Vann's Victory (7 page)

Another of her sayings, one he intended to heed now. It was just sad that her last chapter had been in a horror story no one should have to star in. A Stephen King epic that would chill readers and make them keep the lights on at night.

But a new chapter was indeed ahead for Kip, although the previous pages of the book that was his life still lingered in his mind. How could he completely forget what had happened? It wasn’t possible. Oh, he’d told Vann he could stop himself thinking about things, but he didn’t, not fully. Thoughts and memories still hung around even now, when the cubs were eight years old and the remaining parts of his mother had nestled beneath the Crossways soil for all that time. The ache of missing her had diminished, but it would always be there somewhere.

He needed to practice what he preached to Vann and stop thinking of things he couldn’t change. It wasn’t the right moment to take a painful trip down the lane that led to his former days. He had things to do in his mother’s memory, to make it so that her death hadn’t been in vain. Vann’s victory in saving the pack would also be Kip’s. They’d share it, raising their trophy high for all to see.

Focus on the here and now.

The trees thickened even more. They were almost at the entry point. Dillon and his companion stopped. They sat between two trunks and waited for the rest to join them. Kip cursed his white coat, how it stood out in the darkness compared to the other wolves’ fur.

If I’m spotted, me and Vann will have to start our performance a little differently to what we’d planned.

Dillon lifted his paw to read his watch. He stared at Vann and nodded.

Kip’s sudden nugget of fear was eclipsed by his need to see this through.

Vann glanced at Kip, jerking his head. Kip went with him, to the left, where a path meandered through the woods and led to the Crossways’ drive. Vann poked his head out into open space, looking this way and that. He yipped quietly, and Kip understood—time to do their part.

They shifted, slung their Taser bag straps over their shoulders then stepped out onto the drive. Vann gripped Kip’s wrist in a show for whoever watched on the monitors—hopefully Wickland, if he stayed true to his usual nightly pattern. Vann strode with purpose, while Kip dragged his feet, pretending he didn’t want to return to Crossways. It was easy to act that way. He’d been acting his whole time at Crossways, so now wasn’t any different. He mused on how quickly he’d gone back into his old role. How just being here had sent him back to being how he used to be.

At the main gate, fashioned from ancient, rusty iron railings attached to a perimeter fence of the same metal, Vann said,
“We do exactly as Dillon advised unless Wickland or his men try to fuck us over.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Vann jabbed a fingertip onto an intercom button that had been screwed to one of the thicker gateposts. It had been put there to be used by delivery men, who dropped off food and whatnot—to keep others out and ensure the pack remained secluded.

A crackle came from the speaker, then shuffles, as though Wickland was pacing his study.

“Look what we have here,” Wickland drawled. “The wanderers return. I wondered when you’d be home.”

His voice had Kip fighting off waves of revulsion.

“I need to speak with you, sir.” Vann bowed his head in respect then lifted it.

Kip felt Vann’s spark of annoyance at having to show reverence to the new leader of Crossways. Wickland would be watching them on one of his screens, so Kip didn’t dare glance at Vann. Their charade was underway, and the rest of the Highgate group would be about to climb through the opening in the fence about now.

Please, please let them make it in safely. I hope Wickland talking to us is enough of a distraction that he isn’t looking at the other monitors.

“What, you need to speak to me out there, in the nude?” Wickland laughed, phlegm rattling. “No, no. You must come in, of course you must. What kind of alpha would I be if I let one of my pack stay outside like he wasn’t welcome?”

One of my pack…
Kip wasn’t considered a proper member, and it didn’t hurt him to have that confirmed by Wickland only classing Vann as a Crossways shifter. Besides, it worked well with their plan.

“I wouldn’t want to be one of your stinking pack, anyway,” Kip shouted, glaring around to find evidence of a camera so he could gaze right into it. He found none. “Never have done. Your brother brought me here against my will, killed my mother, and all I had to do was wait until I could get away without being caught. It took me eight years, but I got out, didn’t I? Proves Bennett’s rules and his so-called secure perimeter were easily broken.” He directed a look of hatred toward Vann. “And will you get
off
me?”

He tried to tug his arm from Vann’s grip but Vann held on.

