Joyce was standing by the clothes line in the front yard, hanging up towels. Chelsea paused. Something was wrong. Joyce’s whole body radiated tension.
Joyce looked over and spotted them, with a look of surprise. They started walking towards her. She just stood there, staring at them, not moving, not saying a word.
“Hold it. I scent Mitch Rodgers and Officer Porter,” Roman said, stopping in his tracks.
It was too late. The two humans stepped out of the front door—guns aimed at Chelsea and Roman.
“Silver-coated bullets,” Roman said grimly. “I can scent it.”
Joyce started crying. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “But they’ve got my brothers held hostage inside. I couldn’t warn you, or he’d kill them.”
“Get over here, now,” Mitch called out from the doorway.
“Do as he says for now,” Roman said. “When I get closer to them, I can take them out, and you need to run for it.”
Chelsea didn’t bother to argue; they didn’t have time. But when Roman made his move, she’d also attack. Joyce and her family might have a chance that way.
“What is this all about?” Chelsea demanded of Joyce as they headed for the house.
Tears ran down Joyce’s face. “Mitch wants the shifters’ land,” she sniffled, wiping at her nose with her arm. “He’s got some crazy idea that he’s going to open up a hotel here. He said something about those mineral springs that sprang up a year ago—how they’re healing springs. He’s had the water tested and everything, and he’s got some company from California ready to give him millions. He just needs to frame the shifters so he can get their land.”
They’d reached the doorway of the house.
“Shut up! Don’t tell them anything else,” Mitch growled.
“Why not? You’re going to kill us anyway,” Chelsea said angrily.
“True,” Mitch said with an ugly smirk.
Joyce flashed Chelsea a look of despair. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I should have warned you. I should have said something.”
“It’s not your fault,” Chelsea said, shaking her head.
Inside the house, Ryan and Shawn stood in the hallway with Edna. The boys’ hands were bound with zip-ties. There was dirt on their faces, and they looked pale and tired.
As they walked in, Chelsea heard the sound of howling and snarling coming from the pantry.
Mitch slammed the front door shut and locked it.
“Wolves,” Chelsea said. “Wild wolves.”
“Those are the wolves you used to kill the sheep. And Chief Tomlinson,” Roman said.“I killed the chief,” Porter said smugly. “Just used the wolves to add the final finishing touch.”
Roman tensed, and Chelsea held her breath. He was going to make his move now.
I’ll die mated to the man I love, she thought to herself. If only they’d had more time together.
Before Roman could do anything, Edna left her grandsons’ side and walked up to him with a pleasant smile.
“Oh, I do love having guests. Can I make you some tea, dear?” she said to Roman. She walked even closer until she was right up against him, staring at him with a quizzical look, and then leaned in close and murmured something to him, too low for anyone to hear.
Then she turned and wandered off, humming happily to herself. Rodgers hesitated. He was holding the gun on Joyce; he moved, aiming it at Edna, and then when Joyce stepped in front of her brothers, he quickly aimed the gun at her again. Porter kept his gun pointed at Roman.
“Get back here, you old bitch!” Rodgers screamed at Edna, but she kept walking down the hall, and turned a corner, heading into the kitchen.
“I’ll go shoot her,” Porter said to Rodgers.
“No,” Rodgers said. “That’ll look suspicious. It’s got to be the wolves that take her out. Don’t worry, she won’t get far.”
Porter glanced over at Roman. “Stay where you are,” he ordered him. His gun was aimed right at Roman’s head.
“The rest of you. Into the bedroom. Now,” Mitch snapped.
As they were led off, Chelsea looked over at Roman, and he gave her a slight nod.
He was planning something.
Mitch hustled Joyce and her brothers and Chelsea down another hallway and into a bedroom. It looked as if it was the boys’ bedroom; there were bunkbeds with blue plaid blankets, a battered old wooden desk, and a telescope in the corner.
He stood in the doorway as they walked in.
Chelsea flashed an involuntary glance at the bedroom window.
“I nailed it shut,” Mitch sneered. “Sure, you could pry it open. If you had time. But five minutes from now, you’ll all by dead. Or dying.”