Dawn Released

As badly as Hunter had wanted to accompany the mission to Texas. He understood the real reason why his father had ordered him to stay put. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of handling the danger. It was simply because if he went and didn't make it back the damage to Daniel would be something the boy would never recover from and he'd lost too much already.

The thought of bringing another child into the world terrified the both of them. Their world was unstable, volatile, and it wouldn't take much to tip it on its axis. Hunter wanted a baby with Gina as badly as she wanted one with him. He'd be a better father this time around and that too, would be another black mark against him in Daniel's mental collection of all the wrongs Hunter had committed against him.

Gina nodded at Daniel. The kid stood, watching the SUV disappear into the distance with his shoulders slouched in uncertainty. His grandfather and brother had practically raised him. Hunter needed to go to his son. Not to offer any reassurances that the two men were coming back. Daniel was far beyond the point where reassurances nobody could possibly keep would ease him any.

Daniel was a cold, hard, realist. Almost brutal in the way he broke down the world around him. He expected nothing and was never disappointed when he got it. She'd like to believe that someday, her stepson would complete the journey and make a complete turn around. Become the man, loving, open, and whole. She knew he could be if he chose to. She was uncertain about that though. She nudged Hunter, almost shoving him toward his son.

Hunter walked awkwardly with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had no idea of how to handle his middle child. He couldn't. Daniel was too much like him. He saw through any fluff and puff Hunter might think to say. Watching his grandfather and his brother ride off into danger and the knowledge that they might not come back was torturing Daniel. He stood there a mere arm's length from his son, saying nothing. Daniel said nothing too. After all what was there to say between two men so similar and yet worlds apart?

Chapter 14

Eloise lounged on the chaise, trying desperately to look as if she were happy and didn't have a care in the world. She'd pinched her lips until they were swollen and sore. Applied extra blush to her cheeks to give her face a radiant glow. Idly she watched as the omega female she'd once called a friend did her job. Dutifully depositing a tray loaded with food on the coffee table and setting out to change the bed linens and clean the suite. No doubt, Shayla would report straight back to Seff. Eloise patted Torr's hand in a false gesture of adoration, as he rested it on her shoulder.

"Mistress, I forgot, here's the morning paper." Shayla looked at Eloise through thick, dark, veiled lashes that hid her eyes. She had managed to hang on to her position as Eloise's housekeeper and cook. She had done so by swearing absolute loyalty to Seff and his band of thugs. She had taken the vow of fealty, but she had not meant a word she'd said

Eloise looked like a well-pleasured woman. Her face was glowing and her lips were swollen and bruised from passion. The room smelled of sex and the bed was absolutely destroyed. Torr's big hand rested protectively on her mistress's shoulder. The appearance was there, but like her, had Eloise simply been forced to through the motions without meaning the words?

Shayla was taking a big risk, one that could cost her life. She knew the house was bugged and that there were cameras. But, she had to get word to her mistress that she was not alone. There were others, a precious few, still loyal to her. She worried that Torr would intercept the note buried within the fashion section of the Sunday paper and that he'd report it straight to his father. The note was vague, but it was enough to seal the fates of the loyal. Seff would have them publicly executed, just as he had the last person that had dared to oppose him, her late husband, Ramon.

She'd stood there, forced to watch him die. Seff's omegas were ruthless and cruel. They tortured Ramon for hours before they finally ended it. Her husband died with Eloise's name on his lips, vowing loyalty with his last breath. No one else had been brave enough to resist Seff after that. They were all helpless. Eloise was back now and things were no better. She was just as helpless as they were. Shayla hoped for all their sakes that Eloise hadn't sold out like so many others had. "Will there be anything else, Mistress?"

"No, that'll be all. Thank you, Shayla." Eloise had heard about what happened to Shayla's husband and the news devastated her. If she ever got out, so was anyone else who wanted out. She just didn't know how she was going to get herself out, let alone anyone else.

"Enjoy your fashion pages." Shayla left with a tiny courtesy, hiding her trembling fingers in the wad of soiled linen.

