by Reese Morgan
As the eerily robotic feet began descending the stairs to the basement, Troy successfully dislodged her fingers and pushed her down the pit. Hayden fell into the depths of darkness, watching as the trap door slammed shut just before she hit the bottom.
Enclosed in complete and utter darkness, Hayden gasped, unwillingly inhaling the rotting smell of death. Her eyes watered from both the smell and the horror. As her eyes adjusted to the pitch black, she tried to avoid the lifeless forms sprawled out around her.
She shakily got to her feet, inadvertently touching a few limbs of the dead.
Swallowing, she gave in to her curiosity and looked around. Troy claimed Logan and Xavier created a mass burial. Somehow, Hayden couldn’t quite summon an image like this.
Death was everywhere in all forms of deterioration. A pile, crudely put together, was near the mouth of the pit. Limbs entwining and identities lost. There was no rhyme nor reason to the abandonment. The rogue werewolves were discarded as if their lives hadn’t meant anything.
Hayden looked down around her, gazing into the lifeless eyes of a young male. She swallowed thickly before bending over and vomiting. A loud thump suddenly sounded above her, nearly startling her out of her skin.
It wouldn’t be long before the puppet above her crashed through the trap door.
Tears welling, Hayden stumbled further down the tunnel, trying to avoid the bodies in her path. The further she traveled, the more she noticed how the bodies were laid to rest more respectfully. Judging by their deterioration, it appeared as if they were the first to die.
Clearly, Xavier or Logan had taken more time to lay their first victims to rest. As the deaths kept accelerating, their empathy had turned cold. The bodies near the entrance of the pit piled together as if they’d just been another number, another statistic.
Hayden hated Celeste. She hated her methods just as she hated Xavier’s and Logan’s beliefs. But gazing into the eyes of death around her made Hayden question which individual was the greatest evil.
She stumbled through the tunnel, hearing the trap door crash open behind her.
Quickening her steps, Hayden forced herself to keep moving. She’d see Cole soon. She’d apologize to Nicolas about the way she’d spoken to him earlier.
As she leaped over a lone corpse, her body suddenly froze as her mind went blank.
Cruel shock and dark panic tightened her airways and prevented her from breathing. A loss, so overpowering with intensity, swept over her body and turned her cold. Her limbs became heavy with unexplained sorrow and foul despair.
Hayden stumbled, gasped for air, and whimpered. She fell to the ground and stayed there, shivering and searching for that familiar connection she’d grown accustomed to since first meeting Cole.
It was gone.
He was gone.
Like her surroundings, her mind was black and desolate, relentlessly pouring feelings of isolation and complete abandon. In her mind, there was no warmth, no friendly presence that linked back to her life mate.
Hayden rolled restlessly into the ground before turning on her back and screaming at the top of her lungs. She screamed until her throat was raw, not caring who overheard, not caring if it put her in further danger.
She moaned again and then began sobbing, never feeling quite so submerged in darkness. Curling against the wall of the tunnel, she buried her face in her arm, coating it with tears and snot.
There’d been times before when she’d been cut off from her link with Cole. Those past experiences should have at least given her hope that Cole was still alive, just not conscious. But it was never this final, never this infinite… never like this.
He couldn’t be gone.
Not after they’d rescued him from Celeste. Not after Nicolas pledged his own life for his brother’s wellbeing. Not after discovering valuable information that would stop Celeste’s madness.
Footsteps halted directly behind her, yet Hayden stayed curled against the wall, utterly defeated. Her eyes closed tightly, sealed tightly, and her body curled in on itself defensively. There was nothing truly worth living for any longer. Cole had been her foundation. Without him, her wolf was out of reach, drowning in her own grief.
A hand curled around the back of her collar and lifted her cleanly off the ground. The puppet dragged her carelessly down the tunnel without any attempt at a struggle.
She opened her eyes and gazed up at the unemotional soldier who carried her. Where fear usually struck at being so close to Celeste’s puppets, Hayden felt absolutely nothing. She wished he’d just kill her now and spare her any more pain.
