Atlanta coven could care for her. He knew that. So what if his inner wolf was snarling in disgust? So what if his own heart was cracking in two? It was what was best for both of them in the long run. It had to be.
“Good,” Efrim replied. “She’s been hurt before but by one of her own. I think you can help her be who she should be, and I’m glad for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think Sam and Elliot are fighting over primo booth space.”
Trent chuckled to himself as the other man hurried away to stop a dispute. However, the laugh died in his throat when he glanced back to the stand and realized that Elaine was missing.
“ Elaine? ”
He rushed to the abandoned funnel cake stand. Opening up his senses, Trent caught the scent of hay and freshly cut grass mixed with the wolf musk that marked Elaine. She’d headed toward the parking lot. Following the scent led him to the empty space where a car had once been.
“ Damn it .”
“Hey, city boy,” Floyd said from behind him. “Have you seen Elaine?”
“No,” Trent said, whirling toward him. “I was about to ask the same thing. Why?”
“The sheriff had more questions for her. I know she was supposed to help with the festival, but he says it’s urgent. They think there’s a breakthrough.”
“Oh really?” Trent asked, eyeing the hulking man.
“Yes, really, lieutenant.”
Trent didn’t even wait for the other man to lunge, just dove out of the way and worked quickly to free the dagger from his boot. The Knights had been here all along, waiting for the right time to grab Elaine.
Floyd lunged at him again and Trent hissed as the other man’s blade sliced through the skin of at the side of his abdomen. Warm blood welled from the wound, as Trent dropped to his knees. The Knight lashed out again with a fierce uppercut to his chin. Trent spit blood and rolled with the impact, away from the other man’s blade.
Staggering to his feet, Trent leapt for Floyd. He plunged his dagger into the other man’s shoulder. His inner wolf howled in rage and satisfaction as the giant shuffled drunkenly from the impact. Trent stabbed him again, deep in the other shoulder. Blood was flowing freely from both, the copper scent assaulting his nostrils. Despite everything, Trent’s mouth watered, but he forced his beast aside.
Not now.
He needed information, not the kill.
Dodging a frantic lunge from the other man, he twisted around and pressed his blade to the other man’s throat.
“Where is she?” he demanded, drawing the edge close enough to draw a rivulet of red from Floyd’s neck.
“Nowhere, warlock.”
Trent’s heart stopped beating. Floyd had to be lying. She couldn’t be dead. The Knights loved their torture sessions.
“You lie!” Trent shouted, digging the knife deeper until blood was welling liberally. “Tell me now.”
“She’s in Birmingham, monster, and that’s all you’ll ever get from me. She’ll be dead by the time you find her.”
Then Floyd did the unexpected. He savagely pressed his throat against the dagger, slitting his own jugular. He fell to the ground as the wound gaped and spurted.
Shocked, Trent staggered back, but then screamed in rage and frustration.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ELAINE WOKE TO darkness. Disoriented, it took several minutes to realize she was hooded. Beneath her, she felt something hard to which her arms and feet were bound. As the blood rushed to her head and dizziness set in, she realized she was lying at a steep angle, her feet above her. She squirmed, trying to get her arms free.
Water poured over the shroud, soaking it until she coughed. It ran up her nose, burning her sinuses. She closed her mouth, but not before water had rushed down her throat. With a wild spasm, she coughed, lungs aching with the inhaled moisture. She tried to turn away, but the onslaught of water followed her. She couldn’t breathe.
Just when she thought she’d pass out, the cloth was yanked up her face. As she
“Good,” Efrim replied. “She’s been hurt before but by one of her own. I think you can help her be who she should be, and I’m glad for that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think Sam and Elliot are fighting over primo booth space.”
Trent chuckled to himself as the other man hurried away to stop a dispute. However, the laugh died in his throat when he glanced back to the stand and realized that Elaine was missing.
“ Elaine? ”
He rushed to the abandoned funnel cake stand. Opening up his senses, Trent caught the scent of hay and freshly cut grass mixed with the wolf musk that marked Elaine. She’d headed toward the parking lot. Following the scent led him to the empty space where a car had once been.
“ Damn it .”
“Hey, city boy,” Floyd said from behind him. “Have you seen Elaine?”
“No,” Trent said, whirling toward him. “I was about to ask the same thing. Why?”
“The sheriff had more questions for her. I know she was supposed to help with the festival, but he says it’s urgent. They think there’s a breakthrough.”
“Oh really?” Trent asked, eyeing the hulking man.
“Yes, really, lieutenant.”
Trent didn’t even wait for the other man to lunge, just dove out of the way and worked quickly to free the dagger from his boot. The Knights had been here all along, waiting for the right time to grab Elaine.
Floyd lunged at him again and Trent hissed as the other man’s blade sliced through the skin of at the side of his abdomen. Warm blood welled from the wound, as Trent dropped to his knees. The Knight lashed out again with a fierce uppercut to his chin. Trent spit blood and rolled with the impact, away from the other man’s blade.
Staggering to his feet, Trent leapt for Floyd. He plunged his dagger into the other man’s shoulder. His inner wolf howled in rage and satisfaction as the giant shuffled drunkenly from the impact. Trent stabbed him again, deep in the other shoulder. Blood was flowing freely from both, the copper scent assaulting his nostrils. Despite everything, Trent’s mouth watered, but he forced his beast aside.
Not now.
He needed information, not the kill.
Dodging a frantic lunge from the other man, he twisted around and pressed his blade to the other man’s throat.
“Where is she?” he demanded, drawing the edge close enough to draw a rivulet of red from Floyd’s neck.
“Nowhere, warlock.”
Trent’s heart stopped beating. Floyd had to be lying. She couldn’t be dead. The Knights loved their torture sessions.
“You lie!” Trent shouted, digging the knife deeper until blood was welling liberally. “Tell me now.”
“She’s in Birmingham, monster, and that’s all you’ll ever get from me. She’ll be dead by the time you find her.”
Then Floyd did the unexpected. He savagely pressed his throat against the dagger, slitting his own jugular. He fell to the ground as the wound gaped and spurted.
Shocked, Trent staggered back, but then screamed in rage and frustration.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ELAINE WOKE TO darkness. Disoriented, it took several minutes to realize she was hooded. Beneath her, she felt something hard to which her arms and feet were bound. As the blood rushed to her head and dizziness set in, she realized she was lying at a steep angle, her feet above her. She squirmed, trying to get her arms free.
Water poured over the shroud, soaking it until she coughed. It ran up her nose, burning her sinuses. She closed her mouth, but not before water had rushed down her throat. With a wild spasm, she coughed, lungs aching with the inhaled moisture. She tried to turn away, but the onslaught of water followed her. She couldn’t breathe.
Just when she thought she’d pass out, the cloth was yanked up her face. As she
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