Page 27 of Posing for the Artist Wolf

My wolf slammed against my bones. Howled his rage. Clawed and snarled and bit to get out, to protect Claire, to tear the heart out of every wolf in this damn hovel.

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairwell, stopping at the bottom. A burly man with a scarred face came into view, his eyes glowing an unnatural amber in the dim light.

Motherfucker. Lincoln Palmer, the second of the Silver River pack, had a laundry list of brutalities to his name. He’d been the one pushing hardest for Shauna’s match with Bowen, salivating at the thought of solidifying an alliance with the larger Black Sands pack. My wolf snarled, remembering the satisfied smirk on Lincoln’s face when our alpha had announced Shauna’s betrothal.

Now, seeing him here, in this dank basement, made my blood run cold. If Lincoln was involved, this wasn’t just about retrieving Shauna anymore—this was about punishment, and he’d always had a talent for doling out pain in the most creative ways possible.

“Well, well. Sleeping beauty’s finally awake,” he sneered.

“You’re a long way from home, Linc.” I met his gaze, fighting back a growl. “Missed me that much?”

“Not even a little, you fucking prick.” He chuckled, the sound grating on my nerves. “But I’ll tell you, I’m anticipating the fuck out of you getting what you deserve for blowing up our entire pack. Hell, I’ve got front row seats.”

“That so? Can’t say I’ve ever given you that much thought. A stray think here and there, but nothing so... obsessively scheme-y.” I smirked, flashing a bit of fang. “The price of unrequited love, I suppose.”

“Laugh it up, asshole.” Lincoln clenched his fists at his sides. “You’re just the means to an end. Your alpha’s got something that belongs to us. Two somethings, actually.”

Rage boiled in my veins. My wolf clawed at my insides, desperate to tear this bastard limb from limb. But Claire’s hand on my arm kept me grounded.

“You stupid fucks.” I forced out a harsh laugh, the sound pulling at my ribs. “Didn’t do your research, did you? Rafe won’t stand to see Maddy harmed. And if you’d paid attention for more than five seconds, you’d know he’d love nothing more than to see me gone.”

The corner of Lincoln’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smirk. “Who said anything about asking him nicely?”

The threat thickened the air in my lungs.

“From what I hear, wolves around here are soft little bitches,” Lincoln continued, pacing in front of us. “Someone breaks a nail, and they come running like this is some damned superhero movie complete with happy endings.”

He slowly turned his head, golden eyes locking on Claire. A cruel smile curved his lips, his teeth elongating into fangs. “Well, maybe happy for some of us.”

The moment his hand reached for Claire, something inside me snapped. My vision went red, and I lunged. Pain exploded through my side as I slammed into Lincoln, but I didn’t care.

Nothing mattered except protecting Claire.

We crashed to the ground, fists flying. My claws extended, and I slashed at his face. His head snapped back, and a spray of blood coated my hands.

He caught my next punch, wrenching my arm to the side. His knee collided with my ribs, sending agony ripping through my body. I bit back a howl of pain, twisting out of his reach.

I’d fought Lincoln a dozen times before, and I knew he played dirty. I couldn’t afford to hesitate, couldn’t give him half a chance to recover.

I lashed out with my boot, connecting with his thigh. His knee buckled, and I sprang forward, grabbing him in a chokehold and hauling him back.

Our momentum carried us into the wall. The impact jarred my spine, but I held firm. Lincoln thrashed against me, his eyes bulging as he clawed at my arms. But I held on, squeezing tighter, feeling the satisfying crunch of his windpipe beneath my forearms.

With a final gurgled gasp, his body went limp. I released him, letting him drop to the ground like the sack of shit he was.

“Keys,” I rasped, hand clutching the sizzling fire in my side. “Check him for keys. We have to get out of here.”

Claire’s hands trembled as she patted him down, but her eyes were steel. “Got ‘em,” she said, holding up a set of keys.

I grabbed her elbow, hurrying her toward the stairs. Every step sent jolts of agony through my side, but I pushed through it. Claire’s ragged breaths echoed behind me as we climbed.

The musty scent of the basement gave way to fresher air as we burst through the door. Moonlight streamed through the dirty windows. Broken bits of furniture littered the space. It had been some kind of dining room, once, with a large table and broken chairs shoved to one side.

My gaze settled on the door—our way out. Freedom was so close I could taste it.

Then a shout rang out.

“They’re escaping!”

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