Savage Surrender: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 1) (2 page)

“Follow the money,” Moira said.

“Exactly.” Bez reached the hall and paused, looking over his shoulder to the only non-Dire he’d ever taken orders from. “Return or destroy the target, sir?”

“Return.” Blaze glanced at Moira, who stared back at him, confident and strong. “I don’t think he’s the planner for these kidnappings, but we’ll need a full interrogation to be sure. Saving the child is our end goal.”

Bez nodded. “Yes, sir. You know I’ll take care of it.”

“I do know; that’s why we called you.” Blaze escorted Bez down the hall and across the threshold of two massive doors that had locked them into the private quarters. The thick, soundproof doors spanned from the floor to the coffered ceiling fifteen feet above. Dark and heavy, they highlighted the woodworking ability of another of Bez’s teammates. Dire Wolf Mammon had carved them after catching a guard selling information about Dante. Mammon had figured the greedy fucker was setting up a kidnapping to usurp the president using his mate as collateral, a plan he abhorred for being weak and cowardly. Once Bez had tracked the seller and the buyer, the Dire Wolves had descended as a pack to eliminate the threat, something they rarely had the pleasure of doing. Due to the constant threat against Blaze, and the varying skills of each Dire, they tended to work apart, relying on the actual Cleaners as soldiers and backup. But on that night, they’d worked as a unit, victorious as always. Two days later, Mammon began the process of carving the doors. He whittled and planed the wood using the claws and teeth of the traitorous wolves right on the front lawn of Merriweather Fields, making sure every shifter on staff understood the penalty should one of them decide to go for money over loyalty.

The doors offered two levels of protection: one physical due to their solidness and weight, the other auditory. Once closed, the doors muffled every sound from those on the opposite side. Blaze had just shut the two of them off from Dante and Moira, thus making their conversation as private as possible, though a strong shifter out in the main hallway could overhear them should they try to. Bez assumed none of the guards in this house would try to, not knowing what the Cleaners would do to them if they did.

Bez stood at parade rest, waiting for his true orders, his neck stiff and his shoulders hard with tension. Some things were not meant to be discussed in front of others, something he had learned long ago. Something his president knew as well. Blaze threw a glance over Bez’s shoulder and then leaned in close.

“The official mission states Harkens is wanted for questioning,” Blaze whispered with far more air than voice forming the words, making Bez furrow his brow in question. Blaze’s lips pursed for a moment. “Unofficially, you have my permission to do whatever it takes and use whatever you need of the NALB or my personal resources to interrogate Harkens your way. I want that Omega back here at the Fields in one piece, and I want you to bring the team of kidnappers in with her.” Blaze leaned back, meeting Bez’s steely gaze with one of his own. “Harkens isn’t our guy and probably doesn’t even know who the ringleader is, but he’s close enough to know how to find someone who does.”

Bez didn’t misunderstand what the president was saying, but he still asked, “And Harkens’ fate?”

Blaze’s eyes glowed, his wolf pushing forward as he growled out, “A nonissue. Harkens is nothing more than a means to an end. Bring me my Omega and the people who are holding her.”

“Understood, sir.” Bez left Blaze in the hallway, heading for the doors out of the wing. His wolf was ready to run, anxious to get on with the hunt. And if Bez was being honest with himself, so was he. Blaze wanted Harkens dead; therefore, the shifter’s last breaths were already numbered.

It was time to hunt.

S
ariel scraped
her thumbnail over the floor, scratching a track into the wood. Another line, another day survived. Testing the depth of her latest mark, she ran her fingers over the gouges. She didn’t even need to look to count them. Twenty-seven marks. Twenty-seven days locked in a houseboat in the middle of a swamp. Adding the week or so between when the men had come for her and when they threw her in her current cage, and she’d been gone from her home for over a month. It felt like a lifetime.

