But I wouldn’t release them no matter how powerful the urge.
I wasn’t that stupid.
A few of my coworkers, including Holden, had agreed to help me with my Reagan problems. I hadn’t mentioned her name, but they knew someone was in trouble and that was all they needed to hear.
“We’ve got your back, Tarik. All you need to do is ask,” Holden had said without prying for details. The one thing my kind always did was look out for each other. My coworkers probably knew all about my sordid past, including my reputation at The Pit, but they didn’t seem to care. Wait until they caught wind I was trying to protect a shifter.
The looks of utter shock would be epic.
Currently, we were laughing about our newest guess as to what Jocelyn’s shifter form was. A spider. I mean, she was always in our hair and scuttling in and out of tight spaces. Fitting. But, if she morphed into a ten-foot-tall hairy arachnid, I’d never sleep again. I chuckled, envisioning eight high-heeled shoes on a spider that stumbled and tripped all over itself.
So amused by the mental image, I almost missed the cry of pain.
We were nearing the shifter warehouse district where The Pit resided. Cries of pain were common—male shifters liked beating each other up in the side alley. Stupid, testosterone-driven meatheads. I was about to tell the group to give the place a wide berth. We had much more important business, after all. Reagan’s life counted on this Fae meeting.
But the cry came again, louder this time, and I paused.
Something about the cadence sounded way too familiar. The noise wasn’t human but rather a shifter in animal form. A shifter in agony. The pain-filled roar that came next froze my blood.
“Reagan,” I breathed. I lurched into action, bare feet slapping against wet concrete as I charged toward that accursed alley. The alley that had caused me endless guilt and suffering. And now . . . now it was happening again.
Shouts followed my pounding footsteps but I didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. The lion cries were growing frantic and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but getting to her.
You’re too late. Too late. Too late, the voice in my head jeered over and over.
I’m not, I inwardly yelled. I couldn’t be. I couldn’t do this again. I wouldn’t survive.
When I slid around that final corner and saw the great winged lion—pinned, shredded, bleeding, and surrounded by frenzied shifters—my heart stopped. A giant male—half man and half wolf—wrapped a clawed hand around her neck. Without hesitation, without mercy, his other fist crashed into her jaw.
She mewled like a crushed kitten, then sagged, her large form shrinking until her petite human body fell to the ground. Naked. Broken. Alone.
For a split second, long blonde tresses replaced blue and black hair. A thin willowy frame in place of curves covered in colorful tattoos. They were one and the same in that moment.
Suffering.
Dying.
Because of me.
Through my shock and rising panic, I became aware of bodies crowding in close. I didn’t take my eyes off Reagan’s crumpled form, so vulnerable next to the monsters intent on killing her. Had they succeeded? I shoved the thought aside. I couldn’t lose hope like that. Not yet.
First, I needed to end these pieces of filth.
“We’re with you,” Holden said at my elbow.
I nodded, knowing they were. Every Fae knew this alley’s history. What had been done here. To her. To me. This alley was death, the destroyer of innocence and happiness.
But I prayed my coworkers wouldn’t die tonight. I couldn’t have them on my conscience too.
When a burly shifter kicked Reagan’s unconscious body, a roar shook the alley. Mine. Wrenched from my lungs. Twin stabs of pain lanced my shoulders as wings punched from my back, tearing my shirt in half. I stood, shaking, filled with white hot rage and . . . and something else. Something glorious. I was going to kill them.
Kill them all.
Knowing this would hurt but relishing the pain anyway, I spread my destroyed wings wide. A few Fae inhaled sharply, whether from the fact that I’d broken the city’s number one rule or from the sight of my damaged wings—I didn’t care. Nothing mattered right now but ridding the world of the evil before me. I caught a glimpse of my wing’s dark tattered remains as I pressed forward, shouting, “You vermin are going to pay for what you’ve done!”
As one, the shifters turned, furious expressions quickly morphing to shock, then horror. Yes, that’s right. Fear the scarred Fae demon. I didn’t wait for them to speak. Splintering agony shot through my raw wing muscles as they gave a mighty flap, air whistling between the featherless joints. Then I hurtled toward them.
I aimed for the one I recognized: Wolf Man, the shifter who had started me down this path of no return. The path that had brought me to Reagan. I barreled into his gut and lifted him off the ground, slamming him to the cracked cement. He groaned, and I rammed my fist into his mouth, dislodging teeth.
Two more solid blows to the face and he was out. I didn’t waste time wondering how I, a lowly Fae, had knocked unconscious a half-shifted wolf man one hundred pounds heavier. My thoughts switched off as I twisted and whirled, raining blows upon any shifter I could get my hands on.
My wings, still razor-sharp at the tips where a spattering of feathers clung, sliced through flesh. Men howled and screamed, and I grinned wickedly. The whole alley was a bloodbath and I reveled in the pain. Bathed in it. Shifter blood was sweet on my tongue. All too soon, the fight ended. A few of the shifters, including Wolf Man, slunk away. But even more lay dead at my feet.
I blinked, clearing away some of the red haze. Our feet, actually. My fellow Fae were still with me. They hadn’t dared release their wings, and
