with backup. We need to leave…NOW!"
At the smallest of cues from Mr. Stone, a gang member picked up and threw Dara across his shoulder. Mr. Stone gave Ryan a hard, distrustful look that didn't bode well for their future transactions but just as Ryan began to mouth an apology, he felt a bullet blast into his side.
It hurt more than it should…because it was a silver bullet. His vision swam as the gang dispersed. As his knees hit the ground and blood stained his tongue, he tried to focus on the figure beyond the trees with the gun still aimed at him.
"Rick." He muttered before his vision went dark with a powerful thud to the ground.