C H A P T E R - - - T H R E E - - - S H A U N

It's taking longer than expected.

Shaun's body thrummed with the first stings of anxiety as the thought hammered in the back of his mind. Nothing was worse than watching a carefully planned hit go to shit, but what if it went wrong and took far too long? That's when things got dicey. Ammo may run out, reinforcements may arrive, someone may be injured, and there may be no way to extract them. As soon as time became an issue, the chances of failure began to mount.

"Cat Four. What exactly is going on? " Shaun inquired, his voice low and growling.

"Cat Five and Cat Two have been apprehended. The targets have built a bunker in the warehouse. Getting rid of resistance pockets on the outside. Do you have a clear shot on anyone in the warehouse, Cat Four? ”

Jerome's voice came across the line strained and irritated. It didn't take long to realize that Shaun wasn't the only one who was tense about the situation. He looked through the scope at the warehouse, seeing fleeting shadows on the walls but not a single person he could have shot.

They were all pressed up against the walls, far away from windows and doors. He could theoretically try his luck and shoot through the wall, but there was no telling if he'd actually hit anything.

"Cat Four is a negative. "I'm going to switch nests."

Shaun's stomach lurched as the words left his mouth, but he knew it had to be done. He quickly disassembled the rifle, packing it away in about ten seconds before lugging it up on his back. His boots hit the soft ground below as he slid down the tree in complete silence, and he took off in a soundless run. Being a shifter had its advantages in their line of work, and stealth was one of them.

The heat of the fires raging below him could be felt all the way up on the bank he stood on. He scrambled up a rocky ledge, flung the gun in front of him, and then clambered up after it, gaining a new perspective on the warehouse and its residents that wasn't obstructed by fire.

Shaun quickly reloaded the weapon, noticing that the sun was rising. When he threw himself down on his stomach and got into his position, he heard a new sound, one he hadn't heard before that night. Crawling into the underbrush in search of the camp, car tires.

Shit. That was just what we needed.

“Cat Four. Possible reinforcements, vehicle sighted," he stated into the radio, noticing movements on the far right but too concealed by trees to distinguish who or how many were in the automobile.

“Noted. The warehouse is the goal, I repeat, the warehouse is the goal."

Shaun nodded and scanned the windows one by one. The folks inside were generally sitting quietly, but when the car approached, they began to move. Shaun noticed someone attempting to peer out again, not satisfied with one glance but looking for another.

He murmured beneath his breath, pressing the trigger, "Got you."

The man was slumped over with half of his body outside the warehouse while a cloud of red covered the exterior wall. When he took another aim, Shaun noticed him jerk once and experience throat drying. However, that shot had been effective. The automobile was approaching, and whomever was inside no longer felt secure. Four individuals suddenly emerged from the warehouse, racing at top speed while attempting to zigzag between the structures.

Shaun fired again, but this time it smacked into the ground behind a man's heel, making him swear. Three guys, followed by the smaller, leaner shape of a lady, were all he could count. His hair trigger instinctively aligned on the woman's shoulder blades as he took aim. He attempted it, but his hand stumbled. He was prevented from firing by something inside of him.

He took a sharp intake as she peered over her shoulder, her emerald eyes flashing—he somehow knew they were green, even from this distance. She was stunning, to put it simply. Even when drenched in perspiration, the woman's long, black hair bounced up and down over her shoulders. high cheekbones and somewhat almond-shaped eyes. her body, too? It was almost comical how close his jaguar came to forcing its way out of him and charging down to tackle her. Curvy and luscious, yet yet powerful and competent.

“The fuck’s wrong with you,” he growled to himself, shaking his head.

Shaun liked women just as much as the next guy locked in a goddamn sandpit for months on end, but no woman had ever so badly affected his thinking or, worse still, his aim as she did. Whether they were male or female, soldiers were still soldiers, in his eyes. But she? The way her arms were tense as she ran beside the men, the way her full lips were squeezed into a narrow line as she peered back and searched... It was very hypnotic.

He growled into the comm, struggling mightily to restore consciousness, "Cat Four, targets on the move."

The Jeep smashed into the property at that same moment as gunshots rained down all around it. Shaun's heart skipped a beat as he saw the automobile roar into the space directly in front of Jordan, trapping him between the car and the four people sprinting in its direction while keeping Tom, who had been with him but was now on the other side of the car, out of view.

