Free Rivals and Retribution by Shannon Delany

Or I could lose more lives.
    Love might—eventually—be recovered. My brain pounded against my skull. Love might be recovered, yes, but lives … Despite my natural body heat and insulation against the cold, I shivered, realizing.
    I had no money to keep us housed and fed and safe.
    I had no allies.
    I had no options.
    As much as I wanted Gareth’s love, I needed my pack to be safe.
    Need always won.
    I gently slid Gareth’s head off my lap and watched Dmitri bind his hands. It would barely slow him down, but slowing him down was necessary.
    “Put her in the car,” Dmitri said to Gabriel.
    I rubbed my head. “You,” I said to Dmitri, trying to regain some semblance of control, “make an excuse for us to the pups. And tell them to stay inside. To keep the doors locked, ignore the phones, and to not let anyone—not anyone —in until we come back.”
    He grinned. “I will reword it so none of them wets themselves with worry,” he muttered before walking away.
    “Do you know what we’re doing?” I asked Gabriel. “Where are we even going?” I’d thought we’d have more time. I needed more time, time to plan.
    Why did time always run like water through my fingers?
    “Where are we going?” I repeated.
    He grinned at me, cocksure. “Straight to Hell,” he said, closing the trunk on Jessica’s body. “But at least it will be warmer there.”
    Alexi
    The glowing sign blinked from off to on and back again ahead of us, unsure what dusk was—day or night? Missing a letter and a numeral, the sign read: OTEL . “There it is,” I said, thrusting out my chin.
    “The motel,” Pietr said. “Max?”
    “Yeah,” he replied, his voice merely a whisper. “This is definitely the place. It smells of wolves.”
    We pulled into a parking space and quietly exited the truck, each watching for any sign of the pack or Jessie. Max’s nostrils flared as he tried to work out where the scents thickened, which way we should go to find them—or avoid them.
    “Here,” he said, jogging toward the steps. “Wolves upstairs. I’d guess that’s where the pack’s rooms are.” But he froze at the base of the stairs, his eyes narrowing with wariness. “Amy was right,” he said slowly. “He’s been here.”
    Cat adjusted the gun in her jacket pocket, keeping her hands hidden, her bright blue eyes roaming. “Is he still here?”
    “I cannot be certain.…”
    Pietr was already bounding up the steps, giving us no choice but to follow him.
    Up we went, cresting the stairs and turning down the long, slender cement porch that stretched like one continuous balcony.
    Max stopped us at room 204 and signaled Pietr to come back. “This is one of their rooms.”
    Pietr pounded on the door, and my face and palm slammed together. Cat and I jumped back, flanking the door. Pietr had always been impulsive, but never so socially inept. Cat and I pressed our backs to the wall.
    The hint of noise from inside had come to a halt.
    Max shook his head. “Stupid,” he said, looking at Pietr.
    “Ironic,” I said, looking at Max.
    Max pressed his lips together and spared me a brief glare. “You’ve scared them,” he said to Pietr. He rapped on the door with his knuckles, making a simple sound. A nonthreatening sound completely unlike Pietr’s previous attempt. “Look,” he said, just loud enough for the pups inside to hear him. “We just want to talk. One of our friends went missing. We’re hoping you know where she is.”
    Nothing but silence.
    “She’s part of our pack. You’d want us to help if someone in your pack was in trouble, da? ” he tried. He glanced at me, cupping his mouth and speaking in the barest whisper. “Movement inside.”
    The curtain that hung heavily across the big picture window stirred, faces pressed to the glass. I relaxed my pose, looking more like a man bored with waiting than one ready to storm a room of werewolves in a hail of bullets.
    “It’s Max, by the way,” Max said. “Max and Pietr and