Werewolves of Chicago: Curragh (Werewolves of... Book 6) (17 page)

I
t took
Marine-grade tazers to get Curragh, Xavier and Draik into chains. Their hands were bound together in what proved to be more than just iron. Like a dog’s electric collar, it could conduct an extreme pulse of electricity at the touch of a button. The remote control was in one of the guard’s all too willing hands. After finding this out the hard way, the packmates were forced to the main hall.

There were no rugs on the hardwood floor, and only one small table was by the she-beast, filled with meats and cheeses that she was snacking on as they trudged in. She was dressed in a deep burgundy suit, feminine-cut, no shirt. The jacket was buttoned very low, her cleavage happily on display. On each side of her stood around twenty silent human men ready to do her bidding. From her throne in the middle of the two lines, and at the far end of the room, she smiled as though welcoming them to a party. Curragh hated her guts.

“My surrrprrrize guesssts. Vat took you so long to join usss? You deedn’t fight, deed you?” Mock innocence blanketed her face. Then she chuckled at her own wittiness.

Curragh scanned the room for Kara. “WHERE IS SHE?”

“Tut tut tut.” Viktor wagged her finger in the air. “Food firrrst.” She snapped her fingers and a door opened to the right. In walked a Russian henchman who looked like someone out of the Sopranos. He was holding a baby. The naked child was crying, held awkwardly by the man.
What the fuck?

The pack stared at the child as it was held out to them.

From where she sat, Viktor sweetly asked, “Hungrrry?”

“We don’t eat babies!” Xavier snarled.

“If she eats that child in front of us,” hissed Draik under his breath, so quietly the humans could not hear, save for the man before them. But Viktor could easily hear them.

“You’ll vat? Brrreak trrrough electric steel to geht aht me?” She chuckled again. “Vy so serious boys? Don’t you like a goot joke?” She waved at the man carrying the infant. “Take eet avayyy now.”

The three didn’t ask where she got the baby. They didn’t have to. It was stolen. There was no doubt. Curragh’s eyes followed the child’s sobbing journey. It couldn’t have been more than three months old. Terrible. With eyes filled with loathing, he looked over to the bitch on the throne.

“Hey Viktor. If you’re so powerful, why do you need chains on us? Scared?”

Stubborn amusement smiled back. “Becahze, I don’t vant you interrrrupting my show. Seet!”

The guard pushed a button and a high voltage of electricity brought the three wolves to their knees with loud grunts of suppressed agony.

Viktor laughed, “You like my toy? I had eet made vhen dees von proved to be morrr dann a man.” Curragh’s head followed her motioning to Draik. He didn’t like how Draik looked. His friend was not taking this form of forced compliance well. Xavier was handling it as best he could—like Curragh—but their buddy wasn’t at full strength. Back at the warehouse he’d said he needed more time, and he was right. He looked like shit. Who knew how much more he could take of these shock treatments?

From the same door the baby had come and gone through, came a rolling wall. Strapped to it was Tahl, or what was left of him. Barely breathing, the wolf was conscious, staring out from under strands of blood-soaked hair. He was covered in it like Draik had been. He was cut, burned, and worse.

“You see? I do not haff space in my den for othurrrs.”

She meant wolves.

That she was sidestepping the actual word with vague alternatives meant that it was still a secret what she was. Some might know. Her husband had known. And maybe some of these humans were in on it, but not all, or she’d be saying the word outright. Not using ones like ‘others’ and ‘more than man’ to get her point across.

To these men who followed her, Viktor’s abilities probably just seemed like impressive traits other women didn’t possess, like she was exceptional—more reason to follow her. The strength, the hearing. Hell, the hearing was probably disguised as perceptiveness—‘woman’s instinct.’ What a perfect alibi. And then her complete lack of fear in all situations. What man wouldn’t put that on a pedestal? He might be too limp-dicked by her power to fuck her, but follow her? Hell yeah.

Xavier growled, “Afraid of a little competition?” with a challenging and sardonic smile.

Viktor leaned forward, cleavage growing with gravity. The slowest evil smile spread her unpainted lips. “I’m afraid of nuzzink.”

“Why him and not us?” Draik asked, jerking his head toward Tahl. “Why’d you torture him like that and leave us like this?”

Curragh was curious, too, but the question wasn’t wise.