The rest of Squad Six desperately tried to distract the thugs with enough gunfire to give Jordan a fighting chance, but it seemed virtually inevitable that they would lose one guy this time, despite their best efforts. Shaun's palms were moist with sweat as he pushed his eye to the scope and saw a shadowy figure in the car. He pressed before he knew if he had a clean shot or not, not caring. The way the Jeep jerked to the side and nearly collided with a building told him he'd at least bought them another second.

Even yet, Jordan was still being pursued by the four individuals, at least three of whom were armed. He had knelt down because he realized he was trapped and was aiming at the group. Jordan, however, collapsed and screamed as blood spurted out of his right hand after taking a fortunate hit to it. When things looked their worst, Jerome trusted each member of his unit to make the proper choices, thus the comms were deathly silent.

But it wasn't Squad Six who came to Jordan's aid that night. Shaun just had one bullet left, so he selected the one nearest to Jordan. He started reloading as soon as he fired the trigger, his gaze fixed on the action. One of the big, burly men took aim, and Shaun expected to see his friend's skull split apart like a watermelon, but it never occurred.

The lady who'd run so stoically with the guys tackled the guy with the pistol, as if she'd changed in front of his eyes. She was quick and brutal. Kicking the barrel up, she jerked forward, yanking the guy almost twice her size over her shoulder and onto the ground with her elbow. She snatched the rifle from his grip and stamped her buttocks on his neck, aiming towards the last man standing.

But he was also quick. She didn't even get a chance to fire when the guy smacked her across the face with the stock, knocking her to the ground. Shaun had never been so furious in his whole life. When the car spun around and the guy who'd taken down the girl climbed in, pulling his half-conscious companion with him, the bullets snapped into place.

The Jeep made a sharp curve, almost missing Jordan and the girl, who were spread out on the dusty campground ground. The Jeep was riddled with bullets as it sped away with at least three individuals still alive inside. The truck was armor-plated, as shown by the scratch of metal and the high-pitched noises of rounds flying wide. Shaun had to consider himself fortunate that he'd packed bigger toys than the adversary had anticipated. Things could have been a lot worse if he hadn't gotten that shot and taken out the driver.

“All units, move in. "Man down," Jerome said dryly, no doubt in his voice.

Shaun put his gear together, vibrating with wrath. It has been a long time since a Squad Six assignment went so horribly wrong. He was used to seeing trash like this in the military, but with Jerome and the rest of the lads, it was unusual.

There was no one to blame either. Their recon had given them all they needed to know, or so they believed, and they'd misjudged the fuckers they'd faced.

It hit me square in the face.

Shaun was rushing through the bush, his breathing steady and his eyes filled with hatred. He drew out his handgun as he reached the perimeter, which was still lighted with burning fires, because there was no communication on the comms.

She'd better be OK.

As he went onto the grounds, skulking past the homes, the notion hit him like a freight train. Most of them had been moved out by the rest of the squad before the Jeep arrived, but one couldn't be too sure. He didn't need to get capped by some overzealous moron now when the game was almost done.

He arrived in time to watch Tim and Tom drag Jordan onto a field stretcher, Jordan's face distorted with rage and anguish. Of course, the medic was the one who had half his hand blown off. Jerome was kneeling next to the girl, and Shaun could feel the air becoming more charged with each step closer to her. Even when she was lying prone with her lips open and her eyes closed, she had a pull on him that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"What happened to Mitch?" Shaun questioned, bending down next to Jerome, his gaze following Tim and Tom as they carried Jordan away.

Tim was bleeding from his shin, and Tom was gripping his shoulder, but the Crawleys weren't going to be held back by a few flesh wounds. It seemed as if Shaun was trying to avoid staring directly at the woman on the ground in front of him, as if she were the sun and gazing at her would blind him. Shaun felt a tight and intense rush of envy as Jerome placed his fingers on her pulse.

"Just in case, he's emptying out the side buildings. You already know how those two are. If Jordan goes insane and Mitch notices it, we might have to sedate Mitch before punching Jordan out," Jerome said, his eyes clouded.

"This entire thing went to shit, huh?" Shaun said dryly, glancing down at the woman.

