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Bree knew he meant every word. If she or anyone else moved, he’d shoot. Shit, shit, shit. If she’d been able to reach Paxton’s bare skin with her hands, she could have forced positive energy into him to neutralize his anger and scorn; could have distracted him with emotions he’d never feel—happiness, peace, empathy. One moment of distraction was all Alex really needed to act.
Her mate obviously wasn’t alone, because whoever had tumbled off the van’s roof was not him. Maybe they could make some sort of sneaky move if she just kept Paxton’s attention focused on her. Maybe she could buy them some time if she kept Paxton talking—he always did like the sound of his own voice, much like his mother.
“No mating urge sparked to life,” she said. “Why?”
“Little cat, the mating urge isn’t a purely sexual phenomenon. It’s when one shifter’s soul recognises its other half—the person who’ll be all they ever want and need. But your soul recognized that its other half was too dark and damaged for us to ever bond; it sensed how completely I’d rejected the concept of mating, and so it made no attempt to bind us.”
Okay, that made sense. Her soul had never pined for him. On the contrary, it had been chilled by him. “Is Calvin dead?”
“Don’t worry, he didn’t suffer,” replied Paxton.
Did she look slow to him? “I don’t believe you.”
Paxton chuckled. “I doubt you want the gory details.”
“How long have you been posing as him?”
“Oh, about four years now.”
Since Paxton had first mysteriously “disappeared.”
“So sad how you were all out looking for me, and I was so close to you all that time.”
Alex’s beast growled at the mocking smile the asshole wore. Alex kept his face blank, refusing to give the male cat a reaction—he’d only get off on it.
Fear was an emotion that Alex had never thought he’d feel. But for the second time that night, it threatened to paralyze him. He’d had only ever felt this powerless once before—when he watched Freya die. He could remember it as if it happened only yesterday. He couldn’t go through that shit again; couldn’t watch the life leave Bree’s eyes.
If he lost her, there’d be nothing left of him to save. Which was why he couldn’t move a fucking inch. He didn’t dare.
There was nothing nervous about Paxton right then. The guy wasn’t stupid. He knew Alex had company and he no doubt suspected the vehicle was surrounded. But his hand was rocky steady as he aimed that gun at Bree. He was either sure this would go his way, or he was fine with dying so long as he took Bree with him.
Just the thought made Alex’s gut twist painfully. The need to hold still chafed at the beast’s patience. The animal’s legs trembled with the need to lunge, attack, and kill.
“You’re standing there thinking you should have known it was me all along, aren’t you, Alex?” His smile was a pure taunt. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. No one ever suspected it. Not even my stupid parents. Never met two more boring people in all my life.”
“Are they dead, too?” Alex was surprised his voice didn’t shake, given that his chest felt so tight it was almost hard to breathe.
“My mother was dead the moment she confessed to her involvement in this mess with Danielle over there.”
“Short version,” began Bree, no doubt feeling Alex’s confusion through their bond, “she and Bernadette were working together; they hired the loners.”
And he’d left his mate alone with Dani. Alex curled his hands tight. He should have stayed with her. He should have refused to leave her side. Then she wouldn’t be in the center of this goddamn clusterfuck.
“My mother wanted us to flee as a family, you know,” Paxton went on. “It might surprise you to hear that Moira didn’t approve, little cat. I don’t think she’d care if you die. I think she simply resented that, once again, our tedious mother was all about me. Even I got sick of her hearing her drone on and on about me, so I can’t really blame Moira for that.
“She left the pride on her own. My guess? She worried people would believe her an accomplice when they discovered Bernadette’s part in everything. They probably would have, given how Moira felt about you.”
“It was you who shot at Alex’s living room window, wasn’t it?” asked Bree.
“That was your fault—I did tell you to stay away from him. You just wouldn’t.”
Bree’s cat bared her fangs, furious that he’d shoot at Alex; furious that she was so helpless. Her feline yearned to rip apart this male who had never felt like her other half. He was only ever a … Bree’s thoughts trailed off as something occurred to her—the gun was no longer pressed against her scalp. It was obviously still pointed at her or someone would have acted by now. But Paxton, the cocky bastard, had clearly relaxed his stance a little.