She rose from the chair. “My huzzband was so devastated veen my son told heem vhat you vere. Dat dey had brrrought you to zah brink of dess, but could not keel you because of dat STUPID law.”

Her son?

The revelation coursed through the minds of the packmates.
So that’s how she knew what Draik was
, they all realized. A younger Alexander had been there that night in their loft. That’s why Draik had heard the name. He was a wolf, her cub, and thereby able to smell his own kind. His knowing the laws made it impossible for him to kill Draik, and Draik must have been too far-gone to notice a wolf had joined his night from hell.

That’s how they knew to design electrified chains to protect themselves, if future need arose.

And
it’s why, when they’d questioned the elderly Alexander, he’d said there were no others with his name. He’d done it to conceal his existence and protect him, as any father would, no matter how terrified he was of his own son. Clearly the man had hated werewolves. And probably this she-wolf most of all.

Curragh’s nostrils flared as he scanned the line of men. The guards by them and Tahl, weren’t wolves. There was no scent of another one around.
Where is her son?

“Lookeenk for someteenk?” she asked with a secret dancing in her eyes.

“I thought I smelled bitch. And I did.”

The she-wolf’s eyes flashed. “Ha,” she dryly said, lost the smile and walked to stand in front of them, taking her time, posture strong, the final distance safe. “He vas such a tender-hearrrted husband, my Alexanderrr, but he vanted you dead. Who can blame heem?” She peered at each of the packmates like she was sizing them up, smiled, turned on her heel, and headed back to her throne. With the flowing grace of a female preternatural being, she sat and leaned on an elbow. She seemed to be deciding what game she wanted to play next.

“BEGIN,” she shouted.

A whip was suspended in the air by Tahl’s strung-up body as a door opened to the left. In danced three ballerinas on point. The trained dancers couldn’t have been more than seventeen—one Asian, one black, and one blonde, all with their hair in classic buns pulled high and tight on their heads. Each wore black leotards, white tights, and a black tutu. None were Russian. These girls had been abducted, and who knew at what point. They began a well-executed performance to an Opera that none of the three packmates could name, because there was no music. Whatever was in their heads was a cheerful tune, and the effect was highly disturbing.

Eyes lifeless, they moved in perfect symmetry. No orchestra. No stereo. They didn’t seem to notice, which meant only one thing—they were used to this. They clasped hands and spun in a beautiful circle until it broke, and then they spun off to dance separately, yet still complementing each other’s choreography. The door on the left opened again and Kara walked in wearing heels and a forest-green dress that fit her perfectly. A henchman in an expensive suit forcefully escorted her in, and she would have looked beautiful except for the fact that her hair was a wet mess, and her face was badly bruised. The cut on her cheek was now dark, rusty red. She locked eyes with Curragh and the sadness in hers was terrible.

Curragh and his packmates tensed, but no one made a move toward her. Back in the cell Xavier had warned him to control himself if he saw her.

If.

The fact that she was here now, and still alive, was such a relief he almost gave himself away. Never had he cared about a woman before, and now that he’d found her, it seemed a severe cruelty that they should be living this moment together.

Kara was brought to stand in the center of the dancing girls. Then the henchman joined his master as she popped a piece of rare meat in her mouth, saying while chewing, “Dance.”

Kara looked pained, but did as she was told. She had none of the skill of the ballerinas. She kind of swayed as the men on either side of the she-wolf clapped with mocking smirks.

“Arrrr you doing your best? I do not sink so.” With a lazy finger, she motioned to the guard by Tahl. “Vhip heem until she becomes betterr dancerr.”

A loud crack lit the room as the guard tested out his torture tool. He sliced a new streak into Tahl’s bloodied, naked chest. The wolf’s body jerked. He received another slice. He grunted, awakened by the pain, then another. He cried out, then, eyes opening in agony.

Kara screamed, “STOP IT!”

Viktor stood up to shout, “DANCE!” then dispatched three men to stand by Kara inside the ballerina circle. “Now you haff dancing partners,” the she-wolf smiled, darting her gaze to watch Curragh’s reaction.

His chest was heaving now, and Kara glanced to him as she swayed faster. Tears began to stream and that was it. He couldn’t take it. “Don’t,” he snarled.

“Zap eem,” ordered Viktor.

