Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (15 page)

“Where’s Charmeine?”

But Ethan didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and strode the other way. Trying to escape or avoid. Either way, that shit wasn’t happening. Mammon followed on instinct alone, catching up slowly. Choosing not to overrun the little fucker in case one of the kids came down this way. But before Mammon could grab him, Ethan reached the end of the hall and turned, shoving open a set of fire doors.

“Shit.” Kids be damned, Mammon gave chase. He hit the fire doors before they could close behind the fleeing Ethan, pushing them back open with a snarl of rage. The shifter, the black SUV, the tiny, hidden parking lot, none of it mattered because as soon as he stepped outside, his stomach dropped into his shoes.

Fear.

Charmeine’s scent was everywhere in the little parking lot outside the door, and it was tinged with fear. His mate was in danger and afraid.

“Charmeine!”

But an explosion from behind him sent the Dire to his knees before he could take more than a single step. Concrete tore his pants and scraped his palms, but that wouldn’t stop him. The kids…his mate. He needed to save them all. It took way more strength and focus than was normal, a sign the blast had done something worse to him than a simple fall, but eventually he was able to crawl forward. To compel his body into action. He had just pushed himself to his feet when a second blast rocked the world around him. The force sent him sprawling, his head making contact with the pavement before any other part of him. The sound of something coming closer, a rhythm much like running footsteps, only made his head ache that much more. Mind fading as a pain unlike any he’d experienced wrapped around him, he almost missed the sight of a pair of white shoes coming closer.

Shoes…not boots.
Shit.

“
M
ammon needs you
.”

Charmeine looked up from the spreadsheet she’d been reviewing to find her assistant leaning in the door. “Is everything okay?”

“I assume, but Tucker asked me to grab you. Said your friend needed you for something.”

Charmeine bristled, unable not to. “He’s my mate, not just my friend.”

Ethan’s lip curled, and his eyes seemed to harden right in front of her. Fury. That expression reminded Charmeine of pure, unadulterated fury. But a moment later, it was gone, and Ethan was back to being his very bland, very docile self.

“Yes, I’m aware. I wasn’t sure if you were telling all the refugees yet, though.”

Run.

Charmeine’s instincts flared, her highly tuned sense of survival kicking in out of nowhere. But she didn’t run, she didn’t even walk. She waited, analyzing, running her fingers over the edge of the band Mammon had put on her wrist. She was tired from staring at numbers all day; that was what was going on. Ethan was her cousin, had been her friend and confidant for decades. Maybe he was jealous or overworked and that was why this mating bothered him. Or maybe he didn’t like Mammon—a definite possibility. Mammon certainly seemed not to like the smaller shifter. Either way, this was not a life-or-death moment.

“Thank you for coming to let me know,” Charmeine said as she grabbed her paperwork, her voice quieter than she would have liked.

Ethan stared for a moment, then he nodded once. “Of course. Though I don’t think you’ll need all that stuff.”

“Yes, you’re probably right.” Charmeine clutched at the printouts, talking her heart into beating a normal, slower rhythm, before placing them neatly back on the table. Maybe she needed a break. She wasn’t done working yet, but it was later in the afternoon than she’d originally thought. She couldn’t blame Mammon for being ready to leave, if that was what this was. So she followed Ethan out the door and down the hall, fiddling with the band around her wrist. She’d been tapping it twice every time it vibrated as Mammon had instructed, even though she’d already figured out it couldn’t be an activity tracker and there was no face for a watch. That was something she’d deal with later, though. After they were alone.

Ethan turned down a hallway they hadn’t updated yet, one without proper lighting. The walls were still a weird pistachio color, and the dirty carpet carried a slight mildew scent. This was not where Mammon was supposed to be working.

“What are we doing down here?” Charmeine asked as they reached a set of fire doors at the end.

“I’m just following orders.” Ethan knocked twice and stepped aside, farther away from the entrance.

When the door opened, Charmeine didn’t have time to run. She didn’t even have time to scream. Two men rushed in and grabbed her, dragging her outside. One clamped his hand over her mouth and held her wrists behind her back. The other practically lifted her off the ground. There was no fighting them, no escaping them. No way out. But that wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

“Quit fighting,” one man said as she kicked and attempted to throw her body weight around. “You don’t want to be inside, considering what’s coming.”

