Hunter, page 21
part #1 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
A second before claws sank in him, Hunter jerked to the side, sinking his claws in first. He tugged the body with him, rolled it down. Another second, and his paw was back shifting into a hairy hand. He didn’t let the shifting finish, gripping the dagger that was near the clothes he shed and plunging it straight at the enemy’s throat.
There was a ripping sound, followed by gurgling blood. He moved to the side to avoid it, then proceeded to gut the wolf as it started moving again. That worked, the body going limp before slumping, oxygen leaving the man. Hunter retracted his claws, not wanting to aimlessly gut some more when there was no life left.
Hunter, I’m still alive. They’re all attacking each other, but I think it’ll be over soon.
Fear coated her whispered, very low voice, but so did hope. The fact that she was alive and probably hiding in the spot they'd agreed on made him relax a bit, but he knew it wasn’t over yet.
He growled, hoping she understood that meant he was alive and in animal form.
I won’t leave. I don’t see our clan, but there’s fire everywhere.
Another growl, indicating he understood. He looked around the mess of bodies, the blood spilling on the street. Gritting his teeth, he dragged the bodies beside the nearest dumpster, then used his paws to cover it up with some of the black garbage bags. It was the best he could do at this point before the next explosion took his attention.
He sprinted out of there as fast as he could.
* * *
The fire was even bigger up close, and it was only Ovie’s brute force that stopped Hunter from entering the warehouse right away. Now in clothes, he sat inside another one of their rented vans, braced in anticipation behind the driver’s seat and watching as the fire threatened to spill out. Inside the warehouse, there had to be hisses and growls, but the snap and sizzle of the flames were too loud to distinguish them.
“Jack’s in there, and the police and firemen are coming. He’ll pluck her off before anyone can find her…or him.”
Right.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. We were on top of things, watching them on standby. They had a good number per clan, everyone basically getting ready for an invasion of our pocket.” Ovie’s jaw clenched. “Then someone took out a bazooka the moment they spotted her, and it all went to shit from there. But that’s been considered in the plan.”
Hunter couldn’t help it. His jaw clenched, too, as he gritted his teeth hard.
“Must be those shifter bastards. The two I scuffled with wouldn’t let go. Any other weapons?”
Ovie shrugged. “Too many, can’t name them all. Jack did. I don’t think Jameson’s group could operate those.”
“Hmm.”
From a faint distance, the sound of sirens floated in the air, getting closer. Nothing scurried at the front, but that wasn’t the warehouse’s entrance and exit area.
Worry crept up inside him, and he touched his ear device.
“Celine? Still hiding?”
No voice response, but there was a double tap.
“Are they still there?”
Another double tap.
“Are they leaving?”
Double tap.
He expelled a sigh of relief. “They’re leaving.”
“Good.”
Silence.
“Do you think it worked?” he couldn’t help asking.
Ovie nodded. “I'm pretty sure it did. Celine worked it to her advantage. I caught a glimpse of her pretending to be dragged by a vampire, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t from the vicious side. They would’ve wanted her alive. The others saw it. With the explosion, everyone’s gonna think she’s either dead or kidnapped.”
Pride surged inside Hunter.
That’s my woman.
God, she really was, wasn’t she? His woman.
It felt so damn good to hear.
Lights soon filled the air, bright and illuminating the warehouse’s surroundings. Soon, the vehicles arrived, and so did the crowd that some of the officers tried to hold back. Hoses were pulled out, the harsh gush of water eliminating the fire and filling the area with thick, dark smoke.
It felt like it lasted forever, and anticipation singed Hunter’s bones as minute after minute passed. But smoke had to die down eventually, even while this one took a while. He and Ovie prepared, tightening their coats and ready for the call. When it came, Ovie was on it, snapping his phone open and listening.
Calmness turned to a freezing, and Hunter’s body went cold when he saw the blood drain from the other’s face. He very nearly tore the phone off Ovie but forced himself to wait, catching bits and pieces from the other line, whispered urgently. After, the phone was snapped shut.
Ovie turned to Hunter, expression now urgent.
“Jack just checked her hiding spot. She’s not there.”
A burst of claws and Hunter was trying to move again. He got nowhere fast as Ovie nearly tackled him to the ground, which earned a snarl. He glared at Ovie.
The man gave him a stern look.
“You go in there with all those people swarming, and you risk us getting exposed. You risk clans finding out our plan. I’m sure a few of them have blended in with the crowd and are waiting.”
“She’s not in her spot,” Hunter growled. “She’s not—”
“She’s going to be jeopardized if you expose us. Can it, Solis.”
“Fuck you. She called us her clan. Her clan. I’m not about to lose her.”
“Fuck Celine, you mean? Because your impulsiveness is going to. Stay still, or you do lose her. You know what you’re risking.”
The man was right—he was right, but it was like a switch had turned off in Hunter’s mind, not allowing him to think rationally. He fought the instinct to move now, fought every alert in his body that told him to get out of this van. Ovie’s hand was clamped tight, like a lock that wouldn’t let go. Seconds passed.
