“Are you prepared for an attack?” Cyrus regarded Beaux. “You’re not yet, are you? There aren’t enough of you to do much beyond whacking people over the head when you ambush their cars, are there?”
Beaux growled. “We can defend ourselves. Can you, city boy?”
It had been a long time since Cyrus had gone to war. But he was fairly certain he remembered how. His blood heated, and his wolf senses went on high alert. “Bring it on.”
Chapter Eighteen
Beaux pounded his fist on the wall. “Boys, it’s time for Plan B.” Cyrus responded to him, and they must have been debating a battle plan, but Betsy couldn’t focus on any of it over the ringing in her ears. Had she done this? Had she brought the true believers to Beaux’s pack’s doorstep? The idea made her stomach turn, and she gagged, trying desperately not to lose the contents of her stomach onto the floor of Beaux’s lair.
Lake moved up behind her. “Come on, we need to get out of the way.”
“What?” Betsy shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.” Cyrus needed her, and if she had caused this, then she had to be right by his side to see it through. Or maybe she’d go outside and see if she could talk to the men getting out of the Jeeps. They’d never killed her all the years she lived here. Maybe they’d listen to reason now.
“I know you want to help. I would too, and I can see it in your expression. But this isn’t the time for us, okay? I’m a Healer, and you’re still untrained. You still black out in fights. We need to let Beaux, Cyrus, and the others do what they do. They can’t do that if they’re worried about us.”
Lake made a good point, even if Betsy didn’t want to hear it. She really didn’t know anything about fighting. What good would she be in the middle of this mess? She took a step back toward Lake.
“Where should we go?” She turned to Lake. Would heading out the back door help?
“Stay inside.” Beaux turned around but had eyes only for Lake, not for her. Betsy glanced between them. It wasn’t the time for this, not by a long shot, but clearly there was something happening with Lake and Beaux. It wasn’t that she could smell it. They were both carefully guarding their scents but she could see it in the way they kept trying not to look at each other and failing. If they lived through the rest of the day, she was going to ask Lake exactly what was going on.
Cyrus nodded toward the door. “We’re going out.”
Betsy took a deep breath. “Look, I agree with Lake. I’m out of my element here, but I have to ask you something before I get out of your way.”
“What is it, princess?” Already she could hear a growl in his voice. He was going to go wolf soon, and then reasoning with him on any kind of human level would be impossible. His fight with Beaux earlier? It had been nothing but show. Now she’d lose him to the animal until it was over. How did she know that? She chewed on her lip. Maybe from the fights she couldn’t remember? Oh hell, all of this was terribly confusing.
“They aren’t werewolves. Do you have guns? I can guarantee they have them. They’re all hunters and experts at it to boot. You guys go out there charging like this is some kind of war from old times and they are going to pick you off one by one until you’re all drowning in your own blood.”
“Oh, I have something else in mind.” Cyrus smiled, and she shivered. How could she be both so intimidated and ecstatic over his aggression? “We are going to take them entirely by surprise.”
She hoped he knew what he was talking about because if anything happened to him she’d never be okay again. Those men had weapons. What did Cyrus and Beaux have besides shifting? Animals could be shot easily. This was too horrible to vocalize and she tried to swallow her fear.
****
Betsy paced the room, unable to stop.
“It’s been quiet for a long time.” Lake chewed on her fingernail, pacing around the basement with Betsy. But for every lap Betsy took, Lake made two. Where did the other woman get her energy? All she wanted to do was collapse onto the floor with worry. How long had it been since they’d been sent downstairs, and why was it so damn quiet?
“Do you want to be distracted?” Lake tapped her foot on the floor.
“No.” Betsy shook her head. She stared down at her hands. Maybe thirty seconds passed, but it felt like an hour. “Yes, okay, distract me.”
Take my mind off the fact that Cyrus might be dead. Or dying on the floor. Bleeding to death. Shot. Maimed. Stabbed. Decapitated…Make it so I can’t hear the noise outside and scent the humans. Do that for me.