“Shut up,” Vann snapped at Kip. “You need to learn to keep your mouth shut. Show some respect to my alpha.” Then he said to the intercom, “I’ve brought him back, sir.” Vann yanked Kip to his side. “Like Alpha Bennett would want me to. Kip here escaped the other night and I followed him. I know I broke the rules by doing that but I didn’t have time to let anyone know. I apologize for that.” He paused, taking hold of Kip with a tight hand on the back of his neck. “Kip runs fast—it took a while for me to catch up to him, that’s why I was gone so long. He made it to some place called Highgate, but I caught him there. And I’ve heard some terrible news, sir. About your brother, our wonderful leader, while we were at Highgate.”

“He is no longer leader, Vann, I am.” Wickland chortled, clearly unfazed that his brother had been captured. “But I’m glad to see you know where your loyalties lie. Come through. Bring him to my study. I’ll tell the guards to leave you be. I’d like to deal with Kip myself. Without interference.”

Vann’s internal sigh of relief gusted through Kip. They’d made it over the first hurdle. Kip wasn’t fool enough to think they had this in the bag, not yet, but hope sprang inside him, and he transferred it to Vann to give him some hope of his own.

The gates swung open, a gaping mouth that would swallow them whole before closing, trapping them in Crossways’ belly. It was an eerie sight and thought. If things went wrong and they didn’t make it out of here…

We’ll make it out. We have to.

Stepping onto the main Crossways compound almost had Kip turning around to run away again. It brought back so many memories of the night he’d first arrived. Determination to do the right thing stopped him, though. There were others to think about besides himself and Vann. Deserting the other pack members would be a heinous thing to do, although Kip could understand anyone else just running and running, never turning back to rescue those left behind. Life at Crossways was hideous. Anyone in their right mind would choose freedom with no guarantees of a good life over incarceration here. Better to struggle elsewhere than suffer, dignity stripped, under the rule of a mad man whose only goal had been to satisfy himself and what he wanted. Wickland would be no different than Bennett, Kip was sure of that. His blasé reaction to Bennett’s capture proved the man had no feelings. If he wasn’t loyal to his brother, he’d be loyal to no one. A hard alpha to live with.

He’d be worse than Bennett as a ruler. I dread to think what the pack has gone through since he took over.

Kip thrust his meandering thoughts away. He walked into the main house beside Vann. They were greeted by an ominous silence, no sign of guards or any pack members. That was unusual. Someone was
always
in the foyer manning the front door. Yes, Wickland had said he’d tell the guards to leave them alone, but to have no one present at all? Was this how things were done now? New alpha, new rules?

“Don’t do what I just did, Sir, and think of life here as it was before we left. Wickland’s in charge now. Things could be very different.”

“I know. I’m uneasy that there are no guards lounging about in here. Even just one. I expected to be stared at, berated, poked with those canes they always carry.”

The canes. The guards were generous with their use of those, smacking shifters as and when they pleased, for fun or admonishment.

“It’d be a different kind of use, the way we’d do it if we had canes, Sir.”

“Kip, switch your mind back to the job, for fuck’s sake.”

Duly chastised, Kip sent a wave of apology to Vann as they neared Wickland’s study door. Vann returned it with one of his own—for snapping. Kip brushed it off—no need for them to get wrapped up in their feelings at this point.

Vann knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Wickland said, his voice just as loud as it would have been if the door was open.

They stepped inside. Kip was immediately hit with the scent of angry male—a man hiding his emotions behind a cheerful smile. Could Wickland smell their apprehension? Wickland tipped his head to one side, and Vann jostled Kip to a burgundy leather, button-studded chair that spoke of cigars and brandy in a bygone era. Kip sat, wedging his Taser bag between his outer thigh and the seat. The chair was in a darkened corner, and he hoped he’d be able to open the zip without being spotted.

“You can sit over here with me,” Wickland said to Vann. “Away from that traitorous son of a bitch.” He went to the door. Standing so he could see Vann and Kip, he locked it then pocketed the key. “Now, we won’t be disturbed, which suits me fine because I can deal with this infringement of the rules on my own. Having the guards in here will just muddy the waters, don’t you think?”

Vann nodded and took a seat at Wickland’s desk. “I don’t want to be seen as telling you what to do, sir, but you might want to sit down.”

