Dark Wolf Running (Bloodrunners) (10 page)

And how were the Runners going to react if they learned that the Lycan from last night was almost certainly one of her rapists? Did she have the guts to tell them, when she could barely think about it in the privacy of her own mind?

Her internal stream of doubts and questions was cut off the instant she spotted her brother walking out the front door of his cabin with his new wife right beside him. Eric’s dark gaze instantly locked with hers, and though he had his wife’s hand clasped securely in his, he did
not
look like a man simply enjoying his first day of married life. God, Chelsea must be furious with her for screwing this up for them. Instead of getting wrapped up in the excitement of their honeymoon, her idiot brother was letting what had happened last night work him into one of his pissed off “I’m the male, which means I know how to protect you” moods. She loved him more than anything, and while he was as far from their father as a man could be, there were times when Eric was just a little too freaking alpha for her tastes.

Marching toward him as he came down the front steps of his cabin with Chelsea, Elise scowled and said, “This is ridiculous, Eric! Either you go on your honeymoon or I’m leaving and going back up to Shadow Peak!”

Her brother’s silver gaze was hard and sharp. “This isn’t the time for a tantrum, Elise.”

“Bullshit!” she snapped. “I am not a child and I am not
your
responsibility.”

Letting go of his wife’s hand so that he could wrap his arm around Chelsea’s waist instead and pull her into his side, Eric slid a hooded look toward Wyatt, who’d decided to join them, rather than heading on over to Mason’s on his own. “We’ll lay low here for a week or two,” Eric said, the look in his eyes a little sharper as he finally looked away from Wyatt’s deliberately neutral expression, and locked his gaze with hers again. “Once we know you’re okay and that everything’s settled, then we’ll take the trip to Bermuda.”

“Eric, that’s—”

“That’s final, Elise. I’m not going to argue with you about it. No way in hell am I leaving when you might need me. That’s not what family does.”

“He’s right,” Chelsea added, giving her a small smile. “You can’t ask us to leave when this is where we need to be.”

“Fine.”
She fisted her hands at her sides and narrowed her eyes, her nostrils flaring as she pulled in a deep breath. “But I’m not staying with you, so don’t even ask.”

She could tell that Chelsea was trying to bite back another smile, while Eric just scowled. But he didn’t argue against Elise’s statement, obviously wanting some privacy with his wife when they were at home. Of course, he also obviously wasn’t done acting like a total meathead. “I don’t care if you stay at Wyatt’s,” he told her, his jaw hard. “I trust
him
to do what it takes to keep you alive when I’m not with you. But I want your house on the market by tomorrow.”

Elise gaped, unable to believe she’d just heard him correctly. “What? Why would I—”

He cut her off with a frustrated snarl that reminded her of Eli, their older brother, and her chest ached with familiar pain. “It’s time you stop acting like a stubborn little brat and move your ass to the Alley permanently. We all want you here.”

“That’s absurd!” she railed, so angry she started to tremble. “I’m not a Runner!”

Eric snorted as he cut another look toward Wyatt and then brought his hooded gaze back to her. “Like anyone who lives here gives a shit.”

“The others are all inside waiting for us,” Chelsea murmured, moving forward a little and tugging on Eric’s waist. “Come on. You two can finish this argument later, when you’ve both had some time to cool down.”

Gritting her teeth, Elise waited until the couple had walked away, then pulled in another deep, shuddering breath. She was grateful for Wyatt’s silence, though she could feel the warm force of his gaze as he stared at her profile. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Exhaling in a low, audible rush, she finally turned her head and locked her gaze with the dark, smoldering heat of his. She didn’t know if he was still turned on from the kiss they’d shared that morning or if something else had gotten under his skin, but she didn’t have the strength to deal with it now. Not when she was heading into God only knew what at this meeting. “I guess we might as well get this over with,” she muttered, relieved when he simply nodded and fell into step beside her as they made their way over to the cabin.

