Page 120 of The Thief

“You always had to be the good one,” he said, drunk on sensory magic. “I am not your father. I never was. Did you think I would love you? Is that why you tried so hard to please me?” A menacing chuckle followed. “Always trying so hard to be noticed and praised. That is what made it so easy to manipulate you.”

Incensed, I gave him a withering look. “You needed me. That’s what it is, isn’t it? Without my help, you were living on old money, which would have eventually run out. Who are you without me? Nothing. That’s why you’re so damn bitter. I made you the success you are today, and you can’t stand admitting it.”

When his gaze drifted to the ceiling and he cursed in another language, I scurried around him. As I scrambled to my feet, Argento yanked the back of my shirt. This time, it ripped. I grimaced when he slammed me against the wall. Then he put his bare hand to my throat, but he wasn’t lucid. He was having an incoherent conversation with himself.

“Mercy!” Bear shouted.

Hearing Bear’s voice summoned my wolf. I needed to protect him, even if it meant dying for him.

Chapter 22

It took Bear a few minutes to hook up the trailer to the SUV and make sure everything would survive the bumpy ride home. When he finished, he rolled around to the front of the bar and parked, waiting for Mercy to finish closing.

He was eager to get home and figure out their sleeping situation. Her bed or mine? That tumbled around in his head for a minute. Mercy’s bed had a subtle personal scent he couldn’t get enough of. On the other hand, his gigantic bed offered more room and close proximity to the kitchen, where he could make her breakfast in bed.

He stared at Mercy’s blue Vespa parked by the front door. What this place needed was a paved parking lot, but he could understand why a small-business owner in the country wouldn’t bother with the expense. When he turned his gaze toward the road, he noticed a vehicle parked in the shadows beneath a tree. It wasn’t unheard of for someone to leave their car behind after too many beers, but the familiar black Rolls-Royce had him out of the truck in two seconds flat.

Bear rocketed toward the bar entrance. When he flung open the door and stepped inside, the neon lights in the dark room sparkled against the spilled liquor and broken glass all over the barroom floor.

“Mercy!”

As he crossed the room, the vicious snarl of a wolf drew him toward the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of vodka before opening the swing doors. In the hallway, Mercy’s black-and-grey wolf had latched onto Argento’s left arm and was violently tugging as hard as she could.

Bear’s animal struggled to come out, but if he let that happen, he’d lose control over the situation. Bear needed to be in control.

Argento struck her wolf in the head with a blow. Bear saw red. He cracked a bottle over the Mage’s head but stayed out of reach to avoid an energy assault.

“Mercy, down!” Bear snarled, not knowing if she was awake in there. “Get away!”

Argento leaned over, a steady stream of blood pouring from his scalp into his ungloved hand. He flicked his dark eyes up and laughed maniacally.

Bear herded Mercy into the kitchen and sprinted across the room for a knife.

The Mage loomed in the open doorway, his face and hair bathed in blood like a scene out of a horror movie. He fished a glove out of his pants pocket and put it on his hand.

Why the hell’s he doing that? Then Bear remembered how his energy turned hair silver. He’d never be able to kill anyone without the authorities linking the murder directly to him, especially since the Mageri documented every Mage’s gift in their books.

Argento wiped the blood out of his eyes. “Shifters are useless cattle. Your emotions make you weak and impetuous.”

Mercy’s wolf snarled and barked at him.

“Silence!” he roared. “I know you, Mercy Breedlove. Your wolf is a coward, like you. I gave you more opportunities than I ever gave my own progeny, and you threw it away, you selfish, worthless woman. You could have made something of yourself, but you would rather be a good girl. If you are trying to save your soul, it is too late.” His words trailed off in another language.

Bear advanced, keeping the knife low and out of sight. The kitchen island was between them.

Argento flipped his hair back and blurred around the island. Bear pivoted and drove the blade into the Mage’s side.

Argento staggered away. The blade slid out, and his vest darkened with blood. “So that is how you want to play.” He stripped off his gloves and flung them onto the floor.

Bear backed up toward Mercy, the bloody knife still in his grip. Negotiating was off the table. He tracked the man’s body language, ready to gut him like a fish.

Argento wiped the blood from his face with his bare hands. “Do you want to see what I can do?” he asked exuberantly. “I can get rid of any evidence you ever existed.”

When Bear saw light pulsing in the Mage’s hands, he sucked in a breath. Argento was a Wielder—a rare Mage gift. Their light was deadly even to Vampires. “Mercy, run!”

Bear dove to the floor when a red energy ball flew at him. Though small, it exploded against the cooling racks, instantly melting the metal.

Mercy’s wolf had run but not in the direction Bear had expected. She locked her jaws on the Mage’s bare wrist and was trying to rip his hand from his arm. Bear sprang to his feet at the snarls and screams from the other side of the island.

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