Page 25 of Into the Dawn

Through our bond, I feel Vanessa's satisfaction at her brother's pain.

"You should have cuffed him," Rusty comments. "He knows he can't take me, but you're an easy target."

Jed seethes. His oversight is an obvious one, and he really hates being called out on it. How this man thinks he'd make a better clan leader than his father is beyond me. He clearly has delusions of grandeur. My nose picks up the sharp scent of his humiliation.

We fall into the exact opposite of companionable silence as Jed's father guides the truck along narrow roads, turning off the main street on the far side of town and driving toward a high fence. It's almost hidden by lush green trees, but the gates roll back to the sides as we approach, two men on each side, giving Jed's father a nervous salute as he passes. Their eyes immediately land on me, widening slightly in surprise as they see a member of the King family being brought into their midst.

My beast memorizes their scents, their positions. Four guards, poorly stationed, too close together to effectively cover the gate. Another weakness. They’re lazy and cocky, which is a dangerous combination.

Jed gives them an evil smirk, and they grin back, already seemingly aware of what's likely to happen to me. The stench of their anticipation fills the air.

Somehow, I doubt this is their first rodeo.

Maybe this clan regularly drags people into their compound and puts them down, gladiator style. Maybe this is how they train. Maybe this is how they spend their Saturday nights. Popcorn and a fight to the death.

The thought should worry me, but instead, it just feeds my determination. These men won't hurt anyone else after today.

I remain focused, trying to memorize the geography of the land, and any significant landmarks, doing something helpful rather than panicking. The compound sprawls across several acres, buildings scattered in what looks like random placement but probably isn't. My beast notes defensive positions, escape routes, and places where shadows will provide cover when night falls.

"You said there's someone you want me to see?"

Nobody says anything, and for a moment, I think they're not going to answer until Rusty looks back, observing me closely as he announces the name that I already knew I'd hear.

"John," he says simply.

I try to look the perfect blend of surprised and infuriated, knowing full well that if he thinks Vanessa has already told me, it could put our plan in jeopardy. We can't seem too buddy-buddy.

Through our bond, I feel Vanessa's anxiety spike at the mention of John.

Jed's father stares at me, tilting his head to the side, maybe not completely convinced by my reaction. "Tell me, Ben, how did my daughter lure a smart guy like you to her cabin in the middle of nowhere without divulging that we have your father locked up in our compound?"

I stare at him hard and lift one shoulder in a stubborn shrug then return to staring out the window.

"I guess I'm just a sucker for a great rack." The words taste bitter on my tongue, but they seem to do the trick as Rusty lets out a dark laugh and shifts in his seat.

My beast snarls internally at speaking about our mate that way, but sometimes, the best way to hide is in plain sight.

"I hope it was worth it."

Oh, it will be. My beast's certainty fills me as I memorize every detail of the compound, every weakness these men reveal. By the time this is over, they'll understand exactly what kind of predator they've brought into their midst.

The King’s are no ordinary beasts. There’s a reason my brother is so feared. And though I’m outwardly more friendly and affable, my beast is not.

Especially when it comes to those who belong to him.

14

BEN

The compound is like some post-apocalyptic hillbilly nightmare, all centred around a large, open dirt area.

My beast catalogues every detail, the way the buildings form a natural arena, how the shadows fall across open spaces, and where cover might be found. The placement isn't random; it's designed to trap, to corner, to control.

There's a haphazard circle of ramshackle wooden houses, and at the top of them all, one much bigger, fancier homestead with a wide porch and a swing that faces directly at the entrance onto the property. The perfect vantage point for an egomaniac alpha to watch his domain.

It's still early, and the sky is a pale, washed-out blue with streaks of yellow and a haze still hanging over the mountain. The air feels heavy, oppressive, like the land itself knows what happens here.

The trees around the compound are sparse looking, just as straggly and unkempt as the few mangy dogs that wander up to the truck as we roll to a stop. My nose picks up their fear scent; even the animals here are beaten down.

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