Dawn Released

She pressed her nose to the glass, wishing she could get a better view of him. He stood in line. Head held high and proud. Silently refusing to look down as a guard marched down the rank. His blue-black hair hung to the tops of his broad shoulders. She recognized the high cheekbones, hard jaw, thick, broad lips, and the determined facial expression, so much like his grandfather's. Tristen!

Her breath fogged the window as she leaned on the glass. If not for the damned bars bolted to the frame, she would have ran out to Tristen and demanded answers. What was he doing here? Where was Nash? Tristen was in the line of new recruits. Did that mean he'd been captured? Had Nash? She bit her lip in pure frustration. Was this the help that was here?

Her hand trembled as she clung to the heavy curtain for support. What if Nash had been captured? What if Seff had already gotten his hands on him and was torturing him? Seff would torture Nash just for pure fun, but if he asked the right questions and extracted the right answers. Nausea settled in her gut as she thought about the families and lives that could be at stake.

The northern pack was a safe haven. Seff didn't know about them, or about the vampires. Nash knew too much. He knew everything. And in the wrong hands, the information could kill them all. Nash was strong, but no one could hold out forever. He'd die to protect his pack and the vampires. And he might protect them if he died. What was one more life to Seff? Nothing.

A cold jolt of fear ran along her limbs. Who else had come along with Nash? Had Kacie? Jan? Her mind raced in terror as she thought of what Seff could do to her daughters. He could father a whole pack of children with the three of them.

Eloise sank to the floor sickened by worry. She had never felt so powerless in her whole life. She sat here, incapable of doing a damned thing. She couldn't help herself, let alone them. Seff held all the cards and she had nothing except for her superior DNA.

She had condemned her daughters by passing her family line on to them. Her ruthless planning for a future she could have never foreseen had condemned her pack. She had condemned Nash, and his pack by dragging them into this. She had condemned the brotherhood by sheer association. This mess was all her fault and there was nothing she could do to make things right. Not even her death would put things in their proper place. She and everyone she'd ever known and given a damn about were, for lack of a better word, fucked.

Chapter 34

Tristen held his tongue and kept his head down. His face was swollen and throbbing, like it had been run over by a truck, and his ribs were bruised, battered, and sore as hell from Seff's particular brand of welcome. The bastard. Tristen's first instinct had been to go after the pompous son of a bitch and teach him a lesson in pain. Yeah, right, like that would have gone over well. His dad had been teaching him to fight and he'd been learning MMA style sparring from John Mark, but Tristen doubted he would have landed the first punch before Seff's goons got their hands on him and dragged him to that platform of death Seff was building in the front drive. His pride hurt more than his smashed in nose and splintered ribs put together. Getting himself dead though so wasn't in the plan.

As he shuffled in line with the other new recruits he scanned the grounds for a sign of Kacie. After he'd been dragged out of the crowd and drafted into Seff's special forces, she'd disappeared. Kacie had to be somewhere in this mess of people. Tristen stayed in formation, his eyes flicking here and there as the guards herded them across the front lawn. Kacie was nowhere to be seen. He hoped she was safe. Especially since he'd failed to keep her that way.

Seff was some piece of work. These people were terrified. The air was thick with the stink of fear and desperation. The high-powered rifles and guard force, and not to mention that damned platform really didn't give anyone a warm, fuzzy feeling. Seff had separated families. A smile that probably really didn't belong on his face curled the corners of his mouth. Historically speaking, the oppressed didn't stay oppressed for long and it was just a matter of time before this pack went after Seff. Good. Tristen could not wait to see the ground bled red with that bastard's blood.

Tristen sucked in a breath and pretended not to notice Eloise staring at him from a second story window. She'd peeled back just a corner of the thick draperies and stared down through the ornate curlicues of the wrought iron bars blocking the window. There was no doubt that she'd seen him as well. Recognition and horror were written across her expression. He turned his eyes away from her and focused on the shoulders of the guy in front of him.

