Vann's Victory (6 page)

“I know, Sir, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I don’t either, but—”

“So you think you can pull it off without fucking it up?” Dillon asked.

“Yes.” Vann smiled to project confidence to the group. To himself.
I have to pull it off. There’s no other choice.

Dillon stood. He rested his fingertips on the table, leaning onto them. “We all have our phones, our Tasers. Any one of us gets into trouble, hit the ‘off’ switch on your phones if you can. They’re programmed this way because usually, when someone’s caught, the captor switches off the phone. Works as a double alert.”

Vann wondered where Dillon had got phones like that but didn’t feel it was his place to ask. Dillon gave as little information as he could from what Vann had seen so far. He reckoned only Sergeant would know exactly who the real Dillon was.

“So.” Dillon pushed off the table. He glanced at his watch. “Time to get going.”

Vann’s stomach churned. Excitement and nervousness squirreled through him. He let go of Kip’s hand, hoping to God or whatever deity was out there that he’d get to hold it again after this. He rose, as did the rest of the group—except Kip.

“I can’t give you orders from here on out.”
Vann didn’t look at him.
“It won’t work. As I said earlier, you need to drop our agreement at this point, like we did when we escaped.”

“Yes, Sir.”
Kip got up, fiddling with his Taser bag, although he didn’t appear nervous at all.

“You okay?”

“Yes, Sir. You?”

“I’ll get there.”

Kip straightened his shoulders. It gave Vann confidence. If his little sub could go into this with the heart of a lion, so could Vann. He puffed out his chest, released a ragged sigh, and patted his Taser bag then his pocket to make sure his phone was still there. Everything was in order.

“The cabs should be waiting,” Dillon said. “Paid for in advance. Good luck, and I’ll see you on the flip side.” He exited the room, leaving the door ajar.

The Highgate men followed, and Vann grabbed his alone moment with Kip to crush the slight man to him. He stroked his hair, loving the feel of Kip’s cheek pressed to his chest, wishing things could have been so different.

“But if they were different, Sir, we never would have met.”

“And people have suffered so that we met. I hate that.”

“It is what it is, Sir. We can’t change it now.”
Kip pulled away.
“Nor can we change the plan and the excuses we’re going to give Wickland for why we left Crossways. Dillon will make sure we’re not captured, that we’re safe. Please don’t worry about that anymore.”

Vann should have known Kip would pick up on his thoughts. Stupid of him to think otherwise when they were so connected. Even shutting his emotions off didn’t keep Kip out sometimes.

Kip smiled.
“We have to go. We can’t let the others down by stalling.”

“I love you.”

“I know that, Sir.”

Vann led the way out of the room and across the foyer. Kip walked by his side instead of slightly behind. It felt good to be equals, to walk as one. They made it to the line of cabs. Dillon stood by the back door of the first one, giving Vann a stern look. Vann blushed with the embarrassment of holding everyone up. Dillon’s features then went blank again, but the admonishment emanating from him said Vann needed to buck up and stick to the plan. No deviating unless absolutely necessary.

Sometimes he wished there were thought links between all shifters so he could apologize without anyone else hearing. He hoped the expression on his face suitably conveyed how he felt. Dillon nodded, a curt dip of his head, then got into the cab. Vann, Kip and two shifters got into the last car. The others occupied two separate vehicles.

The journey was spent in silence, as they’d been ordered, so Vann stared through the window and examined his feelings. This return to Crossways was a tremendous leap from the one he’d thought would happen. To have a team on board rather than just him, Kip and, as he’d imagined, Jace, was more than he could have hoped for. He had doubts—who wouldn’t?—but all in all, if they stuck to the plan and Wickland did as Vann anticipated, acting true to form, they’d have the pack free in no time.

As the cityscape turned from high-rises to empty spaces, Vann’s uneasiness grew. He pushed intrusive thoughts of failure away—he
had
to remain positive.

“You’ll make this work, Sir. I know you will.”

“With you beside me, how can I fail?”