When he looked at her face up close, it took his breath away; so peaceful, but so determined.

"You could repeat that," Jerome agreed. "Did you chance to notice what happened to Jordan?" ”

"He became entangled between the Jeep and the warehouse employees." "I took one of them out," Shaun replied, gazing to the left to see the lifeless body of a large guy who was halfway through his transformation into a wolf.

When shifters were terminally injured, they'd sometimes let the animal take over in the hopes of making it out before their strength ran out. A predator on adrenaline might accomplish far more than a human. This person hadn't been that fortunate. Shaun's brow furrowed. A wolf. It's not surprising.

"However, it was her who saved Jordan."

“Yeah?

" Jerome inquired, frowning as he raised his head to study the surroundings around them.

"She tackled the guy with the gun and took him out. She's not some random drug addict and dealer, lieutenant. She has experience."

"Do you believe she's one of us? " Jerome inquired, cocking his brow.

"She's not one of them, for sure," Shaun grumbled.

Before curtly nodding, Jerome appeared to consider this for a little moment. Shaun was aware of the procedure. If she was found in a situation like this, they were meant to shoot her in the head and forget she ever existed. However, she had saved one of their brothers, which had to at least be cause for a brief investigation.

“Fine. Tag and bag the person. Given that we didn't really have a clean sweep, I believe we require someone to question.”

Shaun nodded in agreement while adjusting the strap on the bulky sniper backpack.

After standing up and checking his ammunition, Jerome sent out a low whistle, which was answered by a similar whistle from behind them. There had to be Mitch. Shaun was briefly left alone with his sleeping beauty when Jerome departed at a brisk jog. He considered phoning the Crawleys so that someone might arrive with a stretcher, but the idea of another man being close to her made his skin crawl.

Instead, he tenderly scooped her up and cradled her to his chest by looping his arms under her shoulders and legs. His entire being was electrified. Her head flopped into his shoulder, and as Shaun inhaled, his jaguar roared with the utmost ferocity and darkness he had ever experienced.

He owned her. That much was decided by the large cat.

Now all that remained was for the person to board.

C H A P T E R F O UR - - - D A N I E L L A

Great. This was what I was looking for in my evening.

Dani murmured quietly when she awoke, falling back and forth on a bench, her head throbbing in pain and her wrists zipped together in front of her. At the very least, they'd buckled her seatbelt.

"Good morning, sunshine. Enjoy the view, I hear it's the greatest drug nation has to offer," someone said from the front seat, blue and gold eyes flickering in the rearview mirror at her.

"Fuck you," she murmured groggily, laying her head on the headrest and instantly regretting it.

The smooth bounce of the armored vehicle as it moved over the forest floor made her sick, though her gaping head wound and the low end of her adrenaline high certainly helped. It took her a second to get her bearings and clear the first traces of hysteria from her mind.

The Silk Slayers were not among them. These were fighters. It didn't take more than a quick glance to notice. They were dressed in jungle camo gear, drenched in perspiration, and filled the small area with manly odors that made her jaguar sniff at the air hungrily.

Shifters. Big, powerful shifters. Shit.

Therefore, it was going to be difficult for her to escape this predicament. Her thoughts were racing, and she attempted twisting her wrists in the bonds. Tight but not overly so. They did not want to stop her blood flow. It must not have been completely lost. Though she couldn't quite hear it, she could definitely feel something hum in the air. Something that nearly caused the air around her to crackle

She quickly understood as she opened her eyes once more and saw the man sitting next to her with a deep, almost obscenely golden look. A single blink caused the gold in his eyes to vanish in an instant and be replaced by a gray and blue that was as alluring as the whirling depths in front of them. She could sense his hyperawareness of her presence because the hairs on the back of his arm sprang up when he turned his head away and looked out the window as though she didn't exist.

She spotted yet another jaguar. She felt a part of her light up with eerie interest.

They weren't typical shifters, particularly not in the military. They were loner types who enjoyed working alone and didn't enjoy group dynamics as much as, say, lions did. Dani knew they were fierce and unbeatable once they joined forces, though. But considering the circumstances, it seemed strange to see another person of her type crammed into a little car alongside her.

"You want to tell us who you are, or is that something we really must know? " The driver made a joke, his eyes glistening with laughter that no one else in the car seemed to be experiencing.

