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Unwilling to risk Duncan if things went south, Mercer had kept the job secret, and picked four other random pack members to help him. They weren’t from his friend group, and certainly not from Thatcher’s inner circle. Each one was single. If shit went sideways, he didn’t want to leave someone orphaned or widowed.
After very few days of planning, he and four others were hiding in the bushes.
King’s fiftieth birthday party raged on in the distance with music and shouting and the occasional firework.
With a little luck, the pack would think it was one of their own firecrackers that set their armory up in flames.
Keeping to the shadows, they did a sweep around the building, checking in the windows to ensure no one was inside when they lit it on fire. He wanted to cause a little havoc, a little chaos, not death and destruction.
And they definitely didn’t want to get caught.
The rivalry between the two packs was long and legendary. If King caught them, he wouldn’t hesitate to execute them on the spot.
The party was in full swing, full of music, dancing, and the buzz of conversation.
Mercer motioned for his pack members to follow him.
Together, they all emptied cans of kerosene onto the building, soaking the windows, brick and ground. Undetected, they crept about. Soon they’d light it and haul ass back to their territory.
When all their jugs were empty, they stashed them in a pile, hiding them in the woods. Returning to the building, his companions started snickering and whispering with excitement. He hushed them as they inched around the building. He flipped the zippo over and over in his hands, exhilaration coursing through him.
The oily smell, evidence of what they were about to do, was strong, yet as he reached the corner of the armory something else hit his nostrils.
Something stronger—spicy and intoxicating.
He shifted closer to the front of the building, away from the shadows, looking out across the compound, searching for the source of the scent.
What is that?
“Mercer?” Able questioned.
That’s when he spotted her. Headed in their direction, away from the bonfires and music, away from the safety of her pack, a woman approached. In a black and blue springy dress that hugged her curves, a cardigan over her shoulders, sexy lace straps crisscrossing over her chest, she looked around cautiously. With each step, her dress teased her toned thighs.
Mercer swallowed.
His mate.
Stunned, he watched her, unable to move, unable to speak.
Behind him, Able and James kept whispering to him, their voices growing more urgent. He didn’t care. He needed to know who she was. Could she really be a member of King’s pack? He knew life pretty much hated him, but this was downright un-fucking-fair of Fate.
Without thinking, he took one step closer, and all hell broke loose.
A motion sensor from a nearby building came on, bathing him in light.
She gasped, turned and screamed, “Daddy!”
Mercer’s response was slow. His brain just couldn’t compute.
Suddenly, his pack mates were pulling at him, dragging him away. “We got to go!”
“Shit!” All at once, he turned and ran with them. Back past the building, past their discarded jugs, into the trees. “I’m so sorry, guys.”
“Just run!”
“Do we shift?” James asked.
Shifting would take valuable seconds off their escape, though it could mean the difference of getting out. But before he could make the call, they were surrounded.
