by Jami Gray
As she followed in Warrick’s wake, the lines morphed into the shape of a barn. Not the A-frame type, common out this way, but another long, low rectangle. Unlike the house, this one was occupied. There were no visible windows but lines of electric light escaped from sporadic gaps along the walls. Wood never did well in the Northwest. Eventually, years of exposure to the elements left it warped.
Even yards from the barn, the rain drowned out any scent or sounds. As they closed the distance, she caught the signs of movement from inside, the light flickering as someone moved across it.
As she and Warrick closed in, they couldn’t miss the sound of Sebastian’s voice. “What the hell were you thinking?” Stress and anger made his words sharp, but underneath was a frantic note that worried Xander.
“I was doing my damn job!” The snarled answer came from someone she didn’t recognize.
“I don’t remember telling you to dose him!” She recognized the meaty sound of a fist meeting flesh. There was a grunt and something heavy slammed into the wall, shaking the building.
Using the noise as a cover, she and Warrick burst through the door, turning it into jagged splinters. Their explosive entrance brought the fight inside to a shocked halt, giving her necessary seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light.
Sebastian stood with one hand twisted in a dingy white wife beater that was stretched across the barrel chest of a stocky bald man she’d never seen before. As Warrick sprung across the dirt floor, Sebastian pushed the other man away to face the lethal threat bearing down.
The guy stumbled back, trying to find his balance. Xander closed in, using her shoulder to hit him just under his ribs and drive him into the wall. His breath whooshed out but it didn’t slow him down. Even as she nailed his kidney with a short jab, numbing pain spiraled down from her shoulder as he landed a solid blow.
He managed to score a glancing hit along her jaw before she turned into him, her back to his chest. He brought his arm down for another blow but this time she managed to capture it, and hold it over her shoulder. Using a wristlock, she twisted his arm until her sore shoulder sat just above his elbow and yanked down. The sharp snap of bone was followed by his howl of pain.
Knowing it wasn’t smart to stay within reach, she smashed his foot under the heavy sole of her boot, grinding her heel as she spun out of his reach. His breathing was rough, his broken arm hanging uselessly at his side, but his focus didn’t falter as they circled each other. Amber washed over the brown of his irises and was quickly followed by his hair-raising growl.
Behind her, she could hear Warrick and Sebastian fighting but she didn’t take her gaze off of her opponent, even when his bones began to shift under his skin. Normally, she’d have no problem matching the speed of his change, but thanks to the fact she already changed once tonight, her wolf was slow to respond. It left her at a distinct disadvantage when he rushed her. In warrior form.
Grim realization struck. This was another Born wolf, not some experimental Bitten.
Change complete, he struck.
Sucking in her stomach as he swiped out with his claws, she heard her shirt rip and felt the stinging kiss as his nails raked her skin. She retaliated, raking out with half-formed claws at his throat.
He ducked his chin, letting her rip the skin along his square jaw. Sharp white teeth snapped at her wrist, catching it in a brutal grip. He jerked his head to the side, breaking it.
Her wolf surged to the fore as the burst of white-hot pain radiated up her arm. Instinct had her swiping out with her other hand. He released her wrist and tried to bring his hands up to protect his face, but he was too slow. Her thick nails ripped into the skin above his ear and tore a bloody path across the side of his face. His pained roar wasn’t as satisfying as the feel of his warm blood splattering her face. Freed from his bite, she stumbled back and ducked under his blind swing.
Her breath came in short ragged pants as waves of agony resonated up her arm. She needed to end this quickly. She scanned the area around them for anything she could use as a weapon. Along the wall, behind Baldy, hung a line of rusted tools.
A low growl brought her attention back to the wounded wolf in front of her. His spine was hunched, his hand covering the side of his face. When he lowered his hand and raised his head, she smiled. She managed to do some serious damage with her last strike. His eye was nothing more than a gory mass sitting inside the strips of torn skin.
