Page 51 of Fae Devoted (Fae Touched #3)

Abby had sugar-coated her underwater training .

The facility’s instructors used a submersion technique to increase her lung capacity and raise her tolerance level in an airless Rip.

Tucker pictured an above ground swimming pool, the kind found in millions of backyards across the country.

Not an industrial size, aluminum vat filled with chlorinated water.

“Jacob, there’s a lid. You don’t think…” There was horror in Jo’s voice and the tremble in her hand as it rested on her throat.

The Director’s sins were adding up.

Tucker followed the lighted tracks toward the exit at the rear of the narrow building, in the opposite direction of Charlie and his brother.

He planned to leave Jo with Lydia and Rutgers in the outlying forest, then go back for Charlie and Jeremiah.

Tucker didn’t want his injured mate anywhere near the Director or his soldiers.

The walkway led them past the tank, close enough to see the fist-sized dents peppering the thick casing and the mangled ladder hanging from its lip by a lone bolt.

“Oh, Samuel,” Jo breathed, lifting a swollen hand as if to touch where their Alpha expended his heartache and rage in a fit of violence.

A feminine screech and the rat-a-tat-tat of rapid-gunfire stopped her cold.

She swiveled to the building’s entrance and the source of the scream. “Jacob, that’s Hannah.”

“Stay inside,” he called back, reaching the door in seconds. The order was more a plea than a command. If the witchling were with Hannah and in danger, nothing would keep Jo from following him outside.

Swinging the door wide, he converted on the run.

Inside the compound’s makeshift garage, an older man in a suit and glasses held a brown-haired child in pajamas and pink slippers high on his chest. He had one hand clamped around her middle while the other pressed the muzzle of a gun to her cheek.

His chin was tucked into Charlie’s shoulder, protecting his head.

The bastard was using the squirming child as cover.

Jeremiah rose from a crouch a good distance from the open barn doors, a solitary soldier on the ground at his feet. The human’s neck was bent at an unnatural angle, an assault rifle clutched in one hand.

“Let her go,” his brother ordered, pushing the power of a high-level dominant’s compulsion into the command. Although as an Alpha without a pack, the effectiveness was diluted.

The human didn’t react to Jeremiah’s vocal influence, and the macabre scar scoring the curve of his brother’s cheek puckered as his upper canines lengthened and punctured his lower lip.

A blonde woman knelt in the dirt near the dead soldier, her mouth bloodied. “Please, she’s just a little girl.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken. She isn’t a girl at all.” He sighed and shook his head. “You’ve forgotten who you work for, Miss Eriksen. Whose side you’re supposed to be on.”

Tucker prowled to Jeremiah. his eyes locked on the man’s trigger finger.

“You’ve chosen to throw in your lot with the monsters of the world.”

“Monsters?” Charlie’s teacher struggled to her feet. “You’re the only monster I see here.”

The Director’s gaze skittered over Jeremiah’s gleaming fangs and Tucker’s gray, then turned in the direction of the farmhouse. “Then you’re not looking close enough. Is she, Queen Rose?” He didn’t raise his voice, his tone conversational.

Lady Rose approached the tense scene with calm and grace, the ruby shining in her eyes the sole indication she was furious. Ethan was right on her heels. The Anwyll’s lethal hands were tucked inside his pockets, his long sleeves and dark shirt hiding the faint glow of activated tattoos.

“That’s far enough, milady,” the Director warned. Rose stopped.

“Release the child,” she said with the authority of a queen, as though expecting to be obeyed without question. “You are violating our treaty with the American government by holding the witchling against her will. The Fae Accord unequivocally states—”

“Witchling?” He chuckled, retreating with Charlie farther into the garage and closer to an armored black Hummer. “My moral obligation to humanity is above any law our gutless ancestors negotiated a hundred years ago.”

Commander Baxter and Thlán Rutgers stepped from the shadows of the trees. The Alpha bond, along with this nose, told him Samuel, Remington, and Anand remained underground.

Tucker turned as the internal radar for all things Jo pinged .

His she-wolf’s spine was ramrod straight as she moved to Tucker’s flank.

She pointed the borrowed Glock at the Director, her hand steady and finger firm on the trigger.

But Jo’s self-doubt leaked through the bond.

Her worry that swollen hands and iron-fatigued muscles might hinder her ability to make the precision hit without endangering the child was easy for him to read.

But no human would suspect her misgivings by the way she confidently held the gun.

And if push came to shove, Tucker didn’t doubt Jo would take that shot.

