Forever Broken: A Talon Pack Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  And just a few days earlier, he’d declared himself the Supreme Alpha of all the other Packs around the world.

  Cheyenne had no idea what that meant, only that it wouldn’t be good for her, not with the way Blade had looked at her when he first walked into the small room, and certainly not with the way he stalked toward her now.

  Blade had kept her in the chair, the chains loose enough that if she wiggled just right, she might be able to get herself free. But he must have known that when he chained her up. It was all psychological. Because, if she got herself out, she wouldn’t be able to get past him. And if, somehow, he tripped or happened to be looking the other way for just the instant she’d need to get through that door, she then had to hope it was unlocked.

  If it weren’t, then Blade would kill her, or wait to murder her until it was ready.

  Whatever it was.

  Even if she got past that door, she didn’t know what was on the other side. She didn’t know who was out there or where she was. She was probably on Aspen Pack land, but according to the others, not all of the Aspens were on the side of their Alpha. Not all of them agreed with the extent of their Alpha’s depravity. Even the Talon’s contact, the Beta of the Aspens, Audrey, hadn’t been heard from in weeks, making them all worry that Blade had found out about Audrey’s clandestine meetings with the Talons and her true loyalties.

  Blade hadn’t taken Cheyenne’s phone, but it was deep in her jacket pocket, and she couldn’t reach it. She didn’t know if he was unaware that she had it because he and his men hadn’t searched her, or if he knew she had it and didn’t care.

  Because he knew she had no hope of escape.

  No chance of rescue because no one knew she was gone.

  How could they? She lived alone, worked late, and no one cared where she was at night. They all assumed that she was safely tucked in bed and far away from the world of the Packs and the war surrounding them.

  Only, she wasn’t.

  And the idea of hope was getting a little harder to grasp onto with each passing moment.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” Blade asked, coming around to face her. His hair was getting a little long, sliding over his forehead and into his eyes. He absently brushed it back as he bent down in front of her. His breath smelled of peppermint, his teeth were perfectly straight, and if he weren’t an egotistical maniac with a homicidal streak bent on world domination, she might have considered him attractive. As it was, he reminded her of what she’d imagine a demon might look like.

  Smooth moves, and a slick attitude.

  The bearer of death.

  “No, I don’t know why I’m here,” she bit out. She wasn’t slurring, and though her head hurt, she didn’t see double, so she didn’t think he’d drugged her. Why would he need to drug her when he could overpower her in an instant?

  He glared.

  “Why don’t you tell me?” She knew she shouldn’t have an attitude with him, but what did she have to lose? She wasn’t getting out of this room alive. She knew that. There was no amount of magic or prayers to a goddess she wasn’t sure she believed in that could save her.

  This was it.

  And if she were going down, she would do it with a fight. A fight for her life, and a fight for the woman who Cheyenne was beyond the woman in chains.

  Blade grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. No, those eyes were dead, evil, and she didn’t know why the media had believed him when he went on air pretending to be a human to put the Talons under fire. There was nothing human about Blade. There was nothing good about him.

  “You should know, usually, I’d never turn down a good monologue, but we don’t have a lot of time. I’ve been waiting years for this moment, for the moon to rise at the perfect angle on the one night when the power is the greatest—for the moon goddess to bless me with what is needed.”

  Cheyenne had no idea what he was talking about, but whatever it was, she knew it could mean death for the Talons, the end of her friends. That was what this man, this wolf, seemed to want—at least in her opinion.

  “You’re going to serve a specific purpose, Cinnamon.”

  “It’s Cheyenne,” she bit out.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does to me.” She met his gaze and didn’t drop her chin when his wolf came into his eyes. She only knew it was that because the others had told her, and she had seen it with the Talons. A gold rim glowed around his iris, pulsating with power. Blade was not a lower-ranking wolf. He’d become Alpha because of his strength, or at least because of his family line—she wasn’t sure on the mechanics of it all—but she knew an Alpha couldn’t be weak.

  And Blade wasn’t weak.

  He snorted after a moment, then continued. “I searched for over a century for the artifact and then waited a few decades longer to work out the details. And you’re the final detail.”

  He paused, and she swallowed hard, knowing that she wouldn’t like what he had to say next. Of course, she hadn’t liked any of it. And though her pulse raced, and she practically shook in her chains, she listened to every word and knew that if, somehow, by the grace of the goddess, Cheyenne found a way to survive, she’d tell the Talons everything she knew.

  Because she might not be a Pack member, might not be a shifter, but she’d die before she let her friends get hurt because of this monster.

  “The artifact needs you. Well, it needs blood to activate. And the fact it will be your blood will be killing two birds with a single stone.”

  He pulled out a long, thin knife. Cheyenne thought it might be called a stiletto, but she wasn’t sure.

  “Actually, a single blade will work.” He winked. “Pun not intended.”

  Then he stood up, and she screamed, pulling herself out of her chains as she bent down and wiggled. His eyes widened a fraction, but then he schooled his features and came at her. She screamed again, trying to duck out of his hold, but he was too fast. He was always too quick.