“Bitch!” he hissed, a deadly light entering his remaining eye. His muscles coiled. Using the speed inherent to all shifters, he sprung.
She leapt out of the way and made a beeline for the tools. Even half blinded, he still managed to rake his claws over her back. She hissed at the pain. She slammed into the wall just as her uninjured left hand closed around the splintered wood handle of the nearest tool. Ripping the tool down, she brought it around in an awkward swing, using her broken wrist to propel her body until her back was to the wall and not the raging wolf behind her. The reverberation as her strike met Baldy’s skull sent slivers of wood into her palm. The sting of those small wounds was lost under the scream of agony as the broken bones in her wrist ground against each other. Her vision began to gray.
Baldy staggered back from the blow and dropped to his hands and knees.
Gritting her teeth, she fought her way through the pain and tightened her grip on the tool’s handle. Now or never. Raising her makeshift weapon, she brought it down once more. Only as the metal’s edge sliced into the base of Baldy’s skull, cutting deep and driving him face first into the ground, did she realize she had grabbed a shovel.
The shovel came to an abrupt stop as the metal met his spine, the shock of it shuddering through her. For a second, she stood there, letting the tool hold her up, and tried to remember how to breathe. A burst of coppery scent heralded fresh spilt blood and brought her head up.
Warrick and Sebastian had both chosen the half-wolf, half-man warrior form. Even though Sebastian’s bulkier warrior form topped Warrick’s by a couple of inches, it wasn’t turning out to be much of an advantage. Leaner and faster, Warrick moved with blinding speed and accuracy. Blood seeped between the ragged remains of Sebastian’s shirt and dripped onto the churned up ground at their feet as he and Warrick circled each other, looking for an opening.
There was a slight hunch to Sebastian’s shoulders, indicating there were more wounds on his front. They turned, Warrick coming into view, and some of her tension faded. Although his shirt was decorated with rips and tears, the claw marks she could see didn’t seem to be bleeding very heavily, nor did they seem to be slowing him down.
Even as she forced her hand to let go of the shovel as she slowly straightened, Warrick and Sebastian closed in once more. For all its violence, their fight was a lethal ballet of grace and speed set against their heavy breathing and occasional grunts. There were no loud growls or yips, as most shifters had learned to fight in the modern world in relative silence.
Sebastian was tiring, evident in the slight drag of his foot and his jerky movements as he tried to stay clear of Warrick’s sharp claws. She needed to be closer, in case Sebastian tried something. Desperate wolves never followed the rules. The pull and sting of her various injuries made each step a revelation on the many nuances of pain.
Halfway to them, a muffled whine jerked her attention to a shadowed edge along the far side of the barn. Zeke! She turned and scanned the shadows hovering by the wall then altered her course. Inside her head, her wolf growled and she snarled back. Warrick could take care of himself. They needed to get to Zeke.
As she got closer, the shadows resolved into a definite form. Her steps picked up until she was in a stumbling run. With thick chains wrapped around his wrists, Zeke was strung up between two heavy posts that used to frame an interior stall. It wasn’t until she was in front of him that she caught the scent of burnt flesh.
Her growl was low and vicious. Damn bastards had used silver.
“Zeke?” She touched his face. His skin
felt cool to the touch and her heart stuttered. She pressed her fingers against his neck, searching for his pulse. Her breath wheezed out when she felt the reassuring beat, but it was too slow. “Just hang on, okay?”
It took her a few seconds to study the chains holding him. A padlock, nestled on each post, linked the ends of the chains. She grabbed one, only to snatch her hand back as the lock seared her skin. Where in the hell did they come up with silver padlocks?
She scanned the area around them for anything to use to break the lock and found a whole lot of nothing. She considered dashing back across the barn and grabbing one of the rusted-out tools. Curling her fist, the sharp bite of wooden splinters made her reconsider. She doubted the old implements would be able to withstand the pressure needed to break the lock. She glared at the post and chain, frustration clawing at her. She had one hand, the other completely useless. There was no way she could tear the chains apart.