Was Eloise friend or foe? It certainly seemed like she was as helpless as the rest of her pack. He felt her eyes lock on him, tracking him as he was led to the first row of olive drab tents with the rest of the recruits. He didn't dare glance up and meet her gaze. Too dangerous. He recognized a couple of the workers laboring away on the massive wooden platform. He'd seen them at the camp. They never faltered from their jobs. Never acknowledged him at all. He took the hint and kept up with the left-right-left right of his steps. With the progress the laborers were making on the platform. The damn thing would be done before dark.

He considered himself an optimist. A real glass is half full kind of guy. At least, how to get in wasn't a problem anymore. Just what to do now that he was in. He went along with the droning introduction to Seff's special forces. Listening to the dribble and propaganda about what a privilege it was to be in his ranks. Yeah. Right. Whatever. He certainly didn't feel privileged. It was scary though. Looking at the random faces to the left and right of him, how many kids...and yes, they were kids...actually believed what the bastard said.

Seff was a commanding force. The intonation of his voice made a person want to believe every toxic word that came out of his mouth. Seff's big body was caged power and menace and those broad shoulders somehow made you feel smaller. He had a charisma that was hard to ignore. He was like the dad you always wanted, the big brother you dreamed of, and the best friend you trusted with your life all rolled up into one. Seff could have made a fortune as a motivational speaker or maybe, as a leader of a cult. Um yeah, all that was missing was the gallons and gallons of grape Kool-aid. The more bullshit that spilled out of Seff's mouth, the more terrified Tristen became. Seff wasn't your buddy. He wasn't your daddy or your big brother. These kids were going to bleed, probably die for him. And he didn't seem to have a problem with that at all.

Nash had no choice but to follow Tracker and Catcher's lead. He was unfamiliar with the territory and they had roamed these lands their entire lives. The team was as close to the complex as any of them dared to get.

Nash didn't know how the vampire did it. There was another person in his head. Yet, the vampire shook off the invasion with cool indifference. He had no one but himself in his head and the hours of waiting were enough to make him crawl out of his skin. His mind was a volley of conflict. He had to get Tristen out, first, then Eloise and Kacie, then the other wolves that had helped him, and lastly Torr.

Jealousy pinched at his gut when he thought of Torr bedding Eloise in conquest. Eloise belonged to him. With every fiber in his body, he knew it. She was his, end of story. The logical voice in him questioned why he felt what he did for her with such conviction. His wife had been gone a long time. She'd died on the birthing bed bringing Tala into the world. But, he owed it to her gentle soul to love her despite, or maybe, in spite of the grave separated them.

The pack didn't track time, not the way humans did. Birthdays weren't really all that important. His beautiful Tala was hedging thirty years old, give or take a year. It'd been thirty years since he'd been with a woman, thirty long, cold, lonely years. He hadn't given in to the ache in all that time. But, that one kiss had changed everything. The man in him could have given a shit less what the logical part of his brain thought. Eloise was his and he'd stop at nothing to get her back.

Carter was unnerved. His connection to Shayla provided the team with valuable information that they could not have gotten any other way. But, it had some very undesirable side effects. He sensed her fear. Knew her every worry down deep into the marrow of his bones. And he'd seen the world through her eyes.

Shayla was afraid, not only for herself, but for them. He felt her shame at the depth of the unwanted emotion. She was afraid and she didn't want to be. She wanted to be brave and thought her wavering courage made her less. He didn't blame her. She was in danger. Willingly, she had gone into the wolf's den and she had every right to be terrified. He sent her positive emotions filled with encouragement through their link.

Because of her, they knew where Torr was. Because of her, they knew the floor plan of the Grand Manor. Because of her, they knew security codes. They knew where Eloise was being held. Shayla thought her husband's death had weakened her. Sometimes, she doubted if she had the strength to go on. She saw herself as a coward. He saw her as one of the bravest people he'd ever known. If they got out of this in one piece, he'd tell her how very brave she was, face to face.

Tracker felt good. Being useful was at the heart and soul of his existence. He'd been born and bred to keep his mistress safe. To do whatever was necessary for her welfare. In this instance, perhaps for the first time in his life, keeping her safe meant taking the lead. He'd been brought up as an omega, a follower of commands. He'd never known what it truly was to be in control of his destiny. His every decision was his to make. At first, being released from the mistress's service had been terrifying. He'd drifted lost and without purpose and now, it was beginning to dawn on him what his life's mission truly was. And he was not the follower he'd always been indoctrinated to believe he was.

