Frenzy: Shadow Bred Book Two, page 1
Frenzy
Shadow Bred, Book 2
Grace McGinty
Contents
Also by Grace McGinty
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
Notes From The Author
Inside the Maelstrom
About the Author
Untitled
Copyright © 2021 by Madeline Young writing as Grace McGinty
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Art by DAZED Designs.
Editing by Aubergine Editing.
Also by Grace McGinty
Hell’s Redemption Series
The Redeemable/The Unrepentant/The Fallen
The Azar Nazemi Trilogy
Smoke and Smolder/Burn and Blaze/Rage and Ruin
Dark River Days Series
Newly Undead In Dark River/Happily Undead In Dark River/Pleasantly Undead in Dark River
Black Mountain Mates
Hunting Isla
Eden Academy Series
The Lost and the Hunted (Prequel)/Heart of the Hounded (Prequel)
Rebels and Runaways (Book 1)/Sweethearts and Savages (Book 2)
Shadow Bred Series
Manix (Book 1)/Frenzy (Book 2)/ Feral (Book 3)
Stand Alone Novels and Novellas
Bright Lights From A Hurricane
The Last Note
Castle of Carnal Desires
For George
Best writing buddy, foot warmer, and fur baby any author could ask for.
I miss you.
Prologue
Courtland
Sixteen years ago
I stood to the left of Juan Pablo, the last man remaining who my father really trusted. Although his hair was now streaked with gray and his shoulders were slightly stooped, I still remembered him as the tall, imposing man who had once put his gun to the forehead of a traitor and pulled the trigger. That had been the first dead body that I’d ever seen, but it wasn’t the last. Not by a long shot.
He looked over his shoulder at me, bushy eyebrows drawn tightly together. “Are you sure about this?”
I nodded only once. There was no room for doubt in life. Procrastination was death by a different name. My father had said that to me many times. But he was dead, and this had little to do with procrastination and everything to do with blood.
His blood. His family.
A car rolled up from a distance, blowing up a dust cloud that was distorted by the wavy heat of the summer air. “Last chance, Little Prince. This is a lot of money.”
I twisted my lips, glad that Juan Pablo couldn’t see the anxiety that coursed through my veins. I was fourteen, and in this world, that made me a man. “It is what Father would have wanted.”
Juan Pablo snorted, but he didn’t disagree. My father had been a man with an almost chimeric nature. He’d been a ruthless and bloodthirsty criminal, who had cut down begging men with little to no remorse. But he’d been soft for one thing, and one thing only. For his family. Blood above all. Above money. Above power. “My children are my real legacy. All this is gone like the ashes of a funeral pyre. But you and the girl? You are forever.”
The girl. He’d never called her by her name, nor did he mention his wife—like losing them was too painful to bear. He’d gone to get them back and died in the process, but I didn’t blame him for leaving me alone in this world filled with sharks. I would have done the same thing.
I was doing the same thing. And that's why I knew my father would have wanted this.
The car slowed to a stop, and two figures got out. One man was in a bad brown suit that hung from his soft, bulging body all wrong. The other was a boy, no older than me. Actually, as he got closer, he was possibly slightly younger than me. The man stopped in front of Juan Pablo, barely sparing me a glance. He didn’t realize that the money paying for the merchandise was mine.
My eyes fell to the bundle in the boy's arms. It was wrapped tightly, but was so tiny I didn’t think it could possibly be the right one.
The boy stepped closer, his blue eyes cutting into my face like knives. He looked between the bundle in his arms and me. Swallowing hard, he handed it over.
“I named her Rosa. I hope you don’t mind.” His voice was so soft that it was almost lost in the guttural arguing of Juan Pablo and the brown-suited man.
I shook my head. “Rosa is fine.” I took the bundle from the boy and held it close to my chest. From beneath the blankets, a tiny sleeping baby face peeked out. Fifty thousand American dollars had bought her safety, and never in my life had I been more sure about a choice.
The boy continued to stare down at the baby, even after it was in my arms. I held it awkwardly, but kept my body taut. Confidence was a state of the mind and of the body; my father had said that too.
Finally, the boy lifted those blue eyes back to my face. They speared into my soul like he could see my every intention, see the blood on my hands already. It was obviously just my imagination, because in the next moment he whispered, “Promise you will be good to her. That you won’t…” I had no idea what he was going to say, because he snapped his jaw shut and shook his head.
I tensed my jaw. “She’ll be happy. I am going to make sure of it.”
The boy nodded. “Good.”
