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Like he regretted ever bringing her here.
Like he saw straight through her, to the true version of her she kept hidden under the surface. The real her, complete with doubts, struggles, fears, and yet...
He didn’t judge her for it or think of her as weak.
Something about that scared her more than Chet’s threats ever could.
Chet’s gun at her throat lowered ever so slightly, and from the almost imperceptible nod Jace gave, he encouraged her to keep talking. She wasn’t certain why she was looking to him for guidance, for help and safety, but for some reason she was.
“The killer isn’t a wolf,” she said as she confessed the first valuable piece of information she could muster. Her pack would have to forgive her.
They’d have to.
She watched as Jace’s nostrils flared.
Like she’d just confirmed something vitally important to him, and also...
Something he’d already known.
But how?
There was no hint of surprise in his eyes. His face appeared to be carved in stone, and his gun remained steady, his aim never faltering from where he’d trained it upon Chet.
Whose bullet would be faster?
Frankie couldn’t even bring herself to look toward the other hunter at his side.
She locked her gaze on Jace, looking straight into his eyes as if she were speaking to him and him alone. If she was going to die, she could at least do this. Help bring a different sort of sadistic monster to justice. “There’s something different about the killer’s scent. It’s...lupine and distinctly male, but not...not normal. Not like a regular wolf. I’ve never smelled anything like it.” Silently, she pleaded with him to listen.
“And?” Chet prompted from behind her. The gun inched higher.
Frankie shuddered. “And he likes to hunt at nightclubs nearby.” She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue felt too thick, and she had to force herself to speak around it. “I’ve...tracked his scent there,” she choked out. She closed her eyes momentarily, a poor attempt to hide her vulnerability beneath strength. “I swear that’s all I know.”
She’d never felt so violated. So stripped bare and powerless.
But she’d never give this asshole the satisfaction of showing it.
From over her shoulder, Chet beamed. “There,” he said. “Was that so hard?”
“You’ve made your point now, Chet. Time to let her go,” Jace warned.
Frankie felt the tension in her chest ease, but then she heard the amusement in Chet’s tone as he said, “And if I don’t?”
Those cruel words were the last sound she heard before the first shot rang out. The sound ricocheted off the cinderblock walls. And Frankie couldn’t help herself.
She screamed.
6
Jace fired the Mateba inches from Chet’s head. It was a risk, but the moment it became clear that Chet didn’t intend to let Francesca go, Jace had been willing to take it. Whatever it took to get her free from Chet’s arms, to wipe that look of fear from her eyes, and that smug grin off Chet’s face. Even if it cost him his job. He couldn’t watch another second of it.
Not without losing his dignity.
The shot rang out, echoing in his ears in the small space.
But Jace didn’t hesitate.
At the sound of gunfire, Chet ducked for cover, exactly as Jace had anticipated. Suddenly free, Princess stumbled forward, placing enough distance between her and Chet for safety. And leaving Jace room to act. He didn’t think.