A glow of security blanketed Vann, and he sent loving thoughts to Kip, keeping back maudlin ones that he couldn’t entertain right now. Like if things went wrong and Vann was killed, he’d wait for Kip in Heaven, counting the days until they could be together again.

“You didn’t quite hide that thought, Sir.”

Vann cursed himself.

“But I feel the same way.”
Kip patted Vann’s leg.
“I’ll wait for you too.”

There was no more time to reply. The cabs came to a stop on the lonely roadside. Vann’s guts churned. This was it, the real start to their mission. Once those cars drove away, they were on their own.

No going back…

Everyone met on the verge and waited until the only indication that the vehicles had been there were specks of them on the horizon, back the way they’d come. The sun was setting, not long now until darkness descended.

“By the time we’ve run the remaining distance,” Dillon said, “it’ll be full dark. Vann’s already mentioned that a lap of the compound by the guards is done every hour. Don’t forget, they’ll pass by our entry point
on
the hour. If we make decent time, as I hope we will, we’ll be at our appointed place at eleven hundred hours.” He looked at everyone in turn. “Next stage. Go.”

Dillon took the lead, traipsing off toward a stand of trees. They had to strip there, stash their clothes beside trunks, put the phones in their Taser bags then shift. It was all done quickly and without talking or much effort, as though they’d been some kind of undercover team forever. Vann suspected the others had, and once again told himself not to fuck up. This group probably knew one another inside out—quirks, strengths, weaknesses—and had put a lot of trust in Vann and Kip by allowing them to join their band.

Although it felt good to be wolf, the pads of Vann’s paws were goddamn sore again by the time they’d traveled maybe a mile. The rough ground wreaked havoc. For now, he’d just have to grin and bear it. The Taser bag strap scraped his tongue, and although the handle was short, the damn bag kept smacking into his front legs. It was an irritation he could have done without, but not taking the bags wasn’t an option. Something else bothered him too. They were out in the open, easily spotted if a driver went past. All right, the wolves were quite a distance from the road, but if anyone had a sniper rifle, those on the mission would be easy pickings.

“Stop thinking like that, Sir, and just run. Focus on what’s ahead but keep an eye on the road at the same time. Dillon will spot danger before we do, I know it.”

Vann glanced across at Kip, who looked magical in his white coat. His strides were shorter than Vann’s and therefore Kip would feel the journey more than the other, much bigger animals. Yet his determination was clear—there was a job to be done and they had to do it.

“You’re the sane part of me,”
Vann said.

“And you’re the irrational, frightened side of me, Sir. But times like this… We know from our escape we have to become different people. What we’d normally do doesn’t apply here. Think like Wickland, become harder, a man without mercy. It’s the only way it’ll work.”

“I know, but—”

“We can’t save the pack with doubts in our minds, Sir. Think of your parents, of Terena, the rest of the pack, and those poor cubs—my half siblings…”

Kip’s words helped to bolster Vann’s reserves. He plowed on, more determined than ever to do his part. They continued for a time without communicating. Vann studied the rest of the group and how they all seemed intent on reaching their destination, running full tilt, muscles rippling beneath their coats, tongues hanging from the sides of mouths under their bag straps. This was something Vann had never experienced outside his family unit or while he was with Kip. Solidarity, each member resolute in working together to achieve their common goal.

Had those at Highgate been brought up to fight for every pack member? Did they class themselves as one big family? Vann thought back to how it had been there, with Sergeant at the helm and those strange circles the Highgaters had formed when faced with adversity. They’d enclosed their quarry, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Yeah, they’re a huge family all right.

The pack at Crossways was a divided bunch, each family keeping themselves to themselves, hardly ever coming together. Trust was a massive issue—no one had much of it—and hiding feelings was normal. Could the Crossways shifters be saved as a group, or would Vann have to work around them, dealing with each secluded cluster in turn? He suspected the latter would be the case, and that might hamper things a bit. Time was of the essence, and they couldn’t spend much of it messing around with several explanations that would be repeats of the ones that had gone before.

No, I’ll have to be strong and order them all into the community room.