I couldn’t help but ask, “Why? Do you know her family?” I was desperate for news of The Girl, but didn’t want to sound too eager. I didn’t want people to know I had any emotion at all, let alone an interest in a mother and daughter who were supposed to be dead.
But the boy just shook his head sadly. “No.”
He reached out and touched the baby’s face, and I had the strongest urge to draw him to me, to kill this fucking suit and take them both. I must have growled, because Juan Pablo sent me a warning look, and I drew the attention of the suit.
“Pryce, get back in the car,” the suit grunted, and the boy—Pryce, I guess—hesitated, but eventually moved away. My eyes watched him unblinkingly as he made his way back to the nondescript sedan, climbing into the back seat and shutting himself away from me forever.
I had to grit my teeth and dig my heels into the red dirt to stop myself from following him.
Finally, Juan Pablo handed the man a stack of cash, and the guy grinned, flashing tobacco-stained teeth. “Good doing business with you.”
He turned back to the car and walked toward it. I couldn’t help myself as I yelled, “Where are you taking the boy?”
The suit looked back over his shoulder. “None of your fucking business, kid.” His sneer dragged at the jowls of his face.
I fought the shift. “I will buy him from you. A hundred K.”
Juan Pablo looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but he didn’t contradict me. The suit just threw back his head and laughed.
“He’s worth way more than you have, Dirt Dweller. Keep your brat and be happy.” With that, he climbed into the car and gunned the engine, peeling away in a spray of rocks and dirt. I spun my body so they connected with my back and not the baby.
I grunted as one particularly large stone collided with my shoulder, and decided I hated that smarmy fuck and would one day water this dirt with his blood.
When they were no more than a speck on the horizon, Juan Pablo looked down at me with both of his eyebrows raised. “What was that?”
I just shrugged, unsure of how to describe the draw of the boy to the beast in my soul. Anyway, I didn’t need to justify myself to anyone, even Juan Pablo.
We picked our way over the fallen down fence that marked the front of the derelict gas station from the rear. Parked around back was the brand new SUV that I’d bought with my inheritance. It was bulletproof and bombproof. I had learned from my father’s death. I climbed in, and Juan Pablo slid into the driver's seat. I didn’t have one of those baby seat things, so I continued to hold Rosa.
It was an hour's drive to the compound, and despite being tiny, the weight of her body in my arms was beginning to make my biceps ache by the time we pulled through the compound's gates. Men with AKs stood on every corner, keeping watch. My father’s death had caused a feeding frenzy as other cartels tried to step into his
As soon as the car stopped, Dominic appeared. He wrenched open my door and had his face in my lap, staring at the baby.
“You got it.”
I nodded. “Her.”
He pulled back, screwing up his nose. “Smells like shit.”
My nose twitched, and I realized he was right. “Probably is shit.”
Dominic was my best friend, but he was also fucking weird. Actually, people thought he was great and that I was the weird one. They just didn’t know we were both fucked up beyond repair. I trusted no one the way I trusted Dominic. We were halves of the same whole.
Dominic leaned down and sniffed the baby again, before looking up at me, confused. “Her blankets smell weird.”
He had a great nose. Probably had something to do with him being a wolf shifter. “What do you mean?”
“She smells like one hundred percent tiger shifter, but the blankets? They smell a little bit like you. Like Manix.”
I froze, flashes of the boy with the blue eyes playing on repeat in my mind. “Are you sure?”
Dominic nodded solemnly. “You know I wouldn’t fuck around about something like that.”
Holy shit. It made sense now, why I had wanted to keep Pryce with me. Father had said that we were the only Manix remaining in the world, but he was wrong.
Pryce was Manix. He was like me, possibly one of the last three remaining Manix in the world. Me, The Girl, and the boy with haunted blue eyes who I’d let go.
1
Dominic
While I’d always pretended to understand Court’s obsession, I’d never seen the point of burning everything we had built in the quest to fulfil a promise that no father should ever have elicited from a twelve-year-old kid.
But Courtland was my best friend, so when he found ‘The Girl’ and wanted to sink our entire fortune into rescuing her, I’d had his back.
Now we’d done it, rescued his sister Naja, but in the process, we’d drawn the eyes of the Convocation—the ruling Council of Supernaturals. Each supernatural race had a leader in the Convocation, and we fell under the purview of Alexander, the motherfucking Dragon King. As thankful as they were that we’d helped save the last remaining female Manix Omega, they weren’t going to let us sit on our asses down here in the desert, running fucking drugs and drawing the gaze of humans.
I threw back the last of my tequila. Fuck it all. I glanced over at Courtland as he stood at the window of his office, his suit perfectly pressed even though he’d just hopped off a flight from Montana.