They traveled for a bit of distance before soft, almost inaudible footsteps sounded above them. Whomever was above the tunnel wandered for a moment before stopping directly above them, pinpointing their location.
The puppet stopped and cocked his head, gazing at the dirt-covered ceiling.
Hayden sighed and dropped her head, unable to stand the man’s unemotional and detached face. For a crazy moment, she wanted to be like the beast carrying her. Feel absolutely nothing but unquestionable loyalty to a mad woman must have some advantages.
Gradually, the puppet continued forward, dragging Hayden behind him. No matter how limp she became, he never slowed with the additional dead weight.
Above them, the ground no longer vibrated with trailing steps, signaling the disappearance of the individual who’d followed them.
A brief feeling sparked in her chest as she pondered the identity of their follower. Nicolas could still be alive, though she doubted it. He’d probably be the first to die, seeing as he would sacrifice himself before Cole was—
Her face crumbled and she tried to muffle her rising panic.
A ladder loomed before them and the air grew thinner, making it easier to take in more oxygen. The putrid smell of dead bodies lessened, though Hayden hadn’t paid much attention to it since losing her link to Cole.
She grunted when the puppet picked her up and slung her over his broad shoulder. They ascended the ladder and she couldn’t find it in herself to try to run now. The last thing she wanted was to run back towards the bodies, towards the bottomless dark.
The puppet threw open the latch and fresh air assaulted her nostrils. Without missing a stride, the soldier climbed out of the tunnel and onto the snow covered ground.
Reluctantly knowing it was necessary, yet not possessing nearly enough energy, Hayden slid off the puppet’s shoulder and rolled onto the ground. The man was quick, however, and grabbed her ankle. She growled in frustration and slammed her foot into the emotionless face of her attacker. And then again. And again.
But he simply did not relent.
A glint of silver caught her eye. She looked up, over the puppet’s head and into the tree above. The reflection of the sword cast everything behind it in shadow, though she knew the pale, angular face of the stalker belonged to Nicolas.
The Alpha male leaned forward, the movement subtle and silent, entirely predacious. His eyes focused intently on Celeste’s puppet, watching it with single-minded ferocity. He looked every bit the predator as he watched his prey, his form stiff and poised.
Seeing his opportune moment, Nicolas descended stealthily from the trees. With the sword raised, he slashed it down and beheaded the puppet in one clean motion.
Hayden voiced her distaste as blood showered her face and chest. She quickly avoided the head with her knee, though somehow, even in death, the puppet kept a firm grip around her ankle.
There was so much death, so much blood and despair.
Something snapped within Hayden and she found herself pulling away from the dead corpse and her savior. Trying to tap into her canine’s abilities, Hayden pulled as much speed as she could from her mourning counterpart.
Though her wolf was drowning in just as much emotional anguish, she leant Hayden enough power to run. They both wanted the same thing. They were both desperate to put that place of loss far behind them.
She raced through the trees,
her feet barely skimming the snow and never making a sound. Her pulse beat crazily in her chest, making it difficult to breathe past the rising panic. She didn’t dare look behind her, though every instinct debated about going back and seeing Cole’s fallen body for herself.
“Hayden.” Nicolas followed behind her, easily matching her speed and never once losing sight of her. “You will stop now.”
He did not yell it, he did not have to. Sheer authority laced his order, carrying with it a strong Alpha influence she’d hadn’t experienced for quite some time. The blatant command was enough to slow her limbs and eventually make her stop.
She was far too gone, far too weak to fight off his mental push. Just thinking of fighting his order made her knees heavy and her head hang low.
Nicolas stopped across from her, silently observing her. His face was as unemotional as ever, yet his pale eyes glimmered with cruel aggression. Through lowered lashes, Hayden instantly took notice of the large abrasion on his face.
