Read Online Captivation: Shifters Forever Worlds (Shifters Forever After Book 4) by Elle Thorne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elle Thorne
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raised the gun, and took aim for Bain’s shoulder then flicked the trigger and released the dart.
Bain collapsed seconds after the dart hit him.
* * *
B ain wasn’t knocked out . The Anti-Tranq he’d appropriated from Doc’s offices assured that the Tranq hadn’t affected him. And he’d be very able to shift.
He felt his bear’s presence, and wondered why they hadn’t performed any witchery to keep the bear at bay.
Or maybe they had and the Anti-Tranq was an antidote for that as well as the Tranq darts.
Bain heard footsteps and he closed his eyes. Whoever was approaching was being very quiet. He'd memorized the Italian's pattern of walking. A slight shuffle when he moved one of his feet, as if slightly limping, favoring an injury. Or maybe a bad knee. Yes, he'd learned the Italian's steps, and that was definitely the Italian.
What the Italian didn’t know, Bain was not knocked out. He was feigning the effects of the Tranq they’d shot him with. He’d done something he wasn’t proud of. He’d stolen one of Doc’s Anti-Tranq doses. He fully intended to pay him back for it.
If I survive this ordeal.
He could smell the Italian; he was that close. The smell of garlic and marinara strongly pervaded Bain’s senses.
The Italian’s voice was close, his breath warm when he whispered in Bain’s ear, “Foolish shifter. All you had to do was fight a few fights and mind your own business. Now you will be my collateral for Mikhail and his friend Mae to call off their forces in Oregon and not meddle in my business affairs. Perhaps you can even gain me the control of the New York territory. Between you and your uncle, I’ll have leverage.”
Uncle? What did the Italian mean by that? Braden? They had Braden? Where?
Bain fought to keep control of his emotions and his heartbeat so they wouldn’t sense he was affected and awake.
“Let me go.” Braden was angry, that was clear from his tone. “What the hell? Bain? He better be alive.”
Oh, yes, Braden was pissed.
Bain hoped his uncle would control his temper and not force them to kill him. He heard a pop. And just like that, Bain’s shifter senses picked up Braden’s pulse beginning its slide into unconsciousness.
Great.
Now it was just him. He could shift and that would break through the shackles holding him. Then, he could rain some hell down on these bastards. His senses told him there were half a dozen in the room. Perhaps, if he were lucky, a few would leave.
“We’ll wait for my pantywaist stepson Giorgio to get back, he needs to witness how we handle situations like this,” the Italian said. “How the hell I’m going to get that pansy to behave like an alpha when his mother mollycoddles him, I have no idea.”
A couple of the Italian’s men smirked. Then, they all left.
And it was just Bain and Braden.
Bain opened his eyes and looked at his uncle, able to see clear as day in the darkness of the basement thanks to his shifter vision.
Braden had not gone down easy. His face was a portrait of bruises, scrapes, and lacerations. Bloody nose, split lip, and blackened eyes.
They’d pay, Bain vowed. Somehow, he’d make them pay. Specifically, the Italian.
* * *
T his time , the Italian came in alone. Again, Bain kept his eyes closed to let his nemesis think he was still knocked out from the Tranq.
“I'm going to kill you, slowly, you piece of shit polar bear trash. And then I'm going to kill your father. And after that, your piece of shit brother's little son.”
In Bain's head, his bear roared with such volume that Bain thought his eyes would bleed. His. The Italian's words had almost pushed him to the point of shifting and killing the bastard. The only thing that stopped him was the sound of another voice.
Bain paused. He harnessed his pulse, reined in his heartbeat, and listened for the voice again, for it was one he had not heard yet.
Instead, the Italian spoke, “Giorgio, get your ass in here.” The contempt was obvious in the
Bain collapsed seconds after the dart hit him.
* * *
B ain wasn’t knocked out . The Anti-Tranq he’d appropriated from Doc’s offices assured that the Tranq hadn’t affected him. And he’d be very able to shift.
He felt his bear’s presence, and wondered why they hadn’t performed any witchery to keep the bear at bay.
Or maybe they had and the Anti-Tranq was an antidote for that as well as the Tranq darts.
Bain heard footsteps and he closed his eyes. Whoever was approaching was being very quiet. He'd memorized the Italian's pattern of walking. A slight shuffle when he moved one of his feet, as if slightly limping, favoring an injury. Or maybe a bad knee. Yes, he'd learned the Italian's steps, and that was definitely the Italian.
What the Italian didn’t know, Bain was not knocked out. He was feigning the effects of the Tranq they’d shot him with. He’d done something he wasn’t proud of. He’d stolen one of Doc’s Anti-Tranq doses. He fully intended to pay him back for it.
If I survive this ordeal.
He could smell the Italian; he was that close. The smell of garlic and marinara strongly pervaded Bain’s senses.
The Italian’s voice was close, his breath warm when he whispered in Bain’s ear, “Foolish shifter. All you had to do was fight a few fights and mind your own business. Now you will be my collateral for Mikhail and his friend Mae to call off their forces in Oregon and not meddle in my business affairs. Perhaps you can even gain me the control of the New York territory. Between you and your uncle, I’ll have leverage.”
Uncle? What did the Italian mean by that? Braden? They had Braden? Where?
Bain fought to keep control of his emotions and his heartbeat so they wouldn’t sense he was affected and awake.
“Let me go.” Braden was angry, that was clear from his tone. “What the hell? Bain? He better be alive.”
Oh, yes, Braden was pissed.
Bain hoped his uncle would control his temper and not force them to kill him. He heard a pop. And just like that, Bain’s shifter senses picked up Braden’s pulse beginning its slide into unconsciousness.
Great.
Now it was just him. He could shift and that would break through the shackles holding him. Then, he could rain some hell down on these bastards. His senses told him there were half a dozen in the room. Perhaps, if he were lucky, a few would leave.
“We’ll wait for my pantywaist stepson Giorgio to get back, he needs to witness how we handle situations like this,” the Italian said. “How the hell I’m going to get that pansy to behave like an alpha when his mother mollycoddles him, I have no idea.”
A couple of the Italian’s men smirked. Then, they all left.
And it was just Bain and Braden.
Bain opened his eyes and looked at his uncle, able to see clear as day in the darkness of the basement thanks to his shifter vision.
Braden had not gone down easy. His face was a portrait of bruises, scrapes, and lacerations. Bloody nose, split lip, and blackened eyes.
They’d pay, Bain vowed. Somehow, he’d make them pay. Specifically, the Italian.
* * *
T his time , the Italian came in alone. Again, Bain kept his eyes closed to let his nemesis think he was still knocked out from the Tranq.
“I'm going to kill you, slowly, you piece of shit polar bear trash. And then I'm going to kill your father. And after that, your piece of shit brother's little son.”
In Bain's head, his bear roared with such volume that Bain thought his eyes would bleed. His. The Italian's words had almost pushed him to the point of shifting and killing the bastard. The only thing that stopped him was the sound of another voice.
Bain paused. He harnessed his pulse, reined in his heartbeat, and listened for the voice again, for it was one he had not heard yet.
Instead, the Italian spoke, “Giorgio, get your ass in here.” The contempt was obvious in the
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