by Lynn Hagen
“Then I’ll make sure that I don’t.”
Rick smashed his mouth onto Dorian’s, stealing one last kiss. He could feel the tears threatening to spill as he let his mate go.
“Ready?” Nate asked from beside him, and Rick could hear the slight fear in the man’s voice.
Rick nodded. “Ready.”
They were about two hundred yards out. The enemy was silent, unmoving, but Rick knew they were there. He could feel their presence like a disease as it crawled over him.
They moved forward in one solid unit.
Chaos erupted. Humans exploded from the building, through doors, on the roof, from behind the tanks, firing their weapons. Rick pressed the butt of his rifle hard against his shoulder and returned fire as they raced to close the distance. Men and women fell all around him, but they pressed on.
A loud explosion sounded.
A tank had fired.
But Rick kept going, listening to the deafening sound of his rifle fire at the enemy as they stormed the detention center.
It had been a trap. The enemy had been waiting.
Dorian had his gun in his hand, aiming, firing, and then running forward. Rick was both proud and downright terrified. He had to push thoughts of losing his mate aside and focus.
Nate shouldered the AT4 and fired the rocket launcher, the side of the building crumbling. He had just given them their way in.
Rick ran through the smoke and crumbling debris, glancing around and then taking off down one hallway, Dorian, Nate, and Selene right behind him.
Soldiers came at him.
Not guards.
Soldiers.
Rick aimed, firing one round at a time now, watching as the bullet glowed before hitting its mark. Rebellion groups poured in behind him and took off, going after the captured. Rick stayed where he was, holding off as many as he could.
His mind was focused. He was calm. Rick knew what he had to do and kept all other thoughts at bay. He had a purpose, a goal, and he was going to make sure as many left this place as possible.
“Having fun without me?”
Rick was shocked to hear a voice he hadn’t heard in months beside him, but he didn’t lose focus. “How in the hell did you find me, Ross?”
The human who was the first sympathizer to help Rick on his journey laughed. “I keep my ear to the wire.”
Rick smiled and then shot a human who had spun around from a corner.
“But I didn’t come alone,” Ross said. “I brought help.”
“We need to get everyone free before reinforcements show up.” Rick pressed forward, his gun at the ready as he did a quick head check around the corner. When he didn’t see anyone, he moved down the hallway. Nate and Selene, along with Dorian, were running from cell to cell, opening the doors. There weren’t bars. The doors were solid steel, a large sliding lock holding each one in place.
“I don’t think they expected us to get this far,” Rick said to Ross. “But I’m pretty damn sure someone has called for help already.”
“Then I suggest we shake a leg.”
Ross took off, opening doors as he made his way down the hallway. Rick kept his eye on Dorian, but turned and released the lever of the cell door next to him. When he glanced inside, Rick had to look twice.
It couldn’t be.
“Olivia?”
The pack healer lay cowering in a corner, her face barely recognizable behind all the injuries inflicted on her. “How did you end up here?”
Olivia lifted her head slowly, a sob tearing from her chest. “Is that really you, alpha?”
Rick moved into the tiny room barely wide enough to be called a closet and squatted down in front of her. Olivia cringed, a small helpless noise sounding in her throat.
“You’re safe, hon. You’re safe.” Had Graham sold his own mate out? Had he handed Olivia over—“Where are the pups?”
Olivia blinked up at him, her eyes unfocused.
“Where are your pups, Olivia?” he said more sternly. “Where are my godsons?”
“Gone,” she whispered. “They took my babies from me when they found us in the mountains.”
Her words brought a chill to Rick’s soul. He knew the humans kept the young from their parents in the detention centers. He prayed with fervor that they were just in another part of the building.
Rick lifted her from the floor. “You have to walk. I need you to get out of here as quickly as you can.”
Olivia collapsed back onto the hard floor, a cry of pain falling from her lips. Rick inhaled deeply and smelled something he wished was untrue.
She wasn’t going to make it out of here. Olivia was dying. There was an underlying scent of an unknown chemical inside of her, and Rick knew they had experimented on her already.
“Find them,” she whispered desperately. “Find my babies and save them.”
Rick stared at her in a detached sense of reality. He had to get moving, but he also had to know. “Did you betray us, Olivia? Did you know Graham had sold us out?”
Olivia lifted her head, her eyes telling Rick all he needed to know.
She had betrayed them.
Still, he knelt in front of her, cupping her face. “I’ll find them and raise them as my own. They will never know their parents treachery or feel shame for what you and Graham did to us.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, alpha. They took my boys. I had no choice.”
“We all have choices.” Rick stood, walking from the small room. His heart bled for Olivia, but she had done this to herself. His only goal now was to find his godsons and keep them safe.
They were going to know who their parents were, but Rick was not going to lay the burden of their betrayal on the boys’ shoulders.
He was going to raise them to love who they were, who they would become, and be proud of their parents who died in a war to save their species.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The soldiers were coming in droves as Mason held them off. He aimed his rifle at the oncoming humans, firing his automatic weapon. He was pinned down and didn’t see a way out, so he was going to take out as many of the bastards as he could.
