Page 20 of Broken Kingdom

That’s part of the reason we selected a second extraction point in the first place. No matter what I ran into inside the compound, chances were, I’d have to shift in order to communicate with Juliet—or to contact Layla and Ford—and I’d be too tapped out to shift back. But I wasn’t worried about the extra distance. I figured I’d be able to make quick work of six blocks with my human legs versus paddling through the water with tiny hedgehog feet.

Now, I’m cursing myself, wishing we’d had a backup plan.

I wait until we’re several hundred feet from the ladder leading into the dungeon before I press the button on the side of the walkie-talkie and whisper, “It’s Catherine. I’m on my way back. I couldn’t get to Juliet, but I did manage to liberate eight prisoners from the dungeon. They’re weak and starved and no one has clothes. I suggest you run and grab a stack of beach towels from a store. We can pretend we’ve been swimming while we get the hell of out of here as quickly as possible. I disabled the dungeon guard, but I don’t know how much time we’ll have before the empty cells are discovered. Over.”

“Holy shit,” Layla says, her voice cracking. “Fuck. Okay. Ford’s here with me. He’s going to run to the grocery store on the corner and try to find something. I’ll order two cars to pick us up here, behind the bowling alley. What’s your ETA? Over.”

I bite my lip, silently estimating how long it’s going to take my crew of injured people to limp another four and a half blocks. “Fifteen. Maybe twenty minutes. Over.”

“Got it,” Layla says. “I’m ordering the car now. Hang in there and let me know if anything changes. Over.”

“Will do. Over.” I loop the walkie-talkie’s strap around my wrist and move to help with the guy with the injured leg. Scooping him up like a bride in my arms, I engage my core muscles and stride to the front of the group. “Come on, loves. Let’s see if we can move a little faster. The more distance we can put between them and us before they realize you’re gone, the better.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” the old man wheezes, making excellent time near the front of the pack despite his clearly aching lungs. “They’re working with a reduced staff today. About half the house guards were shifted to a different detail for the wedding. Rafe was complaining about pulling a double on guard duty.”

Cursing silently, I ask, “The wedding is today?”

“Tonight,” the woman I initially locked eyes with supplies from my other side. “The entire pack will be there. Rafe was even going to go. They hired a man from Quebec City to take over for him at six. They want everyone there to absorb the power of the ritual.” Her lip curls as she adjusts her grip on her pale mother’s waist. “Jean-Paul knows his pack. If some of them get to be bigger and stronger and some don’t, the people who missed the ritual will be dead in a few weeks. Montreal wolves don’t tolerate weakness. Even in people they care about.”

I frown, but before I can ask why witnessing a wedding would make someone bigger or stronger, the young guy in my arms says, “It’s not a normal wedding. He’s not going to marry the phoenix girl. It’s a trick. He’s going to marry the other one and sacrifice the phoenix girl. Daphne, Jean-Paul’s witch, is going to work a spell that will make everyone in the church almost impossible to kill. Not immortal like a phoenix, but close.” He pulls in a shaky breath. “It’s the same thing his buddy, Zion’s Alpha, is doing at the school with the other phoenix woman.”

Only about half of that made sense, but I get the gist. I’m about to assure them nothing’s happening at the school because Maxim’s forces ousted the New Lupine Brotherhood and Hammer along with them but check myself at the last moment.

My gut says these suffering people aren’t my enemies, but I’m not sure they’re my friends, either. They seem awfully well-informed for starved prisoners. “The guards told you all this?”

“No. Jean-Paul,” the old man says, sadness coloring his words. “He comes down to the dungeon most mornings. He likes to remind us how far we’ve fallen. He’s my great-nephew.”

“And my cousin,” the first woman adds. “Most of us here are related to him in one way or another. He’s imprisoned or killed all dissidents and potential challengers to his throne except his half-brother. His mother would annihilate him if he touched Griffin.”

“And Griffin isn’t a threat,” the man I’m carrying says. “He’s simple. In the head.” The man winces. “But strong. He’s the one who broke my leg, but I don’t blame him. Jean-Paul made him do it. Poor guy cried the whole time.”

“Chastain is Jean-Paul’s from his first marriage,” the first woman says, nodding toward the man in my arms. “His mother came out of hiding a few months ago. She thought enough time had passed that Jean-Paul might be happy to learn he had an heir, especially a big, strong boy nearly old enough to marry and help expand his father’s kingdom.”

“He wasn’t happy,” the boy—Chastain—says softly. “And now my mother is dead.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it, but knowing we don’t have much time to spare for compassion. “Do you know where they’re holding the wedding? Somewhere on the compound?”

“No,” the old man says. “At an abandoned church Jean-Paul likes to use for black magic. Perverting a place of worship amuses him. I can show you where it is on a map.”

“But you’ll need an army,” the first woman says. “Jean-Paul will have guards everywhere. He’d never admit it, but I think he’s afraid of the Zion Alpha and what he’ll do if he finds out Jean-Paul plans to sacrifice his daughter instead of marrying her.”

I nod. “All right. That could be something we can use to our advantage,” I say, deciding not to tell them that an army is off the table. Even if we could convince Maxim to divide his force, we only have a few hours before the wedding. There isn’t time to get an army to Montreal, let alone plan and organize an attack on the church.

Seeing the extraction point ladder ahead, I start to shift the man in my arms to the ground so I can contact Layla on the walkie-talkie when the sewer grate above the ladder is suddenly shifted to one side. A moment later, Layla’s curly head pops into sight, “There you are! The two vans are almost here, and Ford has beach towels.”

Ford also has two straw sun hats, a few pairs of flip-flops, and two extra-large t-shirts that I help the two thinnest women pull on as dresses. Hopefully the fabric will keep their protruding collarbones from attracting too much attention…wherever we’re headed.

“Where are we going?” I whisper to Layla as she and I load into one van with four of the refugees and Ford rides with the rest of them in the other.

“To the landing pad by the river,” she whispers back. “Maxim is sending a bigger helicopter with a strike force unit and a medic. The strike force is going to stay with us while the medic takes these people back to Lost Moon. Ford convinced him that something fishy is going on and we’re going to need backup. Looks like Jean-Paul might not be marrying Juliet, after all. Or if he is, he’s already creepin’ on her. Ford saw him making out with their cousin Bethany in the botanical garden about an hour ago.”

I nod. “That’s what the prisoners said. That he’s marrying someone else and is going to sacrifice Juliet as part of some spell to make his pack stronger than other shifters.”

Layla’s eyes go wide. “Fuck.”

“Exactly. Good thing we have reinforcements on the way,” I say. “We’re going to need them. And someone should find the Zion Alpha ASAP. I think I know why he took President Benoit with him when he ran.”

I explain everything I learned to Layla and then again to Ford when we’re at the landing pad, waiting for the chopper to arrive in the small waiting room.

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