Page 9 of Their Mate
“You hear that?” I murmured.
He frowned, nodding slightly. “Sounds like trouble.”
Instinctively, we quickened our pace, heading toward the voices. Rounding a rocky outcropping, we spotted several figures farther down the beach, partially concealed by tall coastal grass and rock formations.
There was a man, lean and wiry, with reddish-blond hair whipping in the breeze, standing over two other figures. He was methodically binding their wrists behind their backs. My pulse quickened, tension twisting tight in my chest.
Beside me, Declan’s breath hitched. “What do you think is going on down there?”
“No idea,” I muttered, holding up a hand. “Let’s wait here and see.”
Carefully, silently, we crouched lower, pressing closer against the rocks and moving nearer for a better view. Their conversation became clearer, voices rising above the crashing waves.
“Easy now,” the red-haired man said calmly, securing the rope around a tall, dark-haired man’s wrists. “There’s no need for dramatics, eh? The quicker you cooperate, the easier this will be for everyone.”
“You’re making a mistake,” snapped the dark-haired captive. He was English, his accent clipped and crisp, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
The other captive, broad-shouldered and strong looking, with keen, intelligent eyes, shook his head. “He’s right. Whoever hired you is playing you. We’re not your enemy.”
The captor gave a low chuckle, clearly unbothered. “Sorry, mate. It’s nothing personal. Just doing my job. Someone wants you—Logan Yorke—alive and unharmed. As for you,” he gestured toward the dark-haired Englishman, “Edward Fairchild, was it? You’re just collateral damage. Wrong place, wrong time.”
Logan’s jaw tightened sharply, his voice tinged with anger. “Who hired you?”
The captor shrugged nonchalantly. “I get paid to ask very few questions. The less I know, the better.”
Edward’s voice turned cold. Even in restraints, he seemed dangerous. “You have no idea the repercussions you’re about to suffer. If you take us back to England, you’re signing your own death warrant.”
The red-haired man chuckled, unfazed. “Trust me, I’ve faced worse odds. Now, you boys relax. We’ve got a long trip ahead.”
Edward’s eyes flicked briefly toward a small boat bobbing in the distance, docked at the shoreline. His voice dropped, barely audible. “That’s a mistake. Taking him back to England?—”
“Is exactly what I’m being paid to do,” their captor interrupted firmly. “And that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
Beside me, Declan shifted uncomfortably. His voice was a whisper, tense and quiet. “Who are they?”
“No idea,” I whispered back, scanning the three figures cautiously. “But this sounds bad.”
“Think we should step in?” Declan asked, eyes locked onto the bound captives.
“Not yet,” I murmured, heart racing. “Let’s wait and watch. We don’t know enough.”
Declan nodded. I watched carefully as the red-haired man finished securing his captives. A heavy unease pooled in my chest, mixing with the grief still raw inside me. A soft drizzlebegan falling again, dampening our skin and mixing with the sea spray on our faces.
It happened fast, like lightning tearing open a darkened sky.
One moment, the red-haired mercenary was ushering Logan and Edward toward the waiting boat, his manner calm and composed, utterly unaware of us hidden nearby.
Then the world erupted into sheer chaos.
A savage chorus of howls shattered the silence. From the jagged line of trees behind us came half a dozen massive feral wolf shifters, surging toward the trio at terrifying speed. The beasts moved with that crazed, desperate hunger I knew all too well, fangs bared, claws slicing through the cold night air, muscles tensed like steel traps.
“Bloody hell!” The mercenary spun around, instinctively reaching for his weapon.
Too slow.
A feral slammed into him, knocking him to the sand with brutal force. His blade flew from his grasp, spinning across the gritty shore.
“Declan!” I snapped, my voice tight. He turned swiftly to me, eyes wide, adrenaline blazing behind them. No words were necessary. We knew what we had to do. No matter who they were, we couldn’t let the ferals tear these men apart.
