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“Allyson’s been taken,” Frankie answered.
Alejandro’s eyes went wide. “Shit.”
“Gather our best warriors. Start searching for her—immediately,” Frankie commanded the group of men and women. They were some of her best fighters, those among her pack strong enough to help her lead.
Her warriors nodded dutifully, immediately moving to set about their task.
“We’ll go after her, David—and we’ll find out where she’s been taken,” Frankie said. She met David’s gaze.
“I can’twait around while you sniff her out,” David snarled. “That’s not good enough. I have to do somethingnow. I won’t sit around while he has her.”
Jace gripped his friend by the shoulders, hard enough to still him. “David, if you go after her now, you’ll get her killed,” Jace growled. “If you go in there injured like you are, you’rebothgoing to be killed, and how will that solve anything?”
David’s whole body trembled like the fury inside him was barely contained.
If Frankie had held any doubt that David still loved her friend, she didn’t now.
And from the look in David’s dark brown eyes, the thought of Allyson in Robert’s hands killed him, and the fact that he couldn’t save her, couldn’t help her thanks to his leg would haunt him for the rest of his days.
“Listen to your friend,” Rock’s voice cut through the din, as he and his warriors joined the fray. “He speaks reason.”
Jace gave a cut nod, an acknowledgement of his thanks before his eyes were on David again. “I swear to you on my life, I’ll get her back. But you know we can’t go out unprepared.”
Frankie opened her mouth to express her agreement, but her words were cut short by the sound of the several of the club’s doors bursting in, followed by a round of fearful shouts from the wait staff as someone called out, “It’s a raid!”
Frankie had all of two seconds to prepare herself, before Chet and a whole legion of Execution Underground hunters swarmed in, guns trained on them.
The initial chaos of the wait staff calmed in an instant, a sudden stillness falling over the room where she, her warriors, and Rock’s stood.
Wolves always became the most still before the kill.
Chet stepped forth, gun trained on her, but this time was different.
She may not have been prepared for him, but this was her territory, her turf, and this time she wasn’t alone.
And she’d make him feel it.
“You didn’t think I’d let you off the hook that easily, did you? Let you sully our organization?” Chet’s gaze fell toward Jace, then her. “And not come for the bitch that helped you get away with it?”
Jace, Alejandro, and Amarok snarled in unison, the darkness of the room suddenly lit with dozens of glowing eyes from the wolves, and she was proud to see Jace among them, standing at her side, the side of her pack as if he were one of them. Frankie held up a hand, commanding the warriors to still.
“You made a mistake coming here,” she said, stepping toward Chet, her voice strong, unwavering and without fear. “You treat us like villains and thieves, but this,” she gestured to the surrounding club, to the beasts within its walls, “This is a den of wolves,” she told him. “And you’ll regret that mistake the moment I let them tear your throat out.”
She held Chet’s gaze for a long beat, before she glanced over her shoulder toward the wolves that were hers to command, her voice every bit the vicious queen she’d been groomed to be, as she growled, “Sick ‘em.”
20
Jace would have marveled at the way every wolf in the room descended at Frankie’s command, had he not been among them. One among many. Chaos erupted, the club filling with the sound of gunfire, conflict, and pained human screams—the first of what would be many fights with the insurgents that’d taken over his organization. But not here in Rochester. He wouldn’t allow them to take hold here. Especially not targeting Frankie. Not on their turf.
Not if he had anything to say about it.
Jace rushed Chet, not holding anything back this time.
Chet fired a shot, aiming for him, but missed narrowly, thanks to Frankie, who’d now shifted into wolf form. She tore into his arm. Chet shouted, crying out at the pain and dropped to his knees, but neither of them were even remotely close done with him yet.
Distracted by Frankie, Jace stripped the other hunter of his gun, using Chet’s own wrist against him to break it free. He drew the weapon back, and pistol-whipped the bastard across the face, causing him to release the newfound grip he had on Frankie. Spittle went flying, and Frankie shifted back into human form beside him, naked, and wolf eyes blazing.
Some of Chet’s blood dripped from her lip and she licked it away, her gaze downright vicious. Every bit the dark wolf mafia queen.