Less than a minute later, Elise found herself packed into a warm, vanilla-scented kitchen with everyone who lived there in the Alley, along with an older couple sitting at the table who she knew were Mason’s parents, Robert and Olivia Dillinger. Wyatt took a seat beside her at the table, along with Carla, Cian, Brody and his wife, Michaela. The others either sat on chairs that had been carried in from the living room or propped themselves up against the kitchen counters, their ankles crossed in front of them. Steaming mugs of aromatic coffee were passed around, and then they got down to business. Mason asked Wyatt to explain about the attack that had taken place at her house the night before, since not all of them had been there, and there was a collective air of tension when he shared the Lycans’ lack of scent.

“So it was most likely two Whiteclaw males,” Brody said in a low, strained voice, his scarred face set in a worried expression. “But the question is who? We have to assume that they all have equal access to the drugs. Which means it could have been anyone from the pack.”

“Then we’re essentially back at square one,” Cian murmured.

“Exactly,” Brody muttered. “And who knows where they’ve sold that shit in the region? It could have easily spread beyond the Whiteclaw by now.”

“Now, hold up there a minute,” Mason’s father argued. “We can’t just start looking at
everyone
as our enemy. That’s the kind of thing that starts wars.”

Jeremy crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Open your eyes, Robert. We’re surrounded by enemies. War is inevitable. The only variables are
who
and
when.
”

The older Lycan slapped his palm against the top of the table, making several of the women jump, including herself. “It’s that kind of attitude that’s going to get us all killed!”

“Can we save the bickering for later and get back to the subject?” Mason snapped, sounding like a father who was getting ready to separate his bickering kids. Which was kind of funny, considering one of the males arguing
was
his father.

Cian leaned forward in his chair, braced his elbows on his parted knees and looked at Mason. “How did the meeting you had this morning with the Youngbloods go?” The Youngbloods were a small pack to the west of the Silvercrest, and they had strong connections to the Donovan family, who were working with the Whiteclaw. Elise knew that neither of her brothers had ever trusted the Youngblood pack, and she was curious to hear what Mason had to say about them.

Setting down his coffee mug, the Runner scowled as he answered Cian’s question. “They were tight-assed and close-lipped. I’d say Claymore has definitely dug his blackmailing claws into more than a few high-ranking members in the pack.”

After an unlikely ally had saved Eric’s life when a dozen of the Whiteclaw and Donovans had attacked the Runners in the Alley the previous month, they’d learned that Roy Claymore was using blackmail—in the form of taped recordings of Lycans participating in gang rapes on drugged human girls—to gain control not only within his own pack, but also among the others that surrounded the Silvercrest. For the Whiteclaw, the rapes were about more than evil, deviant appetites. They were about power. Like a chess master setting up his game, Roy Claymore was plotting the destruction of the Silvercrest clan, one sadistic move at a time.

Her face unusually pale, Carla said, “Are you saying that you think he’s hit the leaders in the Youngblood pack?”

A dark lock of hair fell over Mason’s brow as he nodded.

“Oh, God. That’s insane. Are there really that many evil assholes out there just waiting for the opportunity to abuse a woman?” Chelsea asked, her voice cracking with emotion. Eric reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, while a brutal look of rage hardened his face. After the Whiteclaw attack on the Alley, Elise knew that her brother had spent days going to the pack’s borders and demanding that Roy face him in a Challenge Fight to the death. But the Lycan had never accepted Eric’s challenges. Instead, he hid behind his “super soldiers,” refusing to defend his honor because it was clear he didn’t have any.

“Unfortunately,” Mason added, “Roy probably knew exactly who to target.” His scowl deepened. “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that there are a few in Shadow Peak he has under his thumb, as well.”

Michaela’s soft, husky voice entered the conversation. “So then, depending on what the Greywolf to the north of us decide to do, it looks like we might very well be on our own.”

A grim smile touched Cian’s mouth as he shifted his gaze toward the stunning brunette. “That’s nothing new for this group, lass,” he offered drily. With a smirk on his sensual lips, he looked at his fellow Runners. “We’re used to it by now.”

While the others nodded their agreement, Mason looked at his dad. “Can you start putting the word out for anyone up in town who might have combat experience?”

Elise knew exactly what the Runner was thinking. It was time to start training the pack for all-out war, and while the Silvercrest knew how to hunt, the majority had never gone claw-to-claw with another Lycan or had any sort of weapons training. If it came down to it, they probably wouldn’t know the first thing about fighting in a full-scale battle situation. But if they wanted to survive, it looked as if they were going to have to learn.

