Part 16 (1/2)

Fly hesitated, searching my eyes, and, in that hesitation, I saw the answer.

Chapter Twenty.

Zane I knew there was a problem as soon as I got onto the grounds. It was too quiet, too dark. They were waiting for me; they had to be. That was fine, because I'd come for them. For Ace.

I should have done this years ago. I should have taken care of my cousin when the rumors started. Instead, I'd buried my f.u.c.king head in the sand and hidden from the truth like the coward I was. And now, my father and my pack were paying the price.

I went directly to the jailhouse, remaining in the shadows, which was easy considering all the lights were busted. Stalking noiselessly, I reached it without trouble. More warning signs. It shouldn't have been this easy. They should have tried to take me out at the border or, if not then, once I set foot on the grounds.

The windows had bars over them and the door was fortified. I remembered that from years before. If I was going into the building, I'd have to s.h.i.+ft back to human form, which I did. Still uninterrupted, I stepped up to a window around back. I saw him then saw my father lying on a cot in a fortified cell, chained to the wall, pa.s.sed out.

They'd stripped him naked.

They'd stripped their Alpha naked.

My blood ran cold, and my hands curled into fists. It took all I had to suppress the roar building inside me.

They would pay. I would make these traitors pay.

I took in the two men who stood carrying arms just outside the metal bars. Other than that, the place appeared deserted.

I considered my options. Two men. I could easily take them. They'd need more than one bullet to take me down, and I'd be quicker than them. But just as I reached to open the door, a handgun c.o.c.ked behind me, cold steel touching my skull.

”We've been expecting you.”

”Glad you could make it, Z.”

I turned, not recognizing the voices. They were obviously Ace's men, and it wasn't just two of them. There were about seven outside and, when the door opened, I saw the two inside weren't alone either.

”To what do I owe the honor of such a large welcome?” I asked.

”You mean to who.”

”Whom, actually, I believe is proper English,” I corrected.

”f.u.c.k you, a.s.shole. How's that for proper English?” He couldn't have been more than eighteen, this kid. But they all had guns, and all of them were trained on me.

It all happened so fast then. I thought I had time. I thought I could save him. But the order came - four words: kill the old man - so unexpectedly that everything seemed to move in some other dimension. I stood locked in place, still processing the words as someone aimed the gun at my father's head, my father who lay unconscious and naked on the cot, and fired. I felt it as if it had been me in that moment of death, heard myself scream, saw blood splatter onto the wall as a second shot was fired, my father's head jerking with each one, the bullets killing him. The third and fourth shots weren't necessary. Even the second hadn't been. But it took me that long to process what they'd done. In a fury so hot, so filled with years of hate, I heard nothing as I annihilated my enemy, killing them all as shots fired, injuring me, the fire of my wounds only churning that of my rage, of my blood l.u.s.t, hotter. I didn't stop until they all lay on the bloodied ground at my feet, dead or dying, gurgling, choking as life drained from them.

Finding the key to the cell hanging on a wall, I unlocked it, my ears still ringing as if the sounds of bullets still ricocheted off the walls. I knelt beside his cot, his bloodied, bruised body too damaged to heal, his brain shot out, permanently ending his life. Tears streamed down my face, regret at my own f.u.c.king stupidity killing me! Killing me along with him. I was sorry. I was so f.u.c.king sorry. But it was too late. He was dead. My father, Cain, Alpha of Savage Blood, had been killed like an animal by men not worthy to lick his boots. By a man he had taught. Had trusted. He had been betrayed, again, and, this time, the betrayal had cost him his life.

”I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Kneeling beside him, I wept, my head on his belly, my hand holding his to the top of my head, seeking absolution I did not deserve, seeking the forgiveness of the dead. Of all I'd forsaken. All whom I'd failed.

A gurgle from behind me came at the same moment as that final thought.

Aria.

She was still alive.

I hadn't failed her.

Not yet.

Hands fisted, I rose and turned to where the sound came from, to a man not quite dead. I kicked him in the gut first, hate curling my lip, making my face into something hard. Something to be feared. I knelt, fisting his hair, forcing him to look at me.

”Where is he? Where is Ace?”

Nothing but a groan. I noticed how a part of his throat was missing.

”Where the f.u.c.k is he?”

He opened his eyes and looked at me, and even in his agony, he smiled. ”He'll take Rage's princess. He'll take it all, traitor.” He attempted to spit on me then but choked on his own blood. I released him, rising, finally understanding the depth of my stupidity.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Aria For hours, I sat at a table in the corner of the bar. Fly worked around me, unloading things, cleaning. Again. He kept an eye on me but didn't approach. Didn't try to engage me in conversation.

I nursed my third beer, processing. Zane had lied to me. Or at least omitted some pretty important information. He knew who had killed my father, knew who had started this whole thing - this craziness that put my family on the run - only to be found and brutally murdered. I'd escaped. For a long time, I'd wondered daily if I was also meant to die that night. And now I knew who it was. Who had wanted us gone. The reasons behind it were pathetic. A waste when the price was human life.

Power.

Revenge for some insane sense of betrayal.

That was it. Those were the reasons my parents and brother had been killed, their lives worth nothing to the man who had set this unending cycle of murder into motion. Of all the people in the world, it had to be the father of the man I loved.

And that man had lied to me.

He'd left out crucial information. I remembered the day he'd told me, how he'd asked me to let him tell me his way. How he hoped I wouldn't hate him. I hadn't thought it possible to hate him then.

As far as his part in this, I still believed Zane had been manipulated. But it did not excuse his omission and the fact that this was his pattern.

But there was one piece of the puzzle I still had to figure out. Who was Obsidian and how did he play into this?

Something caught my eye out the window. It was Mark, driving my car, top missing, into the parking lot. How s.h.i.+ny and new it looked. I stood when he walked inside, smiling. He greeted Fly then came over to me, handing me my keys.

”Good as new, almost. New top should arrive in another week or so. I'll get it on there as soon as it is.”

”I don't have any money to pay you.”

He shook his head. ”Not asking for any. Z takes good care of me.”