He lay on his stomach, his eyes level with the scope, thinking about Ian. His mate had been brave when Mason left him in the wee hours of the morning. He hadn’t begged Mason not to go. He hadn’t cried that he didn’t want to be left alone.
He had just stood there, an expression of pure love in his eyes as Mason climbed into Rick’s truck and pulled away.
Ian was at the motel, a few changelings of the Rebellion group remaining behind to watch over him. Uri, a werebear, had promised to protect Ian with his life. Mason had no choice but to trust the man. Clyde had given his word that Ian would be safe, and Rick had given his word that Clyde could be trusted.
Mason trusted no one when it came to Ian, not one hundred percent, but knowing Rick was confident about the bear’s credentials eased some of Mason’s worry.
The soldiers pressed on.
Mason scooted back, but he had nowhere to go. A solid wall lay behind him. The only reason they hadn’t killed him yet was because he was half hidden behind a large tank. But the block wasn’t going to last long.
They were getting closer.
Just as Mason thought he was seeing his end, Benito and Miguel came to his rescue, firing from the other side. Mason could hear Benito shouting, “Say hello to my little friend!”
The man was nuts.
But it gave Mason the escape he needed. Jumping to his feet, Mason took off inside the building, running down hallways, looking for closed doors. He knew their time was short lived. Reinforcements would be here soon, and then they wouldn’t have a fighting chance.
He hurried around another corner, spotting a door sealed tight. Mason raced to it, expecting to find a captured changeling.
Instead, when he swung the door wide, his heart lodged in his throat. There, on the other side of the room, stood his father.
Mason was fro
zen for a moment in time, remembering all the horrific things this man had done to his very own species. He also remembered the man blowing up the college Mason was attending, while he was still there.
“I should have known you would be part of the Rebellion group,” his father said haughtily, pompous arrogance clear in his tone. “You were always too proud for you own good.”
Mason moved into the room, closing the door behind him. He wanted no interruptions. “And I should have known your cold heart would lead you to experiment on your own species.”
“They are animals!” His calm demeanor slipped. “What do I care? They are no one.”
Mason moved further into the room, but stayed on the opposite side, away from his father. He didn’t trust the man. James Sellers was a formidable opponent, not to be taken lightly. “Funny,” Mason said as he made sure his rifle was tucked into his side, the barrel facing his father, “but it always seems to slip your mind that you are one of those animals.”
The blunt statement made his father’s eyes blaze with unfettered anger. His nostrils flared and then just that quickly his anger seemed to slip away. “I am a scientist first and foremost. Science is my life. My company has helped more people than your mind could ever understand.”
“Like the babies you experimented on?” His tone was full of feral viciousness as he thought about baby Kell. His heart constricted when he thought about the six toddlers who were rescued from the Calvary Home of Salvation. There was nothing his father could say to appease Mason’s jaguar. Those were innocent lives the man had experimented on. They were too young to fight back, too young to voice their opposition to what was being done to them.
“Those experiments were—”
“Children!” Mason shouted. “Not experiments.”
His father raked his eyes over Mason as if the thought of being corrected was abhorrent to him. “Those children were prime for what I had planned. They were at the correct age for the scientific breakthrough of a lifetime. If your people hadn’t interfered, my work would have been the pioneer in the greatest bioengineering to ever be discovered.”
“How in the fuck can I be your son?” Mason asked as he stared at a man he had barely known his entire life. They were like night and day. Whereas Mason cared and had a conscience, this man only cared about his work, not giving a rat’s ass who was killed along the way. “What did you do to those babies?”
“Something marvelous.” His father’s eyes seemed to glow as he spoke. Mason moved closer to the counter, eyeing the mad fucker, and then picked up a syringe.
“I’d be careful with that if I were you.”
Mason glanced at the small cylinder object in his hand. He could see clear liquid swimming around inside. “Why?”
“Because,” his father said as he moved around the table he had been standing behind, “that will transform you into your beast, never to return to your human form.”
Mason dropped the syringe back on the counter and raised his gun. “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”
Eyes narrowing, James glared at him. “Did you come here to kill your very own father? I don’t think you have the balls.” His father’s eyes shifted into his jaguar eyes. “I don’t think you have the heart to take a life. You are too pampered, too self-absorbed.”
“And that’s where you would be wrong.” Mason fired one single shot. James growled as the bullet embedded into his right thigh. The man didn’t howl in pain. He stood there with his jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists.
“And what was that supposed to accomplish?”
“It pleased my cat,” he answered tauntingly. “Something you would know nothing about.”
“You are testing my patience, boy.”
“I stopped being a boy years ago,” Mason reminded him with a low growl. “And no, I don’t plan on killing you. I’m going to watch everything that you have killed to protect fall down around you. I’m going to watch your mighty empire crumble.”
There was a loud noise just outside the room, making Mason turn his head. It was just enough of a distraction for his father to charge him. The man collided his body into Mason’s, knocking the gun out of his hand at the same time. His father may deny who he was, his changeling heritage, but he was still an alpha male, not easily defeated.
