Rhain's Pov
The scent hits me before I see the blood.
Pine sap and decaying leaves, and something more sinister still, the stench of rogues who've run wild for too long. My wolf rises up, all my senses screaming alarm while I track Maya's scent into the woods. Three hours, and she's vanished. Since she disappeared, the mark on my back has been burning like flames.
I should have expected it. Should have known she'd try to run the minute I turned my back.
Stubborn, idiotic fool
The snarling reaches me first, low and vicious. Then her scream, sudden, afraid, and somewhat animal-like erupts in my chest. I'm running before I even think about taking that first step, running through the undergrowth without regard for planning or creeping up on.
The clearing lays open before me, and what comes into sight freezes my heart.
Four rogues, halfway through, their bodies twisted and featureless from being too long without pack discipline. And Maya...oh God, Maya...kneeling, her nose bleeding, her shirt torn at the shoulder. One of them has claws to her throat, pressing hard enough to leave red beads running along her skin.
"Please," she persists, her throat rasping. "I have no idea where Vincent might be. I swear..."
"Lying bitch." The rogue's voice is hardly human, twisted from a stretched jaw and fanged teeth. "Can smell his mark on you. Can smell the betrayal."
My eyes turn red.
I don't need to move, I don't need to. Two decades of Alpha have taught me exactly how much harm I can cause using my fists. The first renegade doesn't even notice me coming. I yank his head off in one swift motion, his neck snapping like a gunshot through the trees.
The rest glance at me, yet are too late, too immersed in their bloodlust to think. I stretch up and grab the neck of the second and yank him out of the ground with my solitary hand, his kicking legs held helpless in mid-air.
"You are at fault," I say, my tone cold and firm. "You touched what belongs to me."
His eyes bulge when I increase my hold on him and I can feel his tracheal bones crumbling between my fingers. However, I don't get the chance to put an end to his suffering, for the third rogue jumps on Maya. She rolls sideways but not soon enough—he slashes at her side, and her blood's smell drives my wolf completely mad.
I snap the rogue's neck reflexively, and face off against the last of them. He's retreating now, finally catching on to what he's up against. But retreating is too late.
"Vincent's greetings," he growls, saliva flying from his twisted mouth. "He says to inform the Alpha's ho that Marcus betrayed her. Says the debt comes due."
Maya lets out a gut-punched type of sound, but I don't have time for that. The rogue is already moving to flee, and I can't possibly let him escape. Now that I know what he knows.
I pass him at the treeline, my fingers wrapping about his spine. He's dead before he hits the ground.
The trees stand still and silent except for Maya's strained breathing. I glance back over my shoulder at her, my hands bared and bloody, and see how she's looking at me. As though she's looking at me for the first time—not the Alpha who granted her sanctuary but the killer who dispatched four rogues with no quarter.
"Do you hurt?" My voice is gruffer than I mean it to be, still snarling on autopilot from adrenaline.
Her head shakes, but I can tell that she's lying from the way she's clutching at her side. There's blood trickling between her fingers, and the wound on my back throbs in sympathy for her wound.
"We have to get you back." I move closer to her, but she moves away.
"Don't," she whispers barely louder than her breath. "Don't touch me."
Rejection hurts more than it should. I'm standing there, fists clenched at my sides. "Maya—"
"What he said." She's staring at me as if I'm in the know, as if it's me who has shattered her world. "About Marcus. About Vincent. Is it true?"
I can lie. Should lie. But her face, broken, desperate, holding on to every statement I make, twists something deep within me.
"We have to go," I say. "Now. Before there are more of them."
She won't complain, but she won't look at me, either, as we return through the forest. Tension grows between us from all its unspoken questions and from the bitter taste of betrayal.
By the time we arrive at the pack house, the news of the attack has reached ahead of us. I can smell the Council's enforcers before I see them, three of them on my front porch, their expressions disapproving.
"Alpha Rhain." The cold-eyed bastard head enforcer, Garrett, steps forward when we approach. "We need to talk."
I keep Maya at my back, but can feel her trembling with shock and fatigue. "Later."
"Now," Garrett's eyes flicker to Maya and her wounded condition, then me standing watch over her. "The Council would like to hear about your. relationship with this woman."
"The Council doesn't have any business knowing about what's mine."
"It's when it results in rogue attacks on neutral turf." Garrett's smile is toothy. "There are four dead rogues, Alpha. All of them dispatched by your hand, defending a woman who isn't even a member of your pack. The Council is very interested in why."
Maya's sucked-in breath indicates she's realized the implications. If the Council would think I'm harboring her on personal grounds, and perhaps compromised in the process, they'll remove her from under my care. Then she'll be open to anyone who wants to claim her for himself.
Vincent, if he were alive.
"The woman is in my protection," I state deliberately. "As is my right as Alpha."
Of course. Garrett's expression remains unmoved. "We'll be in touch."
They leave, but not before Garrett gives Maya one final look, a look that conveys to her he's well aware of what she is and what she's worth.
Once she's gone, I take Maya in with me, trying not to notice how she still won't even look at me. My study feels cramped with her in it, the tension and unspoken anger hanging in the air.
"Sit down," I tell her, pouring whiskey into two glasses. "You're in shock."
She won't sit. She stands by the windows, holding herself as if she's trying to keep herself in one piece.
"Do you know?" She whispers barely above a whisper, and I almost don't hear her. "Regarding Marcus and Vincent?"
I swallow the whiskey, its fire burning its way down. "I knew Vincent. Once."
"What did you know?"
I glance up at her, and the pain in her eyes makes me almost fall to my knees. "Vincent was. cruel. Vindictive. He collected debts like trophies, and he never forgave an insult." I set the glass down, steady in my hands despite the storm raging through my chest. "He would not have fallen without cursing someone's soul."
"Marcus would not—" She breaks into a sob and stops. "He would not betray me. He loves me."
"Love makes people do terrible things." The adjectives are bitter, leaden. "Especially when they're desperate."
She's crying now, silent tears running down her face like silver. I want to approach her, put my arms around her and reassure her that all will be okay. But I don't. Because I am starting to understand what really happened that night, and none of what happened is okay.
"Vincent's alive," I inform her, watching her face crumble. "And if that rogue were to be believed, Marcus made an agreement with him. One that covered you."
She collapses to the ground then, her knees buckling under her from shock at all that at once besets her. And I understand now why it was that the Royal mark appeared when it did, why the magic held off all these years to bring us together. Because Maya Sinclair stands to lose everything, including all that she ever thought she understood about love, loyalty, and th
e man who held her life in his care. And I'm the sole person standing between her and Vincent's wrath.