An electric charge jerked Curragh and his packmates off the ground. The voltage had been increased, and they were connected. Any jolt he received, they did, too. Draik was at his mercy. He had to control himself or hurt his friend, maybe to the point of death.

Curragh cracked his neck, head down, watching his mate from under his brow as the three human men circled, ready to take a turn. A brute of about 6’3” with a neck the size of a tree trunk, pulled her to him and began to spin her around in a slow dance.

“Curr,” Draik whispered. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Vaht vas dat? You sink he can do somesink to stop zeez?” She started laughing, and then her eyes moved to the guard with the remote control. Just as she was about to nod, Curragh shifted, tearing his clothes apart. Dark brown fur exploded from his pores. His bones cracked and reshaped. Teeth became white fangs as his green eyes turned to glowing ice. Thick wrists vanished and could no longer be held by such wide handcuffs. The chains fell away. Xavier shifted with him, his wolf jet black with eyes of glowing caramel. But Draik, who didn’t have the strength to join them, received all of the guard’s delinquent strike. He yelled out as his body jerked with three times the electricity. Instantly he was unconscious.

Within seconds Curragh’s wolf was on the man who was dancing with Kara. He chomped into his shoulder and tossed him across the room with ease. The other two stepped back in horror, unable to believe their eyes!

The room reacted. The men had never suspected the existence of werewolves was possible. They were terrified and those who weren’t, were in shock.

Viktor was almost as stunned as her army. She never thought the wolves would break the number
one
law: Keep their secret.

Xavier lunged at the remote control and bit the guard’s hand off with it. He screamed and held his gushing stump, eyes wide as he backed away from the beast snarling before him.

Viktor screamed to everyone, “What are you gaping at! Kill them!”

Kara ran to the wall, heels wobbling. She wanted to help but didn’t have a weapon, and she locked eyes with Curragh as he passed her for the next guard. “Get them,” she whispered. He didn’t need to be told twice.

The ballerinas ran to the wall by Kara and huddled together, staring as all the men came at the two huge wolves at the same time. A bloody battle ensued, but Curragh and Xavier were outnumbered. They fought off their attackers as best they could. They killed some and wounded others. Guns were drawn and the wolves dodged bullets by leaping off humans, walls, and each other, spinning somersaults in the air, narrowly avoiding them. If the men hadn’t been so thunderstruck by the fact that they were shooting at werewolves, they would have been better shots, but their hands were shaky and often men stopped and stared.

Then a familiar voice shouted into the room, one they didn’t expect and could barely believe they heard. It was Howard Peters. “Curragh! Xavier!” He threw guns to them. The weapons slid across the hardwood, landing at their feet. He let out a war cry and opened fire. The cry made the men turn to make sure their leader was safe, and Xavier and Curragh took that moment to shift back to human form. They picked up the guns. Shots rang through the air. The noise was deafening. They both took a hit, but didn’t stop. Howard took out the man with the whip as well as two guards trying to escape.

Suddenly the room was very quiet. Bodies lay everywhere. One of the ballerinas was among them. The other two numbly stared at her like they’d lost a limb. Draik had two bullet holes in his body, one in his thigh, the other, his right shoulder. Xavier went to him and checked his pulse as Curragh strode quickly to where Kara had a 9mm trained on the last, breathing guard. Her hand was shaking.

She didn’t hear Curragh come up. He listened to her voice shake with rage as she whispered hoarsely, “This is for…” But she didn’t finish the sentence. She shot him in between the eyes and the man, already wounded, flopped dead to the ground. Curragh wrapped her in his arms.

“You okay?”

From miles away she nodded. “Yes.”

Xavier called over, “He’s alive!”

Howard, busy unstrapping Tahl, called back, “Oh, thank God!”

Kara buried herself into Curragh’s bare chest, not seeming to notice the blood all over him. “I don’t know what I would have done if she’d killed you.”

“She couldn’t. It’s against our laws.”

“Your laws?”

“We’re not allowed to kill our own kind.” With red fingers he lifted her chin to look at her. “Your face is so fucked up.”

She couldn’t help but smile, “I’m fine.” Then she frowned as a new thought hit her. “Where’s Viktor?”

Curragh looked around. In all the chaos, he’d forgotten about Kruglov. Xavier locked eyes with him, frowning.