Eloise sipped her coffee. Her stomach couldn't handle anything more substantial today. She flipped through the bulging Sunday edition and pulled out the fashion section. At least Seff hadn't taken away her Sunday paper. She opened the pages and snatched up a note that fluttered to the floor from between the folds of the thick newspaper. Curious, she carefully opened the note and read it. Her eyes glanced up to Torr's with silent optimism. They were not alone.

Shayla nodded to an Omega as she let herself out of the house. Mistress Eloise preferred to have her linens dried on the clothesline when the weather permitted. The day was sunny and cold, but pretense was pretense. She stretched out the duvet and pinned it into place with clothespins. The Gardener caught her eye for a brief second and flicked his attention back to the task at hand. Trimming bushes that were immaculate and needed no care. He'd simply wanted to be close to his mistress once again, that and keep an eye on Shayla.

Shayla cast a nervous glance at the guards. They were as bad as the pack master they served. She pulled her jacket up, closer to her neck. Avoiding a glance at the one who had dragged her husband into the circle and shackled him defenseless to a length of fence while Seff and his cronies tortured him to death. Sometimes, people got what they deserved. One day, that guard would get his.

There were only a handful of them left, pack faithful to Mistress Eloise. People like herself and the gardener. Hanning, her sister's husband, and of course Ruby, her sister. There were a few Seff had left in key positions that remained true to Mistress Eloise and the founding ancestors: expert marksmen, speakers on the council, and maybe more, like her, the quiet ones capable of staying under Seff's radar. The problem was loyalties could change in the drop of a hat. Nobody really knew for certain who was still faithful to their Mistress and who was simply posing to gather information for Seff.

Seff raised his fist and knocked lightly on the thick maple door to the 'honeymoon suite'. Apparently, according to the reports he'd received, his son and Eloise had a very good time last night. He got why Eloise had so readily agreed to marry his son. She was trying to save that elegant neck of hers. But his son, what was in it for him? He lifted his fist to knock again when Torr appeared at the door. "Good morning, Son." He slid his eyes to Eloise, lounging on the chaise as if she belonged there. She didn't. She casually flipped through the fashion section as if she had money to spend. Which, she didn't. He'd already seized her assets. Her money was now his money. "I trust I haven't interrupted anything too important?"

Torr ran his hand through his thick black hair and over his stubble lined chin. "Of course not, please come in." He stepped back to let his father in. Seff was dressed, immaculately as ever, not a wrinkle in his wool slacks or a button loose on the expensive dress shirt. Torr could practically smell the power this man wielded, not just over Eloise and him, but over everyone he came in contact with. He'd like to believe his father loved him, but he knew better. He was only a means to an end, just like his mother had been, and just like everyone else was in Seff's version of the world. His dad thought he owned the world. And maybe, now that he had Eloise in his back pocket, he did.

"Ah Eloise, you look radiant this morning." Seff sat in the leather chair positioned next to her and picked at her uneaten breakfast. Crunching on a piece of bacon, he reached for the sports section. "Marriage must agree with you," he taunted.

Eloise flipped the newspaper to the side and forced a smile on her lips. "I was having a good morning, up until now."

Seff chuckled and helped himself to another piece of bacon. "You prefer my son's company to mine I take it?" He slid back into the chair and studied her composed face partially hidden behind the fashion pages.

"I find the differences between father and son compelling." Eloise folded the newspaper in her lap, carefully tucking the hastily scribbled note into the thick folds of print ads.

"I'm happy my son has not disappointed you. Apparently, you've been able to unleash his hidden talents. I trust he is adequate?" Seff slipped a linen napkin off the tray and wiped his fingers. Eying the last piece of bacon on the ornately decorated, hand painted, plate, he reached for it.

"Quite." Eloise followed Seff's eye. She stretched out her delicate fingers and picked up the cold, greasy, piece of bacon, beating him to it and stuffing it into her mouth in triumph.

Torr saw the tension build between the two masters. The bacon was only symbolic for what was really going on here. Eloise was fighting to hold her claim just as desperately as his father was trying to stake his. "Father," he interrupted. "I thought today I could take Eloise on a walk. Some fresh air might do her some good." And give us a chance to talk freely, he silently added. He had no doubt his father's new estate, including the grounds, were under constant surveillance. His father was on a power trip, but he was not so careless as to blindly trust anyone.

