Beside him, Louis checked the security feeds of the surrounding houses while Alois and Elliot, their only backup, scouted the neighborhood. That it was a trap was a given. It wouldn’t stop them going in after their mate, but they needed to be smart about it. They wanted to save her, not get her killed. She was so fragile, too human. As soon as they had her safe, that was going to fucking change. No more skirting around the subject. They were telling her everything, then they were going to make her theirs.
Pierre hated to admit it, but Louis had been right. Rather than preventing this scenario, keeping things from Melinda had led to it. If Melinda’s life wasn’t in danger, he and Louis might well have traded punches. For real. They hadn’t done that beyond the training mats since they were young pups. “Anything on the feeds?”
“Oui.I count two men in the front garden behind the hedge, and two at the back.” Louis swiveled his laptop, showing him the two in the front. “If they’re armed, they’re being discreet aboutit. Don’t want the neighbors calling nine-one-one. No telling how many are inside.”
“Less the seven who left earlier. They’ve had to split their forces, too.”
“I guess Gabriel does know what he’s doing, after all.”
Pierre grunted. Maxime trusted Gabriel’s judgment. They should, too, but it still irked him his brother was using their mate like a chess piece, another pawn in the war between them and the Faucherians. “And if Cordelia’s here?”
Louis shook his head. “Not our primary objective.”
No, but if he had the chance to take her out… It’d taken them months to find the witch. If they lost her this time, they might never get this close to her again. With any luck, she’d die of old age.
Louis grabbed his arm. “Pierre, look.”
The image on the screen zoomed in on the house, but Louis wasn’t touching the keyboard.
Louis gripped his arm harder, grinning. “It’s Melinda. It has to be. Clever little cipher.”
He didn’t know if his heart would burst with pride or relief. The picture zeroed in on a window on the second floor.
Pierre pointed at the screen. “Look. On the window. Behind the curtains. What is that? Lipstick?”
Louis took control of the image and zoomed in close. “It’s a message. A single word.Trap.Where the hell did she get a lipstick from?”
“Does it matter?”
A slender hand snaked up above the windowsill and wrote out another message.Run.Oui,it was a trap, but there was not a chance in hell they were running. They’d come for their mate. They weren’t leaving without her.
* * * *
Pierre and Louis were here. She’d got all choked up when she’d hacked into the security cam on the house across the street and spied them sitting in the car. They’d come? Once again putting their lives on the line for her? But… Were they here for her, as Cordelia had suggested? Or were they here for Cordelia? Perhaps it was best if she wasn’t here to find out. They’d hurt her enough already, and unlike her mother, she wasn’t going to stick around to let them break their promise all over again.
Melinda discarded the lipstick she’d found in the bedroom’s en suite bathroom. She’d warned them that it was a trap. If they chose to come after Cordelia, that was on them. She wanted no part in it. What she needed was to get out of here, get Manchu and then disappear for good. Go somewhere where there were no werewolves and no witches, time traveling or otherwise. The Greek Isles were sounding more and more appealing.
The clump of boots outside the door stilled her fingers on her keyboard. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered she was no longer in the attic. Concealed behind an ornate bed head beneath a window, thick drapes on either side, she was well hidden, but her hiding place wouldn’t stand up to a concerted search effort. The footsteps passed without entering the room. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. With any luck, she could count on the twins being a distraction. Then she’d make a break for it. While they were busy here, maybe she could sneak back into the penthouse and grab Manchu. And her mother’s teapot.
Melinda switched to another open tab—the house’s alarm system. Not a closed-circuit system. A bad move on their part, but perfect for her. She couldn’t turn into a werewolf or fire a gun, but she had her own way of making chaos. While it was all going to hell in a handbasket inside the house, no one should notice her sneaking out of the back door.
Her finger hovered over her enter key as she listened. All was quiet. She grinned. Not for long. She hit enter. The alarm blared, ear-splittingly loud. For a minute, nothing happened. Then doors slammed, boots pounded on the stairway and shouted commands competing with thewhoop-whoopof the alarm echoed through the house. Melinda flicked to another tab and set off the sprinkler system. Someone had been safety conscious when they’d renovated this house. It worked in Melinda’s favor. Water sprayed from the ceiling. Curses, in French and English, receded down the stairs.
Melinda switched to another tab and checked the black SUV down the street. It was empty. Pierre and Louis were coming in. Tucking her laptop under her coat, she peered out from behind the bedhead.Time to move.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Faucherian guard didn’t see him coming and in seconds Pierre had dispatched him and taken his weapon. On the other side of the garden Louis, with his own newly acquired pistol, signaled his readiness. Time to storm the house. They took out two more guards in the foyer before meeting up with the Proulx brothers on the stairs.
The sudden silence as the alarm cut off was a relief. Now he could pinpoint where the rest of the Faucherians were. It wasn’t hard. When would these people learn they were dealing with werewolves?
He took the stairs two at a time, leaving the Proulx brothers to secure the rooms downstairs. On the second-floor landing, he caught a scent. He dragged it into his nose. Female and age, and something else. Something fetid and malignant with the sour taint of bitterness and hatred and decay.Cordelia.He eyed the stairs. Melinda was up there, on the third floor. Their mate. They’d come here for her. But…
“No, Pierre,” whispered Louis. “Not this time.”
“This might be the only chance we get.”
Louis’ lips flattened into a thin line, but he didn’t refute him. Louis knew he was right. If they lost Cordelia, they might never catch her, and she’d be free to wreak more havoc.
