Logan's Acadian Wolves

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Wynter’s wolf whined in agonizing pain, begging to shift. Instinctively, she knew a transformation could heal her injuries, but as she called on her wolf, nothing happened. Her head lolled back against a rough surface and she licked her cracked lips. An iron-tinged crust stuck to her tongue. She felt heavy, drained. Wynter slid her fingertips down her sides and felt metal on her midsection. She shook her head, willing her eyes to open. As she looked to her torso, she was shocked to see the silver chainmail corset that had been fastened to her body. Tugging at the seams, she couldn’t get it to budge.

The lethargy didn’t stop her from scanning the room for a clue to where they’d taken her. A dilapidated cabin? Was it the cabin they’d been in the night she shifted? The lack of screened windows and rotted wood told her no. Listening as Logan had taught her, she could hear the cicadas but other than that, she was met with silence. She knew, though, that she had to be somewhere in the swamp.

Her plan had failed miserably. She wondered what had happened to Logan. There was no way that boat could have outrun him. Why hadn’t he come for her? Did they shoot him like they’d threatened to do to Fiona? Wynter stifled the small sob bubbling in her chest. She needed to conserve her energy. She needed to escape.

“You okay?” Wynter heard the question and glanced over to see Fiona sitting in a chair.

It appeared her hands had been fastened behind her back. But there was something odd about her demeanor and posture. On the boat, after Wynter had tried to get her to jump, she’d held on. Then within minutes, she’d rested on the boat, almost as if she were relaxed, content. But now, Fiona had been bound. Had Wynter imagined what she’d seen? No, there had definitely been something strange about Fiona’s behavior and even now, her face was bright. Unlike Wynter, whose face was bruised and puffy from crying, Fiona’s complexion was clear. But why would Fiona help the vampire? And why was she playing a victim unless she weren’t one?

“I’m fine. I can’t shift. What is this thing?” Wynter asked, trying to act unsuspecting.

“Silver,” Fiona responded without even looking.

“Our kryptonite.”

“What?”

“A human throwback. Superman.”

“It won’t kill you,” Fiona told her with an icy stare. “The vampire. He wants to know what you know about the virus.”

Wynter gave her a sardonic smile and laughed bitterly. “I just bet he fucking does. Well I wish him good luck with that.”

“You have to tell him. He promised to let you go.”

“No, he promised to let you go. And he didn’t. You’re still here, Fiona. He’s a liar.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “The man on the boat? He’s not in charge. No, I speak of the Directeur.”

“What? How do you know that name?” Wynter demanded, attempting to stand. She bent her knees and pushed upward, bracing herself against the rickety wall.

“The Directeur told me himself. He wants to know if you managed to cure Emma’s virus,” Fiona said emotionlessly.

“How do you know about Emma?” Wynter found herself yelling.

“He told me. He said she’s sick but that your blood, it’ll cure her.”

Wynter closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He knew about her blood as she’d suspected. A rush of nausea poured over her and she struggled not to vomit.

“He saw the New York Alpha in New Orleans. He knows that you sent blood to Emma…your blood. He watches you…always. So tell me, did it work?”

“Yes…yes it worked. Why do you care, Fiona? He’s got you tied up. Why are you asking me these questions?”

“So it’s true then. Have you figured a way to modify the virus? To make it portable?”

A chill crept up Wynter’s spine. Fiona was privy to details…details no one but she and Logan knew. And she hadn’t jumped from the boat. Was this all for show? Even if Wynter had been close at one time to isolating the virus, allowing others to inject it, she’d never tell a soul. She’d die first.

“No,” she lied. “I haven’t been working on it. Emma is cured; that’s all that matters.”

“He knows how to do it. He found a way while you were gone. Did you know he also is a scientist? Perhaps that is why he reveres you so?”

“What?” Wynter couldn’t believe Fiona’s words.

“It’s been him all along. His company. His research.”

“Why are you telling me this? How do you know so much about him? They were going to kill you out there on the lake. Why didn’t you just jump when I told you to?” Wynter’s voice strained. She eyed the door. So weak, but if she could make it outside maybe she could find something to remove the silver.

“I think it’s time,” Fiona said. She pushed out of the chair, placing her hands on her hips. Uninjured and altogether healthy, she gave Wynter an evil smile before clapping her hands. “Come.”

The door flew open and a tall, good-looking vampire entered the room. She knew him…Yes, the man from the boat. Her mind swam with possibilities. No, she’d met him before…at the club…with Léopold. Shocked, Wynter tried to run but Fiona easily stepped in front of her and shoved her to the ground.

“You…you…how could you? And Fiona…Logan’s going to kill you.” Wynter heaved in a deep breath. On all fours, she looked up to the vampire.

“She really is naïve, isn’t she?” Fiona merely laughed.

