The other female—or whatever she was—went to the door. As she glanced over her shoulder, there was a warping in the air around her, her aura of power causing a distortion.
“I had to wait until the weakening started.”
With that mic drop, the female opened the way out and stepped into the hall.
Worried she’d miss her chance to ask for details, Beth fucked off the pan and hustled out. As she clapped the steel panel shut, something in the back of her mind was firing, but the distraction was easily extinguished.
“What about the weakening.” She scrambled over to Rahvyn and took the female’s arm. “Tell me.”
Chapter Four
Wrath caught his dog in time, just before the collision.
He’d heard the municipal snowplow first, the bass cadence of its massive engine weaving its way into his ears, even with his distraction and the chatter and the storm. That was when he’d yelled—and that was when his dagger hand had shot down and locked onto the harness handle. As the impact had turned everything inside the Suburban into a projectile, his seat belt had locked him in place, and his arm strength had kept George from slamming into the console between the front seats.
But just because the two of them were okay didn’t mean shit about the others. There was blood on the cold air rushing through the interior, along with snow and salt.
As another blast of wind whistled through the SUV, he released the lock on his torso. “Tohr.” When there was no response, he tested the scents on the cold air again. “V, I can smell his blood. What’s going on—”
Shit, there was V’s blood, too.
From the back, Butch’s voice was grim and urgent. “We’re northbound on the Northway, between exits three and four. Front impact. Two injured, Wrath’s with us. We need the mobile surgical unitnow.”
For as much as Wrath’s nose and hearing could orientate him, he was still trapped in a sightless void. But fuck that for laughs. Reaching forward, he patted around and found a shoulder on the left and a shoulder on the right.
There was no response on either side.
“Stay,” he ordered George.
Willing the car locks to disengage, he cranked the handle and shoved the door wide.
A blizzard gust barreled into him like it was trying to stuff him back in the SUV. Forcing his upper body forward, he went to put a shitkicker out—
“No!”
A pair of hands locked on his arm and dragged him back. At the same time, there was the holler of a car horn, a fresh roar of wind, and the high-pitched scream of metal being ripped as the door was torn from its hinges. In the shocked aftermath, the Suburban rocked from side to side, and George whimpered and pushed his way under Wrath’s knee.
There was so much more wind now, whipping through from the busted front windshield to the newest hole next to him.
Holy fuck—
“Holy fuck,” Rhage muttered. “That waswaytoo close.”
Collapsing back and closing his useless eyes, Wrath listened to his heart thunder as he breathed through his nose. When the stench of gas and burning plastic got to be too much, he had to crack his mouth to keep up with the inhaling.
He hadn’t heard that one coming.
“What’s the ETA, cop?” he asked over the din.
“On Manny and the surgical RV or the fucking human we ran into? ’Cuz that last one is now—”
“Jesus,” a voice with a New Yorker accent announced. “My salt box got you boys fucked up.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Rhage muttered grimly. Then, more loudly, “Right? Fuck. Everybody okay in your truck?”
There was some grunting, and then Wrath got walked over by his brother, like they were playing clown car with the SUV. Yeah, that was fun. Hollywood squeezing by him and George was like trying to get Sasquatch through a mouse hole. And ofcourse, something mashed his nuts. Shitkicker? Knee? Who the fuck knew.
Thank God the door was ripped off.
