Page 105 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

“Your papa’s trying to run us off the road,” I said.

“My papa’s dead. His name was Abel Williams. That’s my real last name, you know. I only took Pallás because?—”

BAM!

The Mini lurched forward. I glanced in the rearview and saw Mason behind the wheel. Floyd was in the passenger seat. He looked bloated and pale, like he hadn’t quite recovered from what I’d done to him.

Nice.

“The parking lot’s right there,” Ronan said, in the tone of a drunk trying to sound sober. “Slow down or you’re going to—holy shit!”

Chapter

Twenty-Two

“Nailed it.”

If I’d been driving Ida’s LTD, I wouldn’t have made the turn.

As it was, I nearly rolled the Mini. Ronan made a hissing sound when his hip hit the console.

“You okay?”

He gave me a grimace and a thumbs-up.

I parked, switched off the radio, and turned off the car. “I’ve got this.”

He ignored me and got out of the car. Limped around the front, one hand on the hood. “Gods, I’m sorry to bring this to your front door.”

“Stay back,” I replied. “For once, let me handle things.”

He stopped, back bowed, thigh resting against the driver’s side headlamp. “Betty? I can’t … shift,” he whispered, his mouth downturned, anguish in every line of his exhausted face. “I did it before, but now… Something is wrong—really wrong.”

I peered over my shoulder and whispered back, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

His gaze moved from me to Floyd and back again. His affirmative head tilt was slight. He didn’t return to the car, but he didn’t move any closer, either.

The SUV idled at the curb. It wouldn’t come any closer. Mason and Floyd were assholes, but they weren’t fools; they knew what happened to unwelcome visitors to the Siete Saguaros Mobile Home Park.

If they came onto my land without permission, they’d suffer the same fate Margaux had. No matter how strong they were, it wouldn’t be enough to take on the park’s magic. They’d found that out the last time they were here.

“You have my wolf, witch,” Floyd said, with a snarl. “Hand him over to his pack.”

“You want him? You’re going to have to come through me.”

He growled then said, “You think that’s a challenge? You’re nothing. Not a wolf, barely a real witch. Hell, are you even a woman?”

The skitter of rocks told me Ronan was moving behind me, but he said nothing.

“Set a single foot on my land, Floyd Pallás, and you’ll regret it. And this time when I have you down, I won’t let you go.” I looked at Mason, who’d exited the car and was standing by the tailgate. “No matter how much your second begs for your life.”

I planted my feet in a huge dirt patch in the sparse gravel then bent at the waist and scooped a handful of soil into my right hand.

“The Pallás wolf pack is unwelcome on this land. Any wolf who tries to enter my property—unless expressly invited—takes their life in their hands.”

I strode to the edge of the parking lot and tossed the soil high above my head, smiling at Floyd as it rained down on me. Every grain hit my flesh with a pleasing sting of heat, sheathing my body in a cloud of steaming vapor.

“Get out.”

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