“You and Phillip shouldn’t have hurt her. Just look at what you’ve done, Mistress. You cannot treat her this way if she’s going to work for me.” The vampire shot Fiona a nasty look, clearly not pleased.

“Work for you? Are you kidding me? Why would ViroSun be involved with something like this? Who are you?” Wynter laughed and cried at the same time. She rolled onto her bottom, unable to stand.

“Dear scientifique, one question at a time. May I?” He retrieved a crisp handkerchief from his suit pocket and attempted to give it to Wynter. She brushed him away.

“Very well then,” he sniffed. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? My name’s Étienne. Étienne St. Claire, son of Kade Issacson sired by Léopold Devereoux. And as my Mistress has introduced, I am the Directeur.”

He paced, letting his hands speak flamboyantly into the air.

“However, there is one small discrepancy you should know…you see, we are not ViroSun nor have we ever been. True, though they exist, we forged the necessary documentation to make you believe you were working for them.”

“No, I went to the interview. The building, the stationery…I interviewed with them. I met with people. This isn’t possible.” Wynter shook her head in confusion.

“Ah well, all fake I’m afraid. A necessary expense to make you believe you were going to work for them. You were so eager to find a cure for your friend.”

“But how did you know?”

“I travel to New York quite often. And lucky for me, I’d attended one of your speaking engagements. I found it quite captivating…the notion that someone, a supernatural, could be infected with a feline virus. She’s a lovely speaker,” he told Fiona, who rolled her eyes and pretended to look at her nails. “It didn’t take long to find your ‘Jane Doe’. Emma’s medical records and her blood were easy enough to get at the hospital. I can be very convincing.”

“But I’d been working…the lab. There were others with me,” Wynter countered.

“Were there? We kept you isolated. Do you recall ever meeting anyone after you insisted on leaving?”

Speechless, Wynter closed her eyes. Like a great illusion, the curtain was revealed and she, the fool, was left the victim of a great hoax. How could this happen? She’d researched the company. The high pressure interview had been held in one of the most conspicuous midtown skyscrapers. They’d done intensive background checks, interviewed her friends, Jax.

“My scientifique, are you listening?”

“Stop calling me that!” Wynter cried.

“But you are so special,” he insisted, trailing a long finger over her hair. “Really, darling, did you think you’d stay away from me so long? The Mistress, she’s powerful, but I admit, I’ve crushed on you like a school boy.”

“True,” Fiona spat out in disgust. Her forehead furrowed. “He’s quite obsessed. Too much so.”

“But I digress. You see, Fiona and I, we knew each other from New Orleans. She’s quite the devious little witch, but not so strong. Power doesn’t come easily in the wolf pack…brawn over brains and such. And for me, let’s say it’s tedious being at Kade’s beck and call. But this virus, if it could be used on wolves, well, one can easily extrapolate…vampires could be next.”

Wynter shook uncontrollably and rubbed at her eyes. She felt her limbs grow cold. Was he insane? There was no way an animal virus could be transferred to vampires.

“I know what you’re thinking. Little Emma’s illness is a random mutation…it couldn’t possible affect vampires. But the mutation is just a spark we need to turn our discovery into a blazing success. We need to think big…research new ways of modifying the genetic structure of those who are invincible. And as we’ve proven, even a human can be changed.”

“What did you do…my cells? I have to know,” Wynter pleaded, her voice barely audible. She stared into his cold black orbs. “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Now, now. No need to be nasty. You should be grateful for what I’ve done to you. I’ve given you a gift.” He smiled proudly.

“Grateful, are you fucking kidding?” Wynter coughed, nervously pulling at her own hair. She felt as if she was the one going insane. How could this be happening?

“I told you, darling. I’m a scientist. I’ve been playing with genetic material for many years. It’s not exactly new technology. The humans have been tampering with their food supply for a while now, developing genetically modified crops and such. They’re resistant to weeds, insects and so forth. They’ve even successfully developed animal organs for potential transplants. What I did to you was slightly more complicated, but in the same vein. The micro-injection of the recombinant DNA was quite easy once my vampires had you subdued. Really, no pain involved. Of course, unlike humans, ethics don’t impede my experiments. No, my dear, this…your genetic transformation was my creation and mine alone…although I must thank Fiona for her genetic contribution. She’s quite the sport. In the end, you’ve turned into a fabulously strong transgenic being, don’t you agree?”

Unable to keep the bile down, Wynter turned her head to the side. The contents of her stomach spewed onto the floor and she coughed, wiping her mouth. Hearing the horrific details of what he’d done confirmed her suspicions. Forever altered, her genetic structure had been modified to wolf. She’d been an experiment, nothing more, nothing less.

“And I must say that my theory proved correct. Your blood cures the very virus that afflicts the hybrid. But I still do have one small problem. I’ve been working on it, of course, and am so very close, but I need to be able to transfer the virus to a pure wolf. For whatever reason, the random mutation isn’t strong enough to transfer. And that my darling is why I need you.”

