by Anya Nowlan
“Anything, Kelis. Come on, tell me what you need,” Troy said, taking her by the hand and helping her out.
His hand on hers grounded her, bringing her back into the present, driving back the darkness that wanted to suffocate her otherwise. She’d let Troy in on the details he needed to know, but not tell him too much to keep him safe, and then she’d get back to The Firm’s headquarters.
Maybe then I’ll finally find out what’s going on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Grim
It was a full day before Grim could see his kids, his brother, or Kelis again.
He was seething with rage, his wrists cuffed behind him as men he’d worked and served with led him down the long hallways toward the wing Reynolds commanded in The Firm’s headquarters. He kept glancing around, expecting to see Grant coming down the other way, but no such luck.
When he was stopped at the door leading into the room where Dylan and Dante were, he craned his neck, looking through the small plastic viewport. He took a deep breath, feeling himself relax slightly as he saw Kelis sitting between Dylan’s and Dante’s beds and Grant standing behind her, a hand on her shoulder.
“Behave, Aldroch,” one of the guards told him, a ferret-faced man whose nose Grim remembered breaking once during training.
“Or what, you gonna run to your mama and cry about it?” Grim asked, a snarl on his lips.
“Maybe. If Spade’s my mama and by ‘cry’ you meant ‘get you thrown into the Crypts for a few weeks more,’” the man said with a grimace that could have been interpreted as a smile as he released Grim’s cuffs.
“Fuck off,” Grim spat, pushing through the door before he couldn’t stop himself from breaking the fucker’s nose again.
“Grim!” Kelis yelped, a smile beaming across her face. She hopped up and ran into his arms from across the room. “Grant told me you were alive and okay but I couldn’t really believe it until I saw you,” she said, nuzzling against his neck.
Grim let out a low grunt of pain as she threw her arms around his ribs, which were still bruised from the impact the explosion had made. But he crushed her against his body harder still, squeezing her shoulders as he kissed the top of her head, breathing in her sweet scent.
“Fuck, it’s good to see you, sugar,” he gruffed, lingering in the embrace for maybe a moment too long.
She loosened her grip on him slightly, tilting up her chin, and Grim couldn’t resist kissing her. But this time, it was sweet, soft, careful. Like she’d break if he kissed her too hard… or maybe that it was he himself who Grim was worried about breaking.
“How are the boys?” he asked as he pulled back, releasing her from his hold.
The shimmer in her eyes told him that it was good news. He looked up at Grant, finding his brother looking rather pleased with himself as well, nodding at him slightly.
“They’ll pull through,” Grant said. “We made it in time.”
There was a weight lifted from Grim’s shoulders, and for the first time in days he felt like he could keep on living. Like he was Atlas and he was holding up the world and now he wasn’t doing it alone anymore. For a while, it had seemed entirely impossible that his existence could continue in any kind of a reasonable, believable way. It was now that he realized that if he’d lost Dylan, Dante, Grant, or Kelis, he would have never been the same.
It was even more surprising that he knew now that with them, himself, and Grant having survived, he had also changed, but it was a positive change. Something that he could grow from, become better and stronger because of.
Funny how pain builds a man instead of breaking him down…
Grim took Kelis’s hand in his and walked over to Dylan’s and Dante’s beds, his steps slowing as he saw them. They were both still bandaged, but their arms and legs were now undone. The skin on their faces was pinking up, and though they were still breathing through tubes, their eyes weren’t scooting back and forth behind the lids anymore, signaling a more restful sleep.
Softly, Grim reached out his hand, touching Dylan’s fingers and he let out a little gasp as the boy caught onto them, his grip surprisingly strong. Well, not surprisingly, actually. He was an Aldroch after all.
“Fighters,” Kelis said, extending her hand to Grant and taking it in hers. “Just like their daddies. But do you two want to tell me what the hell’s been going on now or do I need to beat it out of you? Looking at you two, I think I could take you right now.”
