When He’s Torn (The Olympus Pride #5) Read Online Suzanne Wright

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: The Olympus Pride Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
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The enforcer swore. “Got it.”

“And guard every exit,” Deke added. “Therese may try to smuggle her out while less people are around.”

“She’ll never succeed—I won’t allow it.” Isaiah then hung up.

“I told the others to keep driving to the bar,” said Tate, setting his phone down on his thigh. “They’ll check it out, just in case you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” Deke asserted.

The Alpha squinted. “How can you be sure?”

“I felt her earlier for a split second. It was a strong sensation. So strong it almost felt like my own emotion.” Seeing the green traffic lights turn amber, Deke accelerated fast and sped through them before they could turn red. “I sensed her again a few minutes ago. It was weaker, but I don’t think it means she’s weak.”

“You think distance dimmed the emotion’s vibrancy,” Tate correctly guessed.

“Yes. I think we were driving away from her rather than towards her, and I’m rectifying it right fucking now.”

Aspen scooted to the edge of her seat. “Where exactly in the building could Bailey be?”

“We know she’s not in the lobby, laundry room, or security office,” said Deke. “At the moment, that’s pretty much all we can be certain of.”

“It seems dumb to hide in the building rather than make a run for it,” began Havana, “but in actuality, it’s not that stupid at all. None of us considered it until now.”

“But we did consider it eventually,” muttered Tate. “So Therese’s plan isn’t what I’d call smart, just cunning. Cunning doesn’t always pay off.” He looked at Deke. “Did you know she’s pretty much obsessed with you?”

Deke gave a quick shake of the head. “Don’t get me wrong, she made it non-verbally clear that she’d be willing to share my bed. But she was subtle enough about it that it didn’t make things awkward and it failed to set off my alarms. I didn’t suspect her of being behind the profiles.”

“Really, it was Gerard who was behind them,” Havana pointed out. “He told her what to do, and she did it. If he hadn’t pulled her into his little plot, I don’t think she’d have done anything like that off her own back.”

“She acted alone when hiring extremists, though,” said Camden.

“Because nothing was happening the way he said it would. She lost faith in him. Took the matter into her own hands.” Havana blew out an impatient breath. “How long before we’re back at our building?”

“About twenty minutes,” replied Deke.

“Hopefully, one of our pride will have found her before then,” said Tate.

“Yeah, hopefully,” said Havana. “It’d be a bummer if Bailey leveled the building or something.”

Tate twisted his neck to look at his mate. “What?”

Camden explained, “It was what Bailey did last time someone abducted her. Got free, snapped their neck, and destroyed the building. The time before that, she set the location on fire after kicking her captor’s ass. No ropes or cuffs or other binds can keep her where she doesn’t want to be.”

Deke studied him in the rearview mirror. “You’re not worried for her safety at all, are you?”

“No,” replied Camden. “Because I know exactly how lethal your mate is. She could deck someone in one move. One. She brawls for the fucking pleasure of it—nothing more. She can kill just as fast and efficiently. She simply prefers not to, because it isn’t as fun for her. And with Therese, she won’t make it quick and clean. Bailey will punish her in a brutal fashion. And by the time she’s done, Therese will rue the day your mate was born.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

With an almighty curse, Therese threw the gun at Bailey, sending it hurtling through the air.

Chair leg still in hand, Bailey sharply leaned to her left, easily evading the firearm that would have otherwise smacked her in the face. Adrenaline dancing through her bloodstream, she rolled her shoulders and let out a speculative hum. “You’re slower than I thought you’d be.”

Therese bared her teeth and kicked off her shoes. “You’re dead.”

“No, dear, that’s you.”

The feline charged with a yell.

Bailey swung the chair leg like it was a bat, slamming it into Therese’s head, sending it whipping to the side. Ha. Her inner snake writhed restlessly, eager but unable to join in the fun.

Bailey struck out with the wooden leg again. Therese caught it and dragged it toward her, bringing Bailey closer … and then cried out as Bailey’s forehead butted her nose hard. There was a distinct crack, and then blood laced the air.

Smiling grimly, Bailey didn’t give the cursing woman a moment to recover. No, she threw aside the chair leg and went in hard, fast, and brutal; intent on making this bitch hurt. Bailey slapped and punched and scratched and kicked and bit.

It wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t “fair.” Wasn’t anything close to merciful.

She wasn’t aiming to kill. Wasn’t even aiming to disable. This was not a mere fight. This was a punishment. A prolonged, tit-for-tat beating. Only when she felt ready would she end the feline.



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