“Me? My blood?” Wynter whispered.

“Well, of course we need your blood. And lots of it. But I need your mind, darling. With you at my side, doing research, we can make history together,” he explained, taking a seat.

“Are you crazy? I told you I don’t know anything. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she snapped.

Étienne growled. Snagging Wynter by the arms, he hoisted her so far off the floor her toes scraped the boards. He held her at eye level, mere inches from his face. “You will do this. Or have you forgotten what used to happen when you refused? Perhaps you need a refresher,” he sneered, baring his fangs. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited. I won’t be denied.”

Without another word, Étienne pulled Wynter against his body and sliced his teeth into her neck.

Blinding, searing white hot pain speared down into Wynter’s body. Not only had he taken her blood, it felt as if he’d stolen the very essence of her vitality. Optimism. Hope. Love. It had all been siphoned away by the monster draining her life force. Her pale lips parted in a silent scream yet the sound was lost in her chest. Wynter squeezed her eyes tight, her fingers digging into his arms in a futile effort to dislodge him. Like a rag doll hung on a hook, she could not shake free. The noose tightened around her neck, and she fought for air. Cloaked in evil, she prayed to God to take her soul.

Fiona whacked a chair over Étienne’s back, causing him to release Wynter. As he raised a hand to strike Fiona, she held a sharp shard of wood to his back.

“You fool,” she accused. “We need her blood for testing, for the antidote, and you can’t control yourself for five fucking minutes. This is why you need me. You’ve got no discipline.”

As if scolded by his mother, Étienne stepped away from them both and lowered his head. “But of course, Mistress. My apologies. She tempts me so.”

“Touch her again and I’ll stake you and that monstrosity you’ve created. Do you think I need you? This…all of this,” she continued, looking around the room as if talking about a magical place, “is my doing. I found you, not the other way around. I came up with this plan, not you. And you are not going to fuck it up, do you hear me? Now stop screwing around with her, get her to the computer. We’ve got maybe three hours before Logan tracks us down, and I want to get out of here.”

“Your blood, Dr. Ryan. So wild and pungent.” Étienne glanced to Wynter who lay sobbing on the floor. “I do think that genetic modification upped your platelet count, because I feel energized.”

“Would you stop pontificating and get her working?” Fiona implored.

“Get up,” Étienne coerced, yanking Wynter by her arm. He dragged her across the floor to a small table, picked her up and righted her in the chair. Noticing her neck was still bleeding, he stole a glance at Fiona before dragging his tongue over the wound. He licked his lips. “See, I’m quite in control now.”

“If you drink from her while I’m gone, you’re dead,” Fiona warned. “Keep it up and I’ll leave you out here by yourself. Logan and the pack will tear you apart, do you understand? I’m the only one who knows how to get out of here. Get the data and then we’re leaving.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Étienne capitulated. He gave Wynter a slap to her face and flipped open a laptop. “Wake up, scientifique. Time to work. Whatever you’ve worked on this past week, I want the information recorded now. Blood to virus ratios for the cure, viral portability, everything. The Mistress won’t allow me another taste of your delectable blood but she didn’t say anything about torture.”

“That’s better. You’re a good boy,” Fiona praised. She reached up to smooth over Étienne’s hair. “Now, I have to go outside to check the boat. And Phillip too. I’ll untie him now.”

Satisfied with his obedience, Fiona smiled to herself. As the door to the cabin slammed behind her, she eyed Phillip, Étienne’s child, who sat tied to a cypress tree, the silver cord bound around his neck so tightly that he could no longer speak. The acrid odor of burnt flesh lingered in the air. She smiled, picking a few splinters from the fragmented stake she’d created from the broken chair. Phillip’s wide-eyed stare bled red streaks down his face. Fiona knelt before him, careful not to soil her skirt.

Phillip had served his purpose on the boat. Pity that he had to die, considering his spectacular performance. As Fiona had suspected, Wynter had bought their orchestrated farce hook, line and sinker. Of course the woman on the deck had been dead. Thankfully, Phillip had left enough blood dripping to make it look believable. Like a well-honed speaker, he’d given his oration and convinced Wynter to give herself up to save Fiona. Bleeding-hearted humans. Fiona had seen the look of guilt plastered across Wynter’s face at the funeral. Logan, on the other hand, was about to leave her. As suspected, he’d choose his mate over her, a purebred wolf; all the more reason why he shouldn’t be Alpha.

But she’d never be Alpha of Acadian Wolves as long as the ancient ways ruled pack law. She wasn’t strong enough to challenge most females, let alone a male. Even her father, a virile male, hadn’t been able to subjugate Marcel. Death had been his sentence for the challenge. Her plan had merely started out as revenge for her father’s death. Convincing Calvin, Marcel’s beta, that he was deserving of Alpha took little effort. Stroking his ego, planting the seed of his dream to rule the Acadian pack was ridiculously easy. She could have easily played alpha female to Calvin. But no, no, no. Unexpectedly, Logan had intervened, killing Calvin, and her only chance of ruling the pack.

