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He was on Chet within seconds, tackling the other man to the ground. Chet’s nine-millimeter flew from his hand as they hit the floor with an audible oof. The weapon skidded across the painted concrete with a clatter as Jace slammed the bastard down beneath him.
With any normal suspect, it would have been easy. Roll them. Pin them. Cuff them. He’d done it a thousand times before. But every member of the Execution Underground was highly trained, including the corporate suits who worked office jobs, and even a little shit like his region lead wouldn’t allow himself to be pinned so easily.
Chet threw the first punch, narrowly missing as Jace deflected, before delivering a hard blow of his own. Straight to the other man’s teeth. The crunch of bone raked against knuckles, and pain shot through his fist. But Jace didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.
Not until he made the other man bleed.
Jace drew back his fist again, prepared to land another blow.
But suddenly Chet pulled the blade at his hip, a standard issue from HQ, slashing out. The tip of the dagger caught Jace’s wrist, nicking him, though he blocked the blow. But doing so caused his balance to falter, and Chet seized the momentary advantage. Bucking, the bastard sent them both rolling in a tangle of limbs until he came out on top. Quick to reclaim his footing, Chet started to rise, blade in hand, but with a sharp pivot, Jace swept his legs, sending the other man down to the floor again. The region lead yelped like the worthless coward he was.
No way was Jace letting this bastard walk out of here unscathed.
Jumping to his feet, Jace stood over the other hunter, ready to tear into him. But Damon appeared by his side, his Desert Eagle trained on Chet and at the ready.
“Don’t fucking move,” the vampire hunter growled.
Chet dropped the knife and lifted his hands.
For a long beat, all Jace could hear was the sound of his own heavy breathing.
With a quick flick of his gun, Damon gestured for Chet to rise. “Get up.”
Slowly, Chet rose, hands in the air. His gaze flicked toward Francesca again. “All this over some she-wolf cunt?”
The beast inside Jace roared, breaking free. He wasn’t certain whether it was Chet’s smug grin or his disgusting words. Or maybe it was the way the other man looked at her. Like if they let him out of this room, out of their sight for even one minute, he would find this innocent woman who’d done nothing but refuse to lessen herself and make her pay.
The abuse of power wouldn’t stop here.
Hate burned through Jace until he could barely see straight. Until red clouded his vision.
Inside, the freed beast snarled, rearing its monstrous head. A feral protective instinct writhing and awakening its fury until it grew claws.
Mine. It snarled.
Before he knew what he was doing, Jace charged, gripping Chet by the throat and slamming the other hunter against the adjacent wall with such lethal force Jace felt the blow in his own knees. For once he didn’t hold back.
“Threaten her again and I’ll fucking end you,” he snarled, his voice half-animal. The beast inside him stirred again.
Chet’s eyes went wide, and for a moment, he stilled.
He didn’t so much as blink.
Suddenly, Jace’s blood ran cold.
It only took a moment to realize his mistake.
He’d been so hellbent on protecting the silently wary she-wolf in the corner, he hadn’t been able to think, to judge his choices clearly. His strength was off the charts, even for a hunter, and he’d shown his full hand. He didn’t need to flash his eyes to his wolf to fully reveal himself. The other hunters would know instantly.
They’d been trained for it.
Abruptly, Jace chanced a glance toward Damon. The vampire hunter was staring at him like he’d never fucking seen him before, though they’d known each other over a decade. But to Damon’s credit, his gun remained steady, trained upon Chet.
“Holy shit,” Princess breathed, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Her shock raked through him. Unwelcome and grating.
Like something inside him couldn’t withstand her discomfort.