Catcher was edgy. He hated sitting around and waiting. Working in a pair with his twin was familiar and comfortable. He wasn't used to being part of a larger group, having input and actually being heard. For him, leadership was a straight line. Others ordered and he obeyed. That was how things worked. Although the idea of bring a free agent was unfamiliar and difficult for him to adjust to, he liked the change. His life could take him anywhere.

He'd been with his twin since conception in their mother's womb. He'd always taken comfort in the fact that only death, and perhaps, not even death would separate them. The only reassurance he'd had in life had been that there was always just the two of them. He'd assumed they were carbon copies of one another not only in appearance, but in thought as well. Now, he had nothing. Staring at his twin, looking on his mirror image, the realization struck him. They weren't two halves of the same whole, but two entirely different people. Individuals. The paths of their lives were not going to be traveled together. Their release from Eloise's service had put their feet on very different roads.

Kacie had a cramp in her side from being pinned on her side for so long. The old cupboard was dusty and the air stifling. Her watch tracked each second that passed with slow, painful, sweeps of the second hand. The afternoon had barely gotten underway and she was already going stir crazy. Breath flowed from her parted lips as she practiced some 'calm enhancing' breathing techniques she'd read about in a magazine article. Who knew someday they'd come in handy?

Periodically, heavy boot steps would stomp past and the din of male voices would rumble beneath the door. She hadn't learned anything of value. The whereabouts of her mother were still a mystery. Torr was scarcely a thought in her mind and probably wouldn't be until she heard what her mother had to say. What he was, as far as she was concerned, was up in the air and not entirely hers to decide.

The house around her was bustling with activity. She was stuck in here, maybe for hours, maybe longer. She'd gotten in. That was the important part. She had to sit tight and wait until the house grew still and quiet before she could even think about trying to find her mother. In her human form, she could smell the pack, but she couldn't distinguish one wolf from another. She couldn't use her wolf senses to guide her and she was painfully on her own. Sore and stiff and in desperate need for something to think about besides danger, she closed her eyes. Soon, the sounds of the Grand Manor lulled her to sleep.

Shayla was dead on her feet, but she kept plodding onward at breakneck speed. Carefully, she loaded a cart to overflowing with sandwiches and drinks for the laborers. The guards had been driving the men relentlessly since morning. The signs of fatigue were beginning to show in the curve of the men's backs and the angry tempers that were almost palpable in the air. The platform was almost finished and would be completed by sundown. She was taking a risk and she knew it. Necessity had forced her hand. She had to find a way to talk to Hanning and Emil.

She rolled her eyes in disdain at herself for what she was about to do, but the guards liked a little eye candy. If it would get her close enough to talk to Hanning, it was worth giving them a little peek at her goods. She unbuttoned her blouse down to the top of her hilly cleavage and pulled the neckline open. Shyly, she smiled at the burly line of guards lording over the men. "Everyone is working so hard today for the Master. I thought, if it was okay, you could give them a short break to enjoy the refreshments I've made." She sashayed over to the head guard and ran her fingers over his brawny chest. Swallowing the wretch of disgust rumbling in her throat, she asked, "Aren't you hungry? I know I am."

The guard glowered down at the little female rubbing against him. She oozed with sexuality and the musky scent of her need hung thick and sweet in the air. The neckline blouse was parted, giving him a good view of the tops of her breasts. Too bad, he didn't have time to indulge in what she offered. Although, she was beneath him in status, an omega female, he was tempted to lower his standards and make an exception. A growl of approval rumbled in his throat as he skimmed his fingers down her plunging neckline and fingered her lacy bra. "Ten minute break, people and then back to work!"

The workers sighed in relief and shuffled to the porch for a brief respite. Emil stayed close to Hanning as they mounted the stairs and waited in line for the food.

