by P. Jameson
And then… shit was on.
Chapter Eleven
Doc wanted to scream as she watched Owyn run for the hallway. Her cougar thrashed and clawed to get out, to go with him. To protect her mate.
Shit.
But this was Owyn. The male she loved. Always a hero, a defender, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. He was the hero of her heart, and now, hopefully, he’d catch Renner before it was too late.
“Eagan, Mason, Ryan, Layna,” Magic barked. “You’re with me and Gash. We’ll meet these shitheads out front. If they attack, we shift to protect our home.”
Murmurs of agreement made Doc’s head spin.
“Gash, arm Clara. She’ll stay here with Doc and Bailey to guard Josie, Bethany, and the kid,” Magic continued. “Doc, listen, you’re our last line of defense. If they get through us, it’s up to you to protect the pregnant and the young, ya hear?”
He was in her face now, and somehow she had to pull it together. She was used to tough situations, used to having to tamp down her panic, but with Owyn gone… shit.
“Doc,” he said softer, more urgent. “I can’t fight these guys unless I know my mate and the young she carries will be safe.”
She nodded, not sure if he saw it.
She could do this. She could.
She’d rather be fighting out front. Or better, helping Owyn find Renner. But the pregnant females couldn’t shift. And if things came to a blow, they needed someone who could defend them.
Just then, a crash sounded and footsteps thundered closer. But it wasn’t the rebel wolf pack that appeared in the doorway of the dining room.
It was Renner.
“The lines were sliced,” he said, out of breath. “Someone cut them on purpose. I think—”
Magic cut him off. “The lodge is under attack.”
“They’re seconds away,” Gash added. “In fact, it shouldn’t have taken them this long to climb the hill. Come on fuckers.” He stared out the window, his voice sounding lethal. “Where did you go?”
“Bethy!” Renner shouted.
“Where’s Owyn?” Doc managed, a claw of terror gripping her chest the longer it took Renner to answer. “Where is he? He went to find you.”
But she never got her answer.
Outside, intermittent flashes of amber lights could be seen through the trees. They were almost here. A siren blared, and it was like nothing she’d ever heard on a wrecker. It sounded like one of those old timey fire engine alarms, letting out a sick wail to announce impending doom.
“Doc,” Magic commanded. “Get everyone in the kitchen. And nothing comes through that door unless it’s one of us. Understood?”
“Yes.” She gave a quick thanks that her voice sounded more solid than she felt.
Quickly, she and the other females, minus Layna, headed for the kitchen while the rest of the clan moved through the lobby toward the front doors. She watched through the dining room window as her people lined up out front, ready to defend their home at any cost.
She was proud as fuck and scared to death. But if it came down to it, she’d do just as Magic asked. She’d defend their pregnant and young with her life.
Bailey and Clara stood shoulder to shoulder with her in front of the kitchen doorway, unable to take their eyes off the business out front as two massive trucks pulled to a stop in the parking lot. Flashing signals atop each truck made Doc blink hard. The contrast of total darkness to sudden light was blinding. And to make matters worse, three spotlights shone down on the clan lined up out front.
The bastards were marking their targets and announcing their arrival. Their war cry, Gash had called it.
A behemoth of a male jumped from the back of one of the trucks, landing squarely on his feet before strolling forward. And for the first time, she noticed the men hanging off the vehicles. Some crouched on top, others swung from the chains like Tarzan would from a vine.
The male