Page 37 of Fae Divided
Her brother made a circle with his index.Go.
They entered the barn—returning less than three minutes later.
“It’s done,” Jenkins said with a grimace.
Sarah blew out a breath, stomach pitching. The plan was to incapacitate every outcast on the grounds and worry about questioning them after freeing James. The witch would render them unconscious for the night with magic while the vampire broke their necks.
Fracturing vertebrae wouldn’t kill a Ferwyn, or a Dádhe for that matter, but it seemed an excessively brutal method of containment. Logically, Sarah understood the necessity. They were the enemy. Her heart, on the other hand, wondered if any of her former clanmates would be forced to experience days of painful healing while their spines slowly realigned.
She shook her head, not allowing herself to think about that right now. James might be suffering worse than a broken ne—
“Oh, crap.” Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth as the mating bond suddenly opened. After her initial sense of relief, she searched for signs James had been hurt. Her chest ached as she slammed into a brick wall, the barrier confirming her fear. He was blocking his pain.
“What is it?” Jenkins asked, careful to keep his voice low. Something Sarah hadn’t thought to do in her shock. Samuel grunted as though he’d been sucker-punched, and the Anwyll’s gaze swung to her brother.
“It’s James,” he said through a jawline jutting with elongated teeth, his lids closing to conceal eyes sparking wolf-yellow. “And he’s upset with his Alpha.”
James was letting his temper loose on Samuel for something that was Sarah’s fault. She was the one who insisted on coming. It saddened her that the impetus for James bridging the gap with his pack Alpha was anger.
“Don’t,” Samuel told her, sensing her regret. “It was my decision. Mine.”
“Are we going to stand around and discuss our feelings all night?” Prince Myles asked.
“Asshole,” Tucker said so quietly it was nearly subvocal.
“Do you want to go back, Sarah?” Samuel’s irises reverted to a warm amber.
She pulled in a deep breath and met the prince’s cool gaze. “No, I do not.”
“I suggest we get on with it then.” The vampire tilted his head, listening. “We have company coming.”
Samuel grasped her shoulders. “Stay hidden. You shouldn’t need your gun but aim for the head if you do. And if things go to complete shit, I want you to run for the truck and drive straight to the queen. Don’t stop for any reason.”
“But what if—”
“Promise me you’ll run.”
“I’ll run.”
“You’d better.” Samuel kissed her forehead and stepped away. “Jenkins, take Sarah with you and stick with the plan.”
His demeanor had swiftly switched from caring Alpha to Clan príoh and commander of the queen’s Guard, but her overprotective brother was still determined to keep her safe by partnering her with the battle-tested Anwyll. Casting high-powered offensive spells like fire and lightning required a modicum of distance, or the witch could get burned along with his target. She’d be as far from the action as possible.
They moved with purpose, their pace slowing after hitting the farm’s backyard, the scraggly bushes that framed the untended lawn providing inadequate coverage. The team had been forced to go in semi-blind. The heart of the outcasts’ property was concealed by an Anwyll’s ward and invisible to aerial satellite.
Halting her progress halfway down the line of hedges, Jenkins motioned for her to wait.
Sarah hunkered down, gun cocked, locked, and loaded. A single bead of sweat trailed from her hairline to her cheek and dripped off her chin as she kept her eyes trained on the battle witch. He expertly navigated the length of the homestead. The shade of his hair, clothing, and short beard all but camouflaged his wiry form in the darkness and made following his progress challenging even with a she-wolf’s enhanced vision.
Masculine voices drifted from the direction of the driveway, and she strained to make out what was said. Her Ferwyn hearing caught nothing more than frustrating murmurs.
The Dádhe prince would have been able to make out every word.
The witch finally waved Sarah forward, and she walked in a crouch, meeting him at the farthest edge of the building.
He withdrew a hunting knife from a carrier on his thigh and offered it to Sarah. She smiled and raised her hand, wiggling blunt fingertips. When her claws came out, they’d be sharper than any metal dagger. He nodded, pointed to the spot between his feet, and then left her to maneuver the rest of the way solo.
Sarah dropped to her belly, army crawling to the corner and sticking her head around far enough to see Jenkins creep to the side of the porch; three feet of whitewashed concrete and a clump of shrubs providing him limited shelter.