Mason struggled to keep his father’s hands from going around his neck, but James was too strong. His fingers squeezed tightly, cutting off Mason’s air supply and making him gasp for breath.
He spun, knocking over a cart, items crashing to the floor. His father’s eyes were so hate-filled that Mason was beginning to see him as a stranger, a monster that had to be put down like a rabid dog. There would be no talking to him. There would be no bargaining. But Mason had already known this.
Reaching behind him, Mason grabbed the syringe, curling his fingers around the hard plastic, and then rammed his curled fist into his father’s side, pressing the plunger all the way down.
His father released him and Mason took in a deep, ragged breath, his throat burning as oxygen began to flow back into his lungs. His father fell to the floor, shouting, writhing around, and then his jaguar form exploded.
Mason knew he was looking at a man on the edge, a feral creature who was going to try to kill him. Mason dropped to the floor, reaching for his rifle. His fingers grabbed at it just as his father leapt onto him, knocking the air from his lungs.
Mason spun, using the rifle to shove against his father’s widely opened mouth. “You are never going to be human again,” he barked. “Now I can watch your precious company fall apart. Not only that—” Mason shoved hard, knocking the jaguar off of him. He quickly stood, aiming the gun at his father’s head. “But now you will be as hunted as the rest of us are. Welcome to my world, Dad.”
Mason backed away, keeping the gun trained on the beast as he reached behind him and opened the door. He quickly exited and slammed it closed behind him, hearing the loud yowl and then something heavy hit the door.
He prayed the man got what he had coming to him. As much as Mason wanted to be the one to execute the sick son of a bitch, James Sellers was still his father. It was a fucked-up truth, but it had stopped Mason from blowing the man’s head off.
At least now his father’s days of experimenting were over.
Mason spotted Sasha, Benito, and Miguel racing down the hallway, shooting over their shoulders as they ran.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Sasha shouted. “Reinforcements have arrived, and they don’t look like they are playing around.”
Mason took off, following the three as loud explosions rent through the air. They were using the tanks. Shit. “How in the hell are we supposed to get out of here?” Mason asked.
“Easy.” Sasha gave him a wicked smile. “It’s our men firing those big guns.”
Well hell. That should give them enough cover to make it out of there. He hoped. “We have their tanks?”
“Damn right!” Miguel shouted.
As Mason raced for the exit, he saw the reinforcements heading their way, driving closer to the center.
He said a quick prayer as he hauled ass.
O’Hanlon sat at his desk with a tight jaw and thin lips as he read the reports coming in. The soldiers had not only lost the fight at the detention center in New Mexico, but Enrique fucking Marcelo had survived.
He was seen carrying two small children as he ran away. O’Hanlon wondered if the man had children he didn’t know about. He crumbled the paper and threw it across the room, vowing to use any means necessary to kill the son of a bitch.
O’Hanlon was also pissed that his unit had come up empty when they raided the farmhouse in Nevada. Whoever had hacked into his computer was long gone. He would go after Kraven for botching this whole plan, but something deep down in O’Hanlon cautioned him when dealing with the undead. There was something holding him back, and O’Hanlon had learned to listen to his instincts.
But there was one bright moment in this fucked-up situa
tion.
It seemed Enrique had two very small Achilles’ heels O’Hanlon could use to bring the animal down.
Freedman tossed the shovel aside, dropping down onto his ass. He hadn’t saved Henderson in time. The man was torn to pieces by the time Freeman had gotten to him. There was barely anything left to bury.
The rage filled him to overflowing. It was Freedman’s fault Nicholas had been involved in all of this to begin with. If he hadn’t sent his best friend to warn the werewolf alpha, Middleton wouldn’t have found the man out and tried to kill him.
If it was the last thing Freedman did, he was going to see O’Hanlon dead. He had already killed Middleton, but that wasn’t appeasing his aching soul. No, Freedman was going to go after the man who had started all of this.
“Are we leaving now?” Omar asked from beside him.
“Yes,” Freedman answered as he stood, glancing back down at the unmarked grave. “We are leaving.”
“To where?”
Freedman looked into Omar’s eyes, staring at a man who had helped him bury his best friend. “To kill Enrique Marcelo’s father.”
Kraven sat behind his desk as he watched the news. The second detention center had been attacked, the changelings freed.
It seemed Enrique Marcelo was not a man to toy with. He had gotten further than Kraven had thought. The werewolf alpha should have been dead by now, but it seemed he had an entire army of Rebellions backing him.
For now Kraven would fade into the woodworks. He wasn’t even going to send Remee after that sniveling human, Ian. He didn’t care about avenging Newman’s death. His best course of action would be for them to forget about him and then strike. Let Enrique become complacent as far as Kraven was concerned.
That was exactly what he wanted.
Chapter Thirty
“He wants me to do what?” Ian asked in surprise.
Mason set the bag on the bed and then stopped in front of Ian, his eyes softening. “Rick wants you to take over communication since Omar is gone from our group.”
