Page 11 of The Reaper's Vow
I'm about to give chase when a familiar figure appears behind her—Thomas Lockhart himself. Of all the goddamn wolves who could have shown up tonight. He blocks the hallway and her escape.
I slam the door shut behind me, cutting off any view of Marco's body. Lockhart doesn't need to see my handiwork, not when he's been trying to undermine the Bellandi family for months. The last thing I need is to give him ammunition.
My back presses against the door as I take a steadying breath. The woman in the cat mask is an immediate problem—a witness. But Lockhart's presence here is the bigger threat. What the hell is he doing at Crimson Howl tonight of all nights?
The woman in the cat mask freezes between us, trapped in the narrow hallway with two apex predators. Her scent reaches me even through the club's miasma of sex and liquor.
“Well, well,” Lockhart drawls, his attention sliding from the woman to me. “If it isn’t the Reaper himself. Busy night?”
I hold steady, though my wolf thrashes beneath my skin, snarling for blood. “Nothing that concerns you, Lockhart.”
He steps closer to the woman, and something inside me detonates. My wolf lunges against the cage of my ribs, clawing, howling, violent in a way that steals my breath. Possessive. Mine. Not his.
I force myself to remain outwardly still while my beast batters against me, desperate to strike. What the hell? I don’t even know this woman. But my wolf doesn’t care. Lockhart’s predatory lean toward her sets every territorial instinct ablaze.
“You seem tense, Reaper,” Lockhart taunts, his lips curling in a mockery of a smile. He edges closer to the masked woman, and my muscles tighten, drawn taut as bowstrings. “Something troubling you?”
“Step away from her.”
Lockhart raises an eyebrow. “I wasn't aware the Bellandi's attack dog had developed a soft spot for club patrons.” He reaches out, fingers hovering near the woman's arm. “Unfortunately, she’s off the menu for someone like you, pup. She and I were about to get better acquainted. Weren’t we, pussy cat?”
The word lights a white-hot fury under my skin. My wolf rakes at whatever is holding him back, a single brutal need to rip Lockhart apart for that look. The intensity blinds me; this hunger is unlike anything I've ever known.
“I said, step away.” The words come out as a growl, my wolf bleeding through despite my attempts to contain it.
The woman’s head jerks between us, her breathing shallow and uneven. She flattens herself against the wall, trying to make her frame smaller, but there’s nowhere left to retreat. The hallway seems to close in, the air heavy with tension and barely restrained violence.
Lockhart chuckles, a sound like gravel grinding. “Protective, aren't we? How fascinating.” His hand drops to rest on the woman's shoulder, and I see red.
I'm moving before conscious thought kicks in, crossing the distance between us in two strides. My hand shoots out, wrapping around Lockhart's wrist with enough force to snap bone. His smug expression falters as I squeeze.
“Touch her again and I'll break every bone in your hand,” I snarl.
“Damien.” A familiar voice cuts through the haze of rage. Elias appears at the far end of the hallway, his mask pushed up on his forehead.
“What the hell is going on here?” Elias demands, his voice carrying the authority of his bloodline despite his youth.
Lockhart's lips curl into a cold smile. “Just having a conversation with your pet about boundaries.” He tries to twist his wrist free, but I tighten my grip until I feel the bones creak. “Perhaps you should keep him on a shorter leash.”
“Let him go, Dom.” Elias's voice is steady, but I catch the warning beneath it. “Now.”
I release Lockhart with a shove that sends him stumbling back a step. He flexes his fingers, testing for damage. The woman remains pressed against the wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“This isn't over, Reaper,” Lockhart says, straightening his jacket. “Keep overstepping your place, pup, and you will find out what happens when you cross a real Alpha.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, my hand drifting toward my gun.
“It's a promise.” Lockhart's gaze shifts to the woman, and my wolf snarls again. “Until next time, pussy cat.”
He turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. I watch until he disappears around the corner, every instinct screaming at me to follow him and finish what we started.
The woman seizes her chance the moment Lockhart is out of sight. Like a cornered animal finally spotting an escape route, she bolts, ducking under my arm and sprinting toward the exit opposite from where Elias stands. The sudden movement catches me off guard—her speed impressive even by werewolf standards.
“Shit!” I lunge after her, but she's already gained ground, her heels clicking frantically against the floor as she runs.
“Dom, what the hell?” Elias calls after me, but I'm already in pursuit, my wolf surging forward with an urgency I don't understand.
I follow her through the maze of Crimson Howl's back corridors, past startled staff members and private rooms where masks turn in our direction. She moves like she knows the layout, taking turns without hesitation, pushing through doors that should be locked.
