Page 67 of What a Wolf Demands

“Lily,” Guyon said. “Look at me.”

She ignored him.

“Look at me or I break his neck.”

She snapped her gaze to him. He still stood behind Bart, but now his hands were around the bar owner’s neck.

Her heart pounded. In her peripheral vision, Luc was a blurry silhouette. If he came at her . . .

“I’ll snap his neck,” Guyon said. “You know I can do it.”

He could. Any wolf could. And Bart wouldn’t survive it. A broken neck was the execution method of choice in most packs.

“Put the gun down, Lily,” Guyon said, his tone calm and reasonable. “You don’t want Bart to die.”

She swallowed. Was he playing good cop to Luc’s bad cop? Because she’d read enough detective novels to know there was no good cop in that scenario. They were both bad.

“Set it down and we’ll talk. Be smart about this. You’re alone down here.”

There was a metallic click. Then Dom stepped beside her, his arm outstretched and holding a gun trained on Guyon.

“Correction,” he said, his voice soft. “She’s not.”

Guyon paled.

A rush of gratitude and relief swept through Lily. She wanted to drop the gun and throw her arms around Dom. Wanted him to spirit her up the stairs and out of the dark and misery surrounding them.

But they were still in the basement. Still in danger. She gripped the gun more tightly.

Bruno stepped away from Bart and lifted his hands. “You’re Dominic Prado.”

Dom didn’t reply.

“I don’t want to die,” Bruno said, his words ending on a wail.

Guyon looked like he’d tasted something sour. “No one’s going to die.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Dom said, his voice still soft.

Guyon swallowed, then removed his hands from Bart’s neck.

“That’s a start,” Dom said. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen.” He moved a step to the side and aimed the gun at Luc. “Thibeaux is going to use his knife to cut Bart’s bonds. Then Bart’s going to walk to Lily and me, and we’re going to leave.”

Luc’s knuckles around the knife handle were white, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. When he spoke, his voice was resentful, his tone like that of a teenager defying a parent. “You got no right to make the rules. This is my territory.”

A silky element entered Dom’s voice. “Really. I thought Gregoire Levesque controlled Louisiana.”

Luc glanced at Guyon, who kept his gaze on Dom. “He does,” Luc said.

Dom nodded toward Bart. “Then he has a lot to answer for.” He leveled a look at Luc. “As do you, Thibeaux.”

“What about her!” Luc stabbed the knife toward Lily. His eyes lit up, as if a new idea had just occurred to him. He looked between her and Dom, suspicion in his gaze. “You were supposed to find her and bring her to us. What changed?”

Lily’s heart beat faster—something she wouldn’t have thought possible. Luc was dumb, but apparently not that dumb.

He looked at her now, then gave a low whistle. “Well, that’s a surprise, Latent Lily. I didn’t think you had it in you. I guess the idea of being executed would make any female spread her—”

“That’s enough,” Dom said, his voice deadly quiet.

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