Despite the mishap, her alternate plan, dominating the vampire, turned out to be quite ingenious. She’d met Étienne years before, allowing him to fuck and feed from her. When he’d told her of the story of the sick wolf, her idea struck like lightning. If she could control the virus and the antidote, she’d control the pack. Étienne, tired of being Kade’s lackey, sought the same goal: power. He fancied himself a scientist of great aptitude and aspired to be known throughout history. She played up his fantasy, all the while directing his actions.

Her only mistake had been relying on Étienne to isolate the virus, to turn it into a weapon. Even Wynter had failed to produce the virus in a way it could be injected, swallowed or otherwise used to infect another wolf. But this minor setback didn’t deter Fiona. As she’d pored through the volumes of genetic and viral research, she believed it was just a matter of time before a researcher made the discovery. No longer convinced that person was Wynter, she planned to kill her after they got the information she’d gleaned about the antidote. They’d drain Wynter, taking her blood for future research.

Étienne’s fascination with the girl had grown dangerous. There was no way Fiona could leave the wolf alive. Logan would never stop searching for his mate. Even if he didn’t go after them, dragging Wynter through the swamp wasn’t an option. A timely escape was paramount. Afterwards, they’d bide their time, review the data, acquire a new scientist and weaponize the virus. Once she had it ready, she’d attack Logan. Then she’d return to take over the pack.

Lost in her thoughts, she eyed Phillip with faux sympathy. Deep in her chest, she tried to conjure empathy but it didn’t come. She knew she should care about his fate, but she simply didn’t. Apathy had been the beauty of her strategic plan. All of the killing, and she felt no regret. She supposed the closest she’d felt to guilt was when she’d ordered Dana’s death. At the funeral, she’d been a terrific actress, all the while unable to feel anything at all. It had been necessary to kill her. She couldn’t have allowed her hybrid half-sister to reveal the results from Wynter’s blood tests.

Over the past week, she’d made Étienne kill every single one of the vampires he’d created. She scoffed as the bound bloodsucker whimpered at her feet. Poor Étienne, the fool that he was, believed that he could bring the pink-shirted vampire with them. Of all the children he’d recklessly created, she supposed Phillip had been the most useful one of the bunch. Thankfully, Étienne had believed her lie that he could keep his treasured creature. He would have fought her on the decision to kill him. But they needed to move like the wind. It would be hard enough to escape with the two of them. Fiona thought that she almost felt a tiny shred of compassion as she drove the stake deep into Phillip’s black heart. But as he turned to ash, she shrugged. She clapped the dust off her hands and smiled, glad to have felt nothing at all.

“Fiona. What the hell?” Logan couldn’t believe what he saw on the video.

“Today on the lake,” Dimitri began.

“She jumped to the other boat. I thought she was crazy. But she did it deliberately, luring Wynter. She knew Wynter felt guilty about Dana dying. She used it. I just can’t fucking believe this. Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but she’s got to be working with a vamp. Dana was bitten up good.”

“She may be working with a vampire, but look at her. She’s smiling. Baiting us. And the letter. She must have planted it. She’s been watching us this whole time,” Logan spat out furiously.

“Shit,” Dimitri began. “You know with the pack, there’s not too many secrets. The guys who worked to build the lab, they may have told her.”

“Fiona’s here,” Logan breathed.

“Fi knows this place just as well as we do. She knows we’ll find her.”

“She’s going to kill Wynter for her blood, then take off.”

“We’ll have to break the search into sections. The whole pack will help,” Jake suggested.

“No, let me think. If she’s got Wynter, she’s going to want to drain her blood. It’s what she’s after. But she won’t use a vamp, though. She’s going to need privacy, supplies…to collect it properly. The swamp’s too messy. And she wouldn’t keep a boat out in the open. She’s going to need shelter. A cabin maybe.”

“Ours?”

“I think…I think she may have built one,” Luci interjected quietly.

“What exactly do you know, Luci?” Logan snarled.

“Nothing, I swear. Fiona’s been the same person she’s always been. Sweet, gentle Fi. This isn’t her…she wouldn’t hurt anyone. I know she’s on that video,” she shook her head and gestured to the tablet, “but I’m telling you we’ve been friends for a long time. I just don’t see how she could be capable.”

“How long have you known her really? Marcel, he brought you here. You haven’t been with the pack that long, Luci. Sometimes, we don’t know people,” Dimitri told her. “I’ve known her for the past fifty years and there she is…right there. She did this.”

“Where’s her cabin? We know every single blade of grass out here. I’ve never seen it. Where’s it at?” Logan demanded.