Hunter took a deep gulp of air.
“I’m fine. Let go.”
Gray eyes studied him before the hand loosened. Hunter touched his ear device.
“Celine?”
No taps. No response. His hands fisted.
“Jack will call again,” Ovie confirmed. “We’ll wait.”
And more waiting ensued, until Hunter felt like he was going to explode. He tried to call Celine out every few minutes, but it was the same: no response, the line dead silent.
When his phone vibrated, so did Ovie’s. They received the same message from Jack.
Get in.
They both got out of the van, still careful and staying in the shadows. They were halfway from sneaking in through the warehouse back door when the earth shook—and abruptly, debris was flying in the air and headed their way.
Both dove to the side, rolling to cushion their weight. They eyed each other in stunned silence before they snapped into action, hurrying inside the building and ignoring the commotion from the front. More smoke slithered in the air, and Hunter could hear the shouted instructions of the firemen as they prepared to return in. With no time to waste, he and Ovie separated, covering left and right respectively and going through the spots they’d scouted earlier.
No bodies, blood mostly cleaned out by the fire. DNA too, most likely. It was an effective coverup, and it made Hunter’s blood boil as each step became much harder to take. His nerves hummed, ready to attack a lingering enemy in his path and take out his anger on that creature.
But no enemy came, the warehouse empty. Celine’s hiding spot was empty, too, making him circle around in anger and repeat his search. He called out Celine’s name one last time, a fervent hope that the device would make a damned sound, no matter how faint.
It didn’t.
Footsteps came from ahead and behind, indicating the firemen were covering both entrances now. He met Ovie at the end of their search…
Hunter stopped at the expression on the other’s face, indicating no good news. But there was more, and dread sank deep and low in his stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
The dread dropped to his legs, turning them to lead at Ovie’s quiet response.
“I can’t find Celine. I can’t find Jack, either.”
Chapter 28
Footsteps.
Her consciousness latched on to that, the only sound she heard as she woke up from a deep sleep and tried to gather her bearings. It took her a second to realize she hadn’t been sleeping, because she couldn’t even remember returning to the mansion to do so.
It took her another second to realize she was tied up and couldn’t move her body.
Celine’s eyes snapped open, taking in the chains around her. Taking in her surroundings, which seemed to be…a van. At least, the back of one. It was smaller than the one Hunter had first kept her in. It was…
It was an ambulance.
And it was wailing its way through the streets.
Immediately, her gaze latched on to her sides, but couldn’t make out anything other than the lumps of shadows. She turned to the front, eyeing the visible front windows, then the back of the driver's head. Something told her to shut up and not to make a sound, so she followed instinct and studied the outside instead. Trying to make sense of the streets, she took in the street signs, the other cars, any landmark that could help.
Oh, yes, no doubt about it. This was Manhattan.
When she shifted her gaze, it was to find the driver already looking at her. She took that in—the sight of a familiar face, except now it looked different. Stan Lee’s hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes were no longer friendly and gentle. They were intense, the kind of intensity that included plans and deceiving other people.
Stunned, she could only gape. He eyed her back for the longest time before the ambulance moved again, and he was back to looking at the streets.
“Glad to see you're awake.”
The chains were dastardly, preventing her from leaping the distance between them and choking the life out of him. Laughable, really, how she’d been very keen on protecting him from harm earlier.
Her hands couldn’t move at all, but that was fine. She didn’t need hands to know her ear device was still in place, color blending in with her skin.
And that was all that mattered for now.
“I can’t say the same,” she called out, clearing her throat. “Why are we in Manhattan, and who the hell are you?”
“I already told you. I’m Stan Lee.”
“If you’re Stan Lee, then I’m Carol Danvers…” The words trailed off as the ambulance slowed down again, then backed into what seemed to be a garage. She eyed the sign, the first hints of panic coming in when the garage door closed. Darkness swallowed them. “Mr. Mike’s Toy Shop? Really? That’s your cover?”
No response, not even from her ear device. Celine inhaled shakily, then tensed when the ambulance door opened. Lights flooded in, bright and white, blinding her for a second before she felt herself being dragged and lifted. She struggled—or tried to, but Stan’s grip was like iron, clamping her in place.
Sharp nails dug against the skin of her thighs, and they were starting to hurt.
She was deposited onto a cold, hard floor, and the light was turned in her direction. She looked away, then at her surroundings, which mostly contained boxes and nothing else. Then she looked at Stan as he deposited one more body beside her…
Her gasp caught in her throat, and her head reared back. Then Celine was moving her butt, shimmying it madly on the floor to get as close to the unconscious figure as she could.
“If Jack’s dead—” she hissed.
“He’s not, relax,” was the calm response. “He’s leverage, and he’ll be very much alive if you cooperate. Now, where were we? Ah…”
The lights dimmed but were still bright enough to see everything. Stan was front and center, shedding his coat and his pants—undressing in front of her without any ounce of shyness. He donned slacks, covered his pale upper body with a silk dress shirt before he turned back to face her. Long, elegant fingers swept over his face, then his hair. Something vibrated in the air, a quiet hum that changed the hair from blond to black, turned the blue a darker shade.
