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When the guards moved away, I said, "Help me rescue my partner, then together we'll see what we can do about yours. But if we do get her free, I want you both out of here."
"Your partner has been caught?"
Caught, tortured, and on the move. But not under his own steam. "Yes. I need to get him out of here."
"How? They have guards on all exits at the moment. No one is getting in or out."
"Let's concentrate on one problem at a time."
I threw the blanket to one side, then turned on my heel and walked out. Berna followed, her larger feet slapping heavily against the floor, drowning out any noise my footfalls were making. I pushed open the exit door and stepped into the cool night air. The guard looked at us, but didn't say anything. He was human. He wouldn't have seen or smelled the blood and sweat and fear riding my body.
"Where'd they take Nerida?" I asked, as we moved away.
"To the pens, wherever they are. She's slotted in as the after-dinner entertainment."
"Against those winged things?" I followed the path around to the left, following instinct and that tenuous, fragile thread that linked Rhoan and I.
"Yeah. If she happens to survive that, she wins the right to fight Merle." Berna's gaze was grim when it met mine. "We both know that isn't going to happen, but Nerida can't or won't see reason. Revenge has blinded her."
I opened my mouth to say it was stupid, but the truth was, I could understand it. If something happened to Rhoan, hell itself wouldn't stand a chance against my desire to get even. To make someone pay.
"Which means she won't want to leave, even if we do rescue her."
"She'll leave. I promise you that."
It was a promise she had better keep, or Jack would have both their heads. He didn't have much patience for those who got in the way of Directorate operations.
We padded along the path, heading toward the front of the house. Guards watched our progress, and, after a few seconds, I felt the return of my watcher. This one was a wolf, meaning he would track me better than the first one.
How the hell was I going to rescue Rhoan when I had a tail that would report all suspicious actions back to Starr?
Unless, of course, a little distraction was provided.
I stopped near the end of the house. An old green truck with canvas sides was being loaded near one of the machinery sheds. Though I couldn't see my brother, the link between us said he was there, already inside. As we watched, the last few boxes were loaded, then the back of the truck lifted and locked into place. No one got in the back. Two men got into the cab. Time to get moving.
"We have a tail," I said, as the driver started the truck's engine.
"Where?" Berna's gaze was also on the vehicle, her voice was as soft as mine.
"He's stopped near the last door."
"That's a hundred yards back." Her gaze met mine, speculation rife in her brown eyes. "A wolf shouldn't be able to scent someone that far away when the wind is blowing against them."
I wasn't actually relying on olfactory senses, but she didn't need to know that. "A moot point when this wolf can."
She grunted. "You want me to distract him?"
"Yes, please."
"Consider it done."
She spun and walked back. I waited until the truck lurched into action, then slipped around the corner, wrapped the night around my body, and ran like hell for the back of the truck.
It was faster than I thought it would be, forcing me to leap in a desperate effort to get on board before it got away. I hit the backboard hard enough to rattle it, hooked an arm over the edge of the tray, and hung on for grim death as the road swept by inches from my toes. Not a position I was overly enamored of, so once I'd caught my breath, I twisted, hooked a leg over the tray, and dragged myself inside. My hip caught the end of one box as I dropped down, and I bit back a yelp, barely daring to even breathe as I lay there, listening. The rumble of the engine flowed across the air, joined by the hum of the tires on the road surface. The aroma of spice and leather hung in the air, but the relief that shivered through me was tempered by the fact that Rhoan's scent was heavily interlaced with the sweet, metallic odor of blood. They'd really done a number on him.
Anger rose, anger that was all wolf, all territorial need to protect the pack. Rhoan was my pack, all I had, and whoever had done this to him would pay.
Oh yeah, I could more than understand Nerida's reasoning.
