Her inner feline shoved against her skin, straining to be free so she could enjoy the yard. Figuring the restless cat could do with some time to play and explore, Bree placed her glass beside her phone on the table. Half an hour would be enough to soothe her cat’s nerves.
Standing, she shed her clothes, neatly piled them on the rattan chair, and took a long breath. Then she gave her feline freedom.
The cat did a long, languid stretch, scraping her claws along the wooden boards of the deck. Her nose wrinkled at the scents of flower blooms, spicy herbs, and sun-warmed rock.
The cat leaped off the deck and padded over the prickly grass, ignoring the tickle of flower stems. She played. Explored. Chased insects. Hissed at birds. Rubbed up on the pots and planters to scent-mark her territory. Dragged things in and out of her rockery.
A short while later, she felt her human half push for supremacy, reminding her that her time was up. Letting out a disgruntled growl, the cat hopped out of the rockery. And a dark, net dropped over her body, trapping her.
Impatience battering him, Alex prowled down the street toward the cul-de-sac. The whole trip had been a complete waste of time. On one level, he was impressed that the hyenas had managed to keep the location of their territory a secret. On the other level, he was pissed, because the person they had set their sights on was Bree. His Bree.
He scanned the streets and rooftops as he walked. He knew Vinnie, his sons, and the enforcers were on the ball, but Alex would be on edge right up until the hyenas were found.
He also made a point of watching out for any signs of Paxton. If the guy was back, he obviously wasn’t content with sticking to the shadows any longer. He hadn’t publicly revealed himself, no, but he wasn’t operating under the radar either.
Rounding the corner of the cul-de-sac, Alex frowned as he noticed two of Bree’s guards subduing a struggling male. Alex jogged over to them. And smelled hyena. He growled. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“He’s been hanging on the corner, watching Bree’s house,” said one of the enforcers. “As soon as we casually walked over to have a little talk with him, he ran. Not fast enough, though. We dragged him back here.”
“I called Vinnie,” the second enforcer said to Alex. “He’s on his way.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know who this Bree girl is!” their captive claimed. He was surprisingly young. Barely a juvenile, really.
The first enforcer arched a brow. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yes!” the hyena insisted. “Some couple approached me in the street and paid me to stand on the corner and stare at that house over there,” he added, casting a hard glance at Bree’s home.
Alex stilled. The hyena’s voice rang with enough honesty to make his hackles rise and his beast stiffen from head to toe. “What couple?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know,” said the hyena. “A man and a woman. They were mates. Polar bears.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. The kid had either invented the dumbest defense in the history of the world, or he had a whole other purpose. Distraction. “Fuck.”
Heart pounding, the cat twisted and clawed at the dark net in a desperate bid to escape. But the material was heavy, thick, and strong. It didn’t tear or even fray.
Footsteps thudded along the ground. As the scent of polar bear filled her nostrils, the cat let out a hiss of sheer fury. Something sharp stabbed her flank through the net. The cat flinched away with a growl.
“You inject her with all of it?” The voice was deep, gruff.
“All of it,” said a female. “Ready?”
“Ready. Open it.”
The cat flexed her claws. She didn’t understand the words. Didn’t know what the bears wanted. She only knew that the sooner she sliced open their throats, the better.
There was the sound of a zipper opening. A large hole appeared in the other side of the net, letting a flicker of light enter. The cat rushed out of the net.
And ran into a metal cage that was surrounded by a black cover.
The door closed with a clang. A lock clicked into place. Trapped.
Hissing and growling, she bashed at the door so hard it rattled. Rattled hard but did not open. Unlike the rest of the cage, it was uncovered, so she could see the bears. They recoiled as she once more battered at the door.
The cat felt her inner human lunge for the surface. Nothing happened. Bree tried again and again to shift. It was useless. Bree was just as trapped inside the cat as the feline was trapped inside the cage.
Wanting to attack, bite, and mangle her captors, the cat again sprang at the door. It still did not open. She snarled—a sound that swore retribution if they didn’t free her.
“This cage is shifter-proof, girly,” said the male. “You’re not getting out of it. And that injection we gave you should keep you in your animal form for a while, so I wouldn’t bother trying to shift.”
The female polar stood. “Go, go, go.”
Ignoring the cat’s struggles, the male carried the cage as the pair ran to the rear fence. His mate swiftly climbed over. He stood on a large planter, passed the cage over the fence to the female, and then jumped over to land at her side.
“Hurry before someone notices she’s gone,” he said, retaking the cage. “Keep your gun out and ready to shoot anyone who comes at us.”
The door of the cage was angled toward her house, so the cat saw her home get further and further away as the bears darted through the wooded area, winding their way around trees and making the cage jiggle and rock.
Knowing enforcers patrolled the area, the cat snarled and hissed as loud as she could. All the while, she bashed against the cage, fueled by panic and adrenaline. She kept expecting to see one of her pride mates in pursuit. But no one came.
Bree tried again and again to reach for supremacy. No matter how much strength she put behind her attempts, she couldn’t force the shift.
With her heart beating hard and fast in her chest, the cat repeatedly thrashed and twisted within the confines of the cage, refusing to give up, determined to be free. Her body hurt from how violently she launched herself at the door over and over. The metal cut into her paws and face. But she ignored the pain and kept on fighting for freedom.
Her efforts came to nothing. She couldn’t break—
There was a whoosh of air, and then a hard thwack.
The female polar cried out. Both bears skidded to a halt. The cage tumbled to the forest floor but didn’t open. Something small but heavy landed on the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” the male polar spat.
A struggle quickly commenced. Was it an enforcer? The cat did not know. Most of the cage was still covered in a dark sheet, so the cat couldn’t see the struggle from her angle. But she heard wood thumping bone, flesh hitting flesh, and something sharp slicing through skin.
The bears growled, cursed, let out agonized cries. The coppery scent of blood tainted the air, overriding the woodsy smells.
The feline could see a gun a few feet away—a gun she suspected the female polar had dropped. Worried one of the bears would reach for it and shoot the enforcer, the cat redoubled her frantic attempts to be free.
Finally, the sounds of a struggle ceased. The woods would have been unnaturally quiet if it weren’t for the weak whimpers coming from the female bear.