As the sounds of the night-loving creatures rose, heavy footsteps approached, their pace rushed. Sariel scrambled off the floor and into the corner. Hands shaking, she stood with her head slightly bent and her shoulders curved toward the wall. Submissive. Twenty-seven days alone with the same four men had taught her much, mostly how to pretend she respected them so they wouldn’t take too much of an interest in teaching her their pack order. She may have no longer shown the marks from those first few lessons when she’d tried to escape or fight them, but she certainly hadn’t forgotten.

“Yoo-hoo, dud. We’ve got a present for you.”

Sariel bit back a whimper, terrified of what the present could be. She’d been lucky enough to be guarded by men who listened to their leader, and their leader said she was not to be touched. That hadn’t stopped them from torturing her in other ways, though.

She cringed when the door flew open, revealing a tall shifter standing on the threshold.

“Honey, we’re home.” He snickered as he walked in with some kind of large, rolled package over his shoulder. Sariel sniffed on instinct, but her wolf senses had faded too much to get a good read on what he’d brought. Twenty-seven days was a long time to go without shifting, and while her wolf was still a strong presence in her mind, the physical attributes that had always been close at hand due to the wolf within had almost disappeared. She was practically human at this point.

The man tossed the package on the cot opposite Sariel’s before he even looked her way. His eyes nearly glowed, his excitement almost something she could feel. And that terrified her even more. She cowered as he stalked closer, wishing for the millionth time to be anywhere but there. His grin widened at the sight of her pressing herself against the wall, a sick, twisted smile that made her want to throw up.

“Oh, dud. Don’t worry, your time is coming.”

“Please.” Sariel shivered as his finger ran down the length of her arm. “I just want to go home.”

“That’s not in the cards for you, darlin’.” He grabbed her wrist, pulling it to his lips and licking across the width. Sariel fought back a sob and pressed her shoulder harder against the wall. “I know you’ve been lonely, so I brought you a treat.”

Sariel took a deep breath when he dropped her wrist. She hated him, hated the way he watched her and the constant touches he gave whenever he came near. Little things, hints of what he wanted, all adding up to make her sick whenever he came through the door. He hadn’t taken yet, but she knew the yet was the most important part of that statement. His time was coming, and they both knew it. The sadistic bastard liked to tease her about what he’d do eventually, to keep her on edge.

With a knowing smirk, he chuckled before turning back toward the cot. He practically danced over to it, pulling at the fabric wrapped around the oblong shape with glee.

“See, we needed a replacement for you, since you’re a dud and all.”

Sariel’s heart skipped and her gut clenched. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” He grinned as he yanked the last of the fabric. A small female, a child, really, rolled to the floor at his feet. She didn’t move, didn’t react. Sariel couldn’t even tell if the girl was breathing.

“What did you do?” Sariel whispered, unable to hold back the words.

The man grinned and shrugged. “We found someone who wasn’t a dud.”

“No.” Sariel’s stomach sank and her eyes burned. This was her fault. Her stupid, defective body had been the catalyst for these animals to hunt the poor girl. She wasn’t stupid—she knew the reason they called her a dud. Sariel had known it since she was a pup. She didn’t have a functioning reproductive system, which her captors had discovered when they’d forced her to endure two days of invasive medical exams.

“Don’t worry,” he growled, his voice a shade too high not to be mocking her. “We’ve got a plan for you as well.”

He prodded the girl with his foot before walking to the door, leaving behind the blanket he’d had her wrapped in. Sariel waited until he slammed the door before she left her corner. She stepped lightly, moved slowly and softly across the room. She almost didn’t want to know if the girl was alive or not. She hoped she was, prayed even, but deep down, Sariel wondered if it would be better for the girl to be dead. Whatever those monsters had planned, it involved shewolves being used in ways that evoked her worst nightmares. And the gods forbid that fate be bestowed on a child.

“Please, oh please, oh please.” Sariel dropped to her knees and crept the last few inches toward the girl, holding her breath. With her hands shaking, she reached for the girl’s throat. A pulse pounded slow but strong. She was alive.