“Miss Johnnie?” Charlie whimpered, tears streaking her flushed cheeks.

“It’s gonna be okay, honey,” Jo promised. “You just have to be brave a little while longer.”

“I’m happy to see you’re feeling better.

” The Director expression appeared sincere, but the hint of rotten fish in his sweat proved his honesty was laced with mental instability.

“It seems the facility has been critically compromised,” he said, pushing the muzzle deeper into her cheek.

Charlie cried out as he guided them along the exterior of the nearest vehicle.

His wolf snarled. Insane or not, Tucker wanted to shred the man’s throat for what he’d done to Jo, Abby, and now an innocent child.

“Not yet.” Jeremiah words were too low for anyone but a wolf and vampire to hear. “Wait, brother.”

“Leave the child, and you may live,” Lady Rose said, eyes narrowed on the gun digging into the little female’s petrified face.

“It’s not nice to tell fibs, is it?” he asked Charlie, shuffling to the driver’s door. The outbuilding’s structure guarded him on three sides, the rear wall lined with spare parts, refueling tanks, and automotive tools. The only way in was through the main entrance.

“Miss Hannah, Miss Hannah,” the witchling cried, freeing a scrawny arm and reaching for her teacher. “I’m scared.”

Distraught, the woman rushed forward. Jeremiah caught Hannah around the waist before she made it a yard.

She shrieked in rage, thrashing in his arms, and crying as hard as Charlie.

His brother spoke into the woman’s ear, the words too soft for even Tucker’s sharp ears to hear.

The teacher went limp as she listened, then wiped the tears from her face and nodded.

“Open the car door, Miss Charlotte.” His sharp features twisted with the first sign of indecision. If he took the gun off Charlie to do it himself, it would give the team a window to strike.

Stuart Rutgers’ slender frame stretched tight on the other side of the loose ring they’d formed in front of the barn, his pupils focused needle points of blood-red light. As the vampire closest to the Director, DuPont’s Thlán would get to the pair first.

In either form, a Ferwyn was stronger than a Dádhe but somewhat slower.

The queen was farther away, and Ethan’s lightning and fire casts were useless so long as Charlie remained the man’s living shield. The spillover of heat and electricity would kill an unprotected child in such close proximity to his target.

A bullet to the human’s brain would take him down before he could flinch but delving into the mating bond told him holding the weapon steady was taking everything Jo had.

He didn’t want her to have to make the hard choice to risk Charlie with a less than perfect shot.

Lydia might have the skill with a gun, but her angle was all wrong.

Yet they couldn’t allow the madman to leave with the witchling either. The American government managed to keep the facility a secret for decades, and there was no guarantee other facilities didn’t exist across the country. It could take them years to find her again.

“On second thought,” he said, moving the gun underneath Charlie’s chin. “Miss Eriksen, come open the door for me and the witchling .”

“No, do it yourself you motherfucking coward.”

“Language, Miss Eriksen,” he tsked, then rammed the point of his pistol into Charlie’s skin until she screamed in pain and terror. “Do it now.”

The atmosphere was steeped in anticipation so thick Tucker could smell it in the night air.

“Let go,” she told Jeremiah with barely a quiver, her mind made up. He released her.

Hannah took a small step, then another. Each stride surer than the last.

“Hurry up, or I’ll kill her.” The Director tightened his grip on Charlie’s waist.

“No, you won’t.” Hannah’s smile was gentle, her voice reassuring as she focused on Charlie, ignoring everything and everyone else. “Trust me, honey. He won’t hurt you.”

“You’re willing to gamble with this young one’s life?” he asked, backing up another step. Charlie kicked and lost a slipper, her tiny foot now bare.

“No, I’m not.” The woman’s words were bitter shards of ice as her gaze rose to the man threatening someone she obviously loved. “Charlie’s too valuable, isn’t she?” Her focus left the Director and zeroed in on her scared charge. “Or did you forget? I’ve seen what this little girl can do.”

“Yes, you have, haven’t you?” He paused, the groove between his brows pinched. “That could become a problem with your recent betrayal.”

Jeremiah growled, and Hannah came to a halt just beyond the wide entrance, making no attempt to obey the man’s demands.

“I want Miss Hannah,” Charlie stuttered, renewing her struggles. “Let go. Let go.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, but sacrifices must be made,” he mumbled under his breath, then removed his gun from beneath Charlie’s chin and aimed it at Hannah.

Charlie screamed and chaos erupted.