Grim grinned darkly, glancing at Grant. Spade had allowed them to see their kids and Kelis looked like she hadn’t been in the Crypts with the rest of the squad, so things could definitely be worse. But there was no doubt that they could also be a lot better.
When Grim opened his mouth to reply to Kelis, a familiar-looking med tech stepped in, carrying a tray of medication and small, dosed shots that would go into Dylan’s and Dante’s IVs.
“Does anyone know where Thatch is? I’d like to see how he’s doing,” Grim said quietly, nodding to the tech as she scurried past them and began her process of dosing the medication.
“I know where he is. Mellie, will you be here?” Kelis asked, turning to the tech.
“Yes! I will wait with the boys, don’t you worry,” the tech said, looking a lot more cheerful than last time.
“Thank you,” Kelis said, her warm hand slipping into Grim’s as she tugged both of the Aldroch twins along with her. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”
Grim gave one more look to the babies before taking the step to move along with Kelis. He didn’t miss the fact that Grant gave a hard look at the medication on the tray before he was willing to move at all. She led them out of the room and then down the hall. Grim’s and Grant’s guards peeled off their spots and followed them as grouchy shadows.
She moved down a few doors and peeked in through the viewport before letting go of Grim’s and Grant’s hands, opening the door for them and inclining her head for them to step in. Grim hated having her let go of him. An irrational voice inside his head was screaming at him to never let her go again. But he had to concede that sometimes they would have to be physically apart. As much as it entirely sucked.
Grim took a breath and walked in first, though he got maybe three steps in before he stopped, staring at the scene rolled out before him. Thatch was propped up on a couple of pillows, Tex sitting at his side, with Connor and Dutch standing. Dutch obviously looked the best out of them because he’d never gotten hit by the blast, and Thatch was the one who was roughed up the worst. No surprises there.
The rest of the squad looked a lot like Grim himself—bruised ribs, slight concussions, burns, cuts, and healing bullet wounds. But at that moment, every single one of them looked like they were seconds from shifting and throwing themselves with all they got at Spade, who was standing in the middle of the room like the fucking Angel of Death.
Spade’s arms were crossed over his chest and it was the closest Grim had ever seen the man look really fucking angry. His face was a barely concealed mask of fury, the muscles in his cheeks twitching and his brow furrowed. Grim couldn’t help but grin. He loved pissing that guy off. It seemed to be a bit of a sport with the men of Shifter Squad Six.
“Are we crashing a party?” Grim asked, sincerely hoping they were.
Kelis closed the door behind them. From the look Spade gave her, Grim and Grant were damn near close enough to making the ground beneath their feet open up and gobble them up.
Fuck this guy.
“We were just discussing whether or not I should have all of you shot now or in a few days,” Spade said, the faintest waver in his voice. “You know, to give you a bit of time to think about what you’ve done.”
“No, man, you must have gotten hit in the head with something in Arizona. That’s the only reason that I can see why you’d want to get rid of your best squad,” Grim snorted with a smirk, walking over to Thatch and bumping fists with him. The werewolf looked as pissed off about Spade’s presence as the rest of them, even if
he was hopped up on meds and probably missing half a rib from that point-blank range shot he’d taken to the chest.
“Yeah, Spade? Regale us with your tales. What have we done other than take out another terrorist cell and ridding the world of some insanity?” Dutch asked, quirking a brow, his lips pressed thin.
“I don’t think you jarheads understand what the fuck you’ve done,” Spade said, seething. “That research was priceless. Not only to The Arctics, but to us.”
Grim glanced at Grant, who was breathing in slow and hard, obviously willing himself to be calm and not rip Spade’s throat out where he stood.
“We have one jarhead here,” Grant said, glancing at Kelis. “But the rest of us are SEALs and you should address us as such, spook.”
“Watch it, Aldroch,” Spade growled, evidently either not caring or not realizing that he was staring down six shifters with more reasons to hate his guts than there were days in a year.
