anyone would have the guts to overpower Wickland or Bennett, let alone sling them in a cell. It was surreal, as though he’d dreamt the whole thing. Or was he dreaming? Was their escape and return here just one long dream and he’d wake any moment to find his mind had played a cruel trick on him?
Shit. Please don’t let that be what this is. Let it be real.
He studied Wickland again, convincing himself that however real his dreams had been in the past, none felt as real as this one. The man was a heap on the cement floor, resting in the fetal position. Vann felt no sympathy, just pure hatred as he thought of all the things Wickland had put the pack through as Bennett’s head of security. Wickland deserved no mercy, and an emotion streamed through Vann, one so strong and alien it made him catch his breath.
I want to kill him.
“That’s my fault, Sir. My feelings have been transferred. I’m afraid I feel no remorse for that man. If I could, I’d get in there and maul him to death like he mauled my mom. I feel the same about every single one of them who helped kill her. I should turn the other cheek, like I told you I could, but I can’t seem to make these feelings go away this time.”
“They’re so dark, Kip. They’re not like you.”
“I’ve kept them hidden. They weren’t meant to seep out, Sir.”
Dillon appeared in human form beside Vann, swiping away the chance for more silent conversation. Vann turned to him, his back to Wickland— I can’t stand to look at that bastard anymore.
“One of our teams has spoken to your father, who directed us to the people on Wickland’s side, the ones who would rule here in Wickland’s absence if they got the chance,” Dillon said. “Your father said only five men were truly loyal to Wickland as far as he knew—our other men should be bringing them down here shortly.” He glanced around the basement. “Where are the cubs?”
Dread pooled in Vann’s belly. He looked around in the murkiness. All the other cells were empty. He’d been so intent on securing Wickland he hadn’t thought to check the cubs before.
Shit.
“I don’t know.” Vann grimaced. “They’re usually always here.”
“I suspect Wickland knew something was up.” Dillon frowned.
“He said, when he let us through the gate, that he’d call his guards away. I thought it weird that no one was in the foyer. That must have been why. He had his men down here, taking the cubs elsewhere. Him saying he wanted to deal with me and Kip by himself was bullshit.”
“So there are more men loyal to Wickland, not just five like your father said?”
“I don’t know. There must be. But maybe the ones taking the cubs only did so because they were told to. I’ll speak to my father and find out, but if he said only five, I’d believe him. If there are more, then they’ve obviously kept their feelings on the subject to themselves. Possibly pretended they’re on their fellow shifters’ sides all these years so they could get information to pass along to Bennett or Wickland.”
“Any other places on the property they’re likely to be?” Dillon stared at Vann hard. “Come on, man. Think. They could be long gone by now—not even at Crossways!”
“Fuck.” Vann’s mind went vacant in his panic to come up with a suitable answer.
He was saved by Wickland’s five men being dragged down the stairs by the rest of the Highgate wolves. Vann opened Wickland’s cell then stepped back so his unconscious cohorts could be dumped inside with their evil leader. They formed an unruly pile, and Vann got immense satisfaction from seeing Wickland squashed beneath the others.
But was that his feeling or Kip’s?
“Mine, Sir. I hope he suffocates to death.”
“I never thought I’d say this about someone, but I do too. How can we not think these things after what we’ve been through because of them? Try not to feel guilty. They certainly felt no guilt when they treated us the way they did. They