Blood smeared on his jeans. He barely felt the pain in his palms. When his claws cut him, he almost liked the flow of blood.

Almost?

If he’d had a pack, maybe things would have been different for him. Maybe he would have controlled his beast.

Maybe not.

But the wolves in Vegas weren’t any more damn special than he was. If he had to face the fury of the beast alone—day in and day out—then they should have to face it, too.

They should all know what it was like to feel sanity slipping away, moment by moment, until nothing remained.

Until there was only fury. Instinct. Death.

They should all know.

He’d make sure they knew.

Because he was gonna rip that pack apart, even if he had to sacrifice every single hunter in his compound in order to do the job.

After all, what were human lives worth? Humans were weak, meaningless . . .

And only the strong survived in this world.

He was the strong. He was the alpha, and he’d prove that truth to everyone.

CHAPTER FIVE

“So how the hell do we get out of this cage?” Gage demanded, as he paced the small perimeter of their prison, and since he was pacing and they were chained, she pretty much had to pace, too.

Kayla hated the chain that bound them. And hated that she had to tell him, “We don’t get out.”

Those words stopped him. Gage glanced back at her. The faint lines on his face seemed deeper than before. “There’s always a way out.”

Such an optimistic shifter. She shook her head. “Not this time. The cell was designed for the maximum containment of a shifter. Even with your strength, you won’t be able to break the bars. And when you try”—because she suspected he was already thinking about that—“the silver will just burn you. It’s highly concentrated . . . the purest form I’ve ever seen.” Guaranteed to make a shifter scream.

“So you’re just what—giving up?”

Her eyes narrowed. Who did the guy think he was talking to? Sure, yeah, she’d had a sob worthy moment; wasn’t a girl entitled to that when she found out her whole life was a lie? But she was pushing forward, and she wasn’t gonna fall apart again. Kayla straightened her shoulders. “I’m picking my moment,” she said, “and when the right moment comes, I’ll get us out of here.” The moment wasn’t happening then. Sure, no cameras were on them. No other hunters listening in. But this wasn’t the moment to escape. “In an hour, Lyle will be back.”

“And you want to wait for him?” He looked at her like she was crazy.

No, what she really wanted was to slam her fist into Lyle’s face. But waiting was all she could do . . . then. “When he opens that cage door, that’s when we’ll get our freedom.” They just had to move fast enough and be strong enough.

They wouldn’t have long, but that door would open. Lyle—lying, conniving bastard—would be the one to unlock the cage.

Then it would be their turn to attack.

Gage was back to pacing. “And what if they just drug us again? Instead of opening that door wide, what if they shoot us, then drag us out of here one at a time?”

He would point out that option. She shrugged and tried to appear careless. Such an act. “Then we’re screwed.” Because her plan—the only plan that she could think of right then—involved Lyle opening the door for her. He opened it, then she killed him.

End of story.

The guy had always underestimated her. She’d pushed for the more dangerous missions. He’d held her back, saying she wasn’t ready.

I’ll show you killer instinct, asshole.

The chain rattled. Her gaze lifted. Gage was closing in on her and his eyes were glowing with the light of his beast.

She held her ground. Her heart raced in her chest, drumming fast enough to almost hurt, and she wondered just how acute his shifter senses really were.

Could he smell her fear?

If we don’t get out, I die.

Because she knew that when it came down to a choice between Gage’s pack and her, well, there wasn’t a choice at all.

Gage might think that Lyle wouldn’t actually kill her, but Kayla knew better.

Did he really kill my parents? The suspicion was in her gut, knotting deep. For years, she’d been following his orders. He’d given her a home. Given her protection.

And now he wanted to carve her up.

Like he had carved up her mother and father? He’d been there that night, but not as the rescuer she’d thought. As the monster she’d feared.

Gage’s fingers rose to touch her throat. She flinched, then realized that his claws weren’t out. Her breath whispered from between her lips.

“I don’t like that scent from you,” Gage said, his voice a dark rumble of sound.

Uh, come again?

“Fear usually smells good . . .”

So he could smell it.

“But coming from you, the scent just makes me want to kill.” Then he leaned forward. His arms wrapped around her and he lifted her up against him. Gage’s lips pressed against her throat. “I swear, I’ll kill him.”

He was kissing her wounds. His mouth was gentle, but the hands holding her were hard with strength and power.

She trembled against him as his lips moved toward the curve of her ear, and that tremble—it wasn’t from fear.

I should’ve had more time with him.

Gage hadn’t married her for love, yeah, she got that part. But why couldn’t they have just enjoyed a few days together? Had death really needed to come calling hours after she said “I do”?