Charmeine froze, panic an icy wave that stole her breath. The children. The families. Mammon. Even Ethan didn’t seem to be outside with her, which meant he was still in the building.

The men shoved her into the back of a dark SUV. She kicked and fought harder, biting the hand on her mouth and screaming as loud as she could. The men didn’t stop, though. They pushed and shoved, growling, forcing her through the door and deep into the rear passenger area. But they didn’t cover her mouth again.

Charmeine growled, letting her wolf come forward more than she had in months. “Where are you taking me?”

One of the men who’d grabbed her, the man who’d sat in the front seat, snorted what sounded like a laugh, as if her question didn’t matter. As if she didn’t matter. The second man jumped in the back through the same door Charmeine had been forced through, followed by…

“Ethan.” Charmeine nearly cried in frustration and rage. “What are you doing?”

The man she’d called family, whom she’d treated as a friend, looked at her with eyes so cold and evil, Charmeine could only recoil.

“I’m following orders, remember?”

“I thought you meant Tucker’s orders. You…you’re working for the Hunters?” Charmeine’s eyes blurred, and she could only shake her head. “You sold us out.”

“I did what I needed to do to stay alive.”

“We would have helped if you’d told us they approached you. Finn and I—”

“You being involved would have been a death sentence for my family,” he said, interrupting her. “You try and try and try, but shifters keep dying. You may as well be a murderer.”

“No,” Charmeine gasped, shaking her head. Refusing to believe those harsh words. “We keep them safe. We give them opportunities for a life not made up solely of running.”

Ethan sneered, his eyes filling with hate. “You cost them their lives. But the Apex Hunters will keep me safe now that I’ve delivered their biggest desire—the cherry on the top of the Byrne sundae.”

Charmeine shook her head, trying so hard not to cry. Ethan was family; he wasn’t supposed to do this. He wasn’t supposed to put everyone she cared about in danger. And he certainly wasn’t supposed to have sold her to the enemy.

But he had, and he’d done it right under her nose.

As the car pulled away, leaving the little parking lot behind, an explosion rattled the windows and rocked the heavy SUV. Charmeine screamed and ducked, searching out the windows for the source. Knowing what she’d see before she spotted it.

A plume of black smoke rose from the far side of the rescue building. Fire.

Charmeine lunged for the door, thinking of the children and adults, of Mammon and little Emerson. Of all the death that could have been avoided had Ethan stayed loyal. Had she noticed his betrayal sooner. Had she done something to help them.

The guard shoved her back into a seat without care for the losses they were leaving behind. A second explosion blasted through the air as they left the complex, and then they were flying down the road. No way out, no way to help. No way to survive.

“How could you?” Charmeine asked, staring right at Ethan. “You’re my family.”

“But not Byrne family, which is all that really seemed to matter to you. You never talked about your mom’s family, about my parents or cousins. It was all about the high and mighty Byrnes in your world. So, no, Charmeine. You’re not family to me. You never have been.” He had the audacity to shrug. “Besides, someone needed to knock you and Finn down a peg or two.”

Charmeine couldn’t even feel sorry for herself. She was too mad, too angry at him to think about the loss of someone she’d considered a friend. “So this is about your ego? You set up our family and friends to be murdered so you could feel more important?”

Ethan growled, low but vicious. “No, I did it to stay alive.”

“What about the children?”

“It’s every family for themselves right now.” Ethan turned to stare out the side window as the car hit the highway. “Besides, the Apex Hunters promised they wouldn’t hurt the children.”

If those words hadn’t been so wrong, she might have laughed. “Oh, Ethan. Do you really believe them?”

The guard she’d almost forgotten about slapped her hard, knocking her to the floor. “Shut the fuck up, Byrne whore. Your fate is sealed. As is the fate of everyone who chose to participate in your so-called rescue mission.”

Charmeine crawled back onto the seat, biting back tears. She was trapped, the people she’d been trying to help possibly dead, and her mate missing with them. She didn’t know what to do next or how long it would take someone to realize she was even missing in the chaos of what had to be happening back at the rescue.

Suddenly, she regretted not exchanging mating bites with Mammon. If they had, he could feel her fear. He could sense where she was. He could find her, just as she could have found him. They’d know the other was at least alive. But she’d resisted the draw that day in his apartment, had chosen to keep that wall in place, and now she was alone and fighting for her life.