Mason and his father discussed setting up several training camps in town, once Robert had found some others who could work with the Runners, and then they took a moment to pass around a fresh, steaming pot of coffee.

“We know what’s coming,” Brody grunted after taking a drink from his mug. “And that means we know what we have to do. I like the idea of these training camps, but we need to do more. It’s time we took some action to get ready, instead of just protecting our borders.”

Nodding his head in agreement, Wyatt said, “We need to broaden our scope. Make contact with packs that don’t border our land. There’s the Blackstone to the north of the Greywolf. And the Claxton pack to the southwest of the Whiteclaw. They’re both worth approaching for a possible alliance.”

As everyone was offering their approval, Eric cleared his throat, and in a raised voice, he said, “I’m thinking it’s also time to bring Eli home.”

Wyatt heard Elise’s soft gasp of surprise as every head in the kitchen turned toward the newest Runner. Eli Drake was Eric and Elise’s older brother, and a banished member of the Silvercrest pack, though Wyatt knew the banishment order had been total bullshit. Knowing her father, he didn’t doubt that Stefan Drake had probably been behind the League’s decision to banish Eli for killing one of the males who’d raped Elise without their permission. The Lycan should have been made a damn hero, but he’d been forced from his home instead. Wyatt had learned, from talking to Eric, that neither Eric nor Elise had seen Eli since he’d left.

Judging by the determined look on his face, Wyatt could tell that Eric had thought he might have a fight on his hands at the idea of bringing home the man who now traveled the world fighting as part of a nonhuman group of mercenaries who were rumored to be as dangerous as they were good. But as he watched Eric look around the room, meeting the gaze of every man and woman there, it was clear that the Runner had been wrong.

“Long past time, if you ask me,” Jeremy finally offered, leaning over so that he could give Eric a slap on his shoulder.

“I agree.” Setting his mug on the table, Cian threaded his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “And that group he works with could be damn useful right about now,” he added with a sharp smile.

“I’ve put in some calls to try to find him,” Eric told them, throwing his arm around his wife’s shoulders as she leaned into his side, her expression one of obvious relief. “So far, he hasn’t called me back. But I’ll keep trying.”

“Good,” Mason said, looking around the room. “That should be it for now, but I’ll call another meeting once we’ve got more information. In the meantime, let’s keep our eyes and ears open, and stay sharp.”

The group disbursed, setting off to get things done. Carla’s chair nearly crashed into the wall as she shot to her feet and hurried out, but then she was sometimes like that. Wyatt moved to his feet at a slower pace, wanting a word with Jeremy about the patrols they—along with the help of a few scouts from the Runners’ security team—were running around the Alley on a twenty-four-hour basis. But before he could get Jeremy’s attention, Eric’s deep voice came from just behind him. “We need to talk.”

Elise was in the middle of a conversation with Jillian and Torrance, so he slipped into the hallway with Eric. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned to face the newest member of their group. “Shoot,” he said, wanting Eric to say whatever he needed to as quickly as possible, so that he could get back to Elise.

“I didn’t want to do this in front of my sister, because God knows I’m thankful that you were able to get her here. But why did you take her home with you? What the fuck is that about?” Eric demanded, looking at the moment like a seriously ticked-off bruiser, with his bulging muscles, tats and angry scowl.

Keeping his expression neutral, Wyatt said, “What do you think it’s about? She needs protection, but she refuses to let you do it. I’m not giving her a choice.”

Eric’s silver gaze was piercing. “Then what
are
you planning on giving her?”

Wyatt knew the guy was just trying to be a good brother, but now he was starting to piss him off. “I’m not going to force myself on her, Eric. I just want to help.”

Eric scrubbed a hand down his face, then shook his head. “Just be careful with her,” he muttered in a low voice. “She puts on a tough-ass bitch routine most of the time, but it’s not who she is. She’s still hurting and scared and entirely too vulnerable. The last thing she needs is more grief in her life. And she sure as hell doesn’t need a man like you—one who doesn’t know the first thing about sticking around for the long haul—messing with her.”