She paused to assess the circumstance. The sun was already risen when the driver made his way through the bush on a crooked path. She wasn't very drunk, but she knew she had to have been out for at least an hour. She was also unfamiliar with the areas of the bush they were walking through. She had no clue where they were going at the moment, but perhaps if the window had been open and she had been able to smell them, she might have known.

The passenger seat was occupied by a man who appeared to be recording the events and was broadly formed and strikingly composed. In their right ears, she could see unremarkable communications equipment that was completely opaque. She could not identify them because of the lack of insignia or other distinguishing features on their clothes. She did, however, notice dog tags straining beneath their shirts, off their muscular chests and against the cloth.

Also strongly identifying them as Americans was the driver's mild Creole accent. Dani wasn't sure if she was being driven to death or merely taken on a joyride, but at least that was a comfort. She was berating herself for her careless choices, or she was blaming herself.

You had the option to board that vehicle. You would have been more accurate. You've now completely ruined the plan.

There was a lot of truth in that, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she couldn't truly curse herself too severely. It was a reflex and automatic. Dani had no doubt that Ron had put his revolver to his shoulder and was ready to shoot the man in the face. Despite the fact that she was unsure of the identities of the guys, their weapons and digital forest camouflage made it unlikely that she could deny that they were at the very least more capable men than the twerps she was running with. She had done what needed to be done because she didn't want blood on her hands, even if they weren't the good folks. if only for a moment, taken out Ron and received a punch to the face from Louie as a result. Everything was fair; she had earned it. The most terrifying aspect of it was that she had not in the least expected to survive it. The objective in this situation was meant to be survival.

Finally answering with the most girliest grin she could muster, Dani said, "I believe it's more fun if you guys guess."

The driver laughed, and if she had wanted to, she could have read amusement in the man sitting next to him's expression. She was seated next to a man, but he said nothing and gave her no attention. She caught a glimpse of his fingers ticking nervously on his knee out of the corner of her eye. She made a little frown. Nothing about him suggested that he was the restless sort, yet that one clue gave her more information than she may have needed to know.

She batted her eyelashes and said, "How about you show me yours and I'll show you mine?" She definitely couldn't really count on employing her feminine cunning while blood was gushing from her forehead.

"Miss," the driver said, "I think you're mixing up who caught whom here."

Chatty, isn’t he.

Dani chose to remain silent while gazing out the window because no one else tried to pull anything more from her. They couldn't have given any thought to what she saw because they hadn't covered her eyes and she wasn't hidden in a trunk. That indicated that they had plans to either murder her or later relocate her to a safe location where she couldn't create any issue. She bit her lip carefully and attempted to determine if she had any role to play in this predicament, but it had left her feeling relatively comfortable about her current circumstances.

Before the automobile abruptly came to a stop, appearing in the middle of nowhere, it was another thirty minutes. Dani could hear rustling and things being dragged out of the rear of the large armored vehicle as the guys filed out. After that, a door was opened, and the man who avoided her look bent over her and unbuckled her seatbelt.

As his hand glided up her calf to loosen the belt, she couldn't help but exhale as their bodies met. The jolt ran like a ball of lightning from her knee to her toes and then to the top of her head, warming her all over, as if someone had tased her. She glanced at him with big green eyes, and they both momentarily stopped moving.

He was so cute, fuck.

Darkness and rough lines, all at once beautiful and ominous. His canine badges briefly protruded from his sweat-stained dark gray shirt as he halted over her, his lips unnaturally near. Square, enormous shoulders dug into her. He had a stiff jaw that gave the impression that he was clenching his teeth, and his lips were thin but had a deep Cupid's bow. Dark brows, a strong Roman nose, and eyes that made her feel like the hunted, not the hunter, for the first time in her life.

Finally, he murmured, "Come on," reversing and opening the car door widely to give her some space. "We have to leave."

His voice was flawless, even. Growly and raspy, as though he had smoked too much, yet it just improved it. Dani had spent a significant portion of her adult life around every macho male cliche she could think of, so the fact that he smelt like a genuine guy was significant. But this man? The genuine stuff, he was. Quiet, dignified, and radiating power. She was certain that they would be fucking by the time the clock struck twelve if she had met him at a pub.

