Page 9 of To Hunt A Wolf
“Take her into custody,” he tells them.
Fear grips me.
This is bad. Like really, horribly, life-threatening bad.
“It wasn’t me,” I say quickly. “It was…”
When I look back, Levi is gone.
ChapterTwo
My wrists are bound—painfully tight—and before they even attempt to move me, I’m force-fed a strong concoction of wolfsbane to mute my wolf. I swallow if only to keep from choking. The deadly herb lacing the cold brew burns my throat. I fight panic, thinking of all the people who’ve overdosed and died from this stuff. But there’s no stopping the liquid being poured into my mouth. When the cup is empty, I cough as my wolf strains to the surface one last time. She knows she’s about to disappear, and she’s pissed as hell about it. A snarl rips from me, and I lurch toward the guard. He responds by backhanding my cheek hard enough to drive my entire body sideways.
Pain explodes behind my cheekbone, radiating through my skull. It takes everything in me to remain upright and to keep from retaliating.
Instead, I bite my lip until I taste blood.
When I look back at the asshole, he smirks, which nearly shatters my control. But then he moves aside as Thiago comes to stand before me.
“Mackenzie Quinn, notorious bounty hunter,” he drawls. “Oh, wait. That’s your whore of a mother I’m thinking of.”
I don’t even think; I simply act.
My skull cracks his as I head-butt the bastard.
“Ugh.” He groans in pain and backs away.
Unfortunately, the guard is back again, delivering one of his signature backhands. This time, I go down on one knee from the force of it.
Not good enough, apparently.
Thiago is there in an instant, recovered and way too pissed for my own safety. He shoves me to the ground with his boot and delivers a kick to my ribs that brings tears to my eyes.
From this angle, I can clearly see the door I used to enter. The one Levi fled through.
It’s empty.
Just like my stupid heart where he’s concerned.
Asshole.
Just like the rest of them.
“What the hell do we have here?”
The sound of Thiago’s voice draws me back, and I twist my head around to see him standing over Dirk.
Shit.
I forgot about him.
Dirk’s eyes go wide as he stares up at Thiago.
“What is this, little Quinn?” Thiago snaps at me.
He doesn’t take his eyes off Dirk this time, which is fine by me. I’ll answer his question if it means his focus is on something besides breaking my ribs.
“Your dad put out a bounty on his head,” I say, the words scratchy and laced with pain. Behind my back, I work the ropes around my wrist, hoping to loosen them.
