Free Wolf Pact: A Wolf Pact Novel by Melissa de La Cruz Page B

to the car. “No time. Let’s go, let’s go. I’m driving.”
    Lawson didn’t argueand took the backseat next to Malcolm. Edon drove the car quietly and carefully back down the dirt road, then gunned the engine once they were out on the highway.
    “So what did you see in there?” Malcolm asked when they had put some miles between them and the oculus. The youngest boy had color back in his cheeks, a good sign.
    “I heard Romulus,” he finally admitted.
    “Are you sure?” Malcolm asked, paling at the name of their fearsome general.
    Edon whipped around. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Did he see you? Did he know you were in the oculus?”
    “I don’t think so. He kept asking my name. I don’t think he recognized me,” Lawson said. He hung his head. “You were right, it was a mistake to come.”
    “Whether or not he knew who you were, we’ve got to move.” Edon glowered.
    “Not yet,” Lawson said. “There’s something else.” He told them about the girl he’d seen, the one with the brilliant red hair and sad green eyes, the tracker, Romulus’s spy. “I sent her an image of the butcher shop. She’s going there now. Take me there.”
    “You want her to find us?” Malcolm gaped.
    “I want her to find me,” Lawson said smoothly.
    “Why?”
    “Isn’t it obvious?” Rafe asked, looking solemn.
    “Leave her to me,” Lawson said, his jaw set, his heart burning with hatred. “I’ll take care of her.”
    “What about Tala?” Malcolm wanted to know.
    “I don’t know. Theoculus didn’t show me Tala.” He gazed out the window, his heartbeat finally slowing to a regular rhythm although his back still ached. He had wanted to see her so badly, but the oculus had shown him someone else. The red-haired spy. He clenched and unclenched his fist. He had lured the spy to the butcher shop, where she would meet her death.

F OURTEEN
     
    T heshadows made everything look larger and smell worse. Styrofoam platters and massive rolls of wax paper were stacked on the counters. Hooks from empty meat racks hung from the ceiling, their crooked silhouettes looking even more ominous in the moonlight. Tacked on the brick walls were charts mapping animal bodies, depicting the various primal cuts. Shoulder. Chuck. Loin. Near the entrance were two large glass counters full of steaks and chops wrapped in cellophane.
    Bliss took a deep breath and held it for as long as she could, willing her tense muscles calm. She had found the right butcher shop, had driven right up to it, and had seen from the corner of her eye the silver wolf in the shadows, had watched its arched, furry body slink through the back door, and had followed it inside.
    She crept asquietly as she could across the wet stone floor. It was lurking somewhere within the darkness, waiting. Her eyes caught a flicker of light in the distance. In the back she noticed the door to the meat locker was open, revealing a carcass swaying like an inverted pendulum. So that was why the room smelled of blood.
    She closed her eyes so she could hear. Concentrate. She pinched her nose. The smell was distracting. When Lucifer had taken over her body and had been her only contact to the outside, she’d found she could listen better if she closed her eyes and withdrew from her other senses. So even if she was only human, she was used to the dark. Lucifer had taught her that. She heard a clock tick, the sound of a hook grinding against a chain, the soft click of claws against the concrete—the beast, stirring … and then there, barely perceptible, was the sound of someone else breathing. There was someone else in the room. Someone other than the creature. But where? And who?
    The horrible clicking grew louder, and Bliss heard a snarl, deep and primeval and vicious, and then the sound of breathing became louder, more desperate—then, suddenly, a scream from beyond the doorway. Bliss leapt from her hiding place and ran toward it.
    Clang!
    A knife madea loud noise as