Lawrence shakes his head, his expression hardening. “Not a chance. You have no idea how dangerous she is. A trained assassin from the Salem Court could kill any of us with a single spell.”
“She won’t,” Bast insists.
The faith in those two words stabs deeper than Lawrence’s bindings. Bast, who barely knows me, is betting his pack’s safety on me.Would I hurt them?
The spells are there, burned into my muscles by years of training. One word, even bound like this, and I could bring them to their knees. But the thought of betraying this fragile trust he’s placing in me—it turns my stomach.
TheMathairswould call this weakness. They’d say I’m compromised. Maybe I am. But as I look at these people who fight fires and save children and protect their own, I’m starting to think the real weakness is in blindly following orders without question.
“You can’t know that,” Rachel says softly. “Bast, I know she’s your mate, but we need to think about the safety of everyone here. We can release her once she’s in a secure location where we can talk properly.”
Talk properly. Right.My throat tightens at the careful way Rachel chooses her words. I’ve conducted enough interrogations to recognize one being planned. They’ll take me somewhere private. Somewhere they can dispose of my body once Lawrence convinces them I’m too dangerous to allow to live.
The mate bond to Bast might stay their hand temporarily, but these people loved Meredith long before I showed up. One life traded for their community’s safety—it’s the same calculation I made when I accepted this mission.
Meredith’s life for my sister’s.
Bast looks down at me, conflict clear in his eyes. I want to tell him it’s okay, that I understand the impossible choice, but the binding spell on my mouth prevents me from speaking. All I can do is meet his gaze, trying to convey with my eyes what I can’t say with words.
After what feels like an eternity, Bast nods. “Fine,” he says, his voice tight. “But I’m not leaving her side. And if anyone hurts her again, there’ll be hell to pay.”
Rachel pulls a pair of gray sweats from a plastic tote on her shoulder. “Put these on before you walk past the blurring spells for the crowds. We don’t need any more rumors about nudist colonies.”
Bast snorts in amusement, but his expression remains outwardly angry and alert. He glances down and meets my gaze. “I’m putting you down for just a moment, then I’m taking you out back home to sort this out.”
Home. His home.My heart stutters at the word. I search his eyes for any hint of the fate waiting for me, but find only determination there. When he sets me on the ground, panic flares hot in my chest. Even those few seconds of separation feel dangerous with Lawrence watching me like I’m a rabid animal he’s itching to put down.
Bast slips into the sweatpants and then picks me back up from the ground, cradling me against his chest like I’m precious. Like I’m not the enemy. Like maybe I can convince him to let me off this mountain. Maybe I still have a chance to try and save Brianna.
“Will my house work?”
“Yes, I’ll follow you back to set the wards in place.” She turns to the male witch. “Lawrence?”
“Fine. It’s a mistake, though… She needs to be eliminated.”
This guy is going to kill me the second no one is looking.
Bast takes an aggressive step toward Lawrence. “If you so much as give her a hangnail, I’ll let my wolf peel your skin from your bones. I don’t give a fuck who you were to Meredith. Am I being clear enough for you?”
Lawrence gives a quick nod and then Bast turns on his heel and heads toward the large lot near the Faire grounds where I parked his truck.
The adrenaline is finally fading now, leaving me exhausted and aching. I let my head rest against Bast’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart and trying to think about how the hell I’m going to get out of this mess and back to my sister.
Chapter Sixteen
Bast O’Connor
Bonds of Trust and Terror
Bridget’s weight in my arms is both a comfort and a torment. Her scent—now tinged with smoke and fear—fills my nostrils as I carry her toward my truck. My wolf howls inside me, furious at the sight of our mate bound and silenced. But the man in me…fuck, the man is lost in a storm of confusion and betrayal.
I want to shake her. To demand answers. To understand how the woman who set my soul on fire could also be the one sent to destroy everything I hold dear. But her emerald glowing eyes, wide with fear and glassy with tears, stop the words in my throat.
“Almost there,” I mutter, more to myself than to her.
At the truck I pat my pockets out of habit. Empty.Shit. She drove last. I pat her pockets next, immediately feeling the outline of the keys and fob. I slip my hand inside and grab it, exhaling slowly. Her eyes follow my every move.
After unlocking the truck, I hesitate. The cab’s too small to lay her down comfortably with her arms bound behind her back. Fuck it. I yank open the back door and gently—so fucking gently—ease her onto the bench seat.
