Page 46 of Having the Dragon's Baby

“Why?” he breathed. “Why this?”

Vincent’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. The blues of his eyes sparked for the last time, and it was when he spoke that Marcus realized he had never really known the man at all.

“Marcus,” he croaked. “I hope your baby is born dead.”

Vincent laughed a smokey, smothered chuckle when Marcus thrust his body’s weight onto Vincent’s throat like he was made of mud, bones shattering and crackling like firewood. He flattened him with several more stomps, turning his head into red and black mush. All that remained were his eyes, staring blankly upward into the canopy, dreams of living long gone.

Now, approximately twenty-four hours later, Marcus stood by the entryway of the base, crouching as he narrowed his vision to count the guards present. Vincent had said ten, but he had planned for double that. He was thankful to see there were only three near the door of the ancient castle-like structure, casually chatting without a concern in the world.

They had to take advantage of their false sense of comfort before word of Vincent’s death spread through the grapevine. Marcus motioned to his enforcers lingering along the wall opposite the gate to go in for the kill.

They all started moving in their human forms as that would garner far less attention. They would need to shift once they were under fire, and even more likely when Orion realized his best-kept secret was systematically dismantled. They had made a meticulous plan that morning that involved removing the guards, freeing the prisoners, and removing Orion from that equation once and for all. Through it all, Rachel snoozed away, naked and at peace in her slumber.

He was invigorated by the idea of needing to protect not only his den and the other affected species but also his mate and their unborn child. He couldn’t risk any potential retaliation when it came to their safety. No, it would end right then and there by his own hands.

The enforcers moved in swiftly and stealthily, taking out the three guards in utter silence. Marcus moved in and disrupted the security cameras, spraying their lenses with paint and regrouping with his men around the side of the building.

“I think we found the prisoners,” one enforcer, a wolf shifter from another clan, said.

Marcus gazed over his shoulder and spotted the prison cells lined up on the hill that overlooked the river. The silence covering them felt like that of a horror movie. Marcus sensed something dreadful stirring inside with sinister intentions.

Marcus grunted, his empathy for the shifters driving his rage.

“Andy, Samuel, Roger, Frank, release the prisoners. Randal and I will head inside. Once they are released, follow us inside. Then we’ll burn this place to the fucking ground.”

Andy, the mate of Christina, gave him a captain’s salute, then headed up the hill on all fours to take out the two guards who stood idly by the cells. Marcus nodded at Randal, and they snuck around to the entrance at the front of the home.

Randal was an expert in lock picking, breaking in with effortless dexterity and skill. They slunk into what looked like a dungeon that hadn’t been modernized in the slightest. It was dimly lit, making it easy for them to hide in the shadows.

Marcus and Randal took out two more guards with blows to the head, after which they dragged their bodies into the dark. They moved quietly, stones scraping under their feet.

They approached what looked like a lounge area, and Marcus raised his hand to halt. When Randal stopped, Marcus lifted his ski mask off his face.

“Orion is mine,” he whispered. “Things will likely get messy here. Call for backup if you’re stuck in a hard place.”

Randal nodded, then removed his own ski mask.

“I got you, boss,” Randal replied. “Always.”

They heard loud voices booming in the lounge area. They would have to go in guns blazing. No sneaking around anymore. He took one last look at Randal.

Randal grinned. “Let’s fuck them up.”

Marcus kicked the door in, and then everything started to move in slow motion. There were two men to the right and two men to the left. Both Randal and Marcus were able to take them out with prompt slashes of their claws to the throat and kicks to vital organs. Once they were slain, Marcus came upon the man who had been in charge of the ring all along, seated upon what looked like a makeshift throne, wearing a robe like a king.

Orion was startled but soon grew a gnarly grin when he realized what was happening. He shot to his feet, fangs exposed as he stripped out of his clothing.

His voice was hoarse and would have been threatening to the inexperienced. But Marcus was pumped with adrenaline and the need for justice. Nothing would destroy his will.

“Marcus!” Orion crooned. “You have come to me. How bittersweet.”

Randal snapped the neck of the final guard, his body smashing to the ground. For a moment, the only sound Marcus could hear was his own heartbeat and the crackling of the fireplace behind Orion.

He was an old, vindictive man. Marcus would never let him see the light of day again.

“Take your final breath, Orion,” Marcus said, removing his own clothing. “And pick your words wisely. They will soon be buried with the shitty legacy you’re leaving behind.”

Orion threw his head back and cackled while the pounding of feet shook the floor below Marcus's feet. He wasted no time in checking to see if the reinforcements were his or Orion’s. He shifted into his powerful dragon, sending his head through the ceiling and opening the room to the stars above.

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