Shaking her head, she got up from the chair and waited for him to shut the door and thrust her in front before moving. A voice in her brain urged her to go, but it seemed more interested in how long it would take this huge wall of a man to catch her than in whether she would succeed in doing so.

He led her to a door that was hardly more than a hatch in the underbrush. She could see the other two men securing the car as she peered over her shoulder. She could make out another mound about a hundred feet to the right, which to the inexperienced eye appeared to be dense vegetation, but she could infer that there was a similar automobile below.

He opened the door and took her down a narrow, dark staircase, lowering her into the depths of the night. The lights flashed on as she walked down the last step, making sparks dance in her field of vision as she had been acutely aware of his presence behind her the entire time.

They were in a modestly sized yet roomy bunker. Doors leading to numerous adjacent rooms were visible to her. It had a musty, stale scent that suggested it had been abandoned for some time and had just lately been used. Dani was about to spin around and make a sassy remark about whether this was the guy with her's strategy for first dates when she was stopped short by a gurgling growl from the rear.

He pointed in the direction of the sound and said, "That way."

C H A P T E R F I V E - - - D A N I E L L A

His eyes are captivating.

Dani did as she was ordered without saying anything, feeling an acute sensation in her shoulders as she went forward, his presence making her squirm slightly. She came to a halt at the entrance and almost ran into him. Her knees were wobbly from being so close to him. It was truly absurd. She wasn't the type of girl to swoon over any man, no matter how damned scorching gorgeous and deadly he was.

Yet, here you are, she thought, a momentary feeling of irony in her voice.

However, the scene in front of her was not pleasant. She knew the man on the cot right away as the lucky motherfucker who hadn't been shot in the head a few hours before. His side and arm were shredded and torn, and blood was still pouring through while two guys worked on him, one much tenser than the other.

"I brought a visitor," the guy behind her stated stiffly, his voice sweet in her ears.

"Oh, look, Jordan, it's your knight in shining armor," one of the men remarked, looking up and nodding.

“Great. She needs to save me first, and then she has to watch my humiliation," the guy rasped, his body tensing.

Dani took a step closer, frowning. She could see the jagged edges of the wound, where the bullet had ripped through his hand and side. It appeared to have gone completely through, which was a good thing. Even though his lung hadn't collapsed, the individuals tending to him were plainly not doctors. After enough time in the field, every soldier would have received adequate instruction in what to do in the event of severe injuries, but this would only get them so far.

"Have you guys have a medic on staff?" She questioned after noticing the tattoos of the SEAL eagle, trident, pistol, and anchor on Jordan's ribcage, just above the entry wound.

He screamed, his eyes gleaming with anguish, "I am the medic." She said, struggling to hold back the grin, "Ah. , see that you planned this properly."

"Oh, screw you. Please maintain your sense of superiority and leave your wit at the door. I'm in agony and can't strike girls right now."

"Man, you couldn't punch anybody. Are we going to watch as your friend loses the use of his right hand or are you two fools going to break the ties that are around my wrists so I can aid your friend here? ”

The four men were pressed together, and Dani inclined his head to one side. When it came to her, if that was all they had to worry about, she was in excellent standings, despite the skepticism in their eyes.

An authoritative voice from behind them said, "Cut them off."

When Dani turned back, she saw the man who had been sitting in the passenger seat glaring at her and crossing his arms over his chest. He had to be in charge of the team. Thankfully, the man who appeared to be about to go on a rampage stood up, pulled a knife from his belt, and slashed the ties around Dani's wrists. Before signaling for the guys to disperse so she could get a better view of the injured man, she swiftly massaged them.

She knelt down and brought the medkit to her, mumbling, "Thank you."

She wasn't a qualified medic either, but she'd made it a point to study as much as she could after witnessing two of her squad mates bleed to death when the medic wasn't on duty. The side wound had been sufficiently cleaned up by the guys, but the hand was so fragile that they were at a loss for what to do with it other than debride it. As she observed the exposed tendons and bones with the blood coagulating around them, her nose scrunched.

"Can you clench your fist?" She whispered, seeing that Jordan was in excruciating pain but maintaining remarkable composure.