Mammon’s activity tracker vibrated on her wrist, reminding her of his intensity when he gave it to her. Of his care. She rubbed it but, against his wishes, didn’t tap it twice. Why bother? She’d probably be dead within a few hours.

C
old
. The sensation roused Mammon, soaking into his body in a way that made his joints and muscles ache. Even before he opened his eyes, he could feel the dampness in the air. The wet, old smell around him that he couldn't place. Something was very, very wrong.

He opened one eye, too exhausted and sore to handle both at once. Pain stabbed through his head, throwing his thoughts into disarray. He cringed but held back his growl. Deep breaths and balls of steel, that’s what gave him the courage to try again. One eye, slowly. Barely a slit. Better, not in a
hey, everything’s cool
sort of way. More in an
at least nothing’s stabbing me in the brain
way. He’d take it.

Mammon blinked, risking both eyes, unsure if his battered brain was playing tricks on him or not. Stone floor…dark room…no windows…tiny light from under a closed and probably locked door. Trapped and alone in a strange place. Okay. So, something was definitely wrong and in a not-good sort of way. He closed his eyes, ignoring the cold and the ache it caused, focusing on getting his brain to work properly. The more he came to, the more memories flooded back. The rescue, Charmeine’s smile, Tucker, Emerson…the blasts that knocked him out.

Shit.

Thoughts of the rescue were the only things clear in his mind. His desire to find the people who’d been inside the building, to make sure the kids and parents were all right, fueled every inch of Mammon and gave him the strength to lift his upper body from the floor. He wobbled but didn’t fall over. Definitely a good sign. He’d been through blasts before—it was going to suck, but he needed to be vertical. Get his blood flowing and give his brain a chance to catch back up. He groaned as he pushed to his knees, though. Motherfucking explosions, they always made him feel as if he'd been hit by a truck. Not that he'd been hit by a truck before, but he had to imagine the deep, throbbing ache the force of a blast left behind felt similar. Still, he pushed past all that. He had to.

Charmeine. Tucker. Emerson. Finn.

Mammon needed to fight the pain and confusion dragging him down. He needed to figure out where he was and how to get out. Already, his wolf paced in his mind, anguished but furious that someone would dare to attack a Dire Wolf. There was also the fact that his mate had been inside the building; she was definitely in danger either from the explosions or the attackers. His wolf snarled and dropped his head in a threatening posture, ready to go to war. Ready to take over and raze anyone and anything that got in his way of finding Charmeine. She was his priority, his focus, his sole responsibility.

God save anyone who put a hand on her.

What felt like hours later, after staring at the door he'd made sure was locked and definitely too thick to kick down, footsteps approached. Mammon sat against the opposite wall, legs straight out and crossed at the ankles. Deceptively casual. All confusion and pain from the blasts were gone, all control over his rage decimated. He wasn’t resting—he was preparing for battle.

When the door swung open, five armed men stormed in and stood in a formation. Mammon didn’t even blink, too busy thinking tactics to entertain the fuckers. He could handle five standard shifters in a fight, but he’d need to get rid of the guns. He’d been shot on the last mission with Levi, and he didn’t feel like dealing with that again. So guns first, then guards. If they were all Apex Hunters, as he assumed they were, then most if not all were in this place he was being held. An assumed pack of no more than ten, Finn had said. Mammon liked the idea of taking them all out at once like bowling pins. And though he was technically the prisoner, he’d figure out a way to throw a strike. That was the Dire way.

A sixth man walked in after the advance squad secured the room. Mammon could have rolled his eyes at that thought. Secure in their world meant making a show of their guns, apparently. No one had actually checked on him to see if he had somehow armed himself. No one had secured him to the wall or floor. Amateurs, this lot. That would definitely work in his favor.

The sixth man walked in as if he owned the place—and maybe he did. The shifter stood tall, his posture perfect, his haughty sneer probably practiced in a mirror. Someone posing as a leader or a warrior without the proper knowledge to back themselves up. Arrogance without skill was so easy to spot.

Mammon kept his spot on the floor and simply raised an eyebrow. “You really think six will contain me? Well, five—somehow I doubt you’d get your hands dirty in a fight.”