Desperation and frustration boiled over. She couldn’t leave Zeke and she didn’t dare wait for Warrick. Furious, she snapped out a kick at the post and was rewarded with a sharp crack. Inspiration dawned. She struck out again, nailing the post in the same spot with the strongest kick she could manage. The wood visibly split. Encouraged, she continued to pummel the post. Pushing aside the resounding choir of pain her body began to sing, she concentrated on turning the aged wood into splinters.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It took less time than Xander thought before a sharper crack sounded and the post broke. She snapped out another kick, creating more space between the two pieces. Then she used her good hand, ignoring the burn of silver, and began pushing the chain down the wood. When she finally got the first layer of chain to drop, the rest followed, slowly slithering into a pile on the ground. It gave her enough time to catch Zeke’s unconscious body as it began to collapse.
She got her bruised shoulder and left arm around his waist then gently shuffled him toward the other post. It was difficult to propped him against it with his still-chained wrist but, with some judicious grunting, she managed. She stood up, only to have her leg cramp viciously and collapse under her. Strong hands caught her before she could get up close and personal with the ground.
“Are you okay?” The words were growled close to her ear.
Worried about freeing Zeke, she had missed the conclusion of the fight behind her. Leaning into Warrick for support, she let her head fall back against his shoulder and concentrated on breathing through the spasms in her leg, ignoring his question.
“Is Sebastian dead?” she asked.
Normally, when a wolf died the pack ties ensured everyone in the pack knew. Unfortunately, they were as far from normal as they could get lately.
“Not yet,” he said grimly.
“I need your help to get Zeke unchained.” She stepped away from him and tested her leg. Her muscles still protested, but she could work around it now. “It’s silver and I’m down to one hand.”
Warrick made short work of the lock and chain. She tried to ignore the scent of his skin burning as he gently untangled Zeke’s wrist from the silver. When he was done, he gathered Zeke in his arms and stood with deceptive ease. He turned to walk away and she sucked in a sharp breath.
His back was a mess of claw and bite marks, some still seeping blood.
“Dammit, Warrick,” she choked.
He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. “I’ll be fine, pixie girl.”
A low groan switched their focus to Sebastian’s battered form. Warrick’s spine stiffened. “Chain him,” he snapped. “I don’t want him going anywhere.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she answered. “First, I’m calling Ryuu.”
Warrick nodded. “Have him meet us at the house.”
Something in his voice made Xander’s heart skip a beat. “Warrick?”
He didn’t answer and she watched as he took Zeke out of the barn. She wanted to help, but for now, she needed to ensure sure their enemies wouldn’t circle around and attack. She kept an eye on Sebastian as she pulled out her battered phone. One-handed texting was easier than trying to field the questions Ryuu was bound to ask if she called. When she was done, she dropped it back in her pocket.
She considered the pile of silver chain and the distance between it and Sebastian. There was no way she was dragging Sebastian’s ass over to the chain, nor did the prospect of burning her hands fill her with joy. It took her a few minutes to get her T-shirt off, leaving her in a dark blue bra and black jeans.
Wrapping her sore left hand in the T-shirt, she managed to drag the silver chain over to Sebastian. Then she manhandled him until he was lying on one end of the chain. As the silver touched his skin, he arched up, an agonized howl escaping his throat. His body convulsed, but the damage Warrick inflicted left him helpless and dazed.
She jammed a booted foot over his throat, holding him in place. She had no qualms about causing him untold agony. As it was, she and her wolf would have happily torn his throat out without batting an eyelash. The only thing holding them both back was how much a quick death would piss off Warrick.
It was awkward and difficult, but she managed to get the chain around Sebastian by rolling the wolf along the ground and letting the chain curl around him. When she was done, the scent of burnt flesh had deadened her nose. Silver chain was coiled around Sebastian from shoulder to waist, his arms trapped against his body. He was panting, his body jerking in little spasms as his heels scraped the ground.