Shayla stood on her tiptoes, rubbing her body against the guard as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. The ditzy female routine sickened her to the very core. Coyly, she buttoned up her blouse and batted her lashes at him. "Maybe later." She scurried off, leaving the scent of his sexual interest thick in the air behind her.

The guard grunted in disappointment. The female was a damned tease. Not that he would have dared leave his post to take her up on the offer though. He had not had a woman in over six months. He was hard, aching, and in need of some relief. He'd been watching the female for weeks. He knew her routine. What she did. Where she lived. He watched her sashay off to deliver food to the workers. The black uniform skirt was tight across her curvy ass. Stray tendrils of dark hair had escaped the tight bun gathered at the back of her scalp. She was a tiny thing, delicate and soft. It'd be so easy to overpower her and take what he wanted. If he planned it right no one would ever know. Even if she told, who'd believe her? Although he risked discipline at the end of Shane's whip. Later might come sooner than that little female thought.

Shayla milled about the men, carrying a trashcan for their leavings. Hanning and Emil sat beneath a fragrant, budding tree a few yards from the porch. She walked over and held out the trashcan to them. "Do you remember where we found that patch of wild greens growing last year? Remember, along the south fence?" She bit her lip, hoping Hanning would take the hint. "I should finish up here around six. I thought afterward, I'd go over and check it out. Mistress Eloise was so fond of the greens."

Hanning squinted up at Shayla. "Yeah, I remember." Actually he didn't and wild greens didn't grow in the sandy, rocky soil of their home. But, she was trying to tell him something, so he played along. "I'll go with you tonight, assuming we ever get done here."

"I don't think I've ever had wild greens before," Emil interjected. "I'll tag along."

Shayla beamed. Thank god they'd gotten the message. "Great." She knew that Carter was in her mind. She felt the tingle of his presence and the whisper of his approval. She glanced over at the guard. She might have pushed too far and encouraged more than just a little flirtation. Hanning and Emil tossed their wadded napkins and empty cups into the bin. She scurried away, leaving them behind and getting the hell out of eyeshot of that guard.

The guard stepped in front of her path, ramming the trashcan with his powerful body into her pelvis. Shayla looked up and gasped, quickly hiding her fear behind a sweet, seductive smile. "Did you get enough to eat?"

"I'm still hungry." The guard pressed toward her, pinning the trashcan between them.

"I think there might be some leftovers." Shayla's fingers trembled. The scent of his arousal choked her. She had gone too far and the guard wasn't going to let her off easily. She was going to have to be careful not to be caught alone.

"I want something fresh." The guard loomed over the female. The scent of her fear was tantalizing and arousing. She stepped back in response to his advance. Submissive and frightened, staring down at the ground, just the way he liked 'em.

The burning sensation of rage flared in white-hot sparks through her mind. Carter had sensed her fear. She'd done her best to block him from her emotions. Careful to feed him just enough to get the gist of what was happening on this side of the fence without giving him too much. Her failures-her fear was her own and she didn't intend to share. Link or not, some things were none of his business.

Shayla grappled for an excuse to get the hell out of here. "I've got to go. The Master doesn't like to be kept waiting." She twisted and trotted off as quickly as she could. The trashcan banged against her knees with each step.

"Neither do I," the guard whispered.

Chapter 35

Carter and the team were close enough to see the links of the fence through the rough tangle of bramble and brush they used for cover. He was no friend to the daylight streaming through the loose shade of the spindly trees. Too exposed. Too out in the open. He preferred to be hidden someplace dark and shadowy during the hours where he was at his most vulnerable. The wrap around sunglasses protected his vision from the worst of the blinding rays of the sun. Without them though, he was practically defenseless. He couldn't fight what he couldn't see. And he didn't do defenseless. Shayla's fear rumbled through his mind. The sudden surge of it flared to life an almost insane urge to rush in there and drag her out. "She's going to get herself killed."

"I didn't know you cared." Nash was beginning to think that there was more to the vampire than what Carter let on. Carter felt, a lot. On the exterior, the vampire was cool and aloof, like a good vampire should be. On the inside, where no one else could see, he burned like a fire out of control. Nash had little else to think about besides his growing worry for Eloise. Wondering why Carter was the way he was, at least, kept him occupied.