Page 26

“Unbelievable.” Craig cackles. “Merciless Paul. Cold, ruthless Paul. Everyone says you’re bulletproof, but it looks like there’s a heart under there after all. ”

Panicking, I look at Abe, still helpless and pinned on the floor. His dark eyes are wide with fear.

“The real question is…” Craig’s attention moves back to me. He removes the gun from my temple, and—I can’t help it—I exhale mightily. “How does she feel about you?”

A new kind of fear blooms when Craig slides the gun from my face to Paul’s, removing all rationality, all logic, from my mind.

“Whaddya think, little wolf?” he asks me. “Should I shoot him?”

I swallow mechanically.

“Take the heater,” he tells one of his men.

A bearded Magpie grabs the weapon, keeping it trained on Paul.

Craig flexes his fists once, then lands a brutal punch to Paul’s right eye. He winds up quickly and swings again, hitting the exact same spot. Paul releases a small grunt at the second impact, and that’s all it takes to completely undo me.

“Stop,” I implore. “Just…stop.”

I’ll do anything, give anything. There is no price I won’t pay to make it stop.

Craig pulls back, victory glinting in his eyes. “Just like I thought,” he whispers. “Come here, little wolf.”

I walk slowly, like a sleepwalker.

When Craig reaches for my hips, his grip is sharp enough to leave marks. He nods to his friend, and the bearded man presses the revolver directly to the center of Paul’s forehead.

“You’re gonna watch this,” Craig says to Paul. “You’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna enjoy it.” He grabs the back of my head and forces his lips on mine. It’s pure instinct to resist—I wiggle and try to pull away—but his claws are wound tight into my hair. Welding me in place.

A thudding of fists erupts from the corner, followed by a groan.

Abe .

Gasping, I wrench away with enough vigor that hair rips from my scalp. I pull in a second desperate breath as I lean around Craig.

Abe is struggling again, trying to rise and fight. He’s quickly pushed to the ground, this time with a blooming black eye to match Paul’s. The man above him rears back and lands a harsh kick to his ribs. Abe curls around his gut. The brute steps back for another go, and I turn to Craig.

“Call him off,” I rasp.

Another grunt from Abe.

Craig yanks my hair, tugging my head back. “What’s it worth to you?”

“You know exactly what it’s worth.” I narrow my eyes but play along, sliding my arms around his neck. Abe takes a third kick as I do.

“Call. Him. Off.” I hold Craig’s eyes.

He waves his hand, and the man abusing Abe stands down. Craig pushes me back, then forces me onto the low counter of the bar.

I scan the room. The four men without guns aren’t really threats. They’re clustered loosely around the room, leering at me with interest. Two of them sit on the tables, completely at ease. The man guarding Abe is similarly lecherous, and his gun hangs limply by his side.

Unfortunately, Abe is on the floor with his eyes squeezed shut, his breaths coming in shallow pants. The other problem—the most pressing problem, really—is the man guarding Paul. The revolver is still trained firmly on his forehead, and that trigger can be pulled in an instant.

“Are you watching, Paul?” Craig taunts.

When he climbs on top of me, I realize we’re not getting out of this alive. Not any of us. I’m collateral damage, useful to hurt Paul, but once Craig is finished, he’ll kill us. One by one. Letting him have his way bought us time, but I haven’t changed the outcome.

Not yet.

I’ve accomplished my first job though. Craig thinks I’m submissive and helpless .

But he’s wrong. I am neither.

I am a wolf.

I turn my head to Paul, and he meets my gaze. We’ve never needed words. His dark eyes flick to my right. All the knives, the ones they stripped from the guys, lie behind me on the counter. Ripe for the taking. One of Paul’s is closest. A corner of my mouth lifts, liking the irony.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” Craig murmurs. His lips move sloppily across my neck. “I’m going to fuck you harder than he’s ever fucked you in his miserable life.”

Target acquired.

I burn my eyes into Tony’s now, making sure he’s ready. He tightens his mouth and crosses his arms. Three fingers appear on his shirtsleeve. I try to bend my neck to spot Abe, but there’s no way to warn him. I can only hope his eyes are open. Or at least his ears. He’ll need to move quickly.

Tony drops a finger. Two.

I wait.

One.

When his last finger falls, my hand darts overhead, grip closing around Paul’s knife.

“Abe!” I scream as I swing my arm around and plunge the blade deep into Craig’s back. It’s a clean stick, angled under his ribs on the left side. One and done, exactly the way Paul taught me long ago.

