Page 18 of Flint’s Fate (Silver Falls Shifters #3)

CHAPTER 17

JENNA

J enna’s wrists burned from the rough ropes biting into her skin as McVey’s men dragged her through the twisting corridors of his estate. Her head throbbed from the blow that had knocked her off her feet during the fight, but she refused to show weakness.

She didn’t struggle—not yet. That would be a waste of energy. Instead, she took stock of the situation, memorizing every turn, every doorway, every potential exit. She was still in McVey’s house. If Flint was still breathing, he would come for her.

The thought was an icy blade against her spine, but she forced herself to push it aside. Flint was too damn stubborn to die.

Two men led her into a lavish sitting room—one was a man she thought she’d seen around town named Blake; the other was broad-shouldered with a scar slashing across his jaw. The room reeked of wealth and manipulative power. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling grounds, darkened now except for the occasional security floodlight sweeping across the property. A crystal decanter sat on a side table, half-full of dark amber liquid.

And there, reclining on an expensive leather chair like he owned the world, was Connor McVey.

His gaze slid over her with a slow, assessing look, like he was cataloging her, dissecting her. “Jenna Hartford,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with the kind of charm that had probably fooled a thousand people before her. “You really don’t know when to give up. You’ve been an impressive thorn in my side… much like your aunt Maribel.”

She lifted her chin, refusing to let her arms strain against the ropes. Refusing to let him see even an ounce of discomfort. “Should I be flattered or disgusted?” she asked, voice flat.

McVey chuckled, swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand before taking a slow sip. “Flint Mercer will come for you,” he mused. “That much is obvious. But I wonder—do you think he’ll succeed?”

Jenna didn’t blink. Didn’t give him an inch. “You know Flint better than I do, why don’t you tell me.”

McVey studied her, then smiled. “He might. I certainly know he’ll try. But I don’t believe in unnecessary bloodshed. So why don’t we talk first?”

She didn’t respond. Let him play his games. She wasn’t biting.

He leaned forward. “You must realize, by now, how this ends. You have something I need. Something only you can give me.”

Jenna tilted her head slightly. “You mean the thing you’ve spent years trying to steal?”

He chuckled again, like they were sharing some private joke. “Your family has been hoarding something that doesn’t belong to them. The Calloways understood that. Your aunt understood that.” He set his glass down, eyes sharpening. “And I think, deep down, you understand it too.”

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t let it show. “You talk a lot for a man who had to kidnap me to get my attention.”

McVey’s smile widened. “I don’t need you unwilling, Jenna. In fact, I’d rather have you at my side by choice.”

Now he had her attention.

McVey leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. “I can give you something Mercer never will. Power. Control. A future.”

Jenna snorted derisively. “You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all.” He motioned for the guard to remove the ropes. Blake hesitated but obeyed, slicing through her restraints. The moment her arms were free, Jenna rolled her shoulders, ignoring the pins and needles sensation as blood returned to her hands.

McVey didn’t react, just studied her like a man who had all the time in the world. “You think I don’t see it?” he continued. “You fight like a woman who knows she’s alone. Like someone who understands that the surrounding people will eventually turn on her.”

Jenna narrowed her eyes, but he didn’t stop.

“You can play at alliances all you want, but the truth is, Mercer isn’t your mate. You aren’t one of his people. And the Ghost Walkers?” He shook his head. “They’ll never let you live once they understand what you are.”

She felt it then—the first hint of doubt trying to sink its claws into her. She shook her head trying to dispel it.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You’re my only option?”

McVey’s smile was slow, confident. “I’m the only one offering you a choice.”

Jenna let silence stretch between them, forcing herself to look at him like she was considering his words. Let him think he had an edge. Let him think he’d planted a seed. Because if McVey believed he was winning, he’d get careless.

And when he did? She’d bury him.

Jenna leaned back against the velvet-upholstered chair McVey had so graciously allowed her to sit in, stretching out her legs like she had all the time in the world. It was a calculated move—an effort to appear at ease despite the pulse of adrenaline screaming through her body.

She was not at ease.

Flint was out there. Somewhere. Fighting his way through McVey’s security, or worse—bleeding out because she hadn’t been able to keep up when the chaos swallowed them.

She forced those thoughts down. Panic didn’t serve her here. What did serve her was McVey’s arrogance.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said, drumming her fingers along the armrest. “You think that after kidnapping me, tying me up, and threatening my life, I’m just going to throw in with you?”

