Stepping around his desk to the hidden panel in the wall, he waited for his weapons rack to reveal itself. Conall quickly armed himself with a few handguns before closing the panel. Against witches, especially with the curse of mortality upon them, guns were very useful.
He was leaving his study when the phone rang. He paused and glanced at the clock. It was after nine. “Yes?”
“Conall Athelwulf. Are you already preparing your wolves for an attack?”
It was Cronin. How he’d gotten his number, Conall didn’t know. Nor did he care. “Where are they?” It didn’t need to be said who “they” were. Both knew.
“Do you really believe I’m going to tell you that?”
“Then we have nothing to discuss.”
“Wait!” The phone was already away from his ear and halfway down by the time he heard the shout. He lifted the receiver once more.
“What?”
“I want to speak to Vivienne.”
Eyes narrowing, Conall snarled, “You’ll say whatever you have to say to me.”
“Suit yourself. If you attack my covenant, I will kill Evelyn. I’ve been anticipating doing it for a while now. If by some chance, you make it inside, I will promptly kill Cassandre. And then I will search for Vivienne—”
“Did you think threats would keep you safe?” Conall made his voice deceptively soft as he felt his fangs sharpen.
“They aren’t threats, Conall, but guarantees.”
“I have a guarantee for you. I’m going to kill you before the night is out, Cronin, but before I do, I’m going to make you suffer.”
He hung up and stepped from the study to find Sloan. After advising his beta to screen all calls for Cronin, he headed to the row of black SUVs parked in front of his house. Maximilian’s threats were baseless. He wouldn’t kill Evelyn, because she was his only leverage over Cassandre, and he obviously wouldn’t kill Cassandre because without her, he couldn’t resurrect the druids, and regain his immortality. No doubt Maximilian intended to somehow coerce his mate into meeting him somewhere, possibly under the guise of helping her family. With Sloan keeping an eye on her, and the rest of his pack doing high-risk patrols, there was no way Vivienne was leaving Cedar Creek.
***
Drew grimaced as the pale man laid her against a wonderfully soft object, a bed or a plush sofa. Her lids were half-lowered, and she could barely make out his features, just that he was pale, with dark hair.
The pain had faded, and in its place was blessed numbness. She was dying, and she knew it.
A cool hand brushed against her neck and she managed to whisper Max’s name. Where was he? When she’d opened her eyes that last time it was to find she was being washed by the pale man whose features she could not see. She was too weak to fight him, and his ministrations were gentle. Except for the sting as the water touched her cuts, it felt good. But where was Max?
She moaned low in her throat.
“Shh,” the man above her whispered. “All will be well, Drew. Just relax, and listen to my voice.” The hand at her neck gently caressed her. “Close your eyes.”
She shook her head. No. She was terrified of this darkness. It was threatening to close in on her, and she was afraid. Afraid to die alone. Where was Max?
A hand cupped her cheek gently, and the man leaned close. His features were still blurred, and she blinked as she tried to focus.
“Just close your eyes, little one,” he repeated slowly, and the hand at her cheek moved until it was over her eyes. “Trust me. I promise not harm you.”
Her lids became heavy, and Drew did as commanded. He continued speaking, low words of trust and promises she didn’t understand. She thought back to Max. He was alive. Had he left her with this man so he could warn Vivienne and Cassie?
She tried to swallow, and coughed weakly. The man’s voice invaded her mind once more. Feeling a pressure come down on her, Drew opened her eyes slightly. The man’s face was inches away, but he was still whispering to her, reassuring words. Her lids lowered again.
His face lowered to hers, and she felt the brush of his cool cheek against her own, and tensed. What was he doing? Where was Max? Oh God, the darkness was engulfing her. She could feel it becoming permanent. She would never open her eyes again, never see her friends again….
The voice came again, calming her.
“Drusilla,” he murmured, and Drew tried to shake her head. That wasn’t her name. Drew. She was just Drew. Where was Max?
A hand slid under her body, holding her firm, and his breath caressed her neck.
She’d barely recognized that before a searing burn ripped through her, so painful only a small cry erupted from her lips before her entire body went into shock. Her throat worked but no sound escaped. She might have cried, but she could no longer feel the tears running down her face.