by Cheree Alsop
Alarm filled Alex’s thoughts.
The General’s footsteps echoed through the room. A door shut. Other footsteps followed.
“No!” Kalia shouted.
Panic pounded through Alex’s heart. He had to save her.
“Alex, help me!”
Kalia’s cries tore through him. His mind struggled against the microchip, trying to break free. His heart staggered. The silver was too much. He could barely breathe.
“Alex!” Kalia’s voice was muffled. The sound of a door shutting made Alex’s heart jump. He tried to move his arms, but they wouldn’t listen to him.
“Heartbeat irregular,” a physician noted. The sound of a pencil writing on paper was as loud as glass being dragged across cement.
“Alex!”
A gunshot sounded.
Blue surged through Alex’s thoughts, chasing away everything else.
“What’s happening?” one of the physician’s asked.
Alex flexed his expanding muscles. The bands across his chest tightened, then snapped. Alex ripped one hand free, then the other.
A physician attempted to stab him with a needle. Alex grabbed him by the throat and slammed his head into the edge of the table. As the man fell to the ground, two more tried to pin Alex down. He grabbed their heads and slammed them together. The feeling of their skulls collapsing beneath his hands registered in the back of his mind. He threw them to the ground and ripped his ankles free of their bonds.
“Shoot him!” the physician with the thick accent shouted.
Alex was at the man’s side in a heartbeat. He ducked as gunfire erupted. Bullets peppered the physician’s torso. Alex ran forward, using the man’s body as a shield. A bullet tore through Alex’s arm. He let out a roar and slammed the physician into four guards.
Every guard in the room charged. Alex grabbed two guns and cracked them across three faces. He spun and slammed the heel of his palm into a guard’s face hard enough to shove his nose into his skull. He caught the man before he could fall. Holding an arm and a leg, Alex turned, taking down five more guards. He threw the body at four others charging across the room.
Bullets tugged at Alex’s clothes. He broke a guard’s arm, caught his knife, and slammed it into another guard’s leg. He slammed his elbow against the side of a man’s head and spun, connecting with two others. The blue rage drove everything else from his mind.
More men poured into the room. Alex cracked skulls, threw guards across the floor, and used their guns as clubs. He fought until the guards were fighting to get away, and then he chased them down. The only thought in his mind was that no human who had been in that room would leave it. The beast side of him made that thought a reality.
Alex stood in the middle of a pile of bodies. His breath tore through his throat, and blood dripped from his hands to the floor. He didn’t know how much of it was his, and he didn’t care.
The blue faded from his vision. His muscular beast form lessened, leaving him exhausted and drained.
“Kalia,” he whispered.
Alex waded through the bodies to the door they had taken her out of. He shoved it open with his shoulder, stumbled down the short hallway, and opened the next door to reveal a stretch of snowy ground. Two sets of footprints and the dragging impressions of Kalia’s feet as she struggled lined the snow. Alex followed them with his eyes. His heart stopped entirely at the sight of a lone form lying in the distance.
“Kalia!” Alex called. He ran through the snow. Two sets of footprints left the form and made their way back to the building. Alex hoped they had been with the guards who had attacked him.
“Kalia.”
Her name came out in a whisper at the sight of the red snow around her body.
Alex fell to his knees. Her eyes were closed. A small red circle occupied the center of her forehead. Alex touched it numbly. His finger came back bloody.
“Oh no.” His voice cracked. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to reassure himself that she was alright. His hands started to shake. He ran his fingers down her beautiful blonde hair, slipping his hand behind her head. The warm damp that met his fingers said everything. “No. No. No. No. No.” He shook his head, rocking forward and back on his knees. “No, not you. Please not you.”
He gathered Kalia in his arms. The fact that her skin was chilled struck him hard. She used to get so cold before she phased for the first time. He pictured her in the white coat with the fur around the hood. She had always hated that white coat because wearing it made her separate from the werewolves who didn’t need anything to shield them from the chill. He would keep her warm.