Sariel didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed in that fact.

B
ez raced
across the marshy ground, his claws gripping at whatever purchase they could find, his stride long and aggressive. His prey ran ahead, just out of his sight, the sounds of him slipping and sliding across the wet ground giving away his location. The animal remained just out of Bez’s reach, not that Bez worried about the distance. Time had taught him many things, one being the necessity of patience when on the hunt. His body toned, his breathing measured, he dropped his head and ran harder, using his nose to guide him. The scent trail left by the animal in front of him practically glowed in the moonlight, a strong and wide light leading the way, stinking of fear and adrenaline. His prey was scared…as well it should have been.

As Bez leaped over a fallen tree, he caught sight of his quarry running through the tall grass. Dark and thin, the wolf looked too small to be a shifter, but Bez knew the truth. A man lived inside that wolf body; one Bez had been hunting for nearly three weeks. Through seedy bars and outlaw shifter communities, he’d tracked the beast before him, hunting down every clue, roughing up any witness who dared to refuse to speak. Three weeks of little rest for the hunter. It was time for the chase to come to an end.

Demanding one last burst of speed from his body, Bez lengthened his stride and pumped his legs harder, gaining on the smaller animal. Reaching, clawing, running, stretching—Bez gave himself over to his animal side, letting his wolf out to do what it did best—until the prey offered up the perfect target. Bez lunged, his teeth clamping down on the other animal’s back hock. He jerked his head, flipping the smaller wolf on his back, satisfied in his conquest only when he heard the snap of breaking bones.

Once the animal lay panting in the grass, Bez crawled over the top of him. Feet on either side of the fallen wolf, Bez pulled his lips back in a snarl, ready to pin his prey if need be. The animal didn’t fight back, though. Instead, he closed his eyes and whimpered, angling his head to show his neck to Bez. Submitting to the more dominant wolf. Weak bastard. Knowing he had the upper hand, Bez took a step back, keeping his eyes on his fallen prey as he shifted to his human form.

“You’ve given me quite the run, Harkens.” Bez shook off the last of his change, a familiar chill going down his spine as fur turned to skin. “Now, get human; we need to have a talk.”

The fallen wolf didn’t move except to attempt to stretch out his back leg. At least that’s what Bez assumed—whatever bones had broken during the capture flip had left the animal unable to do much more than twitch. Bez stared at his prey, waiting for compliance, calm in the face of the disobedience. But after a few minutes where the wolf did nothing more than shake and whine, Bez sighed. Some people simply couldn’t accept defeat.

Bez leaned over the fallen animal, letting his wolf push past his human side enough to feel the warmth of the animal power in his blood. Focusing on his prey, Bez put a hand across the other animal’s forehead and met his watery gaze.

“Shift, now.”

The wolf’s whimpers turned first to frightened growls and then to screams of pain as his human body ripped through his wolf form. Naked and shaking, the twisted man lay in the mud at Bez’s feet. Thin…pale…weak.

“I’m not telling you shit,” Harkens spat even as his breathing turned to pained pants.

“I don’t need shit. I need to know about the missing Omega, the young one.”

Harkens groaned as he tried to roll onto his stomach, the bones in his back and shoulders not complying with the movement of his muscles. “I don’t know nothing.”

“Double negative.” Bez put a bare foot on Harkens’ ribcage.

“What the hell—” Harkens’ scream cut off whatever he’d planned to ask. Not that Bez would have answered him. He was too busy forcing his foot down on Harkens’ broken ribs.

“Double negative, fucker. ‘Don’t know nothing’ means you know something. I’m giving you one chance to tell me what I need to know. You do that, I kill you nice and easy right here.” Bez smiled as the man’s eyes grew wide. Harkens’ scent went harsh and slightly bitter, making Bez’s wolf practically salivate with glee. Yeah, he liked the scent of fear on this one.