“No. You fucking watch it. You know why I blew that lab up? Because they had a room of fucking dead babies in there. A room of dead babies that was only going to get bigger because of the shit they were doing,” Tex hissed, hands rolled into fists.
“Whatever that shit was and whatever it was going to do for shifters, the good doesn’t outweigh the bad,” Grant said solemnly. “No way in hell.”
“Don’t think that we didn’t realize what was going on the moment your fucking convoy showed up, Spade. You knew exactly what we were doing there. You had eyes on us, or that place. Or both. No fucking way you would have been that fast otherwise,” Tex said, eyes narrowed, his arms crossed over his wide chest.
“What the fuck were you going to do with that shit, Spade? Build your own fucking super soldiers? That’s what you were trying to do with Dylan and Dante, wasn’t it, you sick fuck?” Grim asked, feeling irritation blooming in his chest.
Spade’s eyes flashed gold and that quieted the whole room. Through all the years they’d known the guy, fought with him and against him, none of them had ever seen him shift or even come so close to revealing what the hell he was to begin with. He was always cool, centered, unflappable. And now he was finally showing them that he was in fact something other than a man in an expensive suit.
The moment passed as quickly as it had been offered to them, and a second later, Spade had smoothed his expression to that of indifferent disgust directed at each and every one of them equally.
“The Firm’s higher goals are of no concern to you. I do not have to explain myself to you, but you most certainly have to explain yourself to me, and Hemingway. I trust you’ve been enjoying your stay in the Crypts, because I get the feeling you’re going to be spending a lot more time down there. I’m sure your wives and children will enjoy the breather from you,” the tall man said, his voice bland, dead, lifeless.
Before Grim knew what he was doing, he was launching himself toward Spade, fists ready to pound his face in. The bastard didn’t move an inch or do a single thing to protect himself, and about two feet before Grim reached him, Dutch collided into him like a fucking tank. Grim sucked in a breath as his friend averted his course, two arms on his shoulders, spinning him away from the dangerous intel officer.
Grant was by his side a second later, giving a look of unfiltered hate at the serene façade of the man who’d come to plague the existence of every single person in the room.
“He’s not fucking worth it, Grim,” Dutch hissed. “I know. Your kids need you and he’s not above leaving you in those Crypts. Think about Dylan and Dante.”
Grant clapped his hand on Grim’s shoulder and between the two of them, Grim relaxed only slightly, but enough for his brother and friend to let go. His chest was heaving up and down, honest anger coiled so tight he didn’t know what to do with it. Dutch Henley should have been the first guy in the room pounding Spade into the dirt, but if he could control himself, could Grim be any worse?
It was at that moment that Connor peeled himself away from the wall he’d been leaning on. It dawned on Grim that their squad commander and lieutenant hadn’t said a word during the whole exchange. So when he strode up to Spade, stopping right in front of him, all eyes were on the two great men.
“What do you want, Lieutenant McLaughlin?” Spade asked, his voice icy cold.
Connor grinned, a vicious looking smile that tugged the corners of his mouth up. When he punched Spade square in the face, making the man stumble back and clutch his jaw with one hand, the room went so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Blood dripped from Spade’s split lip and mouth, painting his teeth crimson red. But his eyes didn’t flash gold again and he straightened himself up, not even moving to wipe the blood away as it dribbled down his chin.
He stepped up to Connor again and every member of Connor’s squad, Grim most of all, was waiting for a signal to allow them to beat the spook to a bloody pulp on the floor.
“What do you want, Lieutenant McLaughlin?” Spade asked again.
“I just wanted to look you in the eye when I gave you a taste of what’s to come. You fuck with my crew, you get fucked with back. We’ve been putting up with your bullshit for too fucking long, Spade. One more thing and I won’t hesitate to track you down like the cockroach you are and exterminate you, just like we do with every fucking Arctic we meet.”