“What’s the plan?” I asked the back of his head, and he lifted a single shoulder but didn’t turn.
“Pack it up. Try being a civilian for a while. This whole thing”—he waved a hand at his walled kingdom—“it’s served its purpose now. Perhaps hand it over to Juan Luca; he’s the next logical successor.” He stopped and turned, his eerie black eyes staring into mine. “Unless you want it, Dom? The Convocation doesn’t know about your involvement, or that you’re a shifter. You deserve all this more than most.”
I snorted and got up to pour myself more tequila. “Fuck off, asshole. My place is with you, always has been. And if that means wearing Hawaiian fucking shirts and speedos in Cabo, so be it.”
As I predicted, Courtland shuddered. Hell, I’d pay good money to see Courtland in a flower-printed shirt. Juan Luca was human, and the Convocation didn’t give a shit what humans did—whether they killed or maimed or irrevocably destroyed themselves—just as long as one of us wasn’t at the helm.
“Juan Luca has been good to us all these years. Trustworthy. He’ll continue his father’s legacy.” Juan Pablo had died nearly a decade ago of cancer, a testament to how tough the man really was. Because in this business? You didn’t live long enough to die of natural causes.
I slumped back into the couch and tried not to think about all the money we were flushing down the toilet to become fucking average Joes. But in the back of my brain, I might also have been relieved not to play this game anymore. Always watching my back. The drugs and bitches and the constant double-crosses.
Courtland finally turned to look at me completely. “What do you want, Dom? We’ve been chasing my dreams for so long, I don’t even know what it is you wanted to do with your life.”
Now it was my turn to shrug, because I didn’t know either. I’d been sold to Courtland’s father as a child. I didn’t remember my parents or Pack. Courtland was my Pack, my whole world. His missions had become my missions. His needs became my needs. He was ingrained in the very fabric of my being.
I loved him. Too much. He was my Pack, and he was so much more. Not that he knew that.
I cleared my throat and gave him my manic grin. “Fucked if I know. I’ve always been about the mission, you know? And a life of fucking pretty woman and spending bucketloads of money hasn’t hurt. You don’t need goals when you have pretty red lips wrapped around your cock, right?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “They aren’t dreams. That isn’t even a lifestyle.” He cleared his throat. “I think I’d like a quieter life. Take Abuela and the kids somewhere where Uzis aren’t as common as teddy bears, you know?”
I nodded. Courtland was my Alpha, of that I was certain, and if Courtland was my Alpha, then that ragtag bunch of brats was my Pack. I loved each one of them, even if they fucking drove me crazy. “We’d have to leave Mexico. Abuela won’t like that.”
Courtland’s grandmother was as steadfast as an old tree, rooted deep into the rocky dirt of the town she’d lived in her whole life. I knew she wouldn’t leave. Courtland knew it too, even though he was pretending he didn’t know he’d have to leave her.
I’d noticed a difference in him since he’d arrived back from Maxton, the stronghold of the Manix. Fuck me, for so long we’d thought he and Naja, and that damn kid from when he’d been fourteen, were the last of the Manix, but we’d been so damn wrong. There were literally hundreds of them hiding up in the wilds of Montana. Being in that town had awoken something in Courtland, and the restlessness of his energy was beginning to rile my wolf.
As if he could read my face, he stepped closer until I felt his breath on my cheek when he whispered, “Do you remember the boy? Pryce?”
Fuck. I knew it. I knew this was coming as soon as he said he was done. Courtland had shaped his entire life around being a savior, so I knew he’d have this void when he was done saving Naja. And that boy, this Pryce, had plagued Courtland for nearly as long as Naja. I should have known that we wouldn’t just up and leave with that decade-old mystery burning a guilt-ridden hole in his soul.
“Yeah, Court. I remember the boy.” If I thought hard enough, I could almost remember the faint notes of his scent too.
“Do you want to burn some shit down on our way out of here?” he asked softly, his face so close to mine I thought for a moment he might kiss me. But we didn’t do that shit.
Instead, I leaned away and took a gulp of my tequila, and hoped his superhuman fucking senses couldn’t hear the race of my heart. “Hell fucking yeah. Let’s fuck some shit up.”
He gave me a rare smile, the one that meant we were either going to get rich or get beat to shit. I hadn’t seen it in years, and now my heart was racing for all sorts of other reasons. While Iago’s organization was scrabbling to replace their numbers and their head honcho, I knew now was the perfect time to strike at a different enemy, one that would definitely get our asses kicked if the Convocation found out.
