Predatory

DRAKE POV

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK?!

The massive dude who said “welcome to the underground” is smiling. He seems like a giant, friendly lumberjack, and Zoe and Rika visibly relaxed since he got out of one of the Humvees that chased us down that tunnel and into this cavern. Callum and Xander, on the other hand, are just as confused and freaked out as I am.

“Samson. Thank the stars,” Zoe exclaims, rolling her window down. “We were so scared! You all came out of nowhere—”

“Had to make the ambush look convincing to any WASP operatives who don’t see things quite like I do,” the big dude, apparently called Samson, answers. Could this be the Baryshnikov guy my dad mentioned on the phone?

“Well, you accomplished that,” Xander snaps, drawing Samson’s attention behind Zoe into the SUV. “Who the fuck are—”

“Xander, now is not the time,” Rika hisses. “Shut it.”

“What better time—”

“I see y’all’ve brought friends along this time,” Samson observes. “Seems we didn’t come up with code for every possible happenstance, when we discussed y’all comin’ back t’ my neck o’ the woods if ya had trouble. But where’s that spitfire panther shifter at?”

“Sasha’s sleeping in the back. She’s been through a hell of a fight,” Rika explains.

“The ‘disabled vehicle’ you mentioned, then. I figured as much.” He waves and makes some hand signals towards one of the other Humvees. “I’ll make sure she gets proper medical attention right away.”

“Have you heard from any of the WASP brass recently?” Zoe inquires, suddenly concerned.

“Heard somethin’ ’bout a couple o’ fae, Anselm’s assistants or somethin’ like, comin’ to HQ an’ sayin’ that your friend Sasha dueled Anselm for his position. And won.” He pauses, waiting for something—affirmation? contradiction?—but Zoe and Rika are like stone. “There’s been a call sent to all regional commanders lookin’ for verification o’ their story. Evidently the fae ain’t sayin’ more. It’d be mighty impressive, though, if their report turns out to be true.”

“Damn. Seems like them fae are true to their word, if this guy’s trustworthy,” Callum remarks privately to Xander and me.

“And if he ain’t trustworthy?” Xander demands. “Still can’t get a clear read on that, and—”

“Is it safe for us to stay here?” Rika demands.

“The WASP ops are askin’ the right questions. Sit tight. They ain’t steered us wrong yet. Thought for damn sure if this was a trap, we’d be dead or fightin’ for our lives by now,” Callum assures us. His rage has reduced to tight anticipation since Samson’s chosen to talk rather than fight.

“I’d’ve never brought ya down here if it wasn’t. You know Anselm an’ I weren’t friends. This here Underground is a secret from WASP brass, a safe place for those of us who’d like to see the whole organization reformed or destroyed.”

I’m sorry, what?! There are others who think like me and my parents?!

“If the fae at HQ are tellin’ the truth, I gotta assume that Anselm’s dead an’ yer teammate’s t’ blame for it,” Samson continues.

“It was a duel. To the death. Neither one of them’s ever been the type to surrender,” Zoe mumbles. Are we sure it’s safe to tell this guy that?! I mean, he’s saying the right things, but…. I glance down at Sasha, whose eyes have opened to slits. She’s listening, too.

“Can we trust this Samson guy?” I whisper.

“Samson? Big dude? In Montana?” she replies, barely audible.

“Definitely a big dude. Not sure where we are. You need water or anything?”

“Samson good. He safe. Water also good idea.”

“No wonder y’all thought to come t’ me. Nowhere else you could go safely, with Sasha hurt. Well, y’all’re safe here as long as ya needs a place to stay,” Samson is saying as I help Sasha with a water bottle.

“You called for medics, Commander?” someone behind Samson asks. Looks like there’s a small group behind him now, carrying a stretcher and some other medical supplies. Doesn’t look like any of them are armed. Maybe this is the real deal.

“These ladies say they’ve got a friend in the back who’s in a bad way. I want ya t’ help her as best ya can.”

“Um. Before we do that. We should probably introduce you to our other friends,” Rika suggests. “They’re also in the back there, and they’ve been really nervous this whole time. I can’t blame them, since they were the other targets we mentioned to you—”

“I’d be happy to meet them. I take it you’ve exonerated them?”

“Yes. That’s…actually how Sasha ended up dueling Anselm. More or less. He…wasn’t willing to accept our verdict.”

Samson arches an eyebrow. “I think I’d like to get that whole story from Sasha herself, once she’s up to it.”

“I’m sure we all would,” Callum cuts in, drawing Samson’s attention again.

“These are Callum, Xander, and Drake,” Zoe says brightly, gesturing to each of us.

