No tracker. Even through the daze, he realized the significance of what was happening. Kayla hadn’t led anyone to them but—

Betrayed.

The wolves who should have been there to protect him . . . one or both of those assholes had turned on him.

“I can’t help you,” Jonah said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a whoosh of sound. A gasp. Gage managed to turn his head—it took his last bit of strength but he turned his head—and he saw the feather sticking from Kayla’s chest.

The tranq worked faster on her. She fell immediately, slumping back on the floor.

The hunter’s feet padded closer. The guy bent down. Put his fingers to Kayla’s throat.

He still had on his ski mask, but Gage didn’t need to see the man’s face. He had the bastard’s scent now, and he’d be able to track him any place. Brother or not . . . “Y-you’re . . . dead . . .”

Through the ski mask, the one she’d called Jonah stared back at him with golden eyes an exact shade to match Kayla’s. “No, wolf, you are.”

The darkness swept over Gage, but he still smiled as the drugs pumped through him. Smiled because he knew the hunter was wrong. And when Gage woke again . . .

He’d make sure the hunter got just what he deserved.

CHAPTER FOUR

She was in a cage.

Kayla’s head hurt, pounded like a freaking bitch, and she was caged.

The cage was the first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes. Rather hard to miss it since the bars were over her head where a ceiling should be.

Holding prison. Yeah, dammit, she knew this place. She’d seen a unit like this plenty of times before.

A cage to hold shifters.

I’m not a shifter.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

She was just married to one.

Her head turned slowly to the left as she followed the sound of that deep voice, and that was when she noticed the second big important fact of the moment. She wasn’t alone in that cage. Gage. A big, half-naked, pissed Gage was beside her. And . . . and he was chained to her.

A silver handcuff circled his right wrist. A chain extended from that cuff . . . extended about five feet . . . then ended in the matching silver cuff that locked around her left wrist.

“What the hell?” She jerked off the small bed. More of a cot than anything else. The bars of their cage were silver, she knew that. The better to keep the wolves in place. Because every time they touched silver . . .

They could burn.

She grabbed Gage’s wrist. The flesh was an angry red. Blistered.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, with a flash of that crooked, half-smile, “you can kiss it later and make it all better.”

She dropped his hand.

He grabbed hers right back as the smile vanished from his face. “I’m killinghim.”

The cold knot in her stomach told her exactly who he was taking about. “Don’t.” How had things gotten so screwed to hell and back? “He’s all I have left.”

“Then he shouldn’t have fucking shot you.”

She had nothing to say to that. The chain hung between them. With her free hand, she reached up and rubbed her chest. It hurt, ached, and she knew there’d be one shiner of a bruise on her flesh where she’d taken the tranq.

How could she explain this? Right then, she was more than ready to tear off Jonah’s head, but . . . he really was all that she had left. “He’s had a hard time with wolves.”

“Yeah, cry me a bleeding river.” Gage’s eyes blazed at her. “The dick shot his own sister, so I don’t care what kind of sob story you spin. He’s a dead man.”

She glanced over her shoulder because she didn’t want to look in his eyes anymore. She wasn’t going to let him go after her brother, but she wasn’t about to argue right then, not with cameras on them.

And she was sure they were being watched. Her gaze went to the left. The right. Ah . . . there. Nestled in the far corner of the room. The slowly rotating camera had to be recording their every move.

Rats in a cage. No, wolves in a cage.

But . . . just why were they still alive? Her, okay, sure, she was human, so they wouldn’t just bury a silver bullet in her heart and dump her body. But Gage? He was at the top of Lyle’s most wanted list.

So why was he caged and not killed?

“Is this the MO?” He wanted to know and he tugged on her wrist to pull her attention back to him. “You catch the wolves, then you lock them up here?”

She licked her lips. “Sometimes.”

“And sometimes you just kill them.”

Her gaze snapped back to his. “The only shifters we hunt are those who’ve been preying on humans. Killing humans. What are we supposed to do? Let human cops go after them?” Her laugh was bitter. She’d learned the brutal truth about the way that worked when she’d been sixteen. “Human cops wouldn’t be able to handle the monsters.” That was why her team was called in.

“But you can,” he said flatly.

“I can.” Whispered. Her team could. Lyle’s group was contracted by Uncle Sam. The government knew all about supernaturals, and they paid a good penny to make sure that the right people—the right hunters—went after their vicious prey.

They weren’t just randomly picking up supernaturals. Not all the supernaturals out there were even dangerous. But some . . . some were real-life nightmares that couldn’t be stopped by normal means. Lyle’s team was hunting the cases that no one else could manage.