by Leslie Chase
"Was that wise?" Mr. Havener said, standing in the doorway and shaking his head as the soldier stumbled to the car.
"I've got no use for him as a prisoner," Mattias explained simply, walking back inside. Behind him, he heard the car's engine start. "It's not as though Praetor is going to bargain for his man's life, and we'd just have to keep an eye on him. This way his men will see I'm not just killing prisoners — it's always good to give the enemy the idea that they can surrender and live."
Not that it isn't tempting to kill them all. The rage that filled him at the thought of the men threatening his beloved Sophie tempted him to tear every one of them limb from limb. But he wasn't going to let that rage get in the way of him saving her. That was much more important than his selfish desire for vengeance.
"He'll tell Praetor everything we've discussed," Mr. Havener said.
"Yeah, but that just helps. I want him to know he's cornered," Mattias said. "What do you think he's going to do about it?"
Mr. Havener didn't answer, but his wife did. "He's going to come here with everything he's got. Wherever we run, he'll track us down, and he won't care how messy he is doing it. He's got to get rid of you now, or get you back under control."
"I doubt even he's egotistical enough to think he can do that. But if he can take us out and blame someone else, he might be able to play the same game on my brother once he knows who Gabe's mate is. That's the only way he comes out of this with any kind of victory."
"Isn't that a bad thing?" Mrs. Havener said. "I don't fancy trying to run from the Royal Security Service in the hills, you know. I'm not as young as I once was."
"I don't think either of us were ever young enough to want to do that, love," Mr. Havener said, and then turned to Mattias. "Your Highness, you know that we're yours to command, but I'm not convinced by this plan I'm afraid."
Mattias smiled, listening to the retreating engine of the car heading away from the farm.
"We aren't going to run from him. You're right, we'd never get away, and for all the Service's faults, they are skilled mountain fighters and hunters. If we took the roads, we'd run into an ambush, and trying to head out over the mountains we'd be tracked down and caught." Mattias felt his smile turn predatory, and Mr. Havener flinched at the sight of his expression. "But I'm a lion, and a prince. I don't run. My enemies do."
16
Night was drawing in by the time the Royal Security Service arrived at the farm. Sophie heard them coming into the valley, engines loud in the otherwise silent evening, and shivered. The men didn't seem to give any thought to stealth. Maybe Mattias was right, and they assumed that the four of them had made for the hills?
She still wasn't sure that wouldn't have been a better idea. True, her father wasn't as fit as he'd once been, and her mother had never been a hiker. But it beat staying in the one place that they knew their enemies were going to come down on with all the force they could muster.
Outside, doors slammed shut, and she could hear voices. The individual words were too quiet to make out, but she recognized the sharp tones of Captain Praetor's voice. Footsteps spread out around the building as the men surrounded it.
"If you're in there, Sophie, this is your chance to come out," Praetor shouted. Silence followed, and Sophie bit down on her tongue to keep from making any noise. A second passed, then another, and then Praetor spoke again.
"In that case, you've made your choice. Die with it."
Her father put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her down a moment before the guards opened fire. Bullets snapped through the farmhouse, splintering windows and doors, smacking into the stonework and ricocheting wildly. The noise was deafening, terrifying, and seemed endless.
But none tore through the basement where she and her family huddled, surrounded by tools and supplies. The darkness split as bullets punched through the door, letting in shafts of dim evening light. Sophie could just about make out Mattias crouched at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the doorway with an intensity that was frightening even to her.
Above them, the gunfire stopped. Silence fell after the deafening assault, and all Sophie could hear was the blood pumping in her ears. Maybe it's over? She didn't really think that Praetor would abandon the attack now, but it was possible. He might set out for the hills, thinking that they had fled.
It was a faint hope, and a vain one. Praetor might be an evil man, but he wasn't stupid or poorly trained, and Sophie knew he would want to check the house to make sure. The sound of a foot crunching down on broken glass above told her that she was right. Someone had entered the house.
Even in human form, Mattias moved with a grace that would make a hunting cat proud. Rising from his crouch, he stole up the stairs silently and carefully, and Sophie's heart hammered in her chest as he reached the door at the top. He was standing in the path the bullets had so recently taken, shafts of light falling on him through the bullet holes.
Above, the slow careful footsteps came closer. Two men, Sophie guessed from the sound. The rest must be waiting outside.
The handle of the door turned, and then things happened very fast. As soon as the door started to open, Mattias threw his weight against it and sent it flying wide. The man on the far side didn't have time to respond before the furious prince was on him, grabbing and twisting to throw him down the steep stairs. There was a short scream and then a thud as he hit the basement's rough concrete floor hard enough to knock him out.
Sophie couldn't see what happened next, but she could hear it. That was the worst thing — she knew her man was in danger, was fighting for his life and hers, but she couldn't tell what was happening beyond the sound of a gunshot and the creaking of the floor above them. The smash as a man's weight smacked into the floor. And then a moment's silence before someone cried out in pain.
"Report," Praetor shouted from outside. "Damn it, what's happening?"
