Page 74 of Blood of Vengeance

“Specialized?” I unzipped the bag and looked inside. “Okay, yeah. Specialized.”

Because no human target would require the level of firepower in that bag. Focus being on the fire.

“How many flamethrowers did you have hidden in that war room?” Cutter asked, obviously noting the same thing I did.

“Enough to take on a colony of vamps.”

“Solid.” Cutter threw the bag over his shoulder and headed for his ride. “Let’s light this candle.”

I hoisted my bag and turned for my bike, knowing the sooner we got this attack over with, the sooner I could get back to Locklyn.

The sooner I could explain what a fucked-up thing I did.

And the sooner I could beg her for forgiveness.

Locklyn

Zella could fall asleep anywhere. Being an autoimmune warrior meant she suffered from some pretty intense fatigue. I knew this—had always recognized it—but there were times when her ability to simply drop into REM shocked me.

Like when I turned around while plating dinner and found her fast asleep with her head on the kitchen table.

“Dinner for one, apparently.” I covered her plate and set it in the microwave so she could warm it once she woke up. I also left her alone. The one thing Zella needed the most was sleep, so trying to get her to move to the bed or make her more comfortable was worse than letting her sleep on the table. I had learned that one over the years as her roommate. So long as she had ended up in a safe location, the best thing for me to do was allow her to rest.

I settled on the couch with my own dinner, but I didn’t begin to eat. The energy around me buzzed, the worry for Flinch and his brothers burning a hole in my gut. And my neck—the bite mark Flinch had left on me. It practically zinged. I had no idea how to explain the sensation that came from that mark, but it comforted me for sure. Like a reminder that Flinch was alive and safe and coming home eventually.

A knock at the front door had me scrambling to my feet, plate of food immediately forgotten as I set it on the coffee table I’d picked out for the space. I hurried across the soft rug to the front door, peeking outside before unlocking it and pulling it open.

“Yeah?”

One of the wolf shifters on the porch looked me up and down with a bland and yet almost violent expression. “You good in here?”

I had to think about it for a second because his tone—the gruffness—and his worry were so misaligned. “Uh, yeah. We’re good.”

“Let me see the other one.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked past me, frowning. “Cutter’s girl. I need to see her.”

I stood there stunned, unable to respond. Cutter’s what? And who? Thankfully, Zella must have heard the commotion because her soft voice sounded from behind me.

“What’s going on?”

The man at the door directed his gaze over my shoulder to where she had to be standing. “You good?”

“I think so. Are we good, Lock?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Everything is fine.” I frowned up at him. “Are you two good?”

He huffed and turned, ignoring my question. “Yell if you need us. Otherwise, one of us will be back to check on you both in an hour.”

I closed the door once he settled onto the porch step, turning slowly to find Zella looking as surprised and concerned as I felt.

“What was that?” she asked, her brow furrowed deep.

“I have no idea.”

“The other guys watching you haven’t checked on you like that?”

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