You gotta come at them quick and hard, Kitty-Kat, because they’re always gonna be bigger than you.

Craig slumps on top of me. I kick him off, rolling his carcass to the floor.

Across the room, my wolves move in synchronicity. Paul ducks in his seat as Tony grabs a glass whiskey bottle. He swings hard, shattering it into a million shards against the bearded man’s face. The gun goes off, but it fires wide before clattering to the floor .

On the ground, Abe kicks out with his right leg, sweeping the feet from under his attacker. I move to his aid, but a stray Magpie with a knife rushes me. I duck his wild swing and plunge my blade into his gut. He drops to the floor.

Abe is still on the ground, but so is his attacker.

The gun lies several feet away, forgotten.

They’re tussling for position on the floor, but Abe quickly loses and gets pinned.

He’s wheezing, badly hurt. I’m behind the Magpie in a flash, and with a flick of my wrists, I snap his neck.

Shoving him aside with a grunt, I crouch over Abe.

“Savage,” he pants, eyes flicking to the dead man beside us.

“Abe. ” My hands fly everywhere, all over him. Checking.

“My ribs.” He closes his eyes again.

Across the room, there’s one man still standing. Tony and Paul have him cornered. They have their knives now, and it’s over quickly. I stay with Abe, scanning the floor for movement from the downed attackers.

“Check them all,” Paul roars. He plunges his knife into the temple of the nearest Magpie. Tony thunders to the next and does the same. I inhale sharply at their brutality.

“They saw our faces, Kat,” Abe whispers between pants. He’s wiggling, trying to rise. “We have to make sure.”

He’s right. We do.

When it’s finally done, Paul crosses the room.

“Kat.” He crushes me to his chest. “Oh, Kat.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but I feel his fear and his regret—his apology—nonetheless. Feel it in the tremoring grip of his arms, impossibly tight around me.

I bury my face in his shirt to hide my tears. There’s nothing I hate more than showing weakness in front of the guys, but the memory of Craig—the slimy feel of his hand on the back of my head, moving up and down my body—is too real, too fresh. My cheek burns where he slapped me. I sniff loudly.

“Kat.” Paul’s arms flex around me. Abe and Tony are there too, forming a cocoon.

“I’m fine.” The words come automatic. A reflex.

“It’s okay to not be fine,” Abe murmurs. “Just for a minute. It’s just us.”

It’s just us.

I exhale shakily, drawing inexplicable comfort simply from their nearness. Their protection, their love. After one final hiccup, I turn to look at the fellas. “What are we gonna do now?” I whisper, peeking at Farley, cold and still beside his beloved bar.

Paul releases me. “Now we have to…” He surveys the room with clinical precision, but his hands tremble. “We have to make it look like we hit this place.”

“Like we hit it?” Tony repeats.

“You got a better idea?” Paul whirls on him. “We’ve got seven bodies in here and a shit ton of blood. We’ll never be able to clean it up. It’s a slaughter.”

Abe slumps against the wall and nods.

“We’ll finish emptying the register, move our stuff out of the back,” Paul continues. “Then we’ll put our mark on the wall. No one will ever know different.”

“The other Magpies will know.” I point to the men. “They’ll know different.”

“I’ll deal with them. I’ll annihilate them.” Venom, pure and undiluted, blazes in Paul’s eyes, from his lips. It’s a promise, and I know he’s good for it.

Silently, we enact the plan. Cleaning house .

Before we depart, Tony walks behind the bar. He pulls a coin-sized tub of paint from his pocket and dips his finger. Slowly, he paints our black wolf on the wall. It feels sacrilegious.

“Lo siento, mi amigo,” he whispers to Farley as he finishes. He crouches over our friend, resting his paint-stained hand on the man’s chest before ducking his head. “Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre…”

I blink furiously and whisper my own quick prayer to the heavens, more for Farley’s sake than mine.

Like always, I’m filled with the frustrating sensation that no one is listening, that no one cares.

That Paul and Abe and Tony and I are walking out of this pub by the tenacity of our own hands, not by the grace of any god.

Paul takes the paint from Tony. He crosses to the wall, blackens his finger, and slowly scratches one line below our wolf symbol. Not a prayer, but a message. Not for God, but for the Magpies.

He writes slowly. Deliberately. Anger bleeds from his fingers into the dripping black paint on the wall.

No guns in my bayou.