The cut was severe, most likely caused by a silver blade. The open wound ran the length of his high cheekbone, painting half his face with a thick curtain of blood. Despite the obvious silver poisoning, he didn’t seem affected by it. He stood tall, his broad shoulders thrown back and his very aura radiating authority.
She wanted to fall to her knees before him, to bask in his strength and absorb it for herself. Despite his frightening and cold countenance, she wanted his shelter.
Instead, she buried her face in her hands and cried. She’d been so strong these past few days. Discovering dark secrets and accepting burdens had finally taken their toll on her. Without Cole… without sharing his strength with her, Hayden felt utterly alone and vulnerable.
“Cole,” she gasped out in despair. “He’s… he’s gone?”
Hayden didn’t expect his response. She knew it to be true. Nonetheless, she raised her head from her hands, trying to blink past the tears to see him properly.
Something dark passed behind Nicolas’ eyes, but a moment later, it was gone. He released a slow, hissing breath and took a step closer to Hayden. He reached for her, his fingers curling gently around her wrist.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. To most, his grief was invisible, but to those who knew him well, Cole’s death surrounded him like a heavy blanket. If possible, he seemed colder, far more untamed than before.
And yet, he surprised her with an act so unexpectedly gentle and pure. He tugged on her wrist and caught her trembling figure against his chest. Solid, protective arms encircled her and pressed her against his strength.
A large hand engulfed the back of her head and buried her underneath his chin. He nuzzled her momentarily before resting his unharmed cheek on top her head.
His breathing hitched. “I was too slow, Hayden. We both were.”
It was difficult to swallow past the dry, heavy lump in her throat. She felt no qualms leaning into him and accepting the comfort he offered.
“I don’t know if I can live,” she confessed, her voice raw. “Not without him.” In response to her defeat, his arms tightened protectively.
“Oh my,” a cultivated voice exclaimed pleasantly. “I never thought I’d see the day when Nicolas Slayter expressed anything but cold indifference. Clearly, my assumptions were incorrect.”
An imaginary switch turned on inside Nicolas, for his entire demeanor shifted and turned aggressive. His raw emotion cooled into focused and quiet rage. Indestructible strength replaced whatever weakness he’d expressed with Hayden.
Nicolas roughly took possession of Hayden’s arm, forcing her behind him. He kept a dominant hand curled around her arm, keeping her down and out of the way. Around his leg, Hayden stared at the intruder, shock turning her cold.
Within the shelter of the surrounding trees, Celeste stood like a Greek goddess. Her pale, soft skin radiated in the dim woods, drawing the eye to her flawless features. Green eyes glittered mischievously as they observed Nicolas’ protective stance.
“You are such a thorn in my side,” she whispered to Nicolas. “I’ve never encountered someone more challenging to kill. It was rather impressive at first, but now I just find it bothersome.”
Her eyes then fell on Hayden.
Nicolas tightened his hold, pushing Hayden further behind him. “You don’t want to do this,” the Alpha male stated quietly. “I will bring hell and destruction down upon you if you lay a hand on her.”
Celeste smiled and placed a hand against her chest. “That instinctive male trait to protect a helpless female always brings a flutter to my heart. Very endearing, Nicolas, but your threat is empty.”
“Empty,” Nicolas repeated, matching her smile with one of his own. Only, it was sinister and entirely forbidding. “I know ways to cripple you like no one else. I will execute every mean possible to destroy you from the inside out.”
The redheaded woman found only amusement in Nicolas’ cold words. Clearly, she didn’t take him seriously.
“If I wasn’t so confident with your imminent destruction tonight, I might just feel a shiver of trepidation at your threat.” She tilted her head casually and a shadowy figure stepped next to her. “Be that as it may, I have come prepared and your death is promised.”
Hayden stiffened with stark fear as Nolan, one of Celeste’s prized Carriers, stopped next to his mistress. He was the man who single-handedly took down Cole and snapped her neck. The man was a brute, easily dwarfing Nicolas’ impressive stature.
