Chapter 2: : Chapter 2

Savannah Caine burst through the back door of the warehouse and out into the deep yellow-orange light and shadows of the parking lot.

She stopped short and fixed me with a venomous glare that sent my blood pulsing.

Striped thigh-high stockings sheathed her long legs, offering a delicious stretch of skin that disappeared into the trim of her black racing shorts. She wore a vivid pink top with emblazoned across the front. It was low cut, and beads of perspiration glistened on her chest.

I could smell it, and I wanted to push her up against the wall to taste it. I dug my claws into my folded arms to get control.

This was why I’d stayed away.

Sam stepped out beside her and flashed me a reproachful look.

As if I needed reminding that she was off limits. Savannah was a LaSalle—a member of the twisted family that had gotten my sister Stephanie killed. And as if death and destruction somehow ran in their blood, Savannah had slain Billy, my sister’s fated mate.

Yes, he’d been a monster, driven to madness and revenge after Stephanie’s death. Billy had kidnapped, murdered, and conspired with a blood sorcerer. He had to be stopped, but it hadn’t been her right to put him down.

That had been duty. But Savannah didn’t understand a thing about us. Or care to.

A creeping frost wound around my heart as Savannah strode toward me with her gym bag in hand and a fire burning in her eyes. Sam mouthed, .

The red-haired vixen homed in on me like a heat-seeking missile, stopping inches from my chest. “What the are you doing here, Laurent? I thought we had to stay away from each other.”

Her eyes were murderous, unsheathed daggers.

I didn’t bother moving a muscle in response, just leaned back against my truck with my arms crossed. “I have information. Are you going to listen, or are you going to try to stab me?”

She dropped her bag onto the pavement. “I don’t have a knife, so you might as well start talking.”

Her body vibrated with repressed fury, and her magical signature was on full display—the scent of tangerines and the feel of cool water flowing over my skin. It was like fucking nectar, driving me wild. I could smell her anger and resentment, and beneath it all, an undeniable undercurrent of desire.

I’d forgotten what it was like to be around her. A continuous assault on my senses. Contradictions piled upon contradictions. She was a beautiful nightmare.

My eyes dropped to her mouth. Her lips were full and soft, though the bottom one was cut and swollen. A stain of blood brightened the surface, and I could almost taste it. Blood that was special, that the sorcerer had wanted.

My muscles tensed with desire and protectiveness. “You’re hurt. You ladies must play rough.”

She sucked on her torn lip. “We can take it. Now quit checking me out and tell me why you’re lurking in the parking lot.”

I uncrossed my arms and tried to focus on the information burning in the back of my mind instead of the alluring line of her mouth and the fire she stoked in my chest. “We’ve identified the faceless man, the blood sorcerer who was hunting you, thanks to your sketches. You drew a tattoo of a triangle with the number 37 on his neck. It’s an old prison tattoo. His name is Ulan Kahanov, and he’s a murderer and deviant sorcerer.”

Her breath caught as her pupils dilated. “Do you know where he is?”

“No. But his most recent residence was the maximum-security prison on Bentham Island, just offshore of Magic Side. He escaped a few months ago when the prison was breached. We would have identified him earlier, but the Order archmages were keeping the missing prisoner a secret to save face. The place is like Alcatraz—it’s supposed to be impregnable.”

“Then how did he break out?”

“It was attacked by a genie. Others escaped too, but Kahanov is—as far as the Order is willing to admit—the only one who wasn’t caught. We’ve had one of the Order’s best hunters tracking him for the last few days, but he’s an elusive bastard.”

“Wait a minute, how long have you known? Why am I only finding out now?”

“Because you didn’t need to know the details.” My irritation flared, but I kept my emotions locked down.

She scoffed. “If I matter so little, then why are you bothering to tell me?”

I was still uncertain how much to tell her. Certainly not the truth.

“Things have changed,” I said. “You’re in a lot of danger, Savannah. Kahanov is on the move, and I think he’s going to make another play for you. I want you to come back to Dockside. I’ll put you up in a safehouse until we bring him down.”

She crossed her arms. “Oh, , no. Not on your life. I’m not going back into werewolf witness protection.”