And she knew.
She knew, the memory hammering into her until she was reeling.
“You.”
“Me,” he agreed, mouth widening to form a smile. It was a different smile this time, filled with sensual charm and intimacy.
That intimacy made her fight back a shudder as she remembered the last time she’d been this close to him: in the bar, when he’d been charming her pants off with quiet, soothing, sexy words. She’d been lonely, looking for some fun, and she’d been drinking too much. It had culminated in seduction, one blocked from her mind until now.
But there was something else here, and it had the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
“You were the clan’s magic source. The magic-user. You orchestrated everything.”
The smile changed again, turning into a smirk. “Saying I orchestrated everything would be giving me too much credit. But yes, I am my clan leader’s right hand.”
“And he wanted all this? Breeding to populate?”
“Now, now, don’t give him all the credit. He doesn’t care. This is all my doing, to prove to him that breeding is the best step to create an army. So I used my magic, experimented with victims.” The smirk dimmed. “Waited your term out. Let’s just say there was a snag when those idiots tried to break away from our clan and ally with other idiots. But with all the mess they left back in the warehouse, everyone will think you’re dead. And now, I have you all to myself.”
There was no time to react as Stan abruptly moved like a lightning strike—a second away, then a second in front of her before he yanked her up. She hissed, the chains chafing her skin, and struggled. That struggle ended in a cry of pain as he pushed her against the wall, removing the chains from her lower body with a complicated twist of fingers.
“Why? You’ve had me,” she bit out. "You don't need me anymore."
“Three times per female, then I move on to the next. You’ve had the turn long enough, and it’s time for me to collect and move on.”
She spit at him. Hard.
Magic rippled in the air, filling her lungs and making her choke with it. A ripping sound of clothing below, her panic rising—
A severe blast that knocked her teeth off her gums. At least, it felt like that. A tinkle followed, and a shoe crushed her ear device.
She fell to the floor, facedown, hitting her jaw on the cement. Her world spun, dizziness assaulting her before she heard voices: a grunt, a growl…a purely male scream, filled with terror and agony and darkness.
It terrified her, too, freezing her in place. Silence followed the scream, so decidedly stark before a thud was heard behind her: someone falling. She tried to turn her head but couldn’t. Desperate, Celine tried to push off her chains, which only resulted in them clanking together.
A hand touched her shoulder, jerking her back. The hand lifted her with hardly any effort as if she weighed like a feather, and she felt the chains on her upper body loosen around her. She was then turned around, and Celine braced her legs to kick the person.
She gaped instead.
“Leila?”
“Nice to see you, too,” Leila mused, not looking pleased at all. “And that’s Lady Leila to you, since I saved your life and all.”
“You…” Stunned, speechless, Celine could only glance around until her eyes landed on the body beside her. It moved, and she stepped back instantly, bumping into Leila.
The female shifter grumbled. “Stay still.”
The voice wasn’t filled with anger, but something else. It took her a while to realize that it was nerves…Leila was nervous. When Stan attempted to sit up, Celine watched as Leila stepped forward and looked him in the eye. There was a bottle in her hand, one she was slowly opening. Liquid poured out, coating her palms and fingers, not quite as shimmery as the contents of the vial they took from Malcolm before. It was pink.
It brimmed with power, one Celine felt in her bones and rivaling Stan’s.
“Close your eyes, Celine. Don’t open them until I say so.”
She would’ve protested, but the hardness in Leila’s voice told her there was no room for protest. Instinct dictated, too, and Celine followed it. She lowered her head, shut her eyes.
“Stan Lee, you will forget about this incident. You will forget about Celine Peach and her daughter, and you will forget about anything related to her. The last time you saw her, she died in a warehouse fire, and it’s the doing of the shifter clan and your old clan members. You lost your magic in that fire, too, and you decided to tell your boss that it’s not worth it. Your clan is good as it is.”
Every word filled Celine with numb astonishment, but she kept her eyes closed. When Stan responded, a chill shivered down her spine.
That voice had become empty.
“Yes. I will forget it. I will…”
There was another thud.
“It’s done. You can open your eyes now, Celine.”
Celine’s eyes snapped open, locking in on the sight right away: Stan back on the ground, Leila unchaining Jack.
“Lady Leila, how did you find me?”
“I followed you. You know what? Just call me Leila. Lady sounds ridiculous now.”
“Why?”
“Because I had a bad feeling about everything, and there was no stopping Hunter and Ovie…and my brother. If I can’t beat them...” Leila shrugged. “Then I join them. Anyway, help’s on the way, courtesy of DJ Kit.” She tapped on her ear, indicating something there. Some device, probably like Celine’s. "She helped me track you down."
Stan’s body didn’t move.
“Is he…?”
“No, he’s not dead. But he did lose his magic and part of his memories. I don’t have the means to kill him, because some natural magic protects him. It was the best I could do.”
“You have magic, too?”