“We do know what’s out there, but maybe she’s been busy over the past couple of months. We’ve been preoccupied with the challenges.” Even to Dimitri, it didn’t make sense, but there was no denying that he and Logan and the entire pack had been distracted by Marcel’s death and the fights that followed.

“She took me there once,” Luci said solemnly. “Made me promise not to tell anyone. But last month when I asked, she told me that a storm took it out. I believed her. I had no reason to doubt her. It happens all the time, you know. I guess she could have rebuilt something.”

“Let’s go.” Logan glanced at Dimitri and Jake. “Fiona is not leaving this swamp. And bring stakes. She isn’t alone out there.”

“But what if Wynter isn’t…” Alive. Dimitri hesitated to suggest it but the reality of the situation was bleak.

“She’s alive.” The vision of Wynter dying before him played in his mind like a horror movie. He’d be damned if he let it happen. “She will not die, do you hear me? The next person who suggests it can find another pack. She’s mine and I can feel her. Now, let’s stop wasting time and go.”

Wynter pretended to type out information about the virus. She made up data, dates, measurements and ratios. She’d never help to create a viral weapon. They could kill her; drain her of all her blood, but she’d never ever give them what they needed. Wynter had spent the time gathering her strength, deciding she’d try to escape. But first, she had to shift. If she pretended to comply, she might be able to get him to take off the silver. Then, she’d fight with her last dying breath to get away.

“There’s nothing more.” Wynter pushed the save button as if she were truly cooperating. A reiteration of what they already knew would help to confirm her story, play to his arrogance. “You were right. My wolf blood, it’ll cure Emma. Her immunity will show in her viral titers but the symptoms will disappear. It isn’t contagious either.”

“See how nice it is when we collaborate, Dr. Ryan? Professionals discussing our research,” he lectured as if he was a professor.

“Your genetic modification was spot on. My shift was difficult, but it was enough to manipulate the blood. I need to continue the research to learn more about why my blood is counteracting the virus,” she continued.

“That’s the spirit. We’ll set up a new lab in Wyoming. I’ve grown quite tired of this heat. And the Mistress, well she’ll want to return here eventually. Perhaps the mountain air will entice her to stay.”

“Out West? Really? I’ve always wanted to see Yellowstone.” As a camper, not a captive. “When do we leave? I’m a mess.”

“Always beautiful in my eyes, darling. Your intellect is captivating,” he purred into her ear.

“I’m still weak though. I don’t think I’d be able to keep up with you. If I could just shift, I think I’d be okay to go,” she suggested innocently.

“We’d need to discuss that with the Mistress. I can’t allow…”

“You don’t have the power to do it? What I meant to say is that it was your brilliance that researched the genetics, created a wolf from a human. It’s the first time it’s been done in history. Your name should be published in the New England Journal of Medicine. This is a historic medical breakthrough. It’ll have far-reaching implications across the world. I imagine all the Ivy League schools will be clamoring to have you teach,” she boasted. She knew she was laying it on thick but she watched in pleasure as his eyes glossed over in dreams of grandeur.

“Sir,” Wynter pleaded demurely. Batting her eyelashes, she seductively glided her fingers from her mouth down to the valley between her breasts. “I really am a mess. My lips…my neck. Of course, I’d need to take my clothes off in order to shift.”

Étienne’s cock jerked in response. How he’d missed watching her in her underwear while he held her in his lab. Viewing her nude was a gift he’d earned, deserved. The Mistress would not approve but she wasn’t here, was she? Just a small peek wouldn’t hurt. She’d be well enough to travel and he’d fuck her later.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, but you must promise to be a good girl.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Wynter breathed calmly as his cool lips touched her skin, resisting the urge to flinch. She just needed to shift and then she’d have a chance to escape. In her current condition, she couldn’t stand, let alone run or fight. For a second, she thought he’d changed his mind as he stood to retrieve a pair of gloves from his pocket.

“Gloves, darling. The silver,” he noted. He knelt before her like Logan had done to her in the lab. “This’ll take just a minute.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d hurry. Luckily he couldn’t get too close to the silver as he wrapped his arms around her, unfastening the corset. Her lungs wheezed as the poisonous metal fell to the floor. A fresh rush of energy circulated throughout her body.

“I think I’m okay,” she told him. He’d braced her sides with his hands, his thumbs resting under her breasts. “I need to do this alone. You can watch, of course.”

“Of course,” he hissed. She was so lovely. And his. With the Mistress gone, he could take her quickly but then thought better of it. He stood and backed away but not before adjusting his erection that strained against his zipper.

Wynter slowly opened her lids and took a cleansing breath. Finally, he’d stopped smothering her. Freed, she could shift. She licked her lips nervously, considering how it would be the first time she’d attempted to do it by herself.

“Go on then,” he urged.

“Sorry, I just need a minute to make this work. I’m not as good at it as the others,” she told him truthfully.

“Aren’t you going to disrobe? I thought you said…”

“I will,” she cut him off. The pervert just wanted to see her naked. “I need to concentrate a minute first. The silver, my energy is low.”