To make the situation grimmer, a few stray puppets crowded behind Celeste and Nolan, their lifeless eyes watching Nicolas and Hayden and awaiting orders.
Suddenly, Nicolas scoffed, the sound oddly amused despite the grim situation. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You truly don’t understand the power I wield. Your decision is a poor one.”
“Your strength is of no matter when it’s your suffocating arrogance I understand. It will be the death of you.” Green eyes narrowed. “Kill him. Take the girl.”
Nicolas’ hand clenched and unclenched around Hayden’s arm. He squeezed it, perhaps in warning, perhaps in reassurance. A moment later, he dropped his hold and crouched, preparing for Nolan’s advance.
Hayden sunk her fingers into the snow, her world spinning crazily.
She was going to lose Nicolas. Just like Cole, he’d fight to protect her, but he would find himself outnumbered. He’d fight tooth and nail against death, it was his nature, but in the end, he’d have no other option but to succumb.
Somehow, that thought—the notion of her caring so much for Nicolas and his safety— terrified her into paralysis.
She watched as the puppets advanced robotically.
Despite all her training, despite all her dominance, nothing could properly prepare her for a situation like this. Cole’s death left her empty, drained. She had absolutely no willpower to stand tall and defend herself alongside Nicolas.
She’d become what she always feared to be.
Vulnerable. Defenseless. Submissive.
Behind her, the air shifted, instantly drawing her attention. The blond-haired Carrier was a mere blur, and as silent as a shadow as he passed her. But she saw him perfectly, and she knew his intentions as soon as he sprinted towards Nicolas’ turned back.
He had a blade in hand, poised mere inches from an unware Nicolas.
Hayden reacted without thinking.
She threw a knife, the sleek weapon cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. The blond-haired Carrier, Evan, heard the knife in time to turn around, but did not move quick enough to avoid it.
It embedded in his eye and he howled in sheer agony, dropping his own blade and abandoning his intentions of eliminating Nicolas. He clutched the throwing knife in his eye, somehow trying to ease the pain.
Nicolas whirled around, his attention jumping from Evan’s fallen sword to the knife in his eye. Blue eyes then landed on Hayden. His expression was that of disbelief and renowned gratitude. His appreciation didn’t last long, howeve
r, as Nolan attacked and Evan recovered.
The blond-haired Carrier discarded his original plan of attacking Nicolas and settled his sights on Hayden. Where a silver knife imbedded into the eye would have killed any other werewolf, it only seemed to feed Evan’s bloodlust.
He’d survive. It would take more than a throwing knife to kill a Carrier.
In Tracer’s case, it would take a bullet to the head and later a complete decapitation.
She sat calmly, accepting the inevitable. A slow smirk curled her lips as Evan closed in, the knife still embedded. There was something morbidly amusing about a seething werewolf racing towards her with a blade protruding from his face.
A part of her also smiled because she finally saved Nicolas. Finally, after several times of him saving her, Hayden finally repaid her debts. Even surrounded by death and destruction, she managed to feel just a small lick of satisfaction.
Preening in her success, Hayden lifted her chin and accepted Evan’s attack. With the puppets enclosing around her, there was nothing to do but sit calmly and await her fate.
A strong blow to her head knocked her out.
Fortunately, that was all Evan could manage in his angry, red haze.
* * * *
There was a terrible pain in her head.
She woke in increments, the world blurry and indistinct. She was dimly aware of being carried and dragged from place to place. It was not Nicolas’ familiar presence that embraced her, but a presence full of malevolent hate.
There were moments she was aware of being in a moving vehicle. The jarring jerks made the pain in her head increase to intolerable levels. Because of the head injury she sustained, her ears rang, making it difficult to notice other sounds.
They didn’t drive long; at least, she didn’t think they did. All too soon, hands hoisted her over a shoulder and carried her jarringly through the night air. There were steps, she remembered. Each step a painful reminder of the increasing distance with Nicolas.
If he survived.
No.
He did survive. She could feel it.
