Pride Unleashed (a Wolf's Pride novel, book 2) (17 page)

The master taps his fingers on his desk and shivers skitter up my spine when he
gives a humorless
laugh
, one that
reverberates off the walls and echoes around us.
His
deadly
gaze bores into me when he
says, “Interesting.”

I want to ask what he finds so interesting, but shut my mouth when h
e gestures for Lawrence to release Logan
.
I take a huge bite of the sandwich to keep my
self
from crying
out
in
relief.
A moment later Logan drops to the floor
with a resounding thud.
He grips his ribs and a loud groan sounds in his throat,
but
he’s
still
unable to
shift and heal
himself
with his collar on.

Another noise sounds at the door and the master’s
eyes
harden when he
looks
up to see one of his bodyguards standing there, a
stricken
look on his face.

The
guard’s
uneasy glance
go
es
from Logan, to me, to the master.
“The
perimeter has
been…” he pauses as though unsure
of how much to s
ay
in mixed company, then
he lowers his voice and
murmurs,
“
b
reached.”

My heart leaps, wondering if
it’s
my small army
invading
and hoping it’s not.
Our plan has been crippled
,
and
now
any attempt to overthrow the master with a direct hit will
only
end in disaster.
We’re in no position to fight.
Not yet.

B
ut when the master
’s furious gaze jerks to the bodyguard and he
asks in a hard voice,
“In broad daylight
?
”
before he
jackknifes o
u
t of his chair, I get the sense that
he knows who’s out there,
and
that
such
an attack has happened before
.

Curiosity overriding fear, I watch him carefully, taking in the troubled look
in his eyes
as well as the
beads of
moisture
dotting his
forehead
.
Tension hovers in the air and when his face tightens wearily,
I realize he instantly
looks
older
.

I also realize I’m not the
only one he’s at war with.

My stomach grumbles softly as I listen to Sandy sleep
restlessly
beside me, my thoughts
completely
preoccupied with Logan.
I play with the elastic band around my wrist and m
y heart squeezes
painfully
as I
twirl and snap it.
I
can only hope
and pray
he’s been placed in a cage free of his collar and allowed to shift
, otherwise his fate will be sealed and there isn’t a thing I can do about it.

It
never fails to
amaze me how strong
my
new
mate
is, how sure he is of me.
The special
bond between us
warms me
, and I know him well enough to understand that d
eep inside he believes I’ll always
make the right decisions.
And e
ven though I don’t want to disappoint him,
sometimes I hate the faith he put in me, because sometimes I’m not so sure of myself.

What if I can’t always
do the right thing
?

W
atching him suffer while I spilled lies that kept him
in manacles
was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
I
hope I never have to go through that again, otherwise
I fear it could very well
break me.

I
scan
my cell and pace quietly as I open my mind and
try to contact Stone.
I need to know what he knows
and figure out
what we’re all up against if I want to
put a
new
plan together to
get us out of here
.
I
also
desperately need
to know w
hat’s going on in the mansion
, who is friend, who is foe,
and who
is waging
a
war against
t
he master.

I sink to the floor and run my finger through the dirt
.
As I create
pictures in the dust
, a habit from
childhood
, I think about Logan and his promise to one day take me to the ocean.
Will he ever be able to keep that promise?
Or will the master destroy us first?

As my thoughts turn to the
master
, it has me considering his
enemies.
I’m smart enough to realize
that
something or someone is out there, threatening him
and perhaps his drug
cartel
.
He
’s building himself an army for protection.
I wonder if th
e
phantom
enemy
that
is
closing in
from the outside has chased away my
small
army, or worse
,
captured them.

I think of Logan’s family, the ones who came with us and the ones who stayed behind,
and
know I can’t let
the
master get his hands on them.
As the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place, it
instantly
become
s
clear to me
why Logan
is
so important to
the master
, wh
y
he wanted t
he rogue
wolf
brought to him
alive
—
so he can
harness
Logan’s
family and
add force to his numbers.
And
I can’t forget that
he’s impregnating the females for th
at
same reason.
Werewolf pups grow fast and it doesn’t take them long to learn how to fight.
As I mull that worry over,
I stifle a yawn as
exhaustion pulls at m
e.

A
fter a
sleepless night
my body is beg
inning
to
break down
and
I know I should rest while I still can, because I know
the
next few days
are going to be
difficult
for all of us
.

I
push to my feet,
step away from the
impenetrable metal
bars and
force myself to
lie
down on my cot
.
As I
stare at the wooden boards
and
scan the
ventilation system
overhead
, my
eyes slip shut and I work to regulate my breathing
,
but there is nothing I can do to stop my
mind
from
recall
ing
th
e
distinct scent my
sensitive
nose
picked up on
in those
very
vents
earlier today
.

I lay there for a long time, my mind finally s
ettling
, but
what feels like hours later,
a
noise at the foot of the stairs pulls me from my slumber.

I roll onto my side,
unease exploding inside me and raising the hairs on my nape as I
peer into the dark.
As
a
tall
figure
emerges
from the shadows and his face comes into full view, my heart crashes against my chest
and
the room begins to spin before my very eyes
.

“Pride,”
the man
says
after a long time
, and the sound of his voice, warm and familiar takes me back to when I was just a pup.

No!
It can’t be.

As old memories flood me,
I rub the sleep from my eyes
and wonder if I’m
dreaming
.
Except when I blink my lids back open, he’s still standing there, staring at me
from the other side of my cage
.

“Pride,” he says again and my wolf howls in response
to
the urgency
and emotion
in his voice.

Feeling unstable,
I tentatively climb to my feet, wondering if this is some sort of trick
, some cruel way to break me
.
I track slowly to the
metal
bars
and grip them hard, but when a warm hand closes around
mine
,
my insides begin to quiver and
I sink to the cold floor, my new nightgown dusting the dirty
ground
and washing away my picture
as tears prick my eyes
.

“
Father
?” is all I can manage around the lump in my throat.
“Is that really you?”
I ask, completely overwhelmed
by
the
emotions
pressing on my heart
.

He smiles at me.
It’s warm, but cautious
, and helps push back the chill in my body
.
I look closer, and take in the square shape of his face, older now, weathered, and more severe, like he’s witnessed a lifetime of
suffering
.
But it’s his eyes
when
they lock on mine
that ha
s
my heart ac
h
ing
and my throat closing
in pain
.

The hurt I see
in the depth
s
of his brown eyes,
the regret
shaping the outer edges
twists me up with s
adness.

What happened to him?

He sinks to the floor beside me.
“Pride,” he says.
“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you
,
too,” I whisper
.
S
omehow
I
find the strength to
choke out,
“
I thought he killed you
.
”

Darkness moves over his face, but I’m too numb to react.
I
f the master
didn’t
kill
him, where has he been all this time?
But I don’t ask because
some small part of me warns me not to, warns that I might not w
ant to hear his answer.

His hand touches my face.
“You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.
”
A long pause and then, “
I always knew you would.”

Unable to deal with the emotions his
gentle
touch brings, I try to
cut the tension and
mask my feelings by asking,
“
Are you telling me I wasn’t born with my looks?”

With that he laughs and
while the
sound
should be
warm
and comforting, it feels more like a
blow to the stomach
than anything else
and generates a
deep
sadness inside me
.