Rhapsody

29: reckoning

When the doors fly open, shrieking like guilty accomplices, every hair on Maverick's body stands on end.

The energy that precedes Emery's entrance is as palpable as static electricity. It ghosts over Maverick's skin and tickles the most primal of his instincts, compelling him to shrink into his chair. It's the promise of something ancient and powerful, like the suctioning of the tide just before a tsunami or the breeze that heralds a coming thunderstorm.

Emery stands in the entrance, his broad-shouldered silhouette haloed by the afternoon sun. Light filters in around him, illuminating the grimy shipping container with holy wrath. His expression is placid and unreadable.

"Get back!" Gun Guy warns. His warning is punctuated by what sounds an awful lot like loading up a shotgun.

The doors reach the end of their hinges and slam against the sides of the shipping container. Inertia slowly swings them back around. As they close behind Emery, the tendrils of light disappear one by one, like the last rays of salvation, slowly plunging them all into darkness. Their only lifeline is the dim amber lamp in the corner.

"Detective," Emery says. "Are you alright?"

Maverick grits his teeth. "I'm fine."

It's a lie. His head aches, and the zip-ties dig uncomfortably into the enflamed skin of his wrists. But he won't give these two criminal goons the contentment of knowing that.

Emery narrows his eyes. "If they hurt you—"

"Don't move or we shoot," Tiger Tatt cuts off. He takes a step back, using half of Gun Guy's body to shield his own.

Shrouded in near darkness, Emery's breathing is controlled. His hands flex, slightly releasing the pressure chamber of his roiling muscles. Those startling blue eyes haven't yet crossed the threshold to silver, and Maverick can only imagine how much self control such a small act takes so soon after the full moon, with all of that power and sheer instinct coursing through the wolf's veins like a raging, moon-soaked river.

When Emery speaks again, his voice is nothing short of ice.

"You've made the rather unfortunate call to capture someone close to me." He looks at the two men with thinly veiled disgust.

"You've got some nerve, stepping in here," Gun Guy spits. "These bullets are silver."

Maverick doesn't notice Tiger Tatt slinking away until it's too late. The criminal's rank breath is suddenly hot on the back of his neck. A moment later, a cool piece of metal presses against his neck.

Oh, oh. That's a knife.

Panic flares in Maverick's chest, but he shoves it down like a shot of liquor. Trying to wriggle himself free only makes Tiger Tatt press the slicing end of the blade further into his paper-thin skin.

"Don't touch him," Emery snarls, and for the first time, he shows a hint of teeth.

"I wasn't planning to make martyrs today, but I will." Tiger Tatt barks a laugh, white knuckles tight around the blade resting on Maverick's jugular. "You take one more step forward and I slice his neck."

Silver begins to glow in Emery's irises. Slowly, then all at once.

But despite the threat, he stays still.

"Ah..." Tiger Tatt seems pleased. "So it is true."

"You're trying my patience," Emery warns.

Tiger Tatt ignores him. "I wasn't happy when they told me an Archaic wolf was on my tail. Until I was told that he had a weakness. A crippling little Kryptonite."