“Pleasure to meet ya, gentlemen. I’m Regional Commander Samson Baryshnikov.” He is the same guy my dad mentioned. Like-minded, he said. We’re probably safe, then. “Let’s get my medics in t’ treat Sasha, an’ then I ’spect y’all’ve got some questions for me. An’ let’s get y’all outta this car. You’ve been drivin’ quite some time, t’ make it here so soon after Rika sent me her heads up.”

Almost on cue, the medic team opens the hatch of the SUV.

“Oh! You’ve been riding back here with her,” one of them remarks.

“No equipment to keep track of her vitals, so we decided having someone keep an eye on her was our best option,” I answer. “No offense, but can you promise me she’ll be all right with you? I—”

“It’s okay, Drake,” Sasha breathes. “Trust Samson.” She tries to scoot herself towards the medics, but even that small effort is still too much for her.

“Hey, easy. I’ve got you.” I slip my hands behind her shoulders, offering support. Can’t have her hurting herself, even if—

“We can handle it from here, sir. You should go see the Commander, with your friends. And trust us. She’s in good hands,” the medic who addressed me before recommends.

“I’m riding along with them, anyway,” Rika tells me, coming around to join us. “You’ll be the first to know if anything with Sasha changes, all right?”

I fucking hate feeling useless, and the last thing I want to do is let Sasha out of my sight again, but Rika won’t let them hurt her, I know that.

“I’ll hold you to that,” I mutter as I slide reluctantly out of the back of the SUV. Zoe’s wandered away to check out one of the Humvees, but Callum and Xander are still here, glowering over our vehicle’s hood at Samson. Guess I might as well join them. Plenty of questions need answers.

“So you’re…Baryshnikov?” I ask as I approach. He seems nice enough, but on the basis of size alone I’m uncomfortable standing near him, even with an SUV between us and my friends close by. He smells like an apex predator. Another shifter of some kind?

“Please, call me Samson,” he answers. “Since you’re friends of those operatives—”

“Friends seems a bit much, personally,” Xander mutters.

“Regardless,” he fixes his gaze on me. “You’re Eric Sadoques’s eldest, aren’t ya?”

“How did you—” I demand. I’ve never even seen this guy before.

“You’ve got more’n a passin’ resemblance to ’im, that’s all. He’s a good one. Always liked workin’ with ’im.” Samson turns to Callum and Xander. “An’ the two of you must be from the same pack.”

“You know Elder Eric?” Callum questions.

“We’ve worked together, more’n a few times. An’ we think alike on a lot o’ things. All Sadoques’ people are friends o’ mine. I know y’all’ve been through the wringer, but you can relax now. Those special ops have done right by you.”

“Unbelievable,” Xander growls. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

“I know it’s gotta seem that way. Ask whatever questions ya got. We got time. This place is plenty secure.”

“Right, we can start with that. Where the hell are we?” Callum demands. “We were sleeping until your ambush appeared and our driver started panicking.”

“Montana. In my territory. This area specifically’s called the Underground.”

“And what’s this place for? Ambushes? Torture?” Xander snaps.

Samson’s brow furrows in a deep frown. “Stuff like that ain’t my style. If I was plannin’ on harmin’ ya, woulda been doin’ it by now. But t’ answer your question, the Underground is my little safe haven for folk who want to see WASP changed or destroyed. Sadoques—Eric, that is—an’ a couple other leaders who’re dissatisfied with how WASP does things were part of makin’ this happen. Told me I should be in charge of it, ’cuz WASP brass don’t come out here real often an’ I’m pretty decent at makin’ ’em think that I play by the rules.”

“Would Elder Eric say the same?” Xander seems to have cooled down a bit, but he’s still pissed and jumpy.

“He told me, when I called him to let him know what was going on, that the special ops were probably taking us to Baryshnikov,” I answer before Samson can.

“Did you tell ’im to take the pack into hiding? If Anselm was after you, your pack’ll be the first place his loyalists will look,” Samson asks.

“Yeah, I did. And he said he would. I told him I thought, based on what the special ops have said, that Anselm was after me to hurt my Dad—”

“More’n likely the truth. ’Specially if you share some o’ your parents’ thoughts on how things ought to be.”

“He do,” Callum confirms, “and he ain’t always smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it in public.”

“Well then. I ’spect y’all’ll fit right in here, then. Everyone here got issues with WASP. Some of ’em are still working for WASP an’ spyin’ for me. Some used t’ work for WASP an’ have faked their deaths so’s to get out an’ fight from the outside. And some are like you, regular supernaturals lookin’ for change.”

My breath catches. It’s like a dream come true. Callum and Xander look intrigued, too, despite their lingering skepticism.

“Come with me,” Samson invites. “Y’all’re prob’ly tired after your trip. We’ll getcha set up with someplace to stay, an’ after y’all’ve rested a piece we can see about ya meetin’ some of my associates.”