The dog was barking his head off, baying and causing a ruckus. “Hush!” he yelled at old Red, but his voice failed him. Though he was grateful that the dog had found that little bitch’s scent, he didn’t want to warn her or anyone else who might be in this part of the forest.

But the hound wasn’t listening to him, and once again, he wanted to kick himself, wishing he’d taken the dog to obedience training. But hell, Red had been a stray. He was lucky the beast could track at all.

And Red had definitely picked up Zoe’s scent. The dog was running up ahead, bounding through the sweltering forest, startling birds, rabbits, and God only knew what else. It was all he could do to keep up with the mutt. Huffing and snorting as he lugged his gun through the undergrowth, he was sweating like a pig.

“Red!” he tried to yell, his voice a whistle. “You shut up!”

That wasn’t happening. The dog darted ahead, crazy from the scent.

From the sound of the dog’s baying, he guessed they were closing in on her.

About damned time! Once he collected Zoe, he’d be able to end this, in the right birth order, kill each of the twins and be on to the next quest, whatever the hell that would be. Myra, she would tell him. She was the one who decided. He just followed directions. And that would have to change. Who the hell was Myra to be forever bossing him around, making him take all the chances, suffer all the consequences? Even now, his face and neck ached, and his legs, too, had suffered from all of the attacks those two little bitches had inflicted.

And yet, he kept on obeying her.

Myra was the one who had planned all this, the one who had bought the property with the cabin, who provided him with just enough money to keep going. The work he had was spotty, which was good, as it allowed him some free time to do this, to hunt for the twins who were about to turn of age, to spare them the pain that he knew existed.

Ungrateful sluts!

Why did they fight him?

Didn’t they understand that he was doing them a favor? Saving them?

A tree limb slapped him in the face and he cursed, stumbled, and felt the sting under his eye, a reminder of the pain that Chloe had inflicted.

Despite his discomfort, despite the heat and the pain running through his body, he grinned inwardly. Chloe Denning would never again have the opportunity to do him harm. No more. She’d been dealt with. After he’d captured her that last time, chasing her down to that barbed-wire fence, he’d made sure she would never thwart him again. Oh, she was alive, but just barely, and that was good enough.

Until he captured Zoe.