Author: J.D. Tyler

Nick shot him an incredulous look. “Seriously? Why did you go after my daughter back then? She was just a little girl.”

Darrow shrugged. “She was so pretty, she caught my notice. And I was hungry. I made a bit of a game out of stalking her. It was pure sport.”

Anger and disgust suffused Nick’s expression. “Sport? Hunting children?”

“What’s the big deal? Hunters shoot doves and deer all the time, fix them for the dinner table, and no one blinks. Yes, sport.”

“That’s nowhere near the same thing. That’s monstrous,” the commander spat.

“I didn’t succeed anyhow, but your mate was a nice consolation prize.” He smiled as though in fond memory. “Did you know even as rogues, we can choose to make our bite pleasurable? Bet you thought we lost that ability when we crossed the line, but the truth is, we just don’t bother to use seduction very often.”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“I made your mate orgasm several times . . . before I killed her.”

If the chains had been any metal but silver, Zan had no doubt Nick would have ripped out of them as though they were made of paper. As it was, he lunged against his bonds and snarled his rage, his wolf so close to the surface it was painful to witness.

While the vamps continued to laugh and taunt Nick, Zan took stock of his own injuries. His back was sore from the blast, and he had a few cuts and scrapes. The most worrying thing was the pressure in his head, building steadily into an awful headache. The stabbing kind where it felt like a knife was twisting in his brain. This was going to be a bad one, like nothing he’d ever experienced, and he knew what it meant.

The blast and blow to his head had hurt him, inside. He was in real trouble.

Somehow, Nick managed to keep the men talking and learn their secrets.

“Why come for me now, after all this time?” he demanded.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Darrow casually stepped to a table sitting against one wall, close to Nick, and fingered something lying on it. From his sitting position, Zan couldn’t see what it was. “Come on, Westfall, think. I’m savoring my revenge for your interference in my plans to savor your precious daughter, but do I strike you as the sort who’d go too far out of my way to get it?”

“No,” Nick said slowly, eyes narrowed. “Not unless there was something more in it for you. My guess is money, flowing from whoever is keeping you in Armani suits.”

The vampire’s fangs flashed as he laughed. “There now, was that so hard? Care to further guess who I’m working for, and why they have such a stiffy when it comes to seeing you burn?”

“I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s probably the same asshole in the government who is privy to our movements and keeps feeding them to you.”

“Ding-ding, right again!”

God, this fucker was crazy.

“So who is the traitor, Darrow?” Nick pressed. “Who’s behind the ambushes on my team? Who needs the Alpha Pack dead and gone? The White House? The president himself?”

“No. The tentacles don’t extend quite as far as the president. But close.” The vampire studied his nemesis thoughtfully for a moment. “Your Alpha Pack was set up to be attacked in Afghanistan when they were still Navy SEALs, turned into wolf shifters, then recruited to become the Alpha Pack before you ever knew they existed, and then betrayed time and again. By whom? And why? You may as well have your curiosity satisfied before I kill you.”

Zan waited, hardly breathing as Darrow circled the room, obviously deciding where to begin. Finally, after six years of wondering, it seemed they were going to learn the truth about the Alpha Pack and the worst of the challenges they’d been dealing with since.

“As you may have surmised by now, the formation of the Alpha Pack was a planned operation all along. The US government had somehow learned about the rogue werewolves in Afghanistan and placed a team there, purposely in harm’s way, to let nature take its course.”

“Then what August Bradford told us is true,” Nick said.

“Ah, the good scientist. He’s quite dead, you know. My boys were called upon to dispatch the man after he escaped your team.”

Zan winced at the news, feeling bad for Daria, Ryon’s mate. Bradford was her uncle, and the news that he was one of those behind the experimenting on shifters had been hard on her.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed by that news,” Nick said dryly.

“I imagine not. Anyway, the circle of those in the know about the Alpha Pack project from its inception was quite small. One member of the White House cabinet, one higher-up in the CIA, and one general.”

“Jarrod Grant?”

If Jarrod, Nick’s best friend, had been involved in the attack in Afghanistan, it would kill Nick. Plain and simple.

“No. He was brought in afterward as the handler of the team and told only what he needed to know.”

“You mean lied to.”

“Of course. Now, things went all right in the first couple of years,” Darrow said. “The Alpha Pack emerged exactly as the little government group had hoped—top-secret military fighters who were shifters with special Psy abilities, battling the paranormal bad guys. Truth, justice, and the American way, blah, blah. Makes me want to sing the fucking national anthem.”

Nick ignored the caustic remark. “So what went wrong?”

Darrow turned, his smile chilling. “The head of the government circle pulling the strings from the start, our very own secretary of state, Owen Matthews, was approached by a certain Unseelie king named Malik.”

Oh fuck. And there’s where it all went to shit.

