CHAPTER 35

There were forty one files in my inbox when I checked it later that night. Every single one of them at least mentioned Thostchild.

I was still reeling from the words Anthony had said. 'Now they know the price of speaking against you.' Twelve men, all dead because Victor had opened his mouth and insulted me and Anthony had decided to do something about it. I'd wanted to rage at him, to force him to see how ridiculous that was, how wrong. But the stubborn wolf was having none of it.

"You said you didn't want to argue," he reminded me as we'd dried off and slipped into bed.

I had said that, but I hadn't realized the circumstances.

We'd slept.

Or rather, he'd slept, falling into slumber within moments, and I'd lain awake guilt eating me alive for being the reason twelve men weren't going home this night. I must have drifted off eventually, because when I woke it was daylight, and Anthony was gone.

I'd had a bit of a panic over the entire situation and then immediately distracted myself by jumping down the rabbit hole that was Thostchild.

Fourteen of the files were supply shipments, run through a private shipping company with a familiar logo, an eagle on a sword. One of those was the Everlong robotic surgical system, I checked the address, it was heading for, which, according to my gps was some residential home just outside of Newcomb New York. The other shipments had been taken to the same place. It didn't strike me as right, but at least I had something to go one.

Newcomb was a five hour drive, I'd need to borrow a car.

I studied the other items that had been shipped. Mostly medical supplies, some industrial solvents, some chemicals and blood products that I couldn't identify from their coding. I knew there wasn't a major hospital near Newcomb, so the combination of equipment was giving me a bad feeling.

The twenty-seven files that remained apart from the shipping files were copies of medical charts denoting the response of patients, identified by letters and number only, to a new treatment of some sort. Cancer was mentioned several times, so it seemed likely that the treatment that was taking place was maybe a controversial cancer treatment. Maybe something that wasn't FDA approved.

I looked at one file in particular.

Patient BO-4300133. Bone cancer, final stages. Given Thetramericol-14 at a 1.5ml drip over eighteen hours. Procedure repeated every second day for a week. Significant reduction in tumours, especially those that had metastasized.

I scrolled down, just to find more notes on the progression of treatment. Seemed like a legit study, so why so secret? And how was the shipping company tied to it all? The militant-like workers and wolf killing bullets didn't just come out of nowhere.

It didn't make much sense at all, actually, but I'd killed more than enough time coming back to the manse...

An explosion rocked the side of the house, close enough to my room that the concussive power shook my walls until the lights rattled. I rolled away from them, leaping to my feet.

Voices yelling, and the sounds of gunfire struck my awareness as the ringing in my ears faded, they were outside, toward the back and I carefully peered out my window. A group of wolves were in the back alley, weapons pointed at the exits.

"Anthony!" one of them yelled, "send your bitch out and we'll call it even. Keep her there and we'll take down everyone in the manse."

A retaliation then. I shook my head. The fool of a wolf had started an internal war. I got dressed, pulled together my pack and gear, and slid on my boots.

By the time I made it down the stairs our people were in a professional flurry of movement. Security teams ran back and forth through the foyer, all shouting orders.

Anthony ran in from the media room, an AR-15 under one arm. His eyes found me immediately. "Go to the safe room and stay there."

Another explosion hit, this one closer to the front. We ducked together as crystal droplets fell from the chandelier above us.

"Where the hell are they getting granades? They should have nothing that I don't know about."

"How many do we have in the manse?" I asked.

Anthony shook me. "I don't want you to worry about that, I want you in the safe room. Most of our people are already there."

He didn't mean most of our people, he meant most of the wolves of the organization that were not fighters. He was lumping me in with the vulnerable.

"I'm not going to hide in the safe room," I told him. "Give me a gun and let me shoot." My little Makarov wouldn't be much good against the firepower I could hear outside.

For a moment I thought Anthony was going to argue, the muscles along his jawline tensed and I could see him grinding his teeth.

"It's Marco," Jacob ran up to us, nodding at me in acknowledgement. "Word is he was having an affair with Lisa. He's not in his right mind."

Lisa would be one of the wolves that Anthony had murdered, and Marco was a very, very dangerous man. His hold on reality was tenuous at best and unlike Victor he had no delusions of honor.

"End him. Get a shot on him and take his head off," Anthony ground out.

A scream and rain of gunfire echoed down the hall from the kitchen and suddenly two wolves were barrelling toward us. Jacob and Anthony both raised their guns to fire, but I was quicker. My Makarov might not do much against high powered guns in a turf war, but it could still kill a wolf dead. I pulled the trigger, surprised when it produced almost no kickback, even more surprised when the bullet hit our first attacker between the eyes and ate a hole in his head the size of a dollar. I didn't waste time aiming for the second wolf, the bullet hitting him a little higher, on the forehead, but with the same result. They fell instantly to the floor.

I looked at my little gun, surprised. That was not what I'd been expecting.

Jacob and Anthony were staring at me.

"I'm not going to the safe room," I told them.

Anthony frowned. "Fine. Stay close, I'm going to blow Marco apart myself."

Anthony led the way down the hall, past the bodies I'd dropped, Jacob followed closely on his heels and I took up the rear. The kitchen was a bloody mess, three men lay unmoving against the back exit, their bodies covered in blood and bits of bone. Entire chunks of limb were missing, scattered across the nearby wall.

Martha must have been cooking when they breeched the door because they'd actually got a shot in on her, she sat against the oven door, cradling her side, still keeping her Colt M-4 trained on the doorway which had been blown open.

A metallic rattle preceded an object flying inward, it tumbled through the air and my heart dropped. Another grenade. If it hit the floor it would explode on impact.

I didn't think, I dashed in as fast as my feet could carry me, slipping on pools of blood and reached out for the cold metal. Anthony was yelling something, but I pushed the noise away and focused on catching the grenade, gently slowing its momentum without any jarring movements. My heart thundered in my chest, any mistake in my reflexes would wind up with me ground into so much mince meat along the walls.

My wolf had me though, I could feel her stretching through my limbs, changing my position just slightly calm and assured. We caught the grenade just as it was about to hit the floor and I cringed, waiting for the explosion.

It didn't come so I whipped the metal canister back out the door. Our attackers hadn't expected that and the explosion that followed was capped with the screams of men and women on the street.

I dashed forward into the aftermath, toward the street and our enemies, only just realizing the stupidity of the idea when a force from behind me pulled me backward throwing me to the ground.

Shots rang out from across the street, the scent of blood filling the air as two of them pierced Anthony's shoulder and arm.

He cursed from where he landed beside me in the rubble, but rolled over quickly and poked his gun up, returning fire.

Most of our attackers were down, I could tell by the lack of return fire. Anthony took out one more by the curdled scream that followed his Gunfire.

"Marco's the only one left," Jacob appeared beside us. "He's making a run for it."

Anthony slumped, his nostrils flaring.

"Catch him, and bring him to me."