He wanted to laugh at that. Community room? Since when had there ever been a sense of community at Crossways? Had there ever been, before Bennett’s rule? And how had Bennett become the alpha anyway? Had he bided his time, acting as though he was the right one for the job? And once he’d secured his place as their leader, had he changed? Had life at Crossways been like it was at Highgate once upon a time?

He didn’t know and had no spare minutes to ponder it now.

Crossways was in the distance, and changing direction so they could approach undetected was the next thing on their list.

Chapter Six

Kip felt no apprehension whatsoever now. Revenge burned deep in his heart, and the one thing he concentrated on was freeing those cross-bred cubs, along with anyone else who wanted out. He wondered, as he loped through the woods surrounding Crossways with the Highgate group, whether a new alpha would be chosen once Wickland and his cohorts were apprehended and taken away by Alpha Newart. Or would everyone be encouraged to go into institutes, as was first discussed? It seemed crazy to abandon Crossways, leaving a perfectly good compound vacant. The windows, blank panes with nothing beyond, would be a creepy reminder of what had gone on there—empty lives and messed up shifters. Couldn’t some pack members stay, change things up a bit, remodel the place so it didn’t resemble Crossways any longer?

Memories will live on in the walls, though. Maybe a clean break is best for all who live there. A new pack could take over, shifters with no emotional attachment to it—bad emotions, ones that can cripple a person.

Kip had only lived at Crossways for a short time compared to the others, but he hated every inch of the place. His mother had been killed there, right on the lawn in front of everyone. A lesson to pack members that if they had it in mind to piss Bennett off, they’d meet their maker the same way.

Could I live there knowing my mother’s blood has seeped into the soil? And on the other hand, could I leave, knowing a part of her is on Crossways land?

She hadn’t been buried like normal people, as a whole person. She’d been eaten, so there hadn’t been anything to inter. But there were bones, picked clean by evil wolf teeth, tossed into a hole in the woods on the other side of the compound. Could Kip just go, abandoning them for good? They were still his mother, still something that had been her.

What would she want me to do?

Kip didn’t have to think for long.

She’d tell me to go wherever the sun shines in my heart—and that’d be with Vann. So where he goes, I’ll go.

More settled now that he’d thought things out, Kip ran with extra determination. The trees thickened, and it wouldn’t be long before they maybe encountered one or more of the Crossways guards in wolf form. But if the Highgate group had played it right time-wise, they might not encounter any.

Ahead, Dillon came to a stop then shifted to human form. The others halted in front of him. One kept to the side, a meter or so away, and scanned the trees. Kip and Vann remained at the rear. Vann brushed his muzzle against Kip’s. The movement was welcomed and much appreciated, confirmation that Vann was there for him, as always.

Dillon hunkered down to pull his watch from his bag. “We’re early,” he whispered, putting his watch on. He drew the strap tight and winced. “I want this on so I avoid shifting again until I have to. Didn’t want to wear it on the way here in case I lost it. You all know it has a GPS tracker inside so Alpha Newart and Sergeant can see where we are at all times. When I do shift again, we’ll approach our entry point as we’ve agreed, but we’ll wait until the guard has passed. No moving until I give the signal.”

Kip nodded along with the other wolves.

“And, Vann, Kip, you know what needs to be done.” Dillon shifted again then strode to the wolf who was still observing the woods.

They took the lead together, slinking between trees, their bodies low. The others mimicked them, and Kip took it upon himself to do the same. Adrenaline spiked in his system, and he resisted the need to run fast, to reach Crossways and get things over and done with.

‘Nothing good ever comes from rushing, Kip,’
his mother used to say.
‘Unless you need to get your butt away from danger.’

She’d told him to run when Bennett had captured her—there had been danger right there—but he wouldn’t have been able to anyway. His instinct was to stay with her, to protect her, and the timeframe he’d had to escape had been minimal. Within seconds Bennett’s men had gotten hold of Kip too, and the rest was history.

‘No use re-reading the last chapter when a new one is right there, waiting for you to turn the page and dive into it. Live it.’