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Staring at his spineless half-brother, Teague clenched his fists. “If you go through with this, your men—people you’re supposed to lead and protect, not use in such a way—will die here tonight. So will your hounds. And your birds. And the pack behind you.”
Ronin sneered. “No. Death will come only for you, your clan, and your little pets here.”
Teague reached down and began to unfasten Baxter’s collar while other members of his clan did the same with the other dogs’ collars. The moment said collars were removed altogether, the canines’ bodies morphed—becoming larger, more muscular, and sprouting coal-black ruffled fur just as their eyes became a deep crimson red.
Ronin swept a shocked gaze over the hounds before refixing his attention on Teague. “You took the hounds from your unit with you when you left hell.”
“Of course we did.” Teague briefly slid his gaze upward as the ravens began flying in circles above their heads. “We brought them as well.” They weren’t supposed to, but neither Teague nor anyone in his clan ever let anything like rules hold them back. “Oh, and since we knew you’d do something as weak as bring a mini army, we made sure that we had backup as well.”
Viper and his brothers stepped out of the trees either side of the camp, where they’d been waiting since Saxon—as prearranged—earlier telepathed the president.
Lines of wariness carved into Ronin’s face as he took in the newcomers. If he knew that they were fallen angels, he’d be even more unnerved. Especially since this particular bunch weren’t a standard breed of angel.
Teague cocked his head. “Are you sure you want to sacrifice your men just to pettily assuage your wounded ego and get some revenge?”
His face hardening, Ronin conjured a ball of hellfire in his hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
At the telepathic warning from Teague, Larkin shot to her feet, startling everyone in the sitting room. Assuring Teague mind-to-mind that she’d be with him soon, she tensed as the women frowned up at her.
“Is everything okay?” asked Harper.
Larkin blanked her expression and casually straightened her sweater. “Fine,” she smoothly lied.
She couldn’t afford to alarm them. If she did, they would contact their mates, who would subsequently involve themselves in the situation no matter how much she objected. They would then learn things about Teague and his clan that the hellhorses would prefer remain secret.
“I just have to go check something out,” Larkin added.
“Sentinel business, huh?” Raini guessed. “I don’t know how you cope with being always on call—it would drive me nuts in no time.”
“You get used to it.” Ignoring Devon’s nosy questions, Larkin forced herself to coolly stride out of the room, despite her demon’s urgings for her to move, move, move.
Finally out of the apartment, Larkin put on a burst of speed, sprinting down the hallway and all but barging through the door that led to the stairwell. Her stomach rolling with nerves, she called to her wings, clambered onto the iron railing, and then dropped down. Nearing the bottom floor, she used her wings to slow her descent and made a smooth, practiced landing.
Urgency a drumbeat in her blood, she hurried out of the building. It would take her roughly half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, to arrive at Teague’s camp by car. Hence why she dashed to the shadows of the parking lot and, in a haze of smoke, shifted into her harpy eagle form.
After a quick shake of her avian body to settle her feathers, she took to the evening sky, her heart hammering in her chest. She told herself that she didn’t need to panic; that Teague wouldn’t struggle to protect himself. No one could lead the Wild Hunt for centuries and not be a deadly fighter, could they? Still, dread squeezed her heart like a cold fist.
Her demon wasn’t as flustered. Not merely because it was rarely rattled by anything, but because it trusted that he could handle himself. Still, it wanted to be at his metaphorical side, even though he had his clan to back him up.
The Black Saints would also help—something they’d offered to do after hearing from ‘a source’ that hellish beings were making appearances in Vegas. How they’d tracked the issue back to Teague, she didn’t know. Nor did she know why Viper would want to involve himself. She’d asked Teague, but he’d told her that to reply with the truth would have been to expose Viper’s secrets.
As she understood and respected that Teague couldn’t share another person’s private business, she hadn’t complained. But she was very curious as to what—
Something closed around her with a snap, squashing her wings against her body. Something tight, wiry, and buzzing with a power that slowly began to lower her to the ground. A net, she realized.
The fuck?
Her heartbeat kicked up even more, the organ battering her ribcage while her demon went nuts. She screeched as she struggled hard, raking at the net with her talons and biting it with her beak. No joy. The net remained perfectly intact.