  He pulled her by the hair, the stiletto close to her neck. She froze, leaning against his chest as she tried not to rock forward onto the blade.

  “Come with me.” He growled the words and tugged her out the door, unlocking it with a key as he did.

  She wouldn’t have made it, wouldn’t have escaped, no matter how hard she fought.

  She didn’t want to die today.

  But it didn’t look like she was going to have a choice.

  The moon was just dimming in the sky, the sun about to rise on the horizon. She must have been unconscious for longer than she thought if a new day was about to start.

  She wasn’t going to die on a Sunday but a Monday—a thought she’d never thought to have. Blade pulled her close, the bile in her throat so strong that she was afraid she’d throw up right on his shirt.

  “The moon needs to be on her way from the sky and into the darkness, for the light must come.” Blade smiled, and Cheyenne knew tears were falling down her cheeks.

  She tugged at his hold, trying to get away, but she couldn’t.

  “You will be our salvation. Blood for blood. Blade for flesh. Sacrament for death.”

  Then, he slid the blade under her ribs, puncturing her lung but not her heart. She was a vet, had gone to school to learn the anatomy of animals, but she had learned the anatomy of humans, as well.

  She knew he’d stabbed her there on purpose so she would bleed out slowly, death taking longer than the seconds or minutes of agony she might have otherwise endured. With her lung punctured, she would lose the ability to breathe, would drown in her own fluids even as her lifeblood left her.

  She could already feel her breathing become labored, feel her lungs fighting for oxygen.

  Then, she was on her back, blood slowly pooling around her as Blade stood above her. The moon was still overhead, the sun slowly rising behind Blade’s back.

  And in his hands, he held a stone, hand-carved and almost brick-shaped, but she couldn’t tell what it was exactly. Power leached from him as he squeeze
d it, his hands covered in her blood. The hairs on her arms stood on end and it felt as if she were too close to a lightning strike. And though the power had to be coming from the stone and into him, it was as if he had so much in him now, he couldn’t contain it all.

  Then she closed her eyes, afraid that this was the end because it hurt to breathe, it hurt to see the power in his hands. Because she wouldn’t be the only one who died for what he held.

  When Cheyenne opened her eyes again, Blade was gone, and the only thing she could hear was the wheezing of her breaths. She swallowed hard, slowly reaching into her pocket for her phone. She might not be able to save herself tonight, but maybe she could save her friends.

  Her fingers slid over the screen, her blood making it too slippery for her to see the display clearly. She tried to call the last person in her recents, but it scrolled a bit farther and dialed someone she’d only called once—and just so he could have her number.

  It had been done in an odd sense of friendship, camaraderie.

  Now, she just hoped he answered.

  “Cheyenne?” Max growled into the phone. “Where are you?”

  “Here,” she wheezed. But she knew it was too late, he wouldn’t be able to hear her. “I’m here.”

  She could have sworn she heard a howl as she closed her eyes again, and when she opened them once more, she knew she had to be dreaming.

  Max. She didn’t actually say the word, didn’t have the breath in her lungs.

  She only knew it was him hovering over her on three legs, blood on his muzzle, and the anger of a thousand suns in his gaze. During the final battle with the rogue humans who had wanted the wolves to die, Max had lost the lower part of his right arm as well as a lot of flesh on his chest. His chest had healed, but his arm hadn’t grown back. Shifter genetics didn’t do that. So, in wolf form, he stood on three legs, strong and fierce, though she knew he didn’t feel that way.

  Max growled, and she wondered why he had blood on his muzzle.

  Then, she didn’t wonder anymore when he bit into her flesh.

  And again.

  She didn’t scream, didn’t feel a thing. She didn’t know why she didn’t feel anything, she wasn’t cold enough to be that close to death, not yet.

  Something was protecting her.

  And she knew Max wasn’t trying to eat her. No, he was attempting to change her, to save her.

  He was doing the only thing he could.

  And he hadn’t given her a choice. If she lived through this, she would make sure he understood that she would have said yes to a change. He was breaking the law, and possibly breaking part of himself to do this, and he already had enough on his shoulders.

  She didn’t want him to blame himself for this.

  But as he bit her again, something snapped inside her. Not physically. But a warmth in her heart spread and seemed to spear outward toward Max. She gasped, suddenly able to breathe as Max quickly changed to his human form—far too fast for him or any other wolf.

  Before she could think, he had her in his naked lap and was holding her close, blood covering them both. She couldn’t quite understand it all.

  “Mate,” he whispered. “The moon goddess.” He coughed. “Mate.”

  And then, she fell into the darkness again, wondering if the word mate was the last thing she’d ever hear.

  Because she wasn’t a wolf.

  She didn’t know if she was Pack.

  But…she was Max Brentwood’s mate.

  Somehow.

  Chapter Two

  Max Brentwood held Cheyenne in his arms, his body shaking just as much as hers. His wolf pushed at him, wondering what the fuck was going on. The man inside him also wondered that, but it wasn’t like he could stand up and yell at the sky to see if the moon goddess might actually talk to him and let him in on the secret.