Wynter closed her eyes again. Breathing in and out, she meditated, searching for her wolf. Come on, girl, let’s go. In her mind’s eye, she saw her wolf crouching, yelping in distress. Another wolf flashed as if she’d seen a vision: Logan. She could sense him and was certain he was coming for her.

As Étienne watched, she quickly tore off her shirt, shorts and bikini. The vampire’s eyes on her skin repulsed her, but she had no choice. Calling her wolf to the surface, the metamorphosis claimed her. But as quickly as it came her wolf disappeared, leaving her in a naked heap on the floor. She tried to shove off the silver corset that lay across her legs but once again she’d been impaired by the insidious metal. Unable to stand, she scrambled to pull on her shirt and shorts.

“What are you doing?” Fiona screamed at Étienne.

“She needs to shift if she’s going to go with us. Also, as you know, the shift enabled her blood count to rise,” he explained dryly.

Wynter gave him a look of confusion. Allowing her to shift had been a ruse to get her blood to regenerate? They were going to drain her.

“Idiot,” Fiona countered. “You do realize they’re coming? Get her blood now. We’ll take it with us.” She threw a bag at him.

“Sorry darling, this’ll only take a minute.” Étienne, still gloved, pushed Wynter to the floor, dragging the corset over her torso. He sorted out the needles, tubes, plastic bags now strewn about the wooden planks. “You are a quick dresser, aren’t you? Pity.”

“No, please,” Wynter begged, struggling under the weight of him. She needed to stall. “I promise I’ll help.”

“Certainly, now just a small prick,” he told her, jabbing the hypodermic needle into the crook of her arm. Smiling, he laughed as he did so. “I’m quite good at finding a vein.”

Like a quick-moving stream, her blood gushed through the thin plastic tubing, slowly filling the first bag. Wynter turned her face away from him, praying Logan was close. She knew from experience it would take at least ten minutes for him to collect the first pint. A woman of her size probably had only eight pints of blood in her whole body. Even though she hadn’t fully recovered her blood volume after his bite, she figured that with her preternatural wolf healing, she might survive after losing four or five pints, which equated to fifty minutes, tops.

“Hurry up with her,” Fiona yelled. She took the first bag and then a second from Étienne. “The boat’s ready to go. We’ll kill her, leave her body. Logan will stay here with his mate for at least a while. We’ll have plenty of time to get to shore. It’s only a short drive to Mississippi.”

“I hate to disappoint you Mistress, but we need to take care in collecting the samples. I don’t want to damage the red blood cells. Careful,” he instructed. “Put equal bags in the cryo-storage unit and the cooler. Some of these need to be frozen for long-term usage.”

“Whatever, just hurry,” Fiona said dismissively. “I can feel the pack. They’re getting closer.”

“I thought you said no one knew where this hellhole was?” he said accusingly.

“No one does,” she lied. “Just come on.”

She took the third bag and sealed it into the freezer and snapped it shut.

“Just one more bag and then we’ll go. She’s almost done,” he insisted.

“Fine, I’m taking this out to the boat. I’ll be right back.” No I won’t, she thought to herself.

Fiona opened and shut the door, careful not to make any noise. With the pack on her heels, time was up. She scurried over to the small skiff, got in and settled the cooling box between her legs. Frozen samples were better than fresh ones, she reasoned. She still had samples of Emma’s blood stored safely in another state. All she needed to do was get to dry land. She’d fly under the radar for a month or so and find a new scientist.

As the small outboard purred into the night, she caught the sight of lights in the distance. She smiled coldly knowing her Alpha would find his mate dead. And Étienne would fight to the death, wondering where she’d gone.

“So sorry, I’m afraid this is going to be the last bag, darling. Feeling weak, are you?” Étienne asked, placing it into the cooler.

Wynter’s eyelashes fluttered. Unable to speak or move, she lay face up, staring up at the rusted metal ceiling. So this was how she was going to die? A tear ran down her face as she thought of how her life might have been with Logan. They would have mated. Wynter realized she wanted a wedding, with Jax giving her away. She wanted Logan’s children. Together forever. But, sadly, it was all a dream. She was dying. Peacefully accepting the inevitable, she closed her eyes and prayed that Logan would survive without her.

Logan’s clothes were off as the airboat hit the bank. Man to wolf, he’d morphed to his beast. Wynter. He smelled her blood and couldn’t contain the rage. Tearing through the brush, he rammed into the flimsy door. Vampire. His mate. He growled, saliva dripping from his lips, and lunged.

At first, Étienne thought he’d heard Fiona returning, but quickly surmised it was an animal. As the menacing wolf crashed through the door, he clutched Wynter’s shoulders and wrapped a muscular arm around her neck. He glared at Logan, daring him to come closer. Grateful that Fiona had taken the frozen blood, he’d have to abandon the rest of the bags. His bargaining chip for his escape was thankfully still breathing, albeit on her way to death. Still, he dangled her in front of the Alpha.

