Traitor (Shifters Unlimited: Clan Black Book 3) Read online

  Two of Jacob’s men shifted into wolves and charged toward the driveway as the SUV spun away.

  “Get the hell back here, you idiots,” he yelled. “Or you’ll be doing surveillance duty on the Alaska border.”

  Sam skidded to a halt, but his wolf didn’t change back to human as the other guard did, and Jacob cursed under his breath. He added a low growl for greater menace and held his ground. He couldn’t afford to look weak. Without possessing the alpha mantle to give him a significant power boost, he’d eventually have to face challengers in the clan to keep his tenuous position of power. Most of the fools didn’t realize he hadn’t claimed the mantle. Less than a handful were aware that Rayven held the only legitimate key to the claim.

  For now.

  Once the tribunal found her guilty and the alphas executed her, there’d be an opportunity for a new alpha bloodline. His bloodline, if he remained patient.

  “You ignored Rebel’s call,” Sam snapped in a low voice after he shifted back.

  Jacob snarled in his direction. The implication that he take shit from one of his own men irritated him more than the insistent buzz from his phone, though not much.

  Sam wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Mean and twisted, yes. But just before Gauthier’s death, he’d reprioritized his alliances in a way that suited Jacob. Until now.

  The important thing was that while Jacob hadn’t been able to force a claim on Rayven, once she was safely in Deacon Black’s custody, no one else could either. Notorious for his moral code and recently mated himself, Black and his people could do the dirty work of safeguarding her precious virtue—until she joined her father in death.

  A shame, since his wolf wanted Rayven’s submission. Attractive and curvy, she would have suited him for a few years. He’d have kept her bearing his young long enough to ensure his place as alpha. Having her cowed to his demands for the entire clan to see after enduring years of disrespect from her father wouldn’t have hurt either.

  His phone vibrated again, and he gritted his teeth as he yanked it free. “Yes?”

  “Tell me the bitch is still in your basement.” The low, seductive feminine voice clashed with the harsh push of dominance pulsing over the connection, setting Jacob’s teeth on edge.

  “Black’s second just drove away with her,” Jacob responded, drawing a deep sense of satisfaction from his unfortunate new partner’s long silence.

  “Then we have a problem.”

  Like hell he had a problem. He’d done his job. “We? I finished my part of the plan.”

  “That was before I recovered five of the little lab rats who escaped. The youngest confessed to Rayven having helped them.”

  Shit. “Kill the brats.”

  “Not an option. These five are close to being the answers I need for the experiments. With the results they’ll produce, I can secure millions to refill the coffers without having to worry about any other alpha who wants to control this territory.”

  “Sounds like you have this all figured out by yourself, Rebel.” He spun away from the house and stalked toward the fence. Even with his voice in a subvocal range, he couldn’t risk someone overhearing. His men might be slow on the uptake, but slow didn’t equal stupid. “Why do you need Rayven?”

  “The computer in the facility where the children were rescued registered a digital download of the formula and test details. She has the information. I can’t afford anyone to know. Even with the new breakthrough I’ve identified, we won’t be finished with these subjects and be able to terminate the facility for a few more days. By then, no one will be able to prove anything. But for now, Rayven’s a risk to us.”

  A risk to Rebel, and not him, but he couldn’t very well say that.

  “She can’t leave our territory alive with evidence. I didn’t spend all that money and effort to get magic and spells to claim the alpha spot only to lose everything now.” Rebel turned away from the mouthpiece and snapped at someone in the background before continuing. “You need to take care of her.”

  “And if something else goes wrong with your plan?” Frankly, he was sick of marching to her orders. But she’d pulled him in so deep, he’d have other alphas and their enforcers breathing down his neck if she exposed him.

  “Don’t be flippant. You used to like the skin privileges I allowed. Don’t forget you tied your star to mine. If I fail, I’m taking you with me.” She paused, and he closed his eyes to wipe out the images of all the times he’d submitted to this witch. His skin crawled at the memories.

