Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Not today.
They wouldn’t have time for cleanup. Nessa and Sebastian needed them. Tristan understood Jessie’s deciding to help these people with the time they would be idle anyway, but the other alphas were in tow, and they could help these people pick up the pieces. They shouldn’t have waited to help in the first place.
Jessie’s magic created a solid drumbeat of urgency in Tristan’s middle. The connections were active, and through her, he could feel everyone’s basic location. She had her finger on the pulse. The enemy had no idea what was on their doorstep. Their worst nightmare was about to see them into the afterlife. The alphas tagging along would get to see what it was like when a mage entered a shifter fight.
“I might make a spectacle,” Jessie said in a small voice laced with worry and anger. In the rearview mirror, Tristan could just see her fingernails clawing into her knee.
“Then you make a spectacle,” Alpha Steele replied, and tingles crawled along Tristan’s spine. Alpha Steele had not only given Jessie the green light to go hard, but he also clearly intended to go hard himself.
Brochan would go scorched earth. He had a history of not helping when he thought he should have, but he’d been lost and defeated during that time, unsure of his own existence. He’d damn well prove he intended to help now.
The larger street wound through town and stopped at what must’ve passed for their central hub. A brown patch of dead grass supported a kids’ play area that didn’t look like it had seen kids in a long time. A broken tire swing hung from an abandoned house down the way, and the row of businesses in what passed for the main strip seemed in disrepair and were mostly shuttered.
“Park, or stop in the middle of the street?” Tristan asked Alpha Steele.
“Middle. Block it up.”
He stopped the van and exited. The others did as well. A surge of magic washed across Tristan and kept going. It would cover the town.
Come out and meet your fate.
Another shiver washed over him, and urgency ate at his core. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be airborne, flying toward Natasha. She needed him and he wasn’t there. But his wings would take too long, and he couldn’t go alone. Their enemy was organized and highly effective. Tristan wouldn’t be enough to combat even lower-tier mages, not if they brought numbers. Against a mage as powerful and cunning as Elliot Graves, they’d definitely bring numbers.
He gritted his teeth as they walked out in all directions from the van. Another peal of magic thundered forth. With Jessie, they didn’t need to go knocking on doors.
Alpha Steele led the way to the square of dead grass, giving them some space. The basajaunak didn’t climb out.
Tristan learned why when Brochan caught up to him. “I didn’t want to scare our new friends away.”
Fair.
Their people pushed to the sides in organized lines. Tristan stood in front of the gargoyles, Brochan in front of the shifters. The other alphas from the meeting stayed in their vehicles, watching. They probably thought along the same lines as Brochan.
Another peal of thunderous magic: COME HERE!
Alpha Steele waited in the middle of the space, and Jessie came over to wait next to Tristan. She wasn’t afraid. Tristan could feel her anticipation through the connection—she was giving Alpha Steele the limelight. They were a damn good team, each happy to help the other show off.
“If they get one look at us and try to run, you get airborne and bring them back,” she said in a low tone.
The ragtag Ivy House crew ambled forward, filling in the space between the shifters and gargoyles. They hadn’t had a chance to shift last night to show the visiting packs—everyone had been too tired. They would do it soon.
Or maybe that had been the plan all along.
With the next magical wave, movement caught Tristan’s eye. A shiny Corvette stopped at the end of a side street, the way blocked by the procession of vans. Other vehicles stopped behind it. The enforcers.
They exited their vehicles, alpha first and then the others, no one in sync. Bulky forms walked in a haphazard line with their arms flared and a padding of fat on their person. They weren’t in their best shape. Even from here, Tristan could tell they would be no match for Austin Steele. Not even Brochan. Hell, half the shifters here could take the approaching alpha.
The alpha crossed between parked vans, looking them over. His gaze ran down the line to the head, where there wasn’t a shiny sports car to scream status and money. The man, only in his late twenties and clearly too dumb to know what awaited him, sneered. His enforcers were of a similar age, and only a couple showed sudden wariness.