"You're losing," Mattias called back, and Sophie let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Two-nothing. Come and get me."
And then he came leaping down the stairs, ahead of another barrage of bullets that tore through the house above them. Unlike the man he'd thrown, he landed in a controlled roll, coming up to his feet with a grin on his face. Sophie couldn't help smiling back, scared as she was. Here he was in a desperate fight against long odds, but he couldn't help enjoying himself.
This time the shooting above went on for longer, but still it didn't penetrate to the basement. Sophie winced at the sound of her parents' house being devastated, but at least they were safe down here with her.
"What if they use a rocket or something?" she whispered the question to her father, and he squeezed her shoulder. He was looking gray in the face, uncomfortable and as frightened as she was, but he wasn't letting it stop him. Sophie tried to draw strength from his example.
"They don't have anything bigger than rifles," he said. It sounded as though he was trying to reassure himself as much as her. "They're a bodyguard squad — they could get away with a lot, but buying weapons for destroying buildings would have shown up on their budget. And we were the ones who checked the budget for the King."
I hope you're right, Dad, she thought. Couldn't he have bought something on the black market? But the fact that the house didn't explode above them gave her hope.
Upstairs the shooting stopped again, and more cautious steps approached. This time, the men stayed closer together, moving as a group, and Sophie wasn't sure how many there were. Enough that she didn't want to see Mattias go up and face them, though. He was injured from the first fight, a bloody red mark scored across his arm by a near miss. And the fact that the wound hadn't healed yet showed her that the enemies were using silver bullets. Even a shifter's healing powers had limits, and that was one of them.
He looked at her, his eyes full of a grim determination, and she knew that he wasn't sure he could face that many enemies at once either. But that wasn't going to stop him. He smiled slightly, sadly, and she could feel his d
ecision in her heart. He was going to fight the enemies of his country no matter what the cost to him, and he would die protecting her if he had to.
She wanted to tell him no, to beg him not to go. That was the one thing that might have changed his mind, that might keep him at her side. But she couldn't do it, she knew that. If he fought, he stood a chance no matter how small. Down here he'd be trapped; all she'd be doing would be making sure that they died together.
That almost seemed worth it. If she had to die, then going in his arms was better than anything else she could think of. But not while there was a chance left.
She nodded to him, wishing him luck and hoping that he could see how she felt. The answering wave of love she felt from him was more than she could cope with and she turned away as he made his way back up the stairs to face their foes.
Mattias's arm burned where the silver had scored his skin. The older wounds he'd suffered, the cuts from the window he'd leaped through, those had all healed completely now, but this one was going to stay with him.
And now he was climbing up to face a half-dozen more men armed with the same. It wasn't a welcoming thought.
Doesn't matter, though, he told himself as he crept to the top of the stairs, raising his head for a moment to glance out. No one was in view. However they're armed, I am going to finish them all, even if it kills me.
His mate's life was on the line, and he wasn't even willing to consider the possibility that he might fail her.
Entering the kitchen, he heard the soft footsteps of the men as they moved through the house. Six sets of footsteps — his keen hearing let him be certain. And there would be at least another couple outside, watching in case he made a break for it. Would Praetor be inside or out? The smart move would have been to stay clear of the building, but Mattias had seen the injured pride on the Captain's face after they'd sparred. He'd bet that the man would want to be in for the kill.
Let's see if I can give him a rematch, he thought with a savage grin, heading for the nearest man silently. Some of them were moving upstairs towards the bedrooms, others were at the front of the house. And two of them were about to enter the kitchen when Mattias made his move.
The hallway was narrow, which worked to his advantage as he pounced. The first man tried to raise his rifle, but there wasn't time and Mattias had hold of its barrel before he could bring it to bear. The second soldier's shot was blocked by his comrade, and that slowed him down for a precious second as Mattias swung a short, powerful punch.
The impact jarred his hand, but it knocked the soldier flying back into his friend. Mattias followed, adding his weight to the man's momentum, slamming both soldiers into the wall even as one of them managed to shout something. He punched again, and again, hammering the two men he had pinned, feeling bones give under his fist.
Behind him, someone moved. Metal clicked on metal as another soldier raised his gun and squeezed the trigger. Mattias spun, dragging the unconscious body of his prisoner around with him. Bullets tore into the man in front of him, jerking the body this way and that.
The silver bullets punched into flesh, but didn't make it through. The part of Mattias's mind that was still thinking consciously was suddenly glad that they were loading silver — it might be good against shifters, but the precious metal bullets were too soft to get all the way through a body, unlike lead.
Most of his mind, though, was blank, filled with rage at the attackers. With a roar, he charged, holding the twitching body of the soldier up as a shield as he closed on the shooter. The man's gun fell silent as Mattias closed, and he discarded his now-dead cover to leap at the gunman, shifting as he went.
A bullet cracked over his head, through the place he would have been if he'd still stood as tall as a man. It barely missed his lion form, and then his claws found his target, ripping and tearing. The man's howl of pain filled the house.
