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“You son of a bitch! What the fuck, Octavius!?” He dropped back into his seat.
“Sit down. Shut up. And listen, that’s all I’m asking.”
“You’re a goddamned nyk!” Zaine swore under his breath. “The second we land, I’m gonna rip out your throat.”
Maybe he would. “Or you could listen to what I have to say, and if you still want me dead, have a go.” Octavius reached under the control and felt around for the little black box. He found it and tore it free. The tracker’s location was obvious, as he’d been the one to install them on all the Brotherhood vehicles. Nobody was going to be tracking this helicopter. Not even Raiden.
Fuming, Zaine flung himself back into the seat and glowered, probably thinking up all the ways he could butcher Octavius.
But this was good. Octavius had captured Zaine. The plan was in motion.
He just hoped Saint had been successful too.
CHAPTER18
Saint
In the distance,the chopper spiraled toward the ground.
“C’mon, Little Wolf, get control.”
One of them had to make it, because right then, Saint wasn’t doing so good. He’d taken a few hits from Mikalis, and the leader’s fangs had skimmed closer than he cared to think about. Running had never been an option. It was always going to end in a fight. He’d given as good as he’d gotten, and by some stroke of luck, he’d lost Mikalis in an old overgrown quarry. With any luck, Mikalis would stay lost.
Saint watched the chopper fall, then swoop up and away. Hopefully, that meant Octavius was piloting the machine.
Saint dragged his broken body in the general direction of a lumberyard where they’d agreed to meet at dawn. Vicious pangs scorched his back. He’d banished the broken wings, morphed them back into himself, but their ache remained.
He was alive, so there was that. But if Mikalis came at him again, he had nothing left to fight him with. He wasn’t even sure why he was here, traipsing through the woods fighting Mikalis and the Brotherhood, when he could be tangled with Jayden on a tropical beach somewhere. The little wolf was getting under his skin in ways that likely couldn’t end well. Octavius preferred to keep a safe distance, but the more time Saint spent with him, the more he found Octavius enchanting. Behind the snarls and bitterness, he wasgood, and Octavius being good meant Saint couldn’t abandon him.
He’d always had a weakness for the broken ones.
He gathered his remaining strength and blurred between the trees and through shadows, moving so fast, he covered miles in minutes. The sound of the chopper winding down steered him toward the lumberyard. He leaped the fence and scented blood among the sweet smell of cut wood.Octavius’s blood.Instincts to protect almost brought the wildness roaring out of him.
Nobody touched Octavius.
Saint dropped the human act. Broken wings unfurled. Pain became an afterthought.
He spotted Octavius and one of the Brotherhood wrestling in the dirt. The other guy had Octavius pinned—Saint didn’t need to see any more. He flew in, snatched the blond off Octavius, and slammed him to the ground with enough force to rumble the earth. The Brotherhood member cried out and clutched at Saint’s arm, wriggling like a worm on the hook. Blue eyes fixed on Saint, accusing him of a thousand crimes. He tried to pry Saint off, but this one was young. A few centuries. Saint had millennia on him. He could crush him in seconds, rip out his heart, pump him full of venom. So many ways to kill a Brotherhood member.
He leaned in, and the blond stopped fighting. He stared defiantly, panting through his teeth. What did he see? A monster nyk, his final moments shining in Saint’s silver eyes?
“Hurt Octavius again and die, Brotherhood.”
The blond member glared back at him, but the bloodlust in his eyes faded. He knew he was beaten.
“Good,” Saint snarled around his fangs. “Don’t do anything stupid and we’ll get along fine.” He freed the blond’s neck, patted his chest, and climbed off him, then hauled his true form back beneath his skin. The effort left him dizzy. He staggered and caught Octavius’s raised eyebrow. Octavius was back on his feet and wiping blood from his lips, eyeing Saint warily, as though unsure where this went next. He didn’t appear hurt, other than the cut on his lip.
“This Zaine?” Saint growled.
Octavius nodded. “Yeah.”
“All right, let’s get him to the kiln.” Saint snatched Zaine by the ankle and dragged him toward the nearby warehouse. He didn’t fight, just slid along on his ass, either accepting his fate or waiting for the right moment to strike back. The Brotherhood wasn’t known for surrendering.
“You said you weren’t working with him!” Zaine barked.
“I wasn’t, now I am.” Octavius followed along behind too. “Mikalis?” Octavius asked under his breath.
“I left him behind.”
