Wake A Sleeping Tiger (Breeds 22)

They moved to the entrance of the jet as Samara moved aside.

“This is the only woman here,” Samara informed him, shock still filling her. “Tell me this is not who I believe it to be.”

Cullen moved to the door of the heli-jet and stepped next to his brother, shock resounding through him.

It wasn’t possible.

He drew in her scent quickly and knew it was. How in the hell had Council soldiers managed to abduct this woman?

“Cassie?” Chelsea’s suddenly panicked voice ricocheted through the night as she struggled to climb into the interior of the heli-jet. “Oh my God, Cullen, let me in there. Cassie?”

Cassie Sinclair?

He glanced at his brother, seeing the narrowed eyes, the flaring of his nostrils.

“Get her out of there,” Graeme suddenly growled. “Get Chelsea out now.”

Cullen didn’t wait for questions; he simply gripped her waist and dragged her back despite her struggles, holding her against him as Graeme moved closer to the unconscious young woman.

Her scent was Cassie, with only the slightest, subtle difference.

“Graeme?” Cullen questioned him softly, suspicion suddenly flaring inside him.

Graeme shook his head, his gaze turning back to Cullen.

“That’s not Cassie,” he stated.

Chelsea froze beside him. “Of course it’s Cassie,” she snapped. “Who else could it be?”

Who indeed? Graeme thought warily, but it was not who it appeared to be.

“That is not Cassie Sinclair,” Graeme stated again, nodding toward the unconscious woman. “That’s her twin.”

As he made the announcement the ground rumbled with sound as three stealth heli-jets hovered over the area.

“This is Director Breaker, Western Breed Affairs. Stand down for landing. I repeat. This is Director Breaker, Western Breed Affairs, stand down for landing.”

The announcement had Cullen’s eyes narrowing, a growl rumbling in Graeme’s throat and Samara Cerves cursing a blue streak.

“I’m going to rip his head off,” Graeme snarled. “And stuff it up his ass.”

Turning, they watched as the crafts landed. Doors opened, spilling out three dozen enforcers and the director of the Window Rock Breed Affairs office.

Striding toward them, Rule, Lawe and surprisingly their mates rushed to the heli-jet.

“I hear we have a scientist to collect,” Rule announced his, eyes narrowed as he took in Graeme’s expression.

“Actually,” Graeme growled. “You don’t.”

“Come on, Graeme.” Rule smiled consolingly. “You know I can’t let you keep her. We had a report they were flying close and we’ve been searching for them all night.”

“There’s no scientist,” he snarled.

“Dammit, Graeme, I’m not in the mood to fight you . . .”

“Fuck you, you mangy damned cat.” Graeme stepped aside, the frustration in his tone unmistakable. “There’s no fucking scientist.”

Rule and Lawe stepped to the entrance of the heli-jet, then froze.