Seff forced a frown across his brow. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. A chance to show Eloise exactly how precarious of a position she was in. "I'm afraid that would be unwise. I wish to keep the mother of my firstborn grandchild safe and Eloise, unfortunately, has many enemies. In fact, my staff is cleaning out her home as we speak. Your personal items should arrive shortly. Everything else, will be placed into storage until..." He practically glowed with satisfaction as he said the words. "This dangerous time has passed. You will remain here in my private home where I can keep you...protected."

Under lock and key, Eloise thought. She wanted to cry over of all the years, an entire lifetime of memories, that his staff, her enemies, riffled through and stuffed into boxes. The Grand Manor was not her home. Seff spoke of it as if it were his. He'd better enjoy it while he could. Someday soon, she was going to kill him.

To anyone else, most of what she considered precious would be counted as mere junk. The macaroni necklace Jan had made her for Christmas. Trash. The hand made Mother's Day card Kacie had painstakingly spent hours decorating with glitter and crayon. Garbage. The chipped and worn tea service passed down to her from her mother. Worthless. She shivered at the violation. Strangers were in her home, sorting through her private life. "How thoughtful of you," she said with a forced tone.

"We can't be too careful with the mother of the next generation." Seff shot Eloise a warning glare. "I do hope you have some good news for us soon."

"You can't rush nature." Torr snatched the tray off the table and sat it outside of the bedroom door to be picked up by one of the Omegas before Eloise lost her cool and hurled the empty plate at his father.

Seff shot his son a warning look that told him exactly what he thought about nature. His son could reproduce and had. Curs. Useless half-human half-were hybrids that had no place in either the human or were world. They shouldn't even exist. He had tried to keep the abomination a secret, disposed of the ones he knew about, quickly and quietly. But, who knew how many were out there that he'd missed.

Eloise, on the other hand, he had his doubts about. She was aging, beyond her childbearing years, no matter what she claimed to the contrary, and the pack knew it. It was just a matter of time before he could exploit the truth and be rid of her.

"I'm sure we'll have good news in no time," Torr huffed. His father had made no secret about the fact that he had taken care of what he saw as his son's indiscretions. Ruthless bastard. He'd been young at the time. Wild and irresponsible, rebellious against the propaganda his father had tried to shove down his throat. Those few, brief moments of impulsivity had caused him to grow up quickly. He knew the pain of loss and the heartache of standing at his son's grave.

What happened to his son was no accident. The car might have been speeding. The boy might have dashed into the street after his ball. And the driver might have fled the scene, but it was no accident. The same applied to his daughter. She'd have been eleven years old and his son close to the same age. He saw her face in his dreams. Wherever he went, the memory of her face posted on light poles still haunted him. She'd been missing since she was six months old. Her mother had turned her back for a second and her daughter had been scooped out of the stroller. Torr knew that his daughter wasn't missing. She was dead.

Torr hadn't known what his father was capable of at the time. If he had, he would have taken the proper precautions. He was handling his responsibilities, paying child support and visiting his children, like a good father should. He was glad that they had no part of his heritage or no stake in his great lineage. His father found out and saw the illegitimate heirs as an embarrassment, and he'd handled the situation, quickly and efficiently, by eliminating it. In Seff's world, only the strong survived. The weak suffered and died.

Torr had never told the mothers the truth. It would have been too hard for them to bear. Having to look into the tearstained eyes, having to watch his son lowered into the grave, watching the mother search in desperation for the daughter she'd never find had ended his wild streak. He would never father another child. It was physically impossible for him now. He'd taken the ultimate precaution. He would never lose another child to his father. A trip to Dallas and an hour on an exam table had seen to that. He had cut the ties that bound him, and any children he might have created in the future, to his world.

He often wondered about the petite redhead he'd met on the beach at Corpus Christi. The pert twenty-one year old on spring break, living it up. Living in the moment, she'd gone to his bed willingly enough and they'd shared one wild, crazy night together, filled with passion and lust. The next morning, she'd left him a note on his pillow.