Alex held her on his lap. Any thought that the General’s guards would find him were baseless. He had killed every person in the building. He knew over a hundred bodies lay in the room behind him. They had kept rushing through the doors until there was no one left to attack him. Whoever had shot Kalia lay there with them. He wished he knew who it had been. He would have made them pay.
Instead of anger, Alex felt empty, completely empty. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel. He could only rock back and forth with Kalia in his arms, wishing with every breath that she would open her eyes and tell him that she was okay. He could feel the dampness on his arm that cradled her head. He knew she would never wake up again.
One side of him wanted to phase to wolf form and run. He wanted to run and never look back, to become just a wolf, to live day to day without feeling or thinking about what had happened. The other side refused to leave Kalia in the snow. She had hated being cold, and he wouldn’t leave her alone.
Chapter Twenty-four
Alex had no idea how long he sat there. The sun rose and set. The cold his werewolf body usually kept at bay seeped through his limbs, and still he kept his vigil over Kalia. A rhythmic pounding sounded in the distance. Snow battered against him at the force of the blades. Alex couldn’t bring himself to look up as forms jumped from the helicopter.
“Alex!” Jaze shouted.
A dozen footsteps rushed toward him. Jaze knelt at his side. The dean’s warm hand brushed Kalia’s hair gently from her face.
“Oh no,” Jaze whispered.
“It’s Kalia,” Kaynan said quietly behind Alex.
The footsteps around them stopped. Alex found it hard to breathe.
Something damp hit Alex’s hand where it held Kalia’s shoulder. The warmth pierced through the numbness that surrounded him. He looked up to see tears running down the dean’s cheeks.
“Oh, Kalia,” Jaze said. He blinked, but the tears kept falling from his dark brown eyes.
“Let me take her,” Kaynan said softly. The red-eyed werewolf knelt beside Jaze. Neither the dean nor Alex moved as Kaynan slipped his hands gently beneath her body and lifted her into his arms.
Alex heard the professor walk slowly across the snow to the helicopter. He stared at the ground beneath his knees, unable to lift his gaze from the flood of red.
“Alex.” Jaze’s voice was broken, hollow.
Alex looked at the dean.
“I failed her,” Jaze said.
Fresh tears welled from Alex’s eyes. He shook his head, trying to force his voice to work. It took two tries for the words to break free. “You didn’t fail her,” he said. He took a breath, then concluded, “I did.”
Jaze shook his head. He tried to speak, then gave up and wrapped his arms around Alex. They knelt there in the snow crying for the loss of Kalia’s life, for being unable to save the werewolves who looked to them for safety, for not being strong enough to protect everyone, for breaking their promises to keep her safe.
Alex didn’t know how long he cried on the dean’s shoulder. When Dray and Vance put their hands beneath his arms to help him to his feet, his legs refused to remember how to walk. The professors looped their hands beneath him and carried him to the helicopter.
Alex couldn’t look at the blanket in the middle of the chopper. Kalia’s scent surrounded him, honey and clove mixed with the coppery tang of blood.
He rested his head against the window, wishing he was back in the snow as a tree or a bush, part of the landscape instead of filled with the ache of losing someone else he held dear.
Fingers touched his arm. Alex turned his head slowly to see Lyra beside him.
“You’ve been shot,” she said, her voice quiet beneath the sound of the helicopter.
Alex closed his eyes and rested his head back against the cool glass of the window. He felt the pull of cloth as his sleeve was cut. The cold sting of antiseptic let him know that the numbness surrounding him was mostly emotional. He welcomed the pain that rushed up his arm as she cleaned the wound, and clung to the ache from the tug of string as Lyra sewed the wound shut.
“We’ll go back to the Academy and make preparations,” Vance said, his voice a deep bass that helped to steady Alex.
“I’ll call her parents after we arrive,” Jaze said, his words soft and with a slightly lost tone.
“Brock’s hoping we can follow the same flight trail to wherever the General lands,” Mouse said quietly from the pilot seat.
