Page 61 of Wolf Betrayed

ELEVENTH HOUR

“It’s not over,” Montag spat. “It can’t be over.” He looked into his tablet at the man on the screen and cursed.

McMaster shrugged and looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world, as if their plan with the shifters hadn’t just failed spectacularly. They were on a secure channel that they had both assured themselves was unhackable, so they were able to speak freely.

Of course, McMaster never spoke too freely. He always spoke in half-truths, and it pissed off Montag to no end. The other man was too polished, too squeaky-clean for the cameras he loved so much.

Montag hated working with him, but he was desperate. The female wolf shouldn’t have been able to get out as she had, and because of his fucking weak crew, he’d lost his final asset.

“You tried, and you failed.” McMaster waved his hand. “You’re done for, Montag. You’re on your own here.”

“You fucking bastard.”

McMaster raised a pristine brow he probably had waxed weekly. “Watch your words.”

Montag slammed his fists onto his desk. “You made promises, McMaster. You’re going to help me finish what we started.”

“It’s over,” McMaster said cooly. “You’re on your own.” He cut off the feed, and Montag threw his tablet against the wall.

He needed McMaster to help with his part of the deal, or Montag would have to take things to the next level.

He wasn’t sure the world was ready for that.

But if he had to, he’d watch the world burn before he let it go into the hands of the mongrels who called themselves part human.

He’d do what he must.

He’d make the final strike.

And when the wolves went to their knees in surrender…he’d kill them.

All of them.

No mercy. No weakness. No more wolves.

Not even the one he thought he could make.

Not even Shane.

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