She'd left her locket, forgotten on the nightstand of his hotel room. It took him two years to track her down. Wolf pregnancies were faster and harder and by the time he'd found her under the guise of returning the locket, his second baby girl was a toddler. He hadn't spoken to Erica that day or any day since. He got close enough to smell his beautiful daughter's baby scent and snip a lock of her crimson hair free from the wild tangle of curls.

He'd tucked the baby curl inside of the locket. He protected them by disappearing from their lives. Erica and that baby girl, he didn't even know her name, were the only good thing that had ever happened to him that he had left. Perhaps, she was the only woman, even though they had only one night together, he'd ever dreamed of loving and to her and their daughter belonged his heart. At night, he'd dreamed of the perfect family he'd never have. The dreams haunted him. They tortured him with the deep longing of things that would never be.

"I certainly hope so, for both of your sakes." Seff tossed the used napkin into a heap onto the table and stood. "Do try to have a good honeymoon," he said as he left his betraying son and his plotting daughter-in-law to their own devices. And yes, he was aware they were plotting. Eloise had help in the pack faithful to her. He plotted his own schemes. Let them play. Let them plan. Let them try to outsmart him. He went along with it to ferret out the unfaithful in his pack. Once he found them, they'd be no more.

Torr said not a word as his father left the bedroom and shut the door behind him. He knew his father's moods. Eloise and he were in deep shit. His father suspected there were betrayers in the pack. And the note Eloise had found tucked in the fashion pages of the newspaper proved his father was right. God help those people when his father finally caught up with them.

"We're running out of time," Eloise whispered.

Torr nodded. Running out of time? They were already out of time. Eloise simply didn't know it yet.

Chapter 15

The SUV had barely crossed over the state line before fatigue sank into Kacie's body and weighed her down. The vampire made her nervous. She felt like she should drape lengths of garlic around her neck. Not that garlic would stop him, if he really wanted to take a bite out of her. The seat was as comfortable as a SUV seat could manage to get. The heater sent wafts of warm air cascading across her cheeks, making her drowsier than she already was. The presence of her mother's omegas was a comfort to her, sitting in the seat behind hers, watching her back. Tristen was watching out for her too. He sat in the seat next to her, staring out the windows as the most flat and barren landscape she'd ever seen rolled past. She was as safe and warm as she was ever going to be and so very tired. She managed to blink her eyes once before eyelids slid shut and she dozed off.

Tristen's lips curled in a satisfied grin as he slid Kacie into a more comfortable position. Nah, he wasn't one to take advantage. Ha! Hell yes he was. He tucked an arm around her shoulders and guided her head to rest on his chest. Easing around her he stretched his coat over her shoulders and tucked it beneath her chin. She needed to sleep while she could. Who knew what was waiting for her in Texas. His instincts told him it was going to be bad. His wolf was going haywire, pacing through his head. His dad had told him to listen to what his wolf had to say. Tristen didn't want to do that. He wanted his wolf to be wrong, for Kacie's sake.

Since the call she'd placed to his grandpa, nobody had heard from Eloise. His grandpa was grim and in full pack master mode. His fingers flexed around the steering wheel in a grip so hard that relaxing them took a concentrated effort. His muscles were tense beneath his flannel shirt. His mouth drawn tight, the lips pinched together in a firm line. His grandfather had gone to that place in his head he went to before a fight and not just any fight, a fight to the death. Tristen hoped it wouldn't come down to that. Maybe, they'd get down there and hold hands around the campfire and roast marshmallows. Yeah right, like that was going to happen.

Sometimes, Tristen missed the easy life he'd had in the desert. The pack's lands in Nevada were nothing but rock and hard, sun-baked earth dotted stubbly scrub, and spindly, thirsty trees. He didn't question moving to the lush green lands, gentle rolling hills, dense woods filled with trees tall as the sky, and acres of nothing but flat farmland that was Indiana. The brothers were great and he was never bored. Maybe, it wasn't the scenery of Nevada he missed more than he did the peaceful calm of the consistency he'd associated with it. Since the pack had moved here. It was almost as if their lives were one shit storm after another. The brotherhood seemed to thrive on that kind of chaos and they'd somehow sucked the pack into the insanity that was their everyday lives.