  “She’s not going to get free of the charges?”

  “I’ll admit, I liked the idea of her death by tribunal, but if she has proof for Black, we can’t wait. I need her eliminated now.”

  Jacob clenched his hand and fought back the fur and claws determined to sprout. He’d taken this same shit from Gauthier for years. He should have known better than to make a deal with a female devil to climb his way out of his subservient hole. But he hadn’t managed to get Rayven to shift for a mating. Something the powerhouse members of the clan would demand, so he needed Rebel. No matter how much he hated her, she wouldn’t hear him balk.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Morand was assigned to cover the road. Have him take out the tires. Not even the infamous Ghost will be able to manage a blowout on that high cliff road.”

  Jacob rubbed a hand over his face. “Morand is a half-breed. We can’t trust him to keep quiet.”

  “Can’t be helped for now. Offer him more money.”

  “And if Black finds out we killed his prisoner and his second-in-command?”

  “He won’t,” she said. “I also want you to hunt Morand after the job’s done and finish him. Don’t let anyone see you in human form.”

  Gut churning, Jacob froze. This wasn’t the first of his crew she’d considered expendable. Soon there’d be no one left loyal to him. How had he not seen this coming? It wouldn’t be long before she sent someone after him. Rebel had thought he was an easy mark because he’d focused his sights on Rayven. Easy didn’t mean he was weak. He hadn’t held on to his position under Gauthier’s rule for years without a tough hide. While he didn’t relish looking over his shoulder every minute until he found a way to sever this alliance, he’d play Rebel’s game for now.

  “Jacob, you there?”

  “Yeah. Got it. I’ll call you when it’s done.” He disconnected and jammed the phone in his pocket. He stalked back toward the house and caught Sam’s unblinking gaze as he perched on the porch railing.

  There was trouble Jacob needed to take care of soon. He strode out and met the truck that had entered the compound as Taggart left. Whipping open the door, he slid inside before the driver could say a word. “Turn around and head back out.”

  “Right, boss.” The wiry coyote shifter completed a fast roundabout turn and sped through the gates before the guard there had a chance to close and lock them. “Where to?”

  “Drop me off in town. Then I want you back on Sam’s trail, full time. Without being seen.”

  The man’s hands clenched on the wheel, but he just nodded slowly.

  “I mean it. Don’t fuck this up and let him know you’re trailing him, Quinn.”

  “Got it. And then what.”

  “I want to know where he goes, who he sees, every call he makes, and how his farts smell.”

  Quinn shot him a scowl. “I’ll keep you briefed, though that last one is a deal breaker.”

  “Whatever.” Jacob looked out the window and rubbed his chin with his fist. Too many fucking problems to keep track of, like Rebel’s threat last night.

  “If you don’t send Rayven to the tribunal, then I’ll bring in my special little soldiers to do it.”

  “They’re idiot children,” he thought before he could stop himself.

  “They have no choice but to obey my commands and get the job done.”

  Not always, he thought with a smirk. They hadn’t followed her commands when she’d sent them after Deacon Black’s m
ate. Lena Black had turned the miserable excuses for living guinea pigs against Rebel—and survived. Perhaps there was a way he could flip this around in his favor after all.

  5

  Snarls echoed behind Rayven. Hot, fetid breath burned at the back of her neck. Despite her terror, she couldn’t force her legs faster any more than she could sprout wings on her boots and fly.

  One way or another, they would catch her.

  They always did. It was only a matter of time.

  How many attacked her and how severe her wounds would be depended on how hard she fought back. She quickly learned the alpha’s personal team found more sport in trying to put her in her place than batting around her curled-up body. While the humiliation shredded her soul, the quick drop and curl without a sound as they beat and kicked caused her attackers to lose interest.

  They wanted her legacy and humiliation, not her death.

  Still, Karndottir goaded them. Taunted them. But by his own rules, her death would mean theirs. The worst they could do was hurt her.

