The branches that bound Quade loosened enough for him to slip free. He gave himself over to his killing form—partially man, but mostly the beast within—and stalked toward his prey. Sharp claws pushed through his fingertips. That was how Quade normally killed, a quick slice to the throat and they’d be dead before they realized it. But….
Tears left tracks as they slid down dirt-encrusted cheeks. This was the man he was expected to kill? No way could he have torn apart nine biker types and left their bloody corpses in a field at the edge of the forest. The man who now sat before him—his shoulder-length blond hair, his body so thin, Quade could practically see his bones shivering, and the way he was sobbing—Quade figured he was probably a fucking vegan, unable to even think about hurting something living.
With great effort, Quade willed himself back to his human form. The beast inside wasn’t happy. It had expected blood, and to be denied pissed it off. He kept his fingers at the ready in case he needed a weapon. Though, to be honest, he didn’t think it was necessary.
He knelt next to the man and ran a hand over his head, surprised by how soft the hair was. “It’s going to be okay.”
Quade couldn’t kill this man, even though his wolf demanded he do it. There was something about him that called for Quade to protect him. He’d never felt that way about any of his targets before, and it unnerved him. No, he would keep this guy safe. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.
Now if only Quade could convince the others of that.
“You did what?"
Director Jack Kennedy’s dark eyes narrowed as he slammed a hand on the desk and leaned forward, close enough that Quade could smell the meatball sub his boss had for lunch. He really ought to lay off the garlic mayo. Considering his declining health, he needed to eat better. Of course, when you’re over a hundred fifty, maybe that wasn’t so important.
“He’s in the infirmary. I didn’t kill him, nor will I allow anyone else to do so. He’s scared, Jack. Frightened to death.”
“He killed nine people!” Jack slammed a hand down again, the sound echoing in the still room. “No, he didn’t just kill them. He slaughtered them. Doctor Desmond says he still doesn’t have all the body parts. You should see…. No, wait. Let me show you.” He pulled up a file on his laptop, then spun it so the screen faced Quade.
Quade had seen them already, but that didn’t make the sight any less horrific. Grown men, slashed open, entrails spilled onto the loamy floor of the woods. Appendages torn off, leaving nothing but stumps dripping with blood. Empty eye sockets. Jack was right. These men were eviscerated.
“And the worst part? Desmond believes they were alive through the whole thing. Now, tell me what kind of monster would do that and how you couldn’t kill it.”
Quade reined his growl in. He respected his boss most of the time, but right now, his wolf was riding him hard, and pushing him was a very bad idea. “I’m not saying he didn’t kill them. I’m saying we don’t know what happened. When he had me, he could have killed me too. I was held fast by… trees. Branches were pressing inside me. I was helpless. He kept babbling about not wanting to hurt anyone. How he’d begged them to leave him alone, but they wouldn’t. They beat him and… I don’t know. From what he said, I think they might have raped him.”
Jack sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “How sure are you about this?”
“He was terrified. I could hear his heart, and if I’m honest, I’m surprised it didn’t burst.”
“Well, wouldn’t you be if a werewolf—”
He snarled at Jack. One thing you didn’t call Quade was the W-word. He hated it with a passion. Werewolves were something Hollywood dreamed up and said was romantic. They had no idea of the truth. Being a lycan, Quade had to struggle to keep his wolf buried and constantly warred with the wolf when it wanted something, be it a sex partner, blood, or even the desire to roll around in something smelly. The wolf’s needs were base and primal. Give it something to eat and something to fuck, and it was satisfied. Of late, the latter had been in very short supply.
“Sorry.” Jack held up his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that. But if an animal was chasing you through the woods, wouldn’t you be terrified?”
“Are you not listening? I was held by fucking trees. And the man didn’t seem to realize it was happening. What if they reacted to his fear and were trying to protect him?” The whole idea sounded ludicrous when he said it aloud, but it was the only thing that made sense to him. “What if, and bear with me on this, he was attacked? And what if the trees reacted to his fear? He may not have meant for the men to die, but as far as we know, trees don’t have a conscience. They eliminated a threat to his existence, same as they would have done with me. The kicker here is that since I didn’t actually hurt him, he didn’t want to see me hurt. On some subconscious level, he stopped them.”
Jack shook his head. “That’s a lot of ifs, and I don’t know that we can trust it won’t happen again.”
“Then give me an alternative, because I won’t allow you to kill him.”
“Excuse me? You won’t allow?” Jack stood, his full six-eleven, built-like-a-linebacker frame towering over Quade’s six foot one. Being a half giant was definitely in Jack’s favor, but Quade wasn’t about to back down.
“I know giants are dull-witted, so let me spell it out for you. I. Will. Not. Let. Anyone. Hurt. Him. Does breaking it down into smaller chunks make it easier for you to understand?” Quade’s wolf surged forward, his fingers now tipped with claws. He held them up, ensuring Jack saw them. “I’ll gut anyone who tries.”
They glared at each other for several heartbeats. Jack looked away first, and Quade’s wolf howled in triumph. Jack jerked the computer around, tapped some keys, and a moment later, a voice came over the speakers.
“Infirmary.”
“Tell me about the man Quade brought in.”
“Oh, right away, director.” A few keys clicked. “Okay, we’ve run his fingerprints. He is one Caden Daniels from Millinocket. His physical condition was a concern. He’s dehydrated, emaciated, has deep lacerations on his hips and buttocks. He was resistant to let us check him out, so we had to sedate him. Right now, he’s resting, on an IV with fluids, and we’re treating his wounds.”
“Was he raped?”
The tech on the other end coughed. “We see no signs of sexual assault, but if we follow the patterns of his wounds, my guess is that it might have been a possible outcome. Also, the DNA of the murdered men are all over his body.”
Jack sneered. “His….” He stopped and cast a baleful glance at Quade. “The victims. Tell me what you can.”
“Well, to be quite frank, they died horribly. Torn apart limb by limb, then savaged by whatever killed them.”
“Do you think Caden could have done it?”
“As he is? No. He couldn’t even fight us off when we sedated him.” The tech drew in a breath. “Sir, I think Mr. Daniels might have been the target for sexual assault by these men. I know I’m jumping to conclusions, but judging by the depth of the wounds, they definitely set out to do more than just hurt him. They were torturing him.”