  Though both of them were covered in blood, the wounds he’d added to Cheyenne by biting into her flesh were now gone, healed as if they had never been. If he weren’t still able to taste her blood on his tongue, he would have thought he imagined the whole thing. Dreamt the stark fear that had run through his body like a freight train, slamming into him at the sight of her lying still on the grass, blood all around her, the scent of death clinging to her, and the sharp, raspy gasps of breath that she’d fought for.

  He’d been in wolf form when he found her, able to run faster on three feet as a wolf than as a human on two. He hadn’t been able to take any time to think through his decision, or even hope to hell she wouldn’t hate him when—not if—she woke up as a wolf. He hadn’t known if he was dominant enough to bring on the change. It took someone being near death—something Cheyenne clearly had been—and multiple bites by a wolf in animal form to force the change. It was damn illegal now thanks to human laws, and not something done often, according to Pack law.

  Forcing a shift wasn’t done.

  But he hadn’t cared.

  He’d had to save her. Part of him might have thought it was only because her friends were family now, Pack. But, maybe, part of him had known that even though he was broken and couldn’t feel a damn thing when it came to magic and the moon goddess anymore since the battle with the humans…maybe he’d known deep down that she was his.

  He’d bitten her, praying to a goddess he hadn’t prayed to in far too long. Praying that the enzyme would take. Praying Cheyenne would survive the bite. Praying she would survive the change. He hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding in the wound in her side, hadn’t been able to heal the bruising on her face and throat.

  And when she opened her eyes, gasping out words, his heart had nearly stopped. Then, the world had shifted, and so had he. He’d never changed to human form that quickly in his life. Even his cousin and Alpha, Gideon, didn’t shift that fast.

  Suddenly, he was in human form, and Cheyenne looked like she would survive.

  Someone had intervened, and Max had a feeling it had to do with the goddess he’d prayed to, the one he’d thought had forsaken him when his life was on the line and he lost part of himself, part of his soul, and part of his wolf.

  Now, he had Cheyenne resting on his right upper arm, using his left hand to search her body for any cuts or bites he might have missed. There was enough blood under them at this point that he knew she’d lost a good portion of hers, enough that if whatever—or whoever—had intervened were just a moment later, Cheyenne would have been gone before he found her.

  When he found nothing, something that worried the hell out of him considering what he’d seen just a few moments ago, he let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding and reached for her phone. He’d lost his clothes when he shifted to get to her as fast as he could after her phone call.

  They’d started searching for her once Kameron’s patrols found out she hadn’t gotten home the night before, and her car had been left at her now-closed clinic. He’d been irrationally anxious and angry about anything happening to the one person who should have been safe. Cheyenne wasn’t a wolf, she wasn’t anything having to do with the Talon Pack, other than a friend to those within the den walls.

  She should have been safe.

  He growled again, then made the call to Kameron since it was the first of his family he saw in Cheyenne’s contacts. It was good that she had so many of them in there for emergencies, but he’d known that she was trying to cut ties with the Pack. He’d seen it in her eyes at the last event she’d been to. He’d been in the corner, keeping away from the others because he hadn’t wanted his bad mood to piss off his family…but he’d watched her.

  He always watched her.

  He’d been drawn to her from the start, though he hadn’t known why. She hadn’t been his mate—his wolf would have told him. He’d known he was broken, but he’d also known that he wasn’t that broken.

  Now, he knew.

  He hadn’t been able to feel her for a reason.

  But he also knew that she wanted to walk away from everything having to do with the Pack. And he’d und
erstood. Those who were part of his den, part of his family, had almost been killed, they had been sent to hell and back. His body and his wolf were proof of that.

  Cheyenne had wanted to walk away.

  And now, she couldn’t.

  He quickly made the call, disconnecting once Kameron told him they were on their way and Cheyenne finally stirred.

  “Max?” Her lips barely moved, but he heard the words, so he leaned forward, brushing his own lips across her forehead. He didn’t know what else to do, and he was a wolf, touch usually helped with anxiety—not that he touched people often these days, but this wasn’t about him, this was about Cheyenne.

  “I’m here,” he whispered. He needed to move her, needed to get her off this land. It might be neutral, but that didn’t mean eyes weren’t watching. He’d been able to scent the one responsible, even if he hadn’t wanted to put two and two together because then he’d have a face for the person who dared come at Cheyenne.

  Blade hadn’t taken her to Aspen land, the Alpha was far too crafty for that. If it hadn’t been for Max’s wolf going on instinct, and Cheyenne’s phone call, he might have been too late.

  “Good.”

  Then, she was out again, and the others were running through the trees, some on four legs, Kameron and a couple of others on two. As soon as his family arrived, Max stood up in one movement. He might be missing part of an arm, but he’d learned to compensate for balance. He was still far stronger than any human, and most wolves. He was a dominant, a shifter with the power to be in the hierarchy or even an Alpha of a small Pack—just like any of his family members.

  Kameron met his gaze, their eyes the same deep blue that all of the Brentwoods shared. Kameron was his cousin, his Enforcer. Max was the only one of his generation without a title. It hadn’t bothered him before, and with Cheyenne in his arms, hurt and weak, it didn’t bother him now.