The leader’s lips curled up in an oily sort of smile. “You're quite cocky considering the situation.”

Mammon snorted. At least
he
had the knowledge to back up his attitude.

“I prefer confident.” Mammon cocked his head, knowing he was about to give away a bit more than he wanted but needing the info. “Where're the people from the rescue?”

“They're here.” Arrogance personified smirked—
motherfucking smirked
—before lifting a shoulder in a forced-casual sort of way. “Most of them, at least. I mean, we did blow that hovel pretty hard.”

Mammon held his position, biting back a growl so hard, his jaw ached. He couldn’t show his hand, but he needed to know about his mate. Was desperate for her. Without a mating bite, he couldn't sense her. Had he bitten her, had they exchanged bites during sex, he would be able to pinpoint her location and track her down. And then the devil himself would have been the only man who could have saved her captors. But they hadn't exchanged bites, so he was left with only his normal senses, which weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders quite yet. Goddamned explosions.

Mammon crossed his arms over his chest, still trying to keep his cool, the movement forcing him to notice his wrist. His very bare wrist that made a lightbulb go off in his mind. So he had his normal senses and Deus' non-normal tracking device. He'd put it on Charmeine's wrist at the rescue, had made a mental note to tell her what it was once they had a moment alone together. As long as she wore that, his brothers could find her. When she didn't tap in response to their vibration, they'd assume something was wrong with Mammon and come running. Because she wore it, they'd find her. A terrifying thought, sort of. He could only hope Phego was one of the men working the extraction team—the rest had never met her and would probably scare the life right out of her. But at least they'd come. His Dire family would be here, and they'd save her. One worry taken off his plate.

“Your mate is alive, if that's your concern,” Arrogance said.

Mammon froze, meeting the man's eyes. Knowing he was fucked. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Those eyebrows went up in an exaggerated fashion that made Mammon's blood turn cold. “Oh, now, let's not be coy.” He turned to his guards and nodded. One stepped out into the hall, but it was the sound of two sets of footsteps coming back that made Mammon sit up. Oh God, Charmeine? Was she here, so close, and he hadn't sensed her? He couldn't smell her, but—

When the guard came back with Ethan at his side, Mammon's world went red with fury. There was no controlling his wolf’s growl, no holding back the threat in his voice.

“How much?” he asked, letting his snarl come through his words.

Ethan stared at him, not speaking. Almost hiding behind the five soon-to-be-dead guards and their leader who all blocked Mammon’s escape path.

But Mammon rejected Ethan’s silence. “How much was her life worth to you? Finn’s? Those kids’?”

Ethan licked his lip and glanced at Arrogant. “The children were not to be harmed.”

Mammon's forced laugh hurt; it physically made him ache in ways he hated. Little feet under pink skirts, ponytails bouncing, and gap-toothed smiles flashed before his eyes. He knew those kids, had met them and played with them at the rescue. After just one day, he'd cared for them. This fucker had known them for weeks and sold them out for…what?

“You're an idiot to have believed that.” Mammon shook his head, fighting back the need to tear everyone in the room apart limb from limb. “Tell him, Mister Leader Man. Tell him the truth this time.”

Arrogant glared until Ethan looked his way, but then he shrugged. Pretending to be casual again. “There is always collateral damage in any mission.”

Ethan’s shocked face would have been funny had the cause not been so fucking horrifying.

The traitor began to whine and question the leader in his presumptuous way, but Mammon had better things to focus on. Like the vibration coming through the floor. It was subtle, but there. Something coming closer. Something the others couldn't feel as they stood a few feet away. But Mammon could. He felt the thundering steps of what he knew had to be his brothers through the stone floor, felt them in his thighs and in his heart. His pack was coming for him, and they were not men to be messed with.

Mammon pushed off the stone, slowly rising to his feet. The guards all took a step back, and Arrogant quit proffering excuses to watch. Mammon’s joints still hurt, and the ache of knowing there could be dead children back at the rescue made breathing harder than he would have liked, but he stood. And he growled. And he glared down at Arrogant with every ounce of hatred he’d ever possessed.

The floor vibrated to the point he could feel it through his bare feet. Mammon leaned a shoulder against the wall, the picture of calm, cool, and motherfucking collected. “Collateral damage… I'm sort of digging that term.”

