The Sacrifice (Seven Sins MC 1)

Coming in this direction.

Ly.

Chapter Twelve

Lycus

I still felt like I could smell the wet dog scent I'd picked up on in the woods as we drove away from our estate, making our way up the hill.

We didn't know the exact location of the shifter headquarters, only that it was up in a clearing in the woods, allowing them to Shift anytime they wanted without worrying about being seen by anyone else.

It wasn't until about half an hour into the drive that I noticed something.

Rain.

On the horizon.

But concentrated in a small area.

Lenore.

That was the only explanation.

It was bright everywhere else.

I lay on my horn, getting the attention of the others, then pointing toward the sight.

Ace's tight shoulders seemed to ease a bit at having a direction, and proof that I was right about the shifters having the witch.

We knew the shifters.

Of course, we did.

We all ran in the same circles, after all.

But while we dabbled at being bikers, the shifters had been a legitimate MC for at least three generations. They dealt in anything that involved beating the shit out of people, largely working as hired muscle these days. They'd worked crowd control at a couple of the rallies we'd been to.

We had always made it a point to avoid one another.

The shifters had an ugly reputation from the beginning.

Then fucking Drex had gone ahead and stolen one of their mates from them—only for a night, mind you, but that was more than enough for them—a generation back, and shit got ugly for a couple decades.

Leadership had changed since then.

From what I'd heard, the son of the leader we'd taken out was now in charge.

And if he figured out the witch was valuable to us, who the fuck knew what he might be capable of? Just for revenge's sake.

The only thing working in our favor was that we could pay.

And they weren't exactly rolling in it. They made do. But men who made do always wanted to lighten the burden a bit. We could do that.

Ace had a lot of skills, not the least of which was figuring out how to make human money, then compound it until it was almost laughable how much he had stashed away. It wouldn't hurt our bottom line to trade for Lenore.

And since Ace had high hopes for this Sacrifice, he would pay whatever they wanted.

We pulled into the lot of their clubhouse a while later, finding it different than the last time we had seen it, when it was nothing more than a shack made of spare timber.

Whoever Junior was, he had better taste—and slightly more resources—than his old man.

At the sounds of our bikes pulling in, the front door opened and half a dozen men stepped out.

The smell of dog met my nose, something familiar and no less offensive than it had been a generation ago.

"You have something that belongs to us," Ace informed them, moving to the front.

"Yeah?" one of them asked, moving forward as well.

Even from far away, there was a resemblance to his old man. Tall, fit, blond. This was the new leader.

"Yes."

"And what makes you think that?"

"I can smell her," I declared, moving in beside Ace, who cast a quick glance at me, curious, making it clear that Lenore's scent that was so strong to me seemed lost on everyone else.

"If she is yours, what was she doing lost and upset in the woods?" another one asked, tall, dark-haired, tattooed.

"She's not that bright," Ace supplied. "She got lost while we weren't at home."

"Or was she running from you?" the leader asked, brow arching up. "A witch. I wonder what a group of demons would want with the likes of her," he mused, pinning Ace with an unwavering glare.

"We will be more than happy to make a trade," Ace offered.

"See, I know you are all rolling in it," the leader said, chin lifting. "But I can't help but wonder who else might be around who would be willing to pay more."

"She's not a fucking piece of furniture. You can't sell her," I snapped, drawing his attention.

"I think I can, actually. You want to try to stop me?" he asked, and I could feel the Change starting, my fingers elongated into talons, my horns starting to poke through my skin.

"Ly, stand down," Ace hissed at me.

"Sully," another voice called, belonging to an older man who seemed vaguely familiar in a time-drenched way. "Take the money and let the witch go. She can't bring any good here."

"Listen to your grandfather, Sully," Ace agreed, having a much better memory than I did, apparently. "No one wants another war. From the looks of things, your pack has barely recovered."

They'd been a much bigger organization once upon a time. And we'd had a big part in decimating their numbers, while not taking any real hits ourselves. They couldn't kill us, after all. Though there had been some nursing of wounds for a while after the last big fight, the one that had their leader dead, and their pack too defeated to go on.