She could tell that everyone in this group was a shifter, which both made life simpler and more difficult. However, at least no one was holding a pistol to her head. Nevertheless, she could still feel the towering, powerful presence of the man with the gray-blue eyes. She was far more relaxed and at ease than she probably should have been as a result.

"Are you concerned that I'll punch you? " Jordan enquired, making a sardonic jest.

He hissed in pain as he twisted his hand into a fist despite her expression. The tense-looking man was clearly fidgeting.

The person in charge responded, "Easy, Mitch," placing a hand on the man's shoulder and yanking him back. "You're not helping at all. Will you send Tim and Tom to clean the equipment? ”

The two men who had been working on Jordan, Tom and the driver Tim, rose up and nodded solemnly. They exchanged glances with Jordan, who then waved them off while maintaining enough composure to hide his distress. Jordan, the person in command, Dani, and her mysterious favorite remained in the bunker as the trio marched off.

Before any of them could say anything, the upper hatch had already closed with a loud thud.

"It's fantastic that your hand can move. You must be a shifter, then. Is she your twin? "Is that where the other man went?" Dani said while pointing with her chin in that general area.

“That cheerful motherfucker? Sure is," Jordan said with a chuckle. “He doesn't like it when one of us tries to end our lives, so don't worry about him. I believe he has it against me.”

She said, "That'll assist with the healing then." Twins have always had the advantage of healing more quickly from injuries when their partner is nearby.

"I'm grateful, by the way. For what you did there," Jordan remarked, losing all sense of humor.

Dani brushed it aside and responded, "No problem."

As she worked on Jordan's hand and side, making sure the side wound hadn't ruptured anything crucial and stitching it up, the temperature in the room seemed to fall a few degrees. Jordan's hand was kept in a fist while she removed shrapnel from the wound because she was aware that if there were any remaining foreign objects in the area, shifters' accelerated healing may cause significant harm. When she got her hands in the flesh of one of their comrades in arms, it seems like no one wanted to question her too much, but she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

They used to be SEALs, if not now. What in the name of God are they doing in the jungle?

She had an idea, but she dared not say it since the knowledge had shaken her too much. She finished up her work in silence and then picked up a syringe, holding up a bottle of mild sedative for Jordan to see. It wasn't entirely out of the question that these men were from The Firm, and when she'd thought "losing patience" meant "getting fired," it could have also meant "being collateral damage during a raid."

"All right, I'll give you two milligrams of this. You won't sleep otherwise, I'll wager. Are you okay with that? ”

She also cast a peek behind her. Both the stony-faced commander and his depressed companion were resting against the wall, arms crossed, looks unreadable.

"All OK. Confirmed that she's giving me a two-point-five, Lieutenant."

Dani extracted the prescribed quantity from the syringe and handed it out for the lieutenant to see.

Lieutenant... most likely a shifter squad, she reasoned.

Few shifters ever went through officer training, preferring to battle rather than sit at a table cramming theory that their animal sides could accomplish without thinking. That meant they were frequently commanded by twerps considerably beneath them, something Dani had discovered while in the service herself.

He nodded and took a step back, saying, "It's the correct amount, Jordan."

Jordan's arm was the location where Dani swabbed and inserted the needle to immediately deliver the medication. Inhaling deeply, Jordan tilted his head back and peered up at the ceiling.

Finally, sounding exhausted, he replied, "I owe you a beer, Miss."

She sneered, "You owe me at least three."

She wasn't expecting the guy behind her to laugh. Looking back, she can see that it was the one that gave her brain a headache and made her stomach lurch. He was even adorable when he was grinning, by golly.

This was really unjust. Being imprisoned against her will while dealing with a botched mission, facing her own death, treating a wounded soldier she didn't know was difficult enough, but now she had to cope with becoming wet because a hot man made a sexy as fuck sound when he laughed? Oh my God, that was a lot.

As soon as Jordan was out like a light, Jerome stated, "Miss, I think it's time you and we have a conversation now." Jerome then stood up straight.

Dani inhaled deeply, quieting her pounding heart.

In an effort to persuade her frail body to stop acting like a girl and start thinking like the professional she was, she pleaded with herself, "Get your mind back in the game." It almost succeeded.

Her knees were still a little wobbly, though, as she got to her feet and left the room in the direction she was pointing, with her lovely tormentor following close after. And that was just very unfair.