McVey gave her that look. The one men like him always did—like they were ten steps ahead, and she was just too simple to see it.

“Come now, Jenna,” he said smoothly, like they were having a civilized debate over dinner. “We both know I haven’t actually threatened your life. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have wasted time bringing you here.”

She tilted her head. “No, you just need me breathing long enough to unlock your little treasure. What happens to me after you get what you want?”

McVey sighed, as if he found the whole thing exhausting. “You make it sound like you’re disposable. That’s the problem with your way of thinking. You see enemies everywhere. I see opportunities.”

Jenna forced herself to soften her expression, pretending to let those words sink in. “And what kind of opportunity are you offering me?”

McVey leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “A real future. Not as some forgotten Hartford clinging to dying land, but as the woman who finally takes control of what’s rightfully hers. You could have power, Jenna. Wealth. Security.” He paused, letting his words settle. “You wouldn’t have to fight anymore.”

Jenna let a long silence stretch between them, letting him believe she was considering his offer. She shifted slightly, crossing her legs, tilting her chin just enough to feign thoughtfulness.

She had no intention of siding with him, but she needed time. Flint needed time. She knew he would come. If he was alive, he’d be coming for her, which meant she had to play this just right.

“Let’s say I entertain this,” she said slowly, careful to keep her voice just uncertain enough. “Let’s say I agree. How does this work, exactly?”

McVey’s lips curled. “Simple. You help me open the chamber beneath Cold Creek. You embrace your role as the rightful heir to what’s buried there. And in return, I make sure you’re protected.”

She arched an eyebrow. “From whom? Calloway? The Ghost Walkers? But who will protect me from you?”

McVey’s expression hardened for just a second, then smoothed out again. “From anyone who might misinterpret your power as a threat.”

There it was. The big lie. McVey didn’t see her as a partner. He saw her as a key—a tool to be used and discarded once the chamber was open.

Jenna forced herself to let the edges of her resolve blur, allowing the smallest flicker of doubt to surface in her expression. “You really think Calloway’s people would come after me?” she asked, giving him just enough to encourage him.

McVey leaned back in his chair, relaxing. “I know they would. You’re the last of your line. You’re standing between them and something they’ve been after for centuries. Something they believe your people stole from them.”

She nodded slowly, pretending to absorb it, but inside, her mind raced. If she could keep him talking, if she could keep him distracted, maybe she could get to a weapon. Maybe she could get out before Flint even had to… A distant explosion rocked the estate, rattling the glass in the windows.

McVey’s head snapped toward the sound, eyes narrowing. “What the hell?”

Another explosion followed, closer this time.

Jenna’s pulse kicked up. Flint. He was here.

McVey shoved to his feet, barking orders to the guards outside the door. Jenna did the same, moving to stand, but the second she did, one of the men who’d brought her here was on her.

“Sit down,” he growled, shoving her back into the chair.

Jenna saw her opening. His grip on her wrist wasn’t tight enough. His stance wasn’t set.

She snapped her arm free, driving her fist into his throat. He staggered, choking, but she wasn’t done. She shot up from the chair, pivoting on her heel, and slammed her knee into his ribs.

The man crumpled to the floor with a groan.

McVey cursed, reaching for something beneath his suit jacket—a gun.

Jenna lunged. She grabbed the whiskey decanter off the side table and swung hard, smashing it across McVey’s arm just as he pulled the weapon free. Glass shattered, amber liquid spraying across the floor. McVey stumbled back, cursing, but he didn’t go down.

She turned for the door, her heart hammering, but before she could make it two steps, a gunshot rang out. The bullet buried itself in the doorframe inches from her head.

Jenna froze.

McVey straightened, his face a mask of controlled fury. “That was a warning,” he said, voice cold. “Next time, I won’t miss.”

She swallowed hard, her body vibrating with the need to fight, to run… then, another explosion sounded outside, closer than before. He moved between Jenna and the door.

Gunfire erupted. McVey’s expression shifted—not to fear, but to annoyance.

“Mercer,” he sneered, like the name itself was a curse.

Jenna’s heart slammed against her ribs. Flint had come. She just had to make sure she survived long enough for him to get there.

Jenna’s fingers tightened around the broken glass stem of the whiskey decanter, the sharp edges biting into her palm. She didn’t feel the sting—adrenaline had drowned out everything but the need to move.