Wickland smiled, his grin wide and menacing. “Oh, really?”

He moved to stand beside Vann, and a frisson of uncertainty flickered through Kip. Vann was worried, Kip felt it, but wouldn’t anyone be in this situation? Kip slid his hand into the Taser bag. He closed his fingers around the phone in case he needed quick access to the ‘off’ button.

“I’ll indulge you, Vann, but really, I know all there is to know about Bennett.” He sat behind his desk, suitably hemmed in.

Things were going according to plan, and Kip prayed it would continue this way. It was as if they were in a play and Wickland had read the script. The man was a cunning bastard, though, so Kip braced himself for Wickland to do a bit of ad-libbing, saying the wrong lines, making the wrong moves, throwing the rest of the cast off-kilter.

Kip could only hope the finale turned out as they expected.

Chapter Seven

“So tell me your version of events,” Wickland said, pulling a cigar from a wooden box on the desk then lighting it.

Kip would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire.

If Wickland pours a brandy next…

A thick puff of gray smoke streamed from Wickland’s mouth, rising and churning in the air, a snake in the grass that dissipated to nothing within seconds. A snake much like the man who had blown it out.

“Like I said, sir, I followed him to Highgate.” Vann, with his back to Kip, jabbed a thumb in Kip’s direction. “Once we were there, some guy called Sergeant got hold of us in the woods. You ever heard of him? And his mate? Bossy son of a bitch. Sergeant called Alpha Newart to tell him we’d arrived and were strangers. I didn’t tell them I had a brother in their pack—I thought you might like to deal with him yourself. But the runt is there, I saw him. His name’s Jace. Got a cross on his chest. The Crossways cross, so he belongs here, not with those Highgate assholes, right?”

Wickland nodded, seemingly impressed with Vann’s apparent dislike for Jace and those at Highgate. “Continue.”

“Anyway, next thing I know, Bennett arrived. Said he’d come to take us back home. I was so relived. I can’t tell you how pleased I was. I told him I was glad to see him, that I’d chased after Kip and I can only hope he was proud of me. Then that Sergeant guy and his shifters turned up again. They surrounded us, put Bennett’s wrists in cuffs then took us to their pack house. Held us hostage in their dining room. Alpha Newart was called. There was a meeting with him, then Bennett was taken away.”

“I see.” Wickland blew out more smoke and eyed Vann through the miasma between them. “What would you say if I said I’d heard a different tale?”

“A different tale? Who the hell does he have feeding him information, Kip?”

“I don’t know, Sir, but we’ll have to let Dillon know.”

Vann widened his eyes. “I’m not sure why anyone would tell you something different, sir. I’m your loyal servant. I’m here, aren’t I? I did what was right and brought that son of a useless whore home.”

“God forgive me, Kip. I’m so sorry I had to say that.”

“It’s all right. I understand the need to seem authentic. Keep going, Sir. You’re doing good.”

“Hmm.” Wickland narrowed his eyes then closed them.

“Get the Taser out, Sir. Quickly.”

Vann eased the zip back. Kip coughed to disguise any sound.

“My smoke bothering your little friend, Vann?” Wickland asked, leaning his head back and keeping his eyes shut.

“A little, sir, but it’s okay. He doesn’t mind.” Vann took the Taser from the bag. His hand shook.

“I wouldn’t care if it did bother him. I was just making what some might say was polite conversation. Making sure my guests are happy. But then
you’re
not a guest, are you. You’re family.”

A dysfunctional family.

“Yes, sir, I’m family all right.” Vann held the Taser under the desk.

Kip glanced at the bank of monitors sitting on a long sideboard beside the door.
“The others are in, Sir. Approaching the house now.”
He returned his attention to Vann’s back.

“I have plans in place to get Bennett back here where he belongs.” Wickland opened his eyes.

Kip’s heart stopped for several seconds. He moved only his eyes so he could look at the monitors, hoping Wickland couldn’t see him very well in the darkened corner. No wolves were on display.

“They must be in the bushes on the right-hand side of the building, the ones that are flush to the house wall, Sir.”
Kip watched Wickland puffing away, the air thick with smoke so Wickland appeared shrouded by ghosts.