Page 73 of Hunted

“It doesn’t matter,” Sanchez snarled. “All he thinks about is you. He doesn’t care about us. Not like Gregor did.” His eyes were flashing gold, his voice raspy. His wolf was taking over.

Something suddenly clicked in Michelangela’s mind and she said, “You’re the one who’s been reporting to Thanatos.”

“Why shouldn’t I? We all work for him. The problem isn’t that I’m loyal to Thanatos. The problem is that Gunn isn’t.”

There were more growls on both sides. Mikey was beginning to feel like a piece of meat in the middle of a dogfight. The thing that got torn to pieces when they went for each other.

Sugar’s voice cut through the tension.

“Thanatos is waiting,” he said. “He’ll deal with her.” He came over and unlocked her cuffs from Boomer’s wrist, and cuffed her to himself instead.

Not an improvement.

Dobe said, “So that’s it? You’re just going to leave Gunn out there? He could be injured.”

Rex said, “I’m flying out to look for him. What are the coordinates?”

“I have them,” Boomer said.

Sugar turned on them. “No one is going anywhere without Thanatos’s authorization. No helicopter or other aircraft leaves the ground. Is that clear?”

Rex and Dobe just growled.

Sugar said, “Sanchez, Cisco, Matéo, come with us. The rest of you, go back to your cabins. The last thing we need is you fighting each other.”

Boomer was whispering to Rex, but then he turned around and said, “My brother and I are coming in too.”

Sugar raised his white-blond eyebrows. “And why?”

Boomer gestured to Michelangela. “To make sure nothing happens to her.” He gazed innocently at Sugar. “Nothing’s going to happen to her, is it?” He gestured to the hard-faced man standing at his shoulder. “Come on, bro.”

Sugar looked around the little group and sighed. “Come on, then.”

And they headed for the house—and Thanatos, the fucking death god.

Gunn had woken up on the ground in a muddy field, cold rain falling on his face. He hurt all over, and there was something he was supposed to be doing. Something important.

Mikey!

He got a spike of adrenalin that normally would have shot him up to a sitting position, but he only made a start at it before the roaring pain dropped him to the ground again.

His mind began to clear. The look on Sanchez’s face as he shoved Gunn off the helicopter. And that one word.

Orders.

Whose orders? Thanatos had done everything he could to keep Gunn at the Ridge. Why kick him off the fucking island now? And why keep Mikey?

Unless… the orders had been about her, not him. Thanatos wanted Mikey, and he wanted Gunn out of the way, at least temporarily.

But why?

Hell, he thought, struggling once more to sit up, growling with the pain. It didn’t matter what, or why. They’d taken his mate, and if they damaged so much as one blond curl, they were all dead.

It didn’t matter if they were his pack. Bonds had been made, but bonds could be broken. He pulled Gregor’s necklace off his neck and threw it on the ground.

Nobody fucked with his mate.

He made it to a sitting position—eventually—and assessed his injuries. A bullet in the shoulder. Broken ribs. Fucking awesome. Sprained ankle. And probably a hairline fracture in his leg.