Connor’s tone was light, conversational even. One by one, the men in his squad smiled, snarling sneers that were expecting blood to spill. Grim kept his gaze firmly on Spade, waiting for a reaction, something to justify what he wanted to do. But the intel officer just smirked, looking every bit the bloodsucking fiend Grim thought him to be.
“Big words for a man looking forward to a few months of solitary confinement in the Crypts.”
“The darkness never bothered us,” Grant said, stepping forward. “If it did, we would have had to shoot you the first day we met you.”
Spade smiled at that, looking almost pleasant. He inclined his head, finally wiping his chin with the sleeve of his shirt, smearing the blood as much as he was wiping it away. Grim understood then that at that very moment, Spade looked like everything he’d always subconsciously thought him to be. And the urge to rid the world of him had never been greater.
“I’ll send my regards when you’re back in the Crypts. Enjoy the sunshine while you can,” Spade said, inclining his head toward the window and the blaze of light shining in from there.
Then he pushed away from Connor, pressing between Dutch, Grim, and Grant on his way out. Grim’s hands twitched to reach for his neck and snap it before he ever made it to the door, but his eyes met Kelis’s just in time. The look in them made him stop, made him gather himself.
He couldn’t leave that woman alone again. Not now, not ever.
“Does anyone want to tell me what happened now?” Kelis asked as the door had closed behind Spade and brooding silence had lingered over the room for a few seconds.
“What’s there to tell?” Thatch asked with a grimace. “We’re working for a bunch of assholes and said assholes delight in fucking us over.”
“I always thought it should be the other way around,” Grim said with an audible sigh.
“As in?” Thatch queried.
“Us fucking over the assholes, obviously,” Grant added dryly.
It was entirely stupid, but all seven of them started laughing. Loud, healthy sounds, a moment shared between people who could trust one another with everything, including their lives.
It was then that Grim thought that there was hope. That everything could turn out okay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Grant
The situation in Arizona had been easy enough to explain. The moment Grim and Grant reported back with what they found, the plan had been forming in their heads, and by the time Kelis called in that there was a convoy nearing, everything had been set into motion. It was clear to all of them that evil like The Arctics could not be allowed to stay in the world and the lab would have to be destroyed.
None of them t
rusted The Firm enough to give them the power over what had been learned that day. Salvaging only as much or as little as they figured they needed for Dylan and Dante, Tex had been told to get rid of everything else. He’d done so with gusto. Apparently it only took a few well-placed charges around the humongous cooling vats to make for a rather spectacular light show.
The squad had made it out just in time, though every single one of them had still been subjected to an aerial flight of about thirty to fifty feet as the explosion picked them up and flung them like rag dolls. Grant had gotten lucky in that he’d shifted in time and when he was thrown on a collision course with a patch of trees, he’d managed to cling to one of the branches.
Tex had been the last one out and though he wasn’t showing it much, Grant knew that the tibia he had broken in the aftermath had to hurt like hell. Connor was unflappable as ever and Grant didn’t know how Grim did it, but the guy always seemed to haul himself out of the worst situations with barely a scratch.
After that, they’d all gotten picked up by The Firm, Spade at the helm as they’d suspected, and driven back to San Francisco without so much as a word of an explanation. Now, they’d been sitting in the Crypts for a few months, with Connor having one more to go and Thatch having gotten out a bit earlier on account of his injuries.
The Crypts were not a pleasant place. It was essentially a very small, cramped, private prison with no way of communicating, no light, and no noise. It would drive a weak man crazy within days and thoroughly strain a stronger one in a week. But Grant found himself living through it well enough, with thoughts of his beautiful mate, his kids, and his Alpha twin keeping him more than pleasantly occupied.
When the day came to be let out, Kelis was waiting for them at the exit, Grant being led through one door and Grim through another. When the light hit Grant’s eyes, he was entirely blinded, standing like a deer in headlights, blinking for a few moments. He still hadn’t regained his sight when he was already running toward Kelis, Dylan, and Dante, smelling them and sensing them with the precision of a predator who’d been forced to lie dormant for far too long.