Task done, she tugged her shirt back on and stood over him. How to keep him in place? He wasn’t really conscious but his body was twitching under the kiss of silver.
The sound of tires on gravel had her doing a strange limping run to the door of the barn. Sebastian wasn’t going anywhere soon and Warrick was with Zeke in the house. There was no telling who was coming up the drive.
Slipping outside, she was halfway to the house when she heard Ryuu’s familiar voice. “Vidis? Xander?”
“Here.” Shifter hearing being what it was, there was no need to raise her voice.
Ryuu burst around the side of the house, another form on his heels. As they cleared the shadows, she saw it was Gavin. “How’d you get here so fast?”
“Never went to the hotel,” Ryuu answered. “Where’s Vidis?”
“Inside with Zeke,” she said. “You need to go help him.” As Warrick’s Second, he would be able to help channel both the alpha and the pack’s power.
Ryuu gave a short nod then spun around and headed to the house. She stood there, watching him go.
“Xander?”
She jerked at the sound of her name and blinked, realizing Gavin was standing in front of her. Her snarl was instinctive.
He raised his hands and dropped his gaze to her shoulder. “Sorry, you were about to topple over.”
It took her a moment to fight her wolf back. Exhaustion, pain, and worry were setting her on edge. “Sebastian’s in the barn. Can you watch him?” Her attention was focused on the house. Warrick was drawing on the pack ties and the call of her alpha was insistent.
“Go,” Gavin said, brushing past her.
“Don’t kill him,” she threw over her shoulder as she headed toward the house. Then she stopped thinking about Sebastian.
Warrick had kicked in the back door, and she followed the pull of her pack into a living room. There was a camping lantern on the floor next to a worn couch. The shattered remains of something was pushed into a pile next to Ryuu, who was kneeling on the floor at one end while Warrick sat on an old wooden crate at the other. To an outsider it would seem as if the two men were simply watching the one on the couch. The crush of magic that surrounded them told a different story.
She dropped to her knees between Ryuu and Warrick, reaching out and placing a hand on Zeke’s bare stomach. As soon as her skin touched his, the magic sucked her under. She offered all she had to Warrick and Ryuu as they tried to reconnect Zeke’s tie. She could sense them working together, but couldn�
�t see what exactly they were doing. All she could do was add the strength of herself and her wolf. Her forehead rested against the nappy edge of the couch’s cushion and she closed her eyes, letting Warrick and Ryuu take what they needed.
Minutes or hours passed—she wasn’t sure which. At some point, Warrick reached out to the entire pack for additional strength. Their pack was small, with fewer than forty wolves spread throughout Washington and Oregon, but each one responded with no reservations. Together, they held onto Zeke with dogged determination.
One of the greatest strengths of the shifters was their packs. Together, they were more lethal, more powerful than they were as individuals. Packs’ ties allowed the alpha to utilize those individual strengths to protect and defend his wolves. As Warrick pulled on each wolf, she felt the normal barriers existing between individual pack members fade. It was the strangest sensation as the varied collection of strengths reformed around Warrick.
For the first time, she caught a glimpse of what it meant to be an alpha. Even as she answered his call, the part of her connected to him through the mate bond sat like a quiet shadow next to him, watching in wonder.
There were common traits shared among their wolves—protectiveness, compassion, loyalty, love, and family. Right now, each one was just as determined as their alpha to save Zeke. Together, they formed a thick band of light that wrapped around Warrick, who sat cradling a weaker, thinner strand. That strand was tangled with a black cord. There was another band of light trying to connect to the one in Warrick’s hands by slipping through the gaps between the black threads. It finally connected, its hold precarious.
As if from a distance, she heard Ryuu’s voice. “I think I have him.”
“You need to hold it because that damn spell won’t let me in.” That was Warrick.
“You have to hurry, Warrick.” Ryuu’s voice sounded grim.
She blinked her eyes open and turned until her cheek was rest-ng on the sofa. Warrick was still sitting in the same position at Zeke’s head, his eyes closed.
