Lynx Northern Shifters 3

weakened, but still Jonah didn’t release him, instead waiting until all life drained away from the body before he finally relinquished Horton’s throat. His dead prey slid to the floor.
Slowly, Jonah took in his surroundings. Everything had faded into the red of the fatal bite and he’d been aware of nothing but the killing of Horton.
He couldn’t see out of one eye. It hurt like hell.
With his other eye, he saw the computer, his link to Trey on the floor, closed, presumably having fallen shut during their fight.
Now that his anger was fading, he tried to breathe through the agony in his eye and his groin, but the pain threatened to unman him. He lay down since he was shackled to the bed anyway, felt his chest rise and fall with effort, wondered if he would pass out.
The taste of blood in his mouth began to curdle. During the kill, it had been a kind of victory, even a release, for his prey to finally be caught, but now he recoiled against the killing in human form and had to work not to vomit.
The stench of death filled his nostrils—urine, feces, more blood. Jonah was going to die with these smells. His last memory.
No. He refused to go that way. If he couldn’t escape his prison, he did not want to die shackled to this bed, beside Horton’s body. So Jonah forced himself to rise again and leaned over at a painful angle, close enough to reach Horton. With his one free hand, he pulled the body closer and dug through pockets for the key to his shackles. He found it in Horton’s pants.
It took a few minutes and some patience—something he was fast running out of—before he managed despite shaky hands to unlock his wrist and ankle.
He was on a downward slide from the adrenaline high of the kill, but he wasn’t yet ready to collapse. Horton had told him Jonah couldn’t get out through the barred doors without Horton’s voice command. But Jonah tried repeating “exit” as Horton had done.
He pitched his voice lower and imitated Horton’s tone and timbre—nothing happened.
He was losing his eye. His body was collapsing and the only thing Jonah could think to do was shift. The lynx was ready, even if his body was weak and weakening by the minute. Before he lost the ability completely, Jonah dropped to the floor and gave himself over to the shift that might not save him. But after months of human captivity he craved to be lynx this one last time.

Chapter Fifteen
    Trey picked up the computer and slammed it against the wall. That was satisfying for all of one second. Then he heaved himself out of the chair and stalked across the room, flung open the door. Before the guard could react, Trey pulled the man’s gun out of his holster and shot a bullet into the floor, an inch from the guard’s foot.
    “Dan Horton has been keeping a prisoner. I want you to take me to him.”
The man’s face went white, with anger more than panic. “Horton has been closemouthed about it.” “About it ? So you know something.”
“I don’t know where the prisoner is being held.”
Trey smelled truth and gripped the man by the throat. “Then tell me who does.”
The man gazed back, silent.
“Horton is dead. I want that prisoner. You’re going to figure out how I can get to him.” Under Trey’s palm, the man swallowed. “Dead?” he rasped. “You’re lying.”
Trey shook his head and pulled back, still holding that gun. “Call him. Don’t fuck around with me and
call for help, because I’ll shoot your hand before you’re done.”
    The guard did, and to his credit his hands weren’t shaking. Trey couldn’t help hoping that Jonah would pick up the phone.
Jonah. God, Trey’s chest felt like it was breaking into pieces, and he could barely breathe between the fury and fear generated by watching Jonah kill Horton. Trey was terrified he wouldn’t be able to find Jonah and free him from his prison.
“No answer,” said the guard.
“I want you to understand two things. One, I’m not interested in hurting you, but I will. Two, I want Horton’s prisoner and I want him now.” Trey had no problem talking as if he were interested in Jonah as a prisoner as long as he reached his goal—freeing the lynx. He wondered how the shifter had survived thus far. Werewolves couldn’t endure being jailed.
“Leonard isn’t a thinker, he does as he’s told.” The guard’s brown eyes held something akin to shame, as if he was betraying a coworker.
“Phone him, put him on the line.”
“He’ll be sleeping.”
“I don’t