Page 2 of Exiled Heir

“Yeah. We have a guy in the valley that does them cheap. He says it doesn’t even need to be pure silver. Just plated would be enough. And let me tell you. We have enough to kill you and the rest of your pack dead.” Tweedledum’s eyes went bright.

Before I had to think of an answer to that nonsense—the urban legend that only silver would kill a werewolf, the fact that he threatened to kill a pack that hadn’t existed for eleven years, the fact that someone in the Central Valley was charging werewolf hunters top dollar for the ammunition equivalent of snake oil—Tweedledee was back, and he rolled me over onto my stomach.

He was strong, surprising given his girth. For a moment, I fought, limply struggling, trying to stay on my back. It was useless. He pulled back his hand and clocked me across the face with his sledgehammer of a fist.

My vision went fuzzy, fading in and out, my body trying to heal the head wound and my nervous system trying to recover from electrocution. Tweedledee yanked my hands back and slid a couple of thick cuffs over my wrists, locking them closed and then attaching them to a new chain that he attached to a bracket in the floor.

The chains jangled as he tested their strength. He pulled up on the cuffs, wrenching my shoulders. One more injury to add to the rest of the physical trauma.

So much for the quiet beer I’d wanted. Drugged, kidnapped, and about to be handed over to Declan in exchange for whatever the current bounty was. I should haveknownbetter than to stop in Pineridge Springs.

“Roll him onto his side. If he vomits, I don’t want him to die.” Tweedledum sounded more confident now that I was chained tightly.

The two of them rolled me to my side. I wasn’t sure why they thought Declan would care if I was alive or dead. The whole point of selling me to Declan was that he was going to cut off my head and mount it to his “Men Who Tried To Screw Me” wall.

I convulsed, my body twitching, but I could finally move my fingers again, curling and uncurling them. My major muscles were still useless, but maybe when they transported me to the van or truck they were going to use, I could get free.

Tweedledum swore, looking at his phone. “He’s here.”

His gaze swung around the room. It was empty. I wondered what he expected to see in a back room of the bar I had stupidly decided looked good for a drink.

There was bad luck, and there was dumb luck. Walking straight into Tweedledee and Tweedledum had been the perfect mix of the two.

“We need a chair, right?” Tweedledum turned to Tweedledee, for the first time seeming to want his opinion. “Go get a chair.”

“Like one of the bar chairs?” Tweedledee asked.

“Like… I don’t know.” Tweedledum ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Like a folding chair?”

Tweedledee shrugged. “Do they even have those? Did you bring one in the car?”

Huffing out sharply, Tweedledum threw up his hands. “Okay. Yeah, a bar chair.”

Tweedledee lumbered out, looking markedly more sober.

“You two are trying to get on Declan’s good side?” Drool dripped from the corner of my lips. “Here’s a hint—Declan doesn’t have a good side. He hashisside and the side you’re on when he wants you dead.”

“Hey.” Tweedledum approached again, waving his gun in my face. “Declan is good people. He’s given us work before.”

“Just wait until you make a mistake. Declan is only good people until you try to think for yourself.” I managed to shake the chains attached to my wrists. “Trust me, I’m the one he put a hit on. How did you even recognize me, anyway?”

“There’s a text tree. The picture was pretty good.” Tweedledum brought the gun closer to his face, and for a moment, I was pretty sure I was about to see someone accidentally shoot themselves in the face by trying to look cool scratching their hairline with a semiautomatic weapon.

Then, he pointed the gun down and brought his thumb to his lips, chewing on his nail. I couldn’t believe I had been finally caught because Declan was someone who texted all the desperate wannabes when he had a bounty out on someone.

“You know—” I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say. I had no money to buy them out. I had no leverage if they were scared of Declan because if he found out that they had me and let me go, it would be them in his next text message.

The door burst open, Tweedledee hefting a heavy wooden chair, panting, his eyes wide.

“He’s here. He’s…” Tweedledee tripped forward, stumbling and sending the chair flying to a corner of the room. He got back to his feet and stumbled over to the chair, setting it between me and the door. “He’s inside. Should we offer him an hors d’oeuvre?”

“Awhat?” Tweedledum said.

“An appetizer? Like at TGI Fridays?” Tweedledee twisted his hands together. “Their potato skins here are pretty good.”

“Declan Monroe doesn’t wantpotato skins.” Tweedledum threw up his hands.

“He likes onion rings,” I advised. “Extra crispy.”