Anger simmered under my skin, and I fought the urge to throw Savannah over my shoulder and drag her back to the Dens. She had no fucking clue what kind of danger she was in. Not only because of the threat I’d received from Kahanov, but also because her blood was special. I’d ferreted out the traitors in our pack, but there were still rogue wolves running loose in Wisconsin who might come after her for it.

“I’m trying to protect you, and I can’t do that when you’re holed up in the Indies. Be reasonable,” I growled, heat creeping over my neck. The LaSalles had refused us access to the south side of the island, so my surveillance teams had to stop at the border, which made it damn near impossible to keep a watch over her.

“I If the blood sorcerer is coming for me, then the safest place for me the Indies, with the LaSalles. You know it. I know it. That’s final.”

I ground my teeth. It was all I could do to keep my claws in. But I knew that look in her eyes. She’d rather drive her car off a cliff than change direction.

“Fine. Then I’m doubling your guard for when you’re outside the Indies.” I turned and started to open the door of my truck. “I’ll let you know when we bring him down.”

She shoved my door closed and pinned it shut with her hand. “So what, you’re just leaving me in the dark? Out of the investigation? That’s bullshit.”

My gaze dropped to her neck, her pulse thrumming like a hammer in my skull. What I wouldn’t give to drag my teeth across her sweaty skin. Give her a reminder of exactly who she was dealing with.

“To keep you safe,” I snarled, eying her hand on my door. “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you were involved?”

Her eyes flashed—maybe a glint from the streetlamps—and she reared back. “What ? I stopped a killer and prevented an attack on my family. Without me, God knows how many other people Billy and his freaks would have killed.”

Her vitriol and resentment were almost overwhelming, and her words were acid splashed in my face. She’d killed my brother-in-law, and I wanted to hate her for that. And maybe I did. But she wasn’t wrong. We wouldn’t have stopped him without her help.

My voice cut through the air like a knife. “Get your hands off my truck.”

She grabbed the lapel of my shirt instead and jerked. “I want in, Jaxson. Make it happen. I need to know why he’s hunting me.”

My wolf surged at her defiance, and I had to fight to keep him down. I glanced up, hoping this wasn’t all on display, but apparently, we were the postgame show, and our conversation had drawn a bit of a crowd. Sam’s pupils were dilated, and every werewolf in the parking lot had tensed.

A warning growl escaped my throat.

I was certain that Savannah Caine was the only person in Magic Side who would dare touch me like that. It was an affront to everything I stood for. And yet, everyone understood that somehow, rules didn’t apply to her. She was like a rogue wolf, brave and fierce, but hard to trust and impossible to count on. I wouldn’t put it past her to march into the Hall of Inquiry and start demanding things from the archmages.

“Hands off my shirt,” I said, pitching my voice low but firm.

She released it and blushed. Unfortunately, by challenging my authority, she’d just made it that much harder for me to say yes. But maybe I’d bite.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and bent to her ear. “Lucky for you, Ms. Caine, our hunter has questions she wants to ask you. Meet us at the North Channel Harbor tomorrow at three p.m. If the Order will give you access, you can even join us on our way to Bentham Prison.”

“What’s at Bentham?”

“Murderers, butchers, and psychopaths, as well as a bloodthirsty devil that we need to talk to. I’m sure they would all welcome a visit from a beautiful redhead.”

Savannah tensed, and I could sense her rising trepidation.

I nudged her with my alpha presence, letting her know she was dismissed. “Sleep well, Ms. Caine.”

She spun and stalked back to her car, giving me a delightful view of her long legs and tight shorts. My breath stopped as my gaze landed on the back of her pink shirt. Below her nickname, , was the number she had chosen—37.

She knew that the bastard Kahanov might be scrying, and she’d coopted his mark. Talk about sending a message. The woman certainly had stones, but she was toying with powers she didn’t understand.

I slipped into the cab of my truck, heart pounding, as all the things I hadn’t told her raced through my mind. At the heart of them had been the message Kahanov had somehow left on my desk—a small note, written in blood:

My veins burned, and I struggled to restrain my claws as my fingers dug into the steering wheel.

The pack was everything. Everything I was, and everything I stood for. But I would never submit. I was going to hunt the bastard down, no matter what it took. Then I would wrap my jaws around his throat and savor the sweet taste of his blood.