“Good dog,” he jeered. “That’s right. Look what I’ve got here.”

Logan hit the floor frozen as he watched the vampire lift Wynter into the air by her throat. His vision. Oh Goddess, no. He heard and smelled Dimitri and Jake approaching and barked, warning them not to proceed.

“Amazing how responsive animals are when given the proper motivation? Look at your mate. Like a docile puppy,” he whispered in Wynter’s ear.

Wynter’s eyes flew open. She recognized the three wolves before her but was unable to speak. As the life drained from her body, she wished she could tell Logan one more time that she loved him, but she couldn’t utter even a hushed word. Struggling, she mouthed, ‘I love you’. Tears fell from her eyes. She hoped he’d find another mate someday, be happy. There was nothing he could do. Even if the vampire released her, she was dying.

Logan transformed to man. His eyes bored into the demon that held his mate.

“Give her to me now,” he demanded. Logan recognized the vampire as the one from the club with Devereoux, yet he let no hint of recollection show on his face. A shadow of doubt crept into his head. Just how far was Devereoux involved in this mess?

“What makes you think that’s going to happen, wolf? I’ve got Dr. Ryan. I plan to walk out of here, get on that boat…”

“And what boat might that be? My boat?”

“Fiona…she’s waiting,” he stammered.

“She’s gone.” The chinks in the vampire’s arrogant armor became apparent. Fiona must have betrayed him as well.

“Liar!” Étienne screamed.

“Jake, take Zeke, go after her. She can’t have gone far,” Logan commanded.

The walls closed in around the vampire. Choices dwindling, he’d have to fight his way out of the cabin and take the Alpha’s boat to shore. How hard could it be to get out of this godforsaken swamp, anyway? Fiona would surely be waiting for him. Without his brilliant mind, she’d never get what she wanted from the virus.

“My mate. Give her to me now, and I’ll grant you mercy.” Logan’s cold voice resonated throughout the cabin. Dimitri lowered his head.

“I’ll give her to you,” he smiled. The lilt of his voice wavered in preparation for what he was about to do.

Étienne was a great fighter, he thought. A mere wolf could not challenge him. Wynter’s blood had charged his system. He’d created her, and her special blood now ran through him, making him stronger than any supernatural. As soon as he tasted the Alpha’s blood, the lupine vitality would flow into his veins making him nearly invincible.

Logan tensed in preparation, waiting on the vampire to drop Wynter. He’d show mercy all right. He’d stake him quickly as opposed to tearing him apart limb by limb and then decapitating him.

“Mine,” he growled.

“Not anymore.” Before Logan could charge, Étienne extended a large claw. As if slitting the throat of a farm animal, he slashed it across Wynter’s throat. Her eyes bulged right before he tossed her to the floor.

“No!” Logan screamed. As he leapt into the air, he transformed into wolf. Flying directly at the vampire, he lodged his teeth into the vampire’s neck.

Étienne flailed at the wolf, digging his claws up into Logan’s gut. Eviscerating the Alpha, he tore open the fur. Blood sprayed onto the floor. An enormous burn flared inside Logan yet he refused to release the vampire. He’d killed his mate. No death or torture would appease the revenge he sought. No matter what pain he felt, he’d kill him.

Dimitri transformed to human, scooping Wynter into his arms.

“Wynter, please, oh Goddess,” he cried at the sight.

Her pale skin was split open laterally, exposing her trachea’s cartilage. He frantically pinched the skin together. Tearing a swathe of cloth from her shirt, he applied pressure to the wound. A sob escaped his lips as he realized it was too late. Logan would never recover from her death, nor would he. Helplessly, he continued to try to stop the bleeding as her heartbeat slowed.

Logan saw Dimitri out of the corner of his eye with his mate. The vision of Wynter dying played out before him. As the vampire shoved his hand up further into his abdomen, he summoned every power he’d been given as Alpha. Strength. Perseverance. Domination. Logan concentrated, focusing his powerful jaw muscles and forced them downward. The crushing pressure sliced through the tendons and muscled tissue, tearing at the vampire’s carotid. Wrenching backward, his beast broke away taking the dark flesh with him.

Blood spewed wildly as the vampire stumbled forward, still attempting to leave the cabin. Logan, gravely injured, shifted back to human. Enraged beyond reason, Logan lunged onto Étienne’s back wrapping his arm around his already wounded neck. With every ounce of energy he had left, he pressed his knee into Étienne’s back, forcing him onto the floor. With a final twist of his arms, he snapped the vampire’s neck. Fighting for breath, Logan’s beast was unsatisfied. He’d show no mercy. As the vampire’s remains twitched on the ground, his eyes searched the room. Stretching to reach the broken chair, he tore off a shard and drove it into Étienne’s heart.

