Page 96 of Marked By Moonlight

She shook her head fiercely. “No! You have to get us out of here now!”

Gideon waved a hand in the air to calm her. “I promise I’ll get you out of here.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “For now you have to stay quiet, okay? No more pounding.”

“Hell, no! Listen, you asshole—”

He closed the door on her protests and set the bolt back in place. The pounding resumed with gusto.

Gideon’s gaze shot to the open door. The air outside had deepened to an opaque purple. Time was up.

“We’re not going to get me home in time,” Darius announced, his words echoing Gideon’s grim thoughts. “You’re going to have to kill me.”

Gideon turned to face Darius, leveling his gun at him as he did so.

Darius held up both hands, saying mockingly, “I didn’t mean just this second.”

“Can you feel it coming on yet?”

“Yes.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, the only sign of his tension. Of his unwillingness to die. “We have a little time. You still need me—I’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“We’ve searched the house.” Gideon ran his hand through his hair roughly. “What’s left?” He refused to believe Claire wasn’t here somewhere. She had to be. Just as Darius could feel Cyril, Gideon could feel Claire. He knew she was here. His heart felt her.

Darius pointed. Gideon followed his finger to the back door just as the wind blew it shut—and revealed another door.

A steel-framed door.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Never underestimate a dog’s survival skills.

—Man’s Best Friend: An Essential Guide to Dogs

Gideon turned the doorknob and stepped onto a small landing overlooking a basement. The air was several degrees cooler than in the rest of the house. Darius stepped beside him.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust to the dimness and zero in on Cyril standing below, arms wrapped around Claire and a girl, the student she’d hugged at Woody’s. He had not counted on seeing the girl.

His eyes sought Claire, drinking in the sight of her, checking to see she was unharmed. Apart from her wide, anxious gaze, she looked in one piece. He breathed easier.

“Gideon!” she cried out, trying to step forward.

Cyril pulled her back, one hand tightening around her neck. Gideon lurched forward, ready to go to her, but Darius flung out an arm to stop him. They exchanged looks, the message in Darius’s eyes clear, urging patience, caution. Gideon took a deep breath and collected himself. If they wanted to get out of this alive, he couldn’t let his emotions rule him. He needed to keep a cool head.

“Darius!” Cyril called out in greeting, his voice ringing with false warmth. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Darius’s gaze swept the basement and its three inhabitants. “Isn’t this a familiar scene?” he muttered dryly. “Guess some things never change. If a lycan doesn’t want to kill, you’ll find a way to make sure they do.”

Chuckling, Cyril shook his head.

Gideon fought to control the anger spiking through him at the sight of that bastard’s paws on her. The way his fingers dug into Claire’s skin—he had to force himself not to fly down the steps and wrench her from his arms.

“Still miffed about that?” Cyril queried.

Instead of answering the question, Darius’s voice rang out in quiet command. “Let them go.”

“You’re not in charge anymore, remember?” Cyril taunted. “We voted you out unanimously. I rule this pack now.”

Darius started down the steps. Gideon followed.

“Still the good monk?” Cyril continued with a shake of his head. “Why can’t you just accept what you are, Brother Darius?”

---