“I’m going upstairs. Stay here,” a deep male voice instructed.
Nathan almost growled again. Mary and Emory didn’t know they had company.
Shit.
The creak of the stairs as someone climbed put Nathan in motion. Emory needed to be warned there was a threat to his mate. Remaining silent until a window to protect the home arose wasn’t going to happen.
“Yoohoo,” he said softly, getting the attention of two men at the foot of the stairs.
They turned, giving him plenty of access to their bodies. Two shots hit them dead center, bullets piercing their upper torsos. Although the gun had a silencer, the sound of their bodies dropping echoed in the quiet house. Nathan rushed for the stairs, screaming as he went, hoping he was in time.
“Emory! You’ve got company! Get your ass in gear!”
He felt a pinch in his shoulder, knocking him off course, before he heard the poof of the gun obviously equipped with a silencer. He stumbled when the bullet passed through him and embedded in the stairs, cracking and splintering wood. Blood gushed from the wound and didn’t stop, pouring over his shirt. He gazed down at the damage, noting the pain radiating through his torso, the burn spreading through his muscles.
Silver. Fuck.
Just as he spun his head around to look at the Shepherds at his feet, he saw the gun pointed at him. The man Nathan had shot in the chest was almost done for, but not quite. He winced as he pulled the trigger, getting off one final shot.
Lights exploded behind Nathan’s eyes, blinding him as a sharp pain nailed him in the temple. He bowed over with the pain, trying to stay focused. The world rotated, the room spinning beneath him. Warm wetness dripped down the side of his face, the blood hot and pulsing from the wound. He lifted his hand to assess the damage, angry when his arm wouldn’t cooperate. The lights started to dim as darkness took over.
Nathan would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so fucked up. He’d been shot several times in the last few months—each time by Shepherds—while defending females who belonged to other men. As he crumbled to the hard stairs beneath him, he found it ironic that he would think of a mate of his own minutes before he died protecting someone else’s.
Life’s a bitch and then you die.
He groaned, fighting a battle he couldn’t win. As he dove headfirst into the blackness, he hoped Emory had gotten ample warning and was able to protect Mary. At the very least, if this was the end of the line, Nathan wanted the satisfaction of knowing his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.
Chapter Fifteen
Mary gasped when she was tossed to the ground, landing with a thump when her ass connected with the hard floor. Emory didn’t follow her, taking up the space on the other side of the bed facing the door. She’d heard Nathan’s furious bellow, knew something was wrong, but she hadn’t had time to comprehend anything. The moment he’d called out Emory had moved away from her, shoved her from the bed and launched off the mattress.
“Stay down.” The words were more of a snarl. Emory didn’t sound like a man, his baritone deeper. “No matter what happens, don’t move.”
The door burst open and her heart dropped to her stomach. She recognized the man standing in front of her. He’d not only ruined her life but he’d ruined every hope and dream she’d had as a woman. Even now he appeared larger than he was, more monster than a man. He lifted his hand and pointed a sleek-looking gun at Emory.
How did he find me? What do I do?
“It appears I’ve arrived just in time. I’ve come for my niece.” Elijah Shepherd spoke in the way Mary hated, his calm and collected manner nothing more than pretense. She’d fallen victim to the tone on more than one occasion, even after he’d beaten her the first time. For some reason she’d continued to hope that maybe he would change, that perhaps he’d finally grasped what he was doing was wrong, only to discover he seemed to enjoy being nice before he revealed his sadistic nature.
“My mate,” Emory emphasized the word, growling as he blocked her from view, “isn’t going anywhere with you. You’re in my domain now. The rules have changed. You won’t get away with throwing your weight around here.”
Elijah’s lips quirked. “We’ll see about that.”
Emory charged for the door but didn’t make it to his target, was stopped at the halfway mark. The blaring roar of gunfire that Mary expected didn’t happen. Instead she heard odd airy noises. Elijah pulled the trigger twice and each time Emory’s body jerked. Then, as if she was watching a film, he went to his knees and fell facedown. A loud noise pierced the air, ringing in her ears. It wasn’t until Elijah stepped around Emory’s body—a red stain spreading beneath his still form—that she realized she was screaming.
A shirt—Emory’s T-shirt—slapped her in the face. “Get up and get dressed. You should be ashamed of yourself, bedding with one of them like a common whore. You should be grateful your parents aren’t alive to see you now, to know what you’ve become.”
She shook her head, wanting to wake up, thinking it had to be a bad dream. Emory wasn’t dead. A gun wasn’t pointed in her face. She’d wake up and she’d be safe and sound in bed. Nightmares like these were common. She just had to wake up.
Damn it, wake up!
“Don’t make me ask again.”
It’s not a dream. She gazed past the barrel, looking into the face of her uncle. Somehow she managed to manipulate her shaking fingers and slip into Emory’s shirt. Her thoughts were scrambled, fear and disbelief swirling together.
“Why?” A stupid question, to be sure. Why did he do anything?
Acceptance made her calm, just as it had when she’d been abused and belittled. Her relative had been raised with the belief that what he was doing was right. He’d attempted to instill those same morals in her, using physical force when she didn’t comply, hoping to beat his demented logic into her head.
“Stand up. I don’t want to kill you in this den of depravity but I will. God forgive me for wanting to bury you properly with a prayer to see you off. It’s a wasted effort but you are family, no matter your sins.”
“We have to get something first.” She wasn’t sure how she managed to think clearly, to buy more time. Maybe it was from learning to function under pressure, or perhaps it was because she didn’t want to leave Emory behind. Either way, if she was going to die, she preferred it be here—under her terms.
“No. If you delay our departure I’ll have no choice but to pull the trigger.”
He tugged her arm, aiding her when she rose to her feet. Her eyes flicked to Emory. Something deep inside her knew he wasn’t dead yet. She’d know if he was. But that didn’t mean he didn’t need help. When she tried to make a dash for him, Elijah placed the barrel of the gun against the back of her head.
“I will kill you,” he warned.
She knew he would, and he’d do it with little or no remorse. In his eyes she had fallen. There was no redemption. Once a person accepted a shifter into their life, or worse, their bed, they were beyond salvation. Burying her with a prayer was Elijah’s sick way of showing the family he was doing the right thing, even if it meant killing one of his own.
Standing straight, she kept her voice even, determined not to break down or appear weak. “You’re going to want the map before you go. If they keep it, you’re fucked.”
She stumbled when he slapped the back of her head, sending her hair across her face, forcing her to step forward or fall. “You will show me proper respect. Don’t think because you’ve slept with the spawn from Hell you weren’t taught better. Now move.”