  Rayven wrestled through the memories, for she knew that was what they were. But the grunts and snarls sounded real, the cloying scents too visceral, each scrape and grab inciting a response to fight back.

  Let go, just let the dream go. Coming slowly awake, she gasped and stilled her mind, eyes clenched. Her breath rasped from her lungs, and she held it for a moment, hating that she shared air with those beasts responsible for her most vivid nightmares.

  Unable to force her eyes open, she lapsed back into other dreams.

  Hot, sweaty, she still couldn’t stop the images from playing in her head.

  Ten years old and not old enough to shift, she heard the high-pitched, terrorizing howl of a beast—a wolf—one with great power and not bound by her clan. It whipped through the air around her and lashed as if the wind had a tail of fire, but she huddled beside the shed near her mother’s cabin, waiting.

  Birds stilled and the wind died to nothing as a chill crept in an invisible mist across the late summer grass.

  “Never play along the borders, child. The alphas play games no one should see or hear.” She’d laughed at her mother’s word. Mimicked them even as she wondered, staring across the great lake that separated her home from the wicked alpha to the south. Because everyone knew Alpha King had attacked his only son and sent him away.

  The snarl ripped again, nothing like her father’s hoarse grizzly roar. Her thoughts scattered as she ran and hid high in a nearby pine tree. Her muscles shook and her bones ached hearing the sound, and a command pulled at her with strength she’d never experienced. But every bit of her resisted.

  She wrestled in pain and shrugged away the dream for a moment. As a full-grown woman, she considered the alpha war cry a fabrication. A story meant to scare children into obeying their parents. She’d witnessed firsthand as crybabies scampered home when their parents tested their bravery, tested their need for comfort and warmth by pretending to issue the call. But safe arms clasped those children tight against the night.

  Rayven’s mother hadn’t given her warmth. She hadn’t beguiled her with useless ploys to tempt her to behave. She’d given her wisdom worth more than hugs and kisses.

  Love didn’t come from a test or a ploy. Life was hard. Her lineage demanded she didn’t fall for silly childhood tricks. Her mother had ingrained those precious skills from a young age.

  Her flesh burned and her body ached, but she sank back into the nightmare that was her past.

  The sound whirled around her as she watched Corbin King breach her father’s territory. A wolf the size of the boathouse stalked forward with a wrapped bundle in his jaws. Eyes darker and brighter than blood with teeth suitable for large blades, he waited a few feet away.

  Karndottir slunk toward the challenger, his bear’s shoulders sagging, his head nearly bowed—to a wolf? But she knew her alpha. All his signs indicated he was looking for a vulnerable spot to strike.

  Then King shifted into his human form, placed the cloth on the ground at his feet, and stepped back. “This will end. Now! One more child, one more female brutalized on my borders, and I will bring my people in a swarm across your lands, eviscerating every male I see.”

  Her father’s bear shambled forward and sniffed the bundle, moving the cloth and revealing an infant. One that didn’t move. He growled out his words. “A female.”

  “A child! A valuable asset in our territories. You didn’t need her to spread your seed. She could have worked loyally within your clan. You stole one of mine to create her, and you destroyed others to salve your weaknesses. Now you have one less being to serve you. But I’ve lost much more. Would you rather we be crushed by the humans we abhor?” King strode forward, and her alpha flinched. “No more deaths. Not one. Not from a female of mine or yours.”

  Karndottir shifted to human, his look petulant and scornful.

  Rayven twisted, yet she couldn’t move. How did she know how he looked? As a child, she’d feared and never questioned. But now…

  “Unless you are willing to follow through on your threat, leave.” From behind her alpha, two dozen wolves advanced, and Karndottir stepped backward, surrounded by protection.

  However, King stood tall and alone while her father’s teams stood ready to die in his place.

  “None,” repeated King. He gestured toward the wolves. “I will know. Then others will know. Then my maker will come. Do not push me on this.”

  With a twist, he turned and sprang into the wind, and then there was no sign of him. Only a tingling tug in her chest.