When Harkens still didn’t speak, Bez nudged his foot higher, pressing harder. “You make me ask again, your death will still come, but it won’t be nice or easy.”

“Fuck you,” Harkens spat through trembling jaws.

“Wrong answer.” Bez grabbed Harkens, picking him up and slinging his broken body over his shoulders. Harkens screamed and cried, trying to wiggle out of Bez’s hold, but to no avail. Bez ignored every sound, every movement, and carried his prey out of the marshlands.

When Bez reached his Jeep, he tossed his load in the back seat. Harkens cursed and attempted to crawl out of the open-topped vehicle, but Bez had been a hunter for a long time. No one escaped him once he set his wolf upon their trail.

Keeping one hand on Harkens’ ankle, Bez reached under the passenger’s seat for the metal handcuffs he stashed there. He had another pair under the driver’s seat and two more in the very back. Bez was nothing if not prepared, thanks in part to the mechanic of the Dire wolf pack, Luc.

As Bez fastened the cuffs to Harkens’ ankles and wrists, essentially tying him to the frame of the Jeep, he clucked and shook his head. “I was trying to be nice, but you had to make things difficult. Now, we get to do things my way.”

“Oh, please,” the injured man huffed, still fronting as if he could somehow best Bez. “You think I’m afraid of you Feral Breed fuckers? You have no idea who I work for.”

“Nope, I don’t.” Bez clasped the last cuff to the base of the roll bar and strode to the driver’s side of the vehicle, fighting back a smile. So Harkens assumed he was a Feral Breed member? Not that he had anything against the motorcycle club Blaze used as a more localized police force. Hell, he’d even worked with some of them the previous year when the kidnappers almost managed to get their hands on another Omega. He liked the team he’d met in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but the Feral Breed had nothing on a Dire Wolf.

Bez hopped into the driver’s seat, not bothering with the door. “I’m not a Feral Breed member. I’m far worse than those pups.”

“So, what, you’re a Cleaner? Blasius so afraid of us he sent out his private guard dogs?”

Bez shrugged as he reached under his seat for a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. “You could call me a Cleaner, or not. You’re dead either way.”

Harkens snorted. “Yeah, right. Give me half an hour for these bones to heal, and we’ll see who’s the one dying.”

“You’re all talk, Harkens.” Bez grinned and pulled on his clothes, tossing a rough blanket over his shoulder to cover the other man’s nudity. He didn’t need to get pulled over on the way to the safe house because Harkens was letting his junk air out.

Harkens used his legs to push himself farther up in the seat, a sure sign his bones were healing. “You’re all brawn with no brain. You think I can’t get away from you?”

“Nah, man…you can’t.” Bez met the man’s eyes in the rearview mirror, letting his wolf come forth to swirl the color around the iris the way only Dire Wolves could. “No one’s ever escaped me.”

“Bullshit.” Harkens tried to sound strong, but his eyes were blown wide and his heart pounded loud enough for Bez to hear from his seat up front. “The only tracker the NALB had with a perfect record was Beelzebub, and he’s been dead for over twenty years. Fucking vamp took care of that psychopath.”

Bez grinned as he spun out on the dirt. His wolf made a stronger appearance, forcing his canines to lengthen and the corners of his eyes to pull up into their more lupine placement. Cocky fucker liked to be reminded of his last fight with a fully matured vampire, even if the story the shifter world knew was completely wrong. “So glad my reputation precedes me, but I wasn’t dead. The vamp tried, though. He tried hard.”

When Harkens made a strangled sound, Bez glanced in the rearview mirror again. Harkens had gone even paler, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. Which, Bez guessed, he kind of had if the man thought a vamp had taken him down.

“Holy shit, you’re…”

Bez gunned the engine as he hit the highway, growling into the wind. “That’s right, Harkens. You’re dancing with one of the devils of the breed tonight. ”