“And the rest, as they say, is history.” Darrow picked up the object from the table and unfurled it. A rawhide whip. “Matthews and his circle were bad enough for the nefarious methods they used in forming the Alpha Pack. But they never stood a chance against the persuasion of a dark creature like Malik, and soon scientists were hired, labs built for the purpose of experimenting on shifters and humans. Malik wanted to integrate himself into society, posing as a rich human entrepreneur while creating a race of super-soldier shifters with Psy abilities to be his own personal army. He wanted to rule the world.”

“But we stopped him,” Nick finished. “Destroyed the labs and came too close to the truth. And now Matthews is trying to sweep all of his shit under the rug—including the Alpha Pack.”

“Exactly. He approached me to accomplish just that, and in return he set up a team of scientists in Washington to create special drugs for paranormals. They produce several types that target different areas, most important, to make already aggressive vampires turn rogue and to allow them to walk in the daylight.”

“Matthews wanted one last shot at creating a fighting force he could control.” Nick laughed grimly. “What an idiot. My Pack consists of good men, heroic men, who’d do anything for their country and fellow man. They’d battle any creature anywhere to save even you, Darrow, but Matthews is so short-sighted he’d see them destroyed to save face.”

“That’s about right.”

“What’s he paying you? I have contacts that can see the figure doubled if you help us bring him down.”

Darrow looked shocked for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s not all about the money. I have power now.”

“Not for long. He’ll see you all dead as well to save himself, and you’re a fool if you don’t realize it.”

The vampire’s gaze hardened. “And this is where our conversation ends, Westfall. I’m finally a part of something big, and I won’t allow you or anyone else to stand in my way. You’re done.”

“Not yet.” Nick gave him a feral grin. “You think I’m going to die here, in your sorry excuse for a home?”

“That’s precisely what’s going to happen. I’m going to kill you right under Prince Tarron’s regal nose, another perk of my revenge. I love sticking it to that pompous bastard whenever I can, and I’m going to enjoy dumping your body on his doorstep.”

“Really? You’re either ballsy or extremely stupid to make your home base so close to the prince’s stronghold.”

Nick’s gaze flicked briefly to Zan and away again. Heart racing, Zan listened, hoping the commander could wrangle a bit more information from Darrow.

“I’ve been here for almost a year, and he never suspected,” Darrow bragged. “We would’ve attracted too much attention if we’d moved into a regular home in some neighborhood. But nobody pays much mind to new tenants in a formerly empty office complex, especially if it’s in an area with some traffic.”

“Clever,” Nick mused without humor. Another glance at Zan sent the message: Tell Selene. Get us help.

“I thought so.” He gave the whip a loud snap, then nodded to his minion hovering nearby. “Turn him to face the wall and then get out of my way unless you want the same.”

As the rogue repositioned Nick in his chains and stripped off his shirt, Zan opened the mind link with his mate.

Baby? To his relief, she was waiting.

Oh, God! Honey, where are you? Tarron and his men, the Pack, everyone is looking for you and Dad!

Sweetheart, listen to me carefully. Darrow is holding us in a building he claims is very near Tarron’s stronghold. It sounds like this place is in the nearest town, in an area where there are other businesses, so their comings and goings don’t stand out too much.

All right. I’ll tell the others. Anything else?

He said they’ve been here almost a year, so check real estate sales or rentals. If there’s nothing under Darrow’s name, check under Owen Matthews or any name he might use for his holdings.

There was a pause. You don’t mean Secretary of State Matthews, do you?

Unfortunately, yes. He’s the head of the snake, always was. When he goes down, all of this stops.

Okay. You hang on! We’ll find this building and we’ll be there soon!

I will. I love y—

A scream shattered his thoughts, and quickly he shut down the connection. There was no way he could subject his mate to what was happening to her father.

He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away. Nick’s back was bowed, muscles bunched as he gripped the silver chains that had to be burning his palms. His head was turned to the side, dark hair falling over his eyes, and his teeth were gritted against the pain.

Darrow raised his arm, brought down the whip again. The rawhide struck Nick’s back with a horrible slap, wrapping around his upper shoulder, crossing down his back diagonally to his hip. A line was scored into his flesh, a deep furrow that immediately began streaming with blood. Crimson streaked down his flesh, into the waistband of his jeans.

Over and over again, the blows rained down. Zan held on to the contents of his stomach, though just barely. That is, until Darrow’s devious mind revealed Nick’s ultimate torture.

“Smell that?” He inhaled, then shivered with pleasure as he stepped forward. Trailed a finger through the red liquid and brought it to his lips. Tasted. “Delicious blood. Born shifters taste so exquisite, not even the finest red wine can compare to the full-bodied richness.”

“Get off me, you freak,” Nick hissed, yanking against his bonds.

“Don’t be so dramatic. After all, you’re going to love the next part.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember what I said before? Your mate loved what I did to her. . . .” Darrow moved close, into his captive’s back. Ran a palm down his shoulder and side, rested his chin at the crook of his prey’s neck as a lover might do.

Horror filled Zan to the core, and he fought in earnest not be sick.

“No,” Nick whispered. “Don’t.”