Page 60 of Mated to the Human: Volume One

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The vehicle slid to a hard stop, sending Merrick sliding across the hard floor and cracking his head against something metal.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, wishing his hands were free so he could rub at the ache.

A moment later, a door slid open and those grabbing hands were back, hauling him out of the vehicle before they let him get his feet under him. The bag over his head was ripped off, blinding him for a second as harsh fluorescent light made him scrunch his eyes closed.

“Bring him over here,” an authoritative and somewhat familiar voice said.

Merrick frowned, squinted his eyes open, and struggled to keep his feet as the men holding his arms dragged him forward.

“I do apologize about the rough treatment, Mr. Black, but it seems we’re going to move up our schedule.”

Merrick’s eyes finally adjusted, and he looked around. High ceiling, concrete floors, metal walls, and the old tang of motor oil lingering in the air. Directly in front of him, a chair sat alone with a portable construction lamp illuminating it and the area around it. There was a line of men standing behind the chair—all armed with black masks covering their faces.

Sweat sprang out on Merrick’s body as fear, cold and bone-rattling, settled in his stomach. He was going to be sick. He was going to die. His hysterical thoughts ground to a halt when his gaze landed on the man who’d spoken, the only one without a mask and standing off to the side of the chair, away from the light—Neal Riven, the police commissioner and Hollis’s uncle.

“You son of a bitch,” Merrick spat suddenly, rage overcoming his fear and his body jerking against his captors’ hold. “Hollis was right about you.”

“My nephew is rarely right about anything,” Neal said with a sneer. He looked to one of the men holding Merrick. “Shut him up and get the camera.”

He fought. Of course he did, but they held him down. One of them punched him in the face. The blow knocked his head back against the ground, sending a jolt of blinding pain up through the back of his head to meet the one radiating out from his cheek. In his dazed state, they pressed a strip of duct tape over his lips before sitting him in the chair and securing his wrist to the arms with more tape.

“I do apologize that it had to be you, Merrick, but what better way to make our statement than with the wealthiest man in the city? These paranormals and their human pets need to know that if we can get to you, we can get to anyone. No paranormal sympathizer is safe.” Neal walked to stand in front of Merrick, bending down enough that they were eye to eye. “I’ll take no pleasure in your death, but that vampire you’ve tied yourself to? His death and all the others at that gym tonight are only the beginning of the clean slate we’re going to give this city.”

Neal stood up and walked back out of the light. Another man stood in front of Merrick with a phone pointed his way, like he was recording a video. He felt someone step up behind him as the sharp edge of a knife rested against the front of his throat.

“Neal!” A shout from outside. Was that Hollis? “You fucking coward! If you want Richard to see the light of day tomorrow, you’ll give us Merrick right now!”

10

Leander landed with a light thump on the other side of the road from the old warehouse the van had disappeared into. The gargoyle landed beside him. He held out his hand. “Leander.”

“Bellicent,” she said, grip sure and the redness from the silver fading fast from her face. She healed as fast as he did, apparently.

The group of motorcycles slammed to a stop in front of them, and movement in the shadows around them caught Leander’s eye. Ammon came running out of the shadows a moment later. He was in wolf form, looking half feral as he scented the air, and a low growl started in his chest in the direction of the warehouse.

Leander placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and turned to Derek. The hellhound leader was still on his motorcycle, half his face blistered and raw from the holy water. Arms slipped out from around Derek’s waist as Hollis slid off the bike.

“Let’s surround the warehouse,” Derek said, voice rough, like the holy water had damaged his throat as well. A second later, Derek was off his bike, taking off after his mate, who’d already stomped his way halfway to the warehouse.

“Neal!” Hollis screamed. “You fucking coward! If you want Richard to see the light of day tomorrow, you’ll give us Merrick right now!”

Leander’s gaze whipped back around to the other hellhounds. There, on the back of Rook’s bike, was a man tied up and gagged. They’d wrapped his arms around the hellhound and handcuffed his wrists together to keep him on the bike. The man’s eyes were wild as he tried to spit curses from behind the bandana tied around his head and stuck in his mouth like a bit.

“Who?” he said to Rook.

“Richard Riven. Neal’s son. He led the attack on the gym.”

Something vicious clawed its way up Leander’s throat as he moved forward and grabbed one of Richard’s arms. He and Rook dragged Richard over to where Hollis and Derek were standing ten feet back from the warehouse’s big sliding door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the wolves and other hellhounds moving to surround the building as Derek had ordered.

Bellicent came to stand at his side.

“Neal!” Hollis yelled again. “You have ten seconds to open this door and give us Merrick unharmed, or so help me god, I’ll shoot Richard myself!”

Leander looked over at Hollis. There were tear tracks on his face, but his hands were steady. The rage he was feeling was plain to see in every line of his body. It matched the fire in Leander’s own chest. He wasn’t as generous, though. If he didn’t lay eyes on a whole Merri in the next five seconds, he’d tear the whole goddamn building and Richard apart.

Hollis sucked in another breath, ready to yell again, it seemed, when the door started to move.

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