Page 50 of Captured By the Werewolf Highwaymen

He cleared his throat, yet when he spoke, his words were thick. “A neighbor saw me in my wolf form. He gathered a mob and they attacked our home. I barely escaped but they…they were cut down. The last I saw of our house, it was burning to the ground with my parents’ bodies still inside. I was on my own after that, for many years.”

Her heart blazed with his pain. “Until…?”

“Until Cyrus.” Des faced her. “He gathered us together, men like me.”

“Only men?”

“I can’t say why, but there aren’t any female werewolves.”

“I see.” She studied him, watching him relate the facts of a world she’d never known existed until last night. “And you met Cyrus.”

“He’d collected us, wolves with no homes, unable to be with our families. He showed us how we had to live. It’s hard to keep regular employment when you’re constantly in fear of discovery. Some wander the country, taking odd jobs here and there, always moving. Others, like Cyrus, like me, Gideon, Hugh, and Liam, we find that crime is the only steady way we can keep ourselves fed or pay for our shelter.”

He looked at her as if expecting judgment, yet she merely nodded.

“I’d been doing petty thievery,” Des continued after a moment, “sneaking into homes and taking candlesticks and small valuables, when Cyrus found me outside Sheffield, and he offered me not just a way to support myself, but a sort of family, too. And I needed that.”

“You were grateful to him,” she said softly.

Des’s head dipped. “He was an older brother to me. Guiding me. Boxing my ears when he thought I was being foolish. He was there for me, when I’d lost everyone who’d mattered.”

“He changed, you said.”

A shadow crossed Des’s face. “The man, the wolf I knew, transformed over time. He used to make sure we didn’t harm anyone during our robberies. He grew angrier, harsher. It wasn’t enough to take what we needed to survive. He wanted more, and if one of our targets got hurt in the process, he didn’t care. He wanted to hurt them. Worse and worse, he grew. Until two nights ago, when he finally shot someone. I don’t know if that coachman died, but it was a bad injury.”

“And Hugh got hurt in the process.” Her eyes widened. “Hugh⁠—”

“He’s well,” Des assured her quickly. “Once we transform, our wounds heal much faster. I’d warrant that when we return to the house, we’ll find him running up and down the stairs in search of roast mutton and whisky.”

A huff of laughter left her. “There won’t be anything left in the larder.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry. About Cyrus. And what I made you do.”

“You did nothing,” Des growled. “Cyrus made his choice. He was going to kill you and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Even so,” she pressed, “he meant something to you, and you had to…” She couldn’t get the words out.

“Cyrus forced my hand,” Des said grimly. Yet pain flashed in his eyes as he spoke. “I loved him, and I’ll hate him for pushing me to make that choice. I’ll have to live with the fact that I killed the man who I once thought was my family.”

She had no words in the face of the decision he’d had to make, or in the wake of the violence he’d had to commit. So, she merely sat with him, hoping that her presence alone could assuage his anger and guilt.

“We’re outcasts, men like us,” he said after a pause. “Our wolf selves force us into solitude, and that makes us vulnerable to the Guardians.”

The name itself sent sleet through her veins. “Guardians.”

“A secret organization that’s pledged itself to ridding the world of werewolves.” Des spoke bleakly. “The name they’ve given themselves tells you all you need to know about how they view their so-called mission. We’re a disease to be purged from England, from the world. They hunt us from one end of the country to the other. Collateral damage doesn’t mean anything to them in the service of the greater good.”

“Does that mean⁠—”

“If you stood between the Guardians and a werewolf, they’d cut you down without a moment’s hesitation.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, a shield from the chill his words roused.

His own arms enfolded her, and he said fiercely, “They’ll never touch you. I swear it.”

“You can’t swear something that you don’t know.”

“I know that I won’t let the Guardians hurt you.”

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that.” She gazed into his eyes. “Our paths might never cross.”