Logan roared in agony, turning to Dimitri. While the shift had healed the gaping hole in his abdomen, his heart felt as if it had been decimated. The grief on Dimitri’s face confirmed what he’d already known. Wynter was dead. He dropped to the floor on his hands and knees, sobbing. Taking her into his arms, Logan gently cradled his mate.

Fiona leapt from the boat. A few more feet and she’d drive to safety. She knew they were hot on her trail, but she also knew that she was still a few steps ahead of them, as always. Stupid wolves. They always assumed that mere muscle would allow them to lead. Maybe she’d never win a physical challenge, but it was just a matter of time before she had every last wolf begging at her feet. Revenge would be sweet. She’d infect them all with the virus. Then she’d be their savior, whether they liked it or not.

Fiona grabbed the laptop bag and hoisted the small cryo-freezer onto the dirt. Heavy as it was, she only had about a hundred feet to travel through the brush before she reached the small clearing. Shoving the boat adrift with her foot, she set out on her journey. Her eyes darted from side to side. It was quiet. Too quiet, she noted. Not even a cricket could be heard. But she kept on her path, only fifty more feet and she’d be at the car.

With a whoosh, branches split before her eyes. It was dark but she could make out a figure in the moonlight. She sniffed. Vampire. Adrenaline rushed as her mind raced. Had Étienne created more vampires and not told her? He’d been privy to the car’s location. She fought to calm her nerves. Why should she fear a vampire? She’d killed many of them while Étienne watched. This was just one more. She crouched in the brush, tore off a stiff branch and began to whittle it into a sharp stake with her claws.

The tall masculine shadow deliberately and confidently tramped toward her until the light of his eyes became apparent. She gasped at the sight of the ancient one. Léopold Devereoux. No, not him. How could he have found her? Like a frightened rabbit, she froze in the darkness, awaiting his approach, hoping he wouldn’t see her.

“Ah, I found you,” his smooth voice called into the crisp night air. Nearly at her feet, the dark angel loomed. His beautiful but deadly presence resounded in the forest like a drum roll before an execution.

“Petite louve, I smell it. The putrid stink of your evil permeates the air. So familiar am I with the scent,” he told her. “You like a chase, no? I assure you this is one you’ll not win.”

With preternatural speed, he flew to Fiona, snatching her up by her throat. He allowed her feet to remain on the ground as he shook her like a dog with its toy.

“You like to play with vampires? My vampires,” he growled. With a flick, he threw her onto the damp earth.

Fiona rebounded, crab-walking backwards, dragging her bottom along the dirt.

“No, Étienne, he came to me freely,” she claimed.

“He cannot come to you freely, because he belongs to me,” Léopold explained coldly, brushing a weed from his coat sleeve. “And for this you shall die. The only decision to be made is if I should kill you myself? Or perhaps I should let your own tear you to shreds? Such choices.”

Léopold smiled casually as the two large male wolves, Jake and Zeke, padded forward. He carefully considered his decision as Fiona sat before him awaiting her fate. His lovely little Dr. Ryan had been tortured by her and Étienne. That alone would have been enough to warrant her death. But the little bitch had gone and killed a wolf using his vampires to do it.

With a glance to the mud, he’d chosen. Oh how he hated to get his new leather shoes soiled.

“The research, the samples. You’ll never get them,” she stalled, pushing onto her feet.

“You are a devilish schemer aren’t you?” he laughed. “A shame you have no discipline. But don’t worry your pretty little head. I plan to rectify that right now.”

Léopold rushed forward, yanking her upward. He tore open her collar, exposing her long neck. The moonlight glinted off his white fangs right before they pierced her flesh. Her legs flailed, kicking into the night. Neither Jake nor Zeke moved one inch to intervene. Throwing his head backwards, he spat her blood into the grass and tossed her to the wolves.

Her body flinched as she stole looks between the wolves right before they attacked. Barely a scream could be heard as they ripped her flesh until she was no more.

Léopold retrieved a crisp white handkerchief and dabbed at his chin. How he hated messy killings. But responsibility and duty drove his actions. Meting out punishment was never easy, but he watched in pleasure as the wolves executed their own. She’d been a blight who’d caused quite enough trouble. Like the virus she sought to propagate, she’d been eradicated.

As Jake transformed in front of him, he gave Léopold a nod in acknowledgement. Not sure what to make of the vampire, he and Zeke got to work, disposing of Fiona’s remains. After they’d fed the alligators, Jake snatched up the laptop so he could give it to Logan.

Léopold strode over to the cooler and flipping it open, saw bags of blood. He tore them open and quickly surmised that it belonged to the Alpha’s mate. As he emptied the last of the crimson fluid into the swamp, a hint of dread registered. He sniffed out into the bayou. So much fresher than the samples, it permeated his olfactory senses, exciting unadulterated rage. Wynter’s blood. The call of death sang into the night.