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“Dogs.” His cold, weird smile gave me chills. “Good. You know your worth.”
“I guess she didn’t.” I rubbed the fur again. “What did she say to you before you made her change? Did she beg for her life? Did she ask you why? Why?” I was the one asking now.
“She said no. She didn’t ask anything. Didn’t beg. Your kind thinks they’re tough as nails until the knife digs in. Then it’s too late.”
“Goddammit,” McGraw snarled. “You damned fool.”
A thrill of self-satisfaction rippled through me, and Wilder eased his hold on me. “Ten years is a long time to learn what werewolves are like when they die, isn’t it?”
“It only took one to know you all squeal like pigs when you’re bled.”
A million threats came to mind. Things I wanted to tell him I’d do to make him squeal. I stayed quiet, working my jaw to keep from ripping his throat out.
Wilder must have been nervous. The smell of werewolf was potent around me thanks to his proximity and the fur in my arms.
I had Deerling in the target sights now. I just needed to tip the scales a little further in my favor.
“How many would you kill to make your point?” My voice was barely a whisper, but in the empty space, it sounded loud enough.
“As many as it takes.”
“I’m guessing that includes us?”
He chuckled and glanced at Sheriff McGraw. “Well it’s not like I can let them go now, can I?”
“No,” McGraw said through gritted teeth. I got the sense he didn’t like being a party to this, but I had trouble sympathizing with a man who got blood on his hands then whined about being dirty.
Deerling would soon belong to Cain, but McGraw would be left behind to face all the consequences.
“If you take care of the thug, I’d like some alone time with Miss McQueen. I want to make something, with her help, to send her dear uncle.”
I’d like to make a soup tureen out of Deerling’s skull. I bet Uncle Callum would have loved that. I wondered, vaguely, if Callum was watching this now. I wondered what he’d think when he eventually saw it, and whether or not he’d be proud of me for what I’d managed to do.
Would he see a queen or a stupid girl? A leader or someone who had made too many mistakes to be redeemed?
Ask him when you see him again.
“Tim, let’s take them downstairs and be done with it. Quick and easy.”
“She got away from me. I want the time she stole. I need her family to know they can’t send their weakest after me and expect it to end well. I want them to see what’s coming for the rest of them, starting with her.”
“Like hell,” Wilder growled, stepping in front of me.
“How noble. Let me guess. If you want her, you’ll have to go through me? Fine.”
I used the cover of Wilder’s body to pull the knife out from the waistband of my jeans without drawing attention. I looked up in time to see Deerling grab the sheriff’s gun.
The flare of the muzzle blinded me, and a scream caught in my throat. White noise clouded my brain, and I didn’t hear the shot ring out. Wilder slammed backwards into me, knocking me into the podium. I got out of the way before he could take me to the carpet with him when he fell.
I stood beside him, the knife in my hand held tight against my leg. Blood pooled red and wet on his white shirt, like a nasty crimson flower ready to be plucked. Instinct told me I needed to put pressure on the wound. I needed to help him.
Madness turned me on my heel and sent me leaping through the air at Deerling. I knocked the gun from his hand and had him on the floor before he had a chance to react to me moving. I could have cut his throat and not felt anything.
Instead I smashed the handle of the blade into his cheek, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone under metal. It was downright restrained considering what I wanted to do.
“See?” He was laughing in spite of how much pain he had to be in. “You are an animal. No impulse control.” He adjusted his jaw, and I stared down at him in fascination and horror. The red mark on his face where I’d hit him was already a mottled purple-blue.
He was healing.