McVey stood between her and the only exit; his gun still trained on her. His patience had worn thin, his arrogance slipping just enough to reveal the man beneath the polished suit. A man who was beginning to realize he might not win this as easily as he thought.

The explosions outside rattled the walls again, shaking dust loose from the rafters. Somewhere beyond this room, Flint was coming.

McVey took a measured step closer, gaze locked on hers, his grip on the gun unwavering. “I warned you not to make me regret my generosity.”

Jenna tilted her chin up, her mind racing. “Generosity? You tied me to a chair.”

“You’re not tied now,” he pointed out. “I’m offering you a way out, Jenna. But if you keep pushing me, I will drag you out of here instead.”

She could see it now—the moment he’d decided she wasn’t worth the effort of playing nice. He wouldn’t try to manipulate her anymore. Wouldn’t waste more breath on empty promises.

Which meant he was done waiting. She knew she had seconds.

The guard she’d taken down earlier was getting back to his feet, wheezing but recovering. Another two men hovered near the door, waiting for McVey’s order to haul her out.

She couldn’t let them.

Jenna had always been patient, calculated. She knew how to play the long game. But tonight? Tonight, she was done waiting. McVey reached for her. Jenna struck first.

She twisted in a heartbeat, pulling the blade from the sheath hidden inside her boot. She’d tucked it there when they’d dragged her in, knowing they’d check for weapons at her waist but hoping they wouldn’t search her thoroughly.

The knife’s edge bit deep into McVey’s side. He roared, staggering back, the gun firing wildly as his grip spasmed. A bullet ripped through the air past her shoulder, embedding itself in the wall, but Jenna didn’t stop moving.

One guard lunged, reaching for her. Jenna turned the knife, slamming it into his thigh. The man howled, crashing to his knees.

The two guards at the door snapped to attention, their weapons coming up as the door exploded inward.

Flint was there.

Jenna barely had time to breathe before Flint tore through the room, his presence like a reckoning, his fury an unstoppable force. His lion wasn’t just close to the surface—it seemed to be bleeding through his human form in the way his eyes blazed, his muscles coiled, his movements deadly and efficient.

The first guard fired, but Flint was faster, ducking low before launching into him, his fist cracking against the man’s jaw with bone-shattering force.

The second guard tried to retreat. Flint ripped the gun from his hands and broke his arm before driving him into the floor with a brutal, merciless efficiency.

McVey stumbled, clutching his side, his eyes flashing with fury as he realized just how badly this was going for him. Jenna saw it happen—the second he made his choice. He turned and ran.

Jenna surged forward, yanking the blade from the man’s leg as she did, ignoring his scream. She had the shot—one clean throw and she could end this, drive the blade into McVey’s back before he disappeared down the hall.

But Flint was already moving. She caught a flash of his expression, wild and unforgiving, as he took off after McVey, his instincts running hot with the need to end this permanently.

Jenna hesitated for half a second before following him. The alarms blared.

“Damn it,” she snarled, catching up to him. “We don’t have time for this!”

But he wasn’t listening. Jenna grabbed a discarded pistol from one of the fallen guards, leveling it at the last conscious man still groaning on the floor. “Stay down, or the next one goes between your eyes.”

The man barely whimpered. Jenna spun back to Flint. He had McVey cornered now, fists clenched, chest heaving. But McVey wasn’t stupid—even wounded, he was a snake.

“I wonder what she’ll think of you,” McVey rasped, blood staining his perfect suit. “When you lose control. When you finally become the monster you keep locked up inside.”

Flint didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Jenna did. She grabbed his wrist. Flint flinched at her touch, his muscles straining beneath her grip, his lion still clawing for violence.

“Enough,” she said, low but firm.

Flint’s jaw was tight, his body wired, but he didn’t pull away.

McVey laughed, his steps already carrying him toward the side exit, his movements slow but intentional. “Kill me, Mercer,” McVey taunted. “See what happens when you…”

“Get out,” Jenna cut in, voice like a blade.

McVey’s lips curved, mocking, but he moved, slipping through the door and into the night.

Flint shook beneath her touch, his breath ragged, but Jenna kept hold of him.

“Flint,” she said, sharper this time. “Look at me.”

He did. His eyes still burned, his body tense, but he was listening now.

She squeezed his wrist. “We have to go.”

The alarms screamed around them, the estate waking up to war. Flint nodded once. Jenna didn’t let go until he did. Then they moved together toward the darkness and what little safety it offered.