The General’s name triggered something in Alex’s mind. His muscles flexed. His fists clenched. A red-blue haze filled his mind. It was all he could do not to turn and attack the werewolves around him.
“Alex, what’s wrong?” Lyra asked gently.
“Alex?” Jaze said. A hand touched his shoulder.
Alex grabbed the dean’s wrist with lighting quick reflexes. His other hand pinned Jaze by the throat to the door of the helicopter. He stared at the dean, his heart pounding and the red-blue haze trying to surge through his mind. It was all he could do to push it back, to keep his thoughts clear enough that he could try to think.
“The General,” he said, staring at Jaze. “He put something in my head.” He spoke through gritted teeth as the impulses increased. “He’s trying to make me kill you.”
Kaynan and Chet moved toward him, but Jaze lifted a hand, signaling for them to wait. He met Alex’s gaze. “Alex, you’ve got to fight through this.”
“I...can’t,” Alex said. Pain flooded his limbs as he fought the compulsions. His fist tried to tighten around Jaze’s throat. His arm shook with the effort to keep that from happening.
“Don’t let the General win,” Jaze said, his voice steady. “You are stronger than he is.”
“I’m not,” Alex said. He closed his eyes and a single tear leaked free. “He’s taken everything from me.”
“Then take it back.”
Something about the General’s words clicked in Alex’s mind. The General had taken his parents, had tortured Siale, and had killed Kalia. The General knew about Cassie, and now that he knew, he would stop at nothing to kill her, of that Alex had no doubt. He needed to take back the power the General had over him. He wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t weak. He was stronger than the General.
Alex pushed the surge of red-blue fog away. His hands shook as he let Jaze go. “Take me to where they’re holding Drogan.”
The command carried the same tone as an Alpha. Everyone in the helicopter stared at him. Alex repeated himself. “Take me to where they’re holding Drogan.”
“You need more medical care than I can—”
Alex shook his head and Lyra stopped speaking.
“The General knows where they’re holding his son. He’s on his way there,” Alex said, his voice tight and deep.
“He’s trying to control you,” Chet said. “Are you sure going there is a good idea?”
Alex met the professor’s gaze with a directness that made Chet blink. “It’s the only place I can go.”
“Do it,” Jaze said, watching Alex.
Mouse called someone on the radio. A few minutes later, they circled northwest.
“Agent Sullivan says he hasn’t heard any alerts from D Block,” Brock’s voice said over the intercom.
“Tell him to quadruple his security. We’re a half hour out,” Jaze replied.
Alex kept his head against the window, concentrating on the cool chill that permeated his skin. It kept the red-blue haze to the edges of his mind, but he couldn’t stop shivering. The impassive part of his brain noted that it was the first time he truly remembered being cold. Holding Kalia in the snow for a complete day and night had shaken something deep in his core. With every hard shudder, his heart skipped a beat.
A blanket settled over his shoulders. “Take deep breaths,” Jaze said quietly, taking the seat next to him. “I can hear your heart. You need to find a center of calm.”
“I can’t,” Alex replied tightly. “He’s in here.” He pointed to his head. “If I relax for a second, he’ll control me and I’ll kill everyone in this helicopter.” He kept his gaze away from the green blanket in the middle of the floor. Any thoughts of Kalia would destroy the last vestiges of his self-control.
The tense silence that followed was broken by Brock’s voice. “D Block is under attack.”
Jaze asked, “How many?”
“More than the GPA has to defend it. The cameras show Extremists storming from above and below. The General’s helicopter is on the roof.”
“Land us right next to it,” Alex said. His hands were clenched into fists so tight his veins stood out along his arms. He fought to keep the red-blue haze under control. His head throbbed and his nerves burned with the pain of fighting the General’s commands.
Black windows reflected the moonlight as they approached a tall building in the middle of a city Alex didn’t recognize. Mouse landed the helicopter next to another, smaller one. Its rotors still beat slowly.
