War of Hearts (True Immortality 1)

“Where would you keep her?” James asked.

Conall cut him a filthy look for even considering the notion.

“I’ve rented a castle on Loch Isla.”

“Castle Cara?”

Ashforth nodded and Conall narrowed his gaze. The castle he spoke of was situated about ninety minutes down the coast. Lord Mackenzie, who had renovated the centuries-old castle, owned it. Conall had never heard of him renting it out before so obviously Ashforth had offered a hefty incentive to do so. And Conall knew why he would. The castle could only be reached by boat and it had once been considered one of the most defensible castles in Scotland.

But that was then. This was now. Even so, he didn’t like that Ashforth would choose somewhere like Castle Cara to hole up in.

“No.”

“Conall.” James scowled. “Perhaps Callie should be the one to decide.”

Ignoring him, Conall addressed Ashforth. “Let me ask this. If I dinnae retrieve the girl, what happens to my sister?”

“If you can’t retrieve her, or if she kills you, I will release your sister. But if you betray me”—Ashforth’s expression slackened with weariness—“I will keep your sister and she will die of her disease before you ever get the chance to say goodbye.”

James lunged at Ashforth but Conall was faster, yanking his beta back by the scruff of his neck. James’s claws were out.

“Calm yourself.”

“I’m sorry to be so harsh,” Ashforth apologized. “But a desperate man does what he must.”

“Conall,” Grace’s voice cut through the room.

He looked at the woman he considered a grandparent. “Grace?”

She stepped forward, her expression one of heartbreaking sadness and hope. “If it would save her … shouldnae we try?”

“What of the girl?” Angus frowned. “Can we really barter a girl’s life for Callie’s?”

“She’s a murderer,” Conall answered. “I have no qualms about handing her over to save Callie. I do not, however, intend to offer Callie up as collateral.”

“It should be up to your sister,” Grace disagreed. “Dinnae take this choice away from her, Conall. Not when it could change everything.”

Worry needled him. But the hope in Grace’s eyes tugged at Conall’s heart. Callie could live. Like a true wolf again. Not trapped in her human half until it withered to nothing.

He looked at James.

The hope had buried its way into him too.

Callie and James.

They would be free to be with each other.

Sighing, Conall nodded. “If Callie agrees … then so must I.” He turned to Ashforth whose entire countenance was transformed with his own kind of hope. “The woman. Who is she? Where is she?”

“Her name is Thea Quinn. She’s twenty-five years old, of unknown species, and she was last spotted in mainland Europe where she murdered a shopkeeper.”

Well, didn’t she sound like a charming wee thing. “If Callie agrees, I’ll need Thea’s scent and a list of her known abilities.”

Anticipation tingled in Conall’s blood. It was instinctual, primal. Deep down he knew Callie would do anything to live.

Meaning it was time for Conall to go hunting.The bar and restaurant on Stolarska had a relaxed, happy vibe. It smelled of Guinness and good food, and its vibrant energy appealed to Thea. Stolarska was a clean, brick-paved street just off the thirteenth-century square in Kraków’s Old Town. It was teeming with tourists. Not great for anonymity but she’d make up the terrible waitress salary in tips.

That was if she got the job.

The bar was owned by an Irishman named Anthony Kerry and his Polish wife, Maja. When Thea had first inquired at the bar about the waitressing position advertised on the board outside, Anthony had appraised her with a gleam in his eyes.

Then as he conducted a casual interview in his office, he grew visibly unsure. She wasn’t the bubbliest person on earth. In fact, she was taciturn and no matter how desperate for cash she was, she just couldn’t force herself to play the part of super enthusiastic All-American girl. What she had to say next wouldn’t help matters.

“I lost my work visa, so I had to ask for new papers,” she lied. “I don’t have a bank account either. I need to be paid in cash.”

He looked incredulous. “You lost your visa? You mean that electronic document they send these days?”

Thea kept her expression carefully blank. “Yeah, that one.”

The Irishman considered this a moment. “Well, if you don’t have papers or any formal ID, I’d have to pay you less than the advertised salary.”

Of course, he would. They all did. Thea understood. She was a risk. They needed to get something out of it. She nodded.

“Do you know any Polish?” Anthony asked.

Several years ago, Thea had lived in Warsaw for nine months, which meant she knew some Polish. Ashforth had caught up with her and run her out of Poland, but she was hoping a U-turn would throw the bastard off her scent. “Znam troszke. Wystarczajaco, aby zrozumiec.”

I know a little. Enough to get by.