Arrogant shot him a nasty look, but Mammon could only smirk in return. One by one, the guards perked up, swiveling their heads toward the door, looking for something not quite there yet. Mammon was no longer the only one who could feel the approaching storm. Three guards turned around as vibrations turned to footsteps. Then a fourth. And still, the sound grew louder. Closer.

Mammon was almost giddy. “I think it's time for a little collateral damage of my own.”

He jumped on Arrogant just as Phego and Bez rushed in the door. And then Thaus barreled his way through with a roar that shook the foundation. Mammon had one moment of
what-the-fuck
, because Thaus was fighting like a man possessed
,
before he ignored his brothers to focus on his prey. Arrogant barely fought back, too overwhelmed by the whirling dervish Mammon had become to do more than cry out for help. But his guards were too busy handling the other Dires. Or being slaughtered by them, really. When a team was as trained and skilled as the Dires, dispatching half-assed guards took little time, so it was only a few minutes later that Mammon raced out the door and into the hallway, his Dire brothers on his heels.

“Plan?” Thaus asked, looking positively feral with blood dripping down his chin and onto his shirt.

“Guards all gone?”

Phego chimed in from his place trailing the others. “Five down plus your target.”

Mammon wanted to scream. “Five plus mine means Ethan got away. Fucking traitor must have run the second you three arrived. I'm taking him out.”

Still running, Mammon glanced back at Thaus. At the man who helped keep all the Dires on task. The one with the worst attitude, the strongest temper, and the scariest personality outside of the beast known as Luc. The one he trusted more than anything or anyone. “My mate is in here somewhere.”

Thaus didn’t seem to be surprised. “Tell me what you need.”

“I'll handle the traitor named Ethan. You find my mate.”

Thaus gave him a nod before turning down a different hallway, shifting on the fly as he did. Shit, Charmeine was going to be terrified of that thing coming to get her. Mammon faltered, wanting to follow Thaus, needing to see Charmeine, but there was still danger. Five, maybe six Apex Hunters down meant there were possibly four more. The NALB had failed the first time they’d dispatched that crew—Mammon wouldn’t let them fail this time.

“Bez,” he called, slowing at a convergence of hallways to figure out a direction. “Possible four targets remain.”

“On it.” Bez took off down a dark hallway, probably following his nose to where he’d find more of the Hunters. Which was good, but Mammon had a different job to do.

Mammon followed Ethan's scent down a different hallway and out a door at the end of some dark, wet space. As he walked up the three steps to the grassy lawn, he spotted the little fucker racing away. Ethan glanced behind him, his eyes going wide when he spotted Mammon so close. Had he taken the time, Mammon would have smiled and waved. A nice warning that he was coming for the little traitor. Instead, he took off at a run.

Ethan picked up his pace before shifting to his wolf form, probably thinking four legs were faster than two. And they were, but Mammon had four legs as well, and his legs were longer, stronger, and faster than any non-Dire wolf he’d ever come across.

Mammon shifted in midstep, letting his wolf take over the hunt. Faster, harder, his wolf stretched out every stride, dug for grip on every pawfall. Pictures of his mate and Tucker and little Emerson fueling a rage too strong to contain.

Mammon caught up to Ethan fast, grabbing the fleeing wolf’s ankle on a forward stride and flipping him to his back. And then he attacked. Family or no family, Ethan was a traitor. He’d sold out Charmeine, put the children of the rescue in danger, and destroyed the lives of those living within. He deserved no judge, no jury, and no stay of execution.

Teeth and claws sliced the weaker flesh, quickly dispatching the shifter. Mammon wished the fight could have lasted longer. He wanted Ethan to suffer, to hurt the way he'd hurt Charmeine. To feel the agony of a slow, savage death as he deserved. But there was more at stake with this mission. More people to find. More lives at risk.

So a quick but messy death it was.

When the assistant lay dead at his paws, Mammon shifted human again. Naked and covered in filth, he ran back toward the house once more. Phego ran beside him, having apparently been watching the whole time. Backing Mammon up but letting him have the kill.

“Charmeine?” Phego asked, the one word striking dread in Mammon's heart. Still, though, he shook his head.

“No, we need to find the children from the rescue if they’re here, and I have a feeling they are.”