Cyran and Quillian were part of the Iron Fang’s special ops forces Locke put in place a few years ago. They go under the guise of the Moonlight Outcasts, a rock band that “traveled” around the country. They weren’t bad. They played decent music and kept humans entertained when the brothers and sisters of the club scouted for their mates on Friday and Saturday nights.
“Shut the hell up, just drink it. Not unless you want to bleed out, and I have to carry your sorry ass out of that hellhole. Better yet, I’ll just leave you on the mansion floor,” Quillian shouted, shoving Cyran out of his way.
Quillian sat next to me, his metal chains clanging against the armrest while his black mesh top rustled with every movement. He looked like the epitome of a rock band lead singer, but it only infuriated me. I despised how effortlessly they put on a façade, blending into their roles too seamlessly. Maybe it was because I loathed vampires, or maybe it was the sharp metallic scent of Quillian’s chains mixed with the musty smell of his leather pants that made my skin crawl.
The Iron Fang didn’t condone any racist judgment shit. Locke said that from the beginning. Anyone who was rejected was welcome to be there. Vampires had more time on their hands than the shifters before they went damn crazy after a rejection, though. They had better handle on the demons that inhabited them, more will to live, or maybe they acted more human. Hell if I knew.
They still gave me the creeps.
Quillian pulled a vape that hung around his neck and stuck it in his mouth. He puffed on it several times and let the vape gather around us. “Tell me why Locke let you come with us?” He looks me up and down. “You aren’t really stealthy, can’t squeeze into small spaces, and being quiet isn’t your strong suit.” He let out a puff of his vape.
I glared at him, my grizzly growling in his sleep. “A favor to Delilah, to save the woman that helped her escape her ex.” I looked forward and concentrated ahead of me. I didn’t owe him any other explanation. I didn’t need to talk to him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Quillian smirk. He twirled the vape in his fingers and leaned forward. “Rumor has it that the little lady put you off on the camera feed,” Quillian taunted. “That you went damn near feral when you saw the state she was in. It differed from all the women you’ve saved before. Your eyes glazed over and turned yellow—”
I balled my hands into fists, and my lip curled.
Quillian sat back in his seat. “Then again, that was all rumors and speculation.” He waved his hand and was handed a blood bag. He let down his teeth, sucking in the blood until it was completely drained. “Fuuuuck, good shit. Hit me with another,” he asked another bandmate.
I’ve saved plenty of women, men, and even children from uncertain death and trafficking over the years since coming to the Iron Fang. It was what we did, trying to seek one last attempt at redemption until our animals took over our bodies and killed everything in sight.
We wanted to try to get whatever redemption we could before going rabid. That was before. Now that Grim, Tajah, and Hawke got another chance, we were more hopeful. Things were looking up, great things were happening, people were believing again.
And I was impatient as hell.
I saw this mission as a distraction in my obsession with finding my second chance. That’s all this was. It was just a chance to help Delilah rescue the nameless female who helped her escape her ex-husband’s mansion and somehow didn’t make it out like she promised Delilah she would.
Delilah was one of my good friends, and before I left, I promised her I’d bring her little savior home.
I’d be the bear to make sure this female was free and started a new life. A new apartment, a job, and safety, to be with the Iron Fang where she would be protected and looked after until she was well.
The image of her tiny body, her arms wrapped around herself, shaking, was enough to strengthen my dozing grizzly’s heart from a few beats a minute to pumping more regularly. Maybe that was why my claws were appearing.
Another rumble in my chest appeared, and the lightning flashed outside the window.
The private jet, stolen from Delilah’s now-dead ex-husband, hit an air pocket and fell hundreds of feet. I gripped the seat, my soul leaving my body as the vampires cheered, feeling the weightless bodies fly about the cabin until the pilot leveled out the plane.
“I don’t know many bears that like to fly,” Quillian joked and took another long draw out of the blood bag.
“We don’t.” I gritted my teeth.
The plane continued with its turbulence. My head leaned back into the seat as the vampires and one wolf shifter, who had been adopted into the Moonlight Outcasts years ago, laughed and joked with one another while they put their drinks away and got ready for the descent.
They put on their gear, all black, their slim, lithe bodies completely covered in knife-cut-resistant material.
My grizzly was unsettled as he slumbered, my nails turning blacker as I continued to concentrate on what mission I had before me. This was supposed to be a stealth mission, not my forte, I’d admit.
I gripped my Glocks under each arm holster and pulled them out, switching the safety on and off. Silver, holy water, and dogwood filled bullets were in various clips on my belt. Not just humans, but other supernaturals could be inside.
I let out a breath, tightening my belt as we lowered through the clouds, the rain pelting on the plane. This was it. Soon we would be landing on the private runway.
Get in, get out.
Shit, this is what I wanted. Feel the rush, get the girl, get her home.
Then why was I nervous as hell?
Chapter Four