  The sweet scent triggered an onslaught of reactions—disbelief, rage, confusion. Breslin pushed harder to put more mileage between him and Jacob’s team while his cougar clamored for him to stop and check on the prisoner.

  For the first time in nearly a century, he questioned what to do. Dizzy from the blissful scent, he struggled to remain rational. Calm, calculated responses had kept him alive. But the more miles he put between himself and the compound, the stronger his cougar tugged.

  Not happening. He controlled his beast, not the other way around.

  No matter how fiercely his animal wanted out, they had a mission. One complicated enough for him already without some female demands thrown into the mix.

  With an iron will, he opened the window to erase the scent. After several more miles, he was pushing as fast as he dared without causing an accident.

  A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed Jacob’s teams still littered the hills and tree line of his route. So far, he’d spotted wolves at several crossroads and one of the petrol stations three miles back.

  They hadn’t cared less when he’d arrived. Now they seemed damn interested in watching him leave. The inevitability of an ambush had him reevaluating his route home.

  Ahead lay a long, winding stretch of road with sheer drops and high cliffs. The terrain ran parallel to a river with few viable pullover locations and offered a perfect place to waylay him. But if the wolves wanted the woman in the back dead, they could have killed her themselves. While it was easier to blame Deacon for her death, Breslin refused to make it easy for them to pin the blame on his clan or his alpha.

  Displeased with the situation, he’d nonetheless quickly come to terms with his current predicament. His issues with Gauthier’s death, he’d resolve later, after he officially handed Rayven Karndottir over to another of Deacon’s teams. For now, he owed his time and attention to his alpha and, to some degree, Vendrick. One held his blood oath, the other had pulled him from certain ruin. For good or bad, both had molded the creature he’d become.

  Until something changed his circumstances, the prisoner would live. He didn’t have to like it.

  The road curved and rose straight and narrow before him, but a modest pull-off sat on the side, sheltered from the hills above by an overhang of trees and brush. It looked like a good spot for him to easily check ahead and behind him for an attack.

  He pulled over, checked his phone, and tapped in a
text message to Deacon confirming the pickup. Not waiting for an answer, he exited the vehicle, leaned against the side, and took his first full breath since he’d left the compound. The spicy smell of fir filled his nostrils, clearing out the distracting scents from the vehicle.

  Taking his time to scout the road behind and the surrounding hills, he popped a stick of gum in his mouth and let the overwhelming taste of cinnamon wash the remaining flavor of honey from his taste buds.

  The result wasn’t as pleasing as he’d hoped.

  He glanced toward the rear window and, seeing no flicker of movement, sucked in his annoyance. She was a stubborn one. Not one word in the time he’d been driving. Hell, he’d expected her to bargain for water or ask for a bathroom break, and he’d force the purest bottled water down her throat before he let her accuse him of mistreatment.

  Claws and shift threatening, he pushed away from the vehicle and stalked toward the rear. She didn’t move when he raised the hatch.

  He froze as he realized why. The sight of her bound in coiled chains weighing twice what she did sickened him. Diminutive in stature and curved in all the right places, she wasn’t moving. At all. Not even a breath.

  Thinking back, he realized he hadn’t heard her boots shuffling or any comments when she was taken to his vehicle. The farce of her resisting had been enough for him to lose interest. He’d been too self-absorbed. Another slip like that would get them both killed.

  He reached for her neck, half-prepared for her to lunge at him, and faltered at the faint, too faint, tremor there. A snail would have more of a pulse than what registered beneath his fingertips. Her midnight-colored hair lay in sweaty tangles around her face. Her torn clothes bunched between the chains, exposing translucent skin. And while he was momentarily distracted by the generous swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, he winced at the vivid blue and purple marks over her abdomen and up her rib cage. Her sleeves were in shreds, clearly displaying the bruises on her arms.

  For some reason, seeing her abused this way struck deep at his core hard enough that he grappled for sanity.