Three down, Mattias counted, wrestling for control with the animal instincts of his lion. He kept moving, resisting the urge to stay and make certain of his kill. Even if the man was alive, he wouldn't be for long, not with his throat torn open. And staying in place would be too dangerous.
Even as he jumped away, the men upstairs opened fire. Not caring if they shot their comrades, they fired through the floor, pouring bullets blindly into the area Mattias had been standing a moment earlier. Must be panicking them, Mattias thought as the bullets rained down.
Panicked or not, their tactic wasn't a bad one. He felt the painful tug of a bullet clipping his flank as he bounded through the house. Fortunately, the silver round had been slowed by its passage through the floor, but even so it tore painfully into him. A jagged aching pain flooded through him as he moved.
Can't let that stop me. Got to reach them. Kill them. Mattias borrowed strength from his lion's rage, stoking it. If they keep firing down like that, they might hit Sophie.
He hoped that the extra layer of floor between the shooters and his mate would keep her from harm, but he wasn't taking any chances with her safety. Charging up the stairs, he roared to draw their attention. Better that they shoot him than her.
The sound of a charging lion wasn't something that the soldiers were prepared for, though. His roar froze them and he barreled off the stairs into the Heavener’s bedroom, catching them flat-footed. The first man went down under his charge, teeth and claws tearing him apart before he hit the ground.
The second spun, raising his rifle and aiming it as Mattias turned to him. The barrel pointed between his eyes and for a moment the two of them froze. Bloody-jawed lion faced murdering soldier across the space of a bedroom. Then the soldier squeezed his trigger.
Click.
Empty.
Mattias didn't hesitate. As the man dropped his rifle and reached for his sidearm, the lion pounced. The impact crushed his target to the ground, and a swipe of claws across the throat finished him. Panting, Mattias steadied himself. Five down, he counted. One left, plus anyone waiting outside.
Now that he had time to think, the pain caught up with him. Two bullet wounds burned, and he could feel himself losing blood from the injuries. The smaller wounds he'd suffered in his mad race through the house, the scrapes and bruises, they were already fading. But the silver would take longer.
That went better than I expected, he admitted to himself as he padded carefully out of the bedroom. For all the confidence he'd shown Sophie and her parents, he had known it was a risk to go up against so many trained foes at once. But there hadn't been a better option available, and it did seem to be working. He allowed himself to hope that they would win.
Then he heard Sophie scream.
He was half-way down the stairs before he knew that he was moving. The cry of fear and pain was enough to override any caution he might feel, and he had to fight to slow himself down. I can't just charge in there and get myself shot, he told his lion as he skidded on the bare wooden floor of the hallway. I'm no use to her dead.
Managing to get himself under control, he stopped and tried to assess the situation. The cry had come from the basement. And now that he was approaching, he could smell a familiar hated scent from down there. Praetor.
"I can hear you up there," the traitor said, voice full of rage and hate. "And I know what you can do. What you have done to my squad. So listen to me. I'm holding a grenade, pin pulled — if you don't come down here nice and quietly in your human form, no one in this basement is getting out alive."
17
Sophie tried to hold back her sobs and stay strong. It wasn't easy. Praetor stood behind her, his hand gripping her shoulder. His fingers dug in painfully and twisted, bringing tears to her eyes.
She might have fought back, except for the grenade he held in his left hand. It was live, the pin pulled, and all that stopped it going off was the lever he squeezed. If he let go, it was all over. Her parents stood back helplessly watching the man holding her captive, her father nursing his wrist from where Praetor had disarmed him.
It had all happene
d so fast! Mattias had vanished upstairs, and the sounds of fighting had been all they'd had to let them know what was happening. Her father had gone to watch the stairs with his shotgun, and then Praetor was there. Whatever she might think of him as a person, she had to admit he was a skilled fighter. He'd come down the stairs so quickly that her father hadn't even had time to get a shot off before he was disarmed.
And now here they were, prisoners and hostages for him to use against Mattias. She couldn't stand that, but she didn't know what to do. Even if she could fight him off, what good would it do if it just got everyone in the basement killed?
Praetor twisted his grip again, and she couldn't help crying out as pain shot through her.
"Come on, Your Highness," Praetor shouted mockingly. "Your mate doesn't have all day."
At the top of the stairs, Mattias came slowly into view. He was human again, naked and covered in blood, and too much of it was his own. Sophie shuddered at the sight of the injuries on his chest and arm, at the tired look of pain in his eyes as he descended the stairs slowly and calmly. His hands were empty, held clear of his body, showing that he was unarmed.
"Let them go, Praetor," he said in a low and dangerous tone. "It's me you want, and here I am. Sophie and her parents don't matter to you now."
Sophie wanted to shout at him for that. Don't you dare trade your life for mine, Matt. She swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn't help to say them, but could he really think that Praetor had any intention of letting them go? They'd seen too much for him to let them live.
Save yourself, she willed him, hoping against hope that he'd hear her thoughts across the bond between them. Run, escape, live. But she knew better than to expect that to work. He would never run out on her, not while there was the slightest chance he could save her. Her heart hammered in her chest, love and fear mixing equally.
