Dire Desires

Teague weeks ago, after which he’d announced his intentions to take over for his father—and to kill every single outlaw unless they renounced their new leaders and came back under his pack’s protection.

Liam had already made a statement to the outlaw werepack by killing Teague in front of Max. And while he hadn’t made up his mind about her child, if he didn’t kill Max—as was his right since she was his mate and she’d betrayed him—he would lose a great deal of the ground he’d gained establishing himself as the successor to the crown as king of the alphas.

Too young . . . not strong enough . . . not ready. Liam saw red when he heard those words. And he was willing to go balls to the wall to prove himself.

He and Cain and Cyd planned their ambush with only a few hours notice, staked out Tals and Walker, who met only once a week under heavy guard since Teague was killed.

The first group of wolves they encountered was twenty feet from the small house, the guards for the outlaw pack. Boys he’d grown up with. His throat tightened at their betrayal but he forced himself to remain calm. He would give them a single chance at life. They deserved only that, or maybe not even, but he would toughen with each kill, Vice promised him.

Come to think of it, Vice hadn’t looked happy about that.

Now, Liam stood in front of the small pack of young wolves who he knew wouldn’t back down easily. It was necessary to pull them back from outlaw-ville, or take them out completely.

“Where’s your Dire backup?” one Were sneered at him. Able, a wolf three years younger and several inches shorter, with a big mouth and an even bigger attitude.

Liam told him, “I’ve got my own pack. I’m the new king. Abide by my law or die by my hands.”

The smallest one paled, but the others couldn’t let down their show of bravado. Liam watched the five Weres come toward him as the smallest lagged behind, knew this would be a violent, frightening show for all, especially if he let himself go the way Vice had taught him.

“I guess your decision’s made,” Liam said, and then he struck, faster than he’d ever thought possible, with a decisive energy that seemed to stun the Weres. Two went down with broken necks before Cyd jumped in, and then Liam took out Able as Cyd and Cain each made their own kills.

“Your name,” Liam demanded of the small Were.

“Pat,” he answered.

“Don’t move—you’re my witness. Move and die, understand?” Liam asked and Pat nodded as Cyd and Cain moved past him to infiltrate the house and get rid of the guards.

As king, Liam needed to allow his pack to keep him safe, to do some of the dirtier work. And so he hung back, knowing Cyd and Cain wanted to prove themselves to him as much as to themselves, watched his Weres infiltrate and kill the guards.

Seconds later, Cyd and Cain were dragging a surprised Tals and Walker out, the young twins’ strength and fighting skills far surpassing what it should be at their age, thanks to their training from the Dires.

While Tals and Walker looked cocky when the twins let them go in front of Liam, he knew they didn’t have the fire, the need to prove themselves. There was so much pent-up anger inside Liam, he could take them on one by one and it wouldn’t be enough.

He’d planned a brutal assault. There wasn’t a chance of a fair fight. This was a message—and if it turned into a bloodbath, so be it. “You’ll die tonight—and it will be a lesson to other Weres to not disobey their king.”

Tals snorted. “We don’t recognize you as our king, little boy.”

“You were just dragged out here like a sack of beans, so I’d watch who you’re calling little.” Liam cocked his head and stared down the two men, knew his eyes had turned lupine.

Knew there was no turning back as a newfound strength roared through his body like a freight train—heavy, well greased and unstoppable forward motion. The rage was a focused one, a steadily mounting sense of what he needed to do to avenge his father’s death and take back his role.

He would take Tals, because Tals killed his father. “Walker’s yours, Cyd,” he told the alpha Were, and Cyd didn’t hesitate.

Cain stood guard and kept an eye on Pat as Liam circled Tals.

“Just because you took down Teague doesn’t mean I’m as weak.”

“Prove it,” Liam urged, and when Tals lunged, Liam faked left and took him down with a hard elbow to the back. Then he threw his body on the prone wolf and all hell broke loose.

Tals fought. He was excellent—Liam had sparred with him before. But this time, Liam took no prisoners. As his hands tightened to fists, he grabbed Tals and began slamming his face until his human form was a bloody, bleeding pulp with no doubt every bone broken and then he hit him some more.

We tortured your father until he begged to die.

Liam knew—he’d heard all of it, allowed himself to crawl away only when his father’s screams stopped.

Jinx assured him that Linus had passed, crossed over successfully. At least he knew his father was in that place of peace he deserved.

Tals was headed where he deserved, too. Liam was sure of it. He’d taken Liam’s family, no doubt encouraged and laughed when Teague had taken his mate.

Liam had the wolf by the neck and squeezed until Tals bucked frantically under him. “You didn’t give my father the chance to fight. I’m returning the favor.”

“Liam . . . we were friends,” Tals managed through his mangled mouth.

Technically, that was true—Liam had been closest with the man currently bleeding underneath him. “We were never friends,” he spat back as his canines elongated and he ripped the man’s throat out, felt the life slip away from Tals even as the alpha leader inside of him stood up and finally reared his head.

You were meant for this, his father’s voice echoed in his head. He’d heard it a million times growing up, but it was hard to believe it when you really didn’t feel it.

There was no mistaking it now. Taking this action had not only been right, but just.

He didn’t stop there, ripped the wolf limb from limb. Before he tore Tals’s head off, he turned to see Cain holding the mounting spike at the ready, an old Were tradition.

In his haze, Liam could see the light Cain was bathed in, a thin shadow that glowed like a protective skin.

Tradition said only the true pack alpha could see the omega’s glow. Cyd and the Dires swore it was there and Liam had been ashamed to admit he couldn’t see it.

But now that he could, he was even more determined that he was doing the right thing. Blood and sweat mixed with tears of rage and revenge, ran in rivulets down his face and neck. He tasted the metallic tang and his wolf wanted out.

Vice told him that Weres had no control, not like the Dires, but that Liam could learn some measures of control. He didn’t want the out-of-control wolf to take him over. No, he wanted to be in control, to take the wheel, to be present for every brutal punch he threw.

He wanted to never forget.

Liam twisted Tals’s head with a roar, ripped it from the man’s body. As the blood covered him, his eyes turned, his chest coated and he and Cyd both looked like primitive gladiators. There was enough gore on the field for a horror movie.

Now, Cain held two spikes steady and Liam and Cyd mounted their enemies’ heads, prepared to wrap and drag the pieces of the bodies behind them on tarps to the meeting with the outlaws that Liam had called before this fight.

“This is what we’ll do to any and all who betray our kind,” Liam growled at Pat now. “Pass it along. It’s the only reason I’m letting you live.”

The Were who’d witnessed the brutal battle scampered off and Liam had no doubt the tales he’d tell. Liam’s legend was just beginning. The bodies in the middle of the outlaws’ clubhouse to be discovered soon would tell the rest of the story.

He fully expected there would be noncompliant wolves—he would do this, killing one by one until he reigned with an iron fist. This wasn’t the time for forgiveness—it was a time for war.

Liam and his new pack would win it, battle by battle, not caring if he was soaked in the blood of his enemies. This was a message to any other Were who was thinking of rebelling, and it was also a risk, but one