She seemed to be missing the point. So he had to say, “What if he doesn’t want to be found?”

Her lashes lowered. “I need to make sure . . . Lyle is so good at lying . . . what if Jonah didn’t leave? What if he—”

Died?

Gage nodded, then realized she couldn’t see the movement. “I’ll find him.” He had to be careful. If he didn’t watch it, the woman would realize just how much control she had over him.

Too much.

“But you have to help me find someone else first.” Because he needed her just as much as she needed him.

A small furrow appeared between her brows as she glanced back up at him. “Who?”

“The mangy wolf who sold out my pack.” He’d rounded up all the men and women in the Vegas pack. A pack he’d assembled.

Wolves on their own didn’t survive. They needed the strength of a family. The security of a pack. Without it . . .

Hello, insanity.

There was a reason most serial killers were actually wolf shifters. They couldn’t control their beasts. Not when they were on their own.

Hell, just look at what had happened to Lyle. The guy was grade-A psychotic, with no pack in sight.

The wolves needed the bond of a pack. Or the bonds of a mate.

Mated wolves never lost their minds. They never went down that slippery slope that led to the total darkness of the beast.

I won’t go now, thanks to her.

Hell, yeah, he owed her. She had no idea how much. When this battle was all over, he’d make sure he paid his debt.

“I didn’t even know there was a wolf giving Intel to Lyle—” Kayla began, but he cut through her words.

“You know now,” he said simply. They both knew for certain now. “You can help me find the SOB. And stop him.”

“Uh, yeah, I do have my awesome days,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But I’m not psychic. I can’t just magically tell you which wolf has been selling you out.”

“Sweetheart, we don’t need magic.” Because he’d already narrowed the field down to two wolves. The two that he’d trusted the most in the pack.

Those two wolves were being held in lockdown. Contained, away from the others.

His two closest friends.

One would be dying soon.

“Come with me,” he told her and offered his hand. “Because I don’t want to kill the wrong wolf.”

She stared at his hand, hesitated.

Come with me. He wanted her at his side.

“Fine,” she growled, almost sounding like a wolf, “but if I’m gonna be in a den of shifters, you’d better give me my gun back.”

He almost smiled.

Such a bloodthirsty little hunter.

Lyle stared out at the desert. It just stretchedas far as he could see. Appearing empty. Almost never-ending.

The hunters were scrambling behind him. Trying to secure the facility.

The facility could burn for all he cared.

He was tired of it all. He just wanted to shift. To run. To kill.

The quiet kills in secret weren’t good enough anymore. Why should he have to hide? Act like he was something else?

The power was growing within him. The beast wanted out.

He’d come to this city, planning to take over. The place had been ripe. He’d been ready. No longer just taking orders from dicks in suits, he’d been set to change the game. To show them the real face of the paranormals they needed to fear.

Sin City had been meant to become his. He’d set his little dominoes up, then gotten ready to watch them fall.

Only Gage Riley was in his way.

He’ll fall.

Lyle would make sure of it.

His weapon in this world was his gift at deceit. His mother had been right. He really had been born to lie. He’d fooled the hunters so easily. Would keep fooling them. They were his tools, and he’d bleed them until they were dry.

Then, once the other wolves were gone from Vegas, once the city was his, he’d let his wolf out. He’d let his beast rage, and he’d tear and claw his way through any hunters who were still left standing.

He wasn’t a fucking lap dog. Not anymore. He was alpha.

Time the rest of the world bowed to him.

Psychotic? Insane? Those words had been tossed around plenty by his parents. They’d seen him for what he was long before anyone else did.

So he’d stopped them from seeing. From hearing. From breathing.

Wolf shifters were supposed to maintain their control and balance if they lived in a pack. If they took a mate.

He’d thought about living in a pack once.

Even almost taken a mate . . .

But he’d had more fun killing her than anything else. Kayla’s mother had sure been blessed with one sweet scream.

Mates and packs weren’t for him. He didn’t want the rigid bonds of control that would hold his wolf in check.

He liked the blood. He liked the violence.

The desert stared back at him.

He liked the kill.

The wolves were chained to the wall. Chained with silver. Oh, jeez—who’d been the unlucky shifter who’d drawn that duty?

Kayla walked silently into the darkened room with Gage. Her gun was tucked into the waistband of her jeans. Hell, yes, she’d gotten it back. Like she was gonna just walk into this room unarmed?

She didn’t really know how Gage thought he’d be able to use her, but—damn, that one guy was smoking. Smoke literally rose from the blisters on the blond man’s wrist where he was bound.