Jaze grabbed Alex’s shoulder before he could jump out of the helicopter. “We need to stick together. Who knows what the General has in mind?”
Alex felt his control slipping. He stepped away from the helicopter and looked up at the dean. “I’ve got to go ahead.” Sharp pain sliced through his head. He grabbed his skull. The pain increased as though it was splitting in two.
“Alex?” Jaze’s voice sounded like it was coming from a thousand miles away.
The red-blue haze intensified with the pain. Alex felt a fierce desire to grab Jaze and hold him up to the helicopter blades. His muscles bulged, tearing his shirt.
“Give me five minutes before following me down,” Alex said, his voice deep and scratchy.
“Alex, it’s too dangerous—” Jaze protested, but Alex cut him off.
“Please,” Alex begged. “I can’t control it any longer.”
Jaze looked back at the others with uncertainty. Alex knew the thought of him going on without the dean covering him tore Jaze up inside.
“Let him,” Kaynan said quietly.
Jaze let out a breath and nodded. “Five minutes, then we’re coming. Be careful.”
Alex turned to the passage that led from the roof. The instant he shut the door behind him, he let go of the control he had kept so carefully bottled up inside. He morphed in an instant. The beast flooded through him, pushing away all thoughts other than the fact that the General and Drogan were below. The blue haze filled his vision. Only the edges were tinged with red. The General’s command was nothing compared to the fire of rage that fueled his drive.
He stormed down the steps. Bodies of GPA agents littered the first landing. The scent of Extremists carried him down to the next level. He threw the door open to the sight of a dozen Extremists on a wide floor filled with monitors.
The thought that any of them would have carried out the order to kill Kalia fueled Alex’s fury. Bullets were fired, but Alex didn’t feel their impact as he snapped necks and broke bodies in two. The Extremists who tried to fight back were killed first. Those who ran quickly followed.
Alex sucked in a ragged breath as he studied the monitors. A screen marked Sixth Floor Southeast Camera One showed a door opening. Drogan’s mismatched eyes locked on the camera for a brief second before he followed other Extremists down the hall. Alex slammed a fist through the monitor, then headed back to the stairs.
He had just reached the sixth floor wh
en an elevator beeped. Instinct made Alex pause beside the door. It opened and Extremist guards flooded out.
“Agent Sullivan’s going to have quite the cleanup party.”
The sound of the General’s voice flooded through Alex like fire. He grabbed two Extremists still waiting in the elevator and threw them out. Before anyone could move, he had removed the General’s gun from its holster and had it pressed against the side of the Extremist leader’s head.
Silence filled the corridor. The Extremists outside the elevator stared in shock while the General’s ragged breaths filled the small space with the scent of his fear.
“Now, Alex. Let’s not be too hasty,” the General said with a slight tremor in his voice.
“A little late for being rational,” Alex replied in a low growl that reverberated through the small chamber.
“You work for me,” the General spoke as if hoping the words would make Alex listen to the commands that flooded his mind.
“I work for no one.” Alex’s finger tightened on the trigger.
The Extremists looked at each other, at a loss as to what to do.
Drogan rounded the corner. The General’s son stopped short at the sight before him.
“Dad? Alex?” His mouth stayed open as though he couldn’t process what he was seeing.
Alex glared at the man who had killed his parents. “Step back,” he growled.
“Let him go, Alex,” Drogan said taking another step forward.
Alex pressed the gun harder against the General’s head. The General winced. “Step back,” he repeated in a tone that left no doubt as to what he would do if Drogan didn’t comply.
Drogan took a step back. The elevator door began to close. Alex couldn’t let the Extremist get away so easily. At the last second, he pulled the gun from the General’s head and aimed it toward the last sliver of Drogan’s chest he could see.
The General had anticipated the move. He elbowed Alex’s arm and the bullet buried into the wall. The door closed completely. The General tried to tear the gun from Alex’s grasp. Alex pinned the man’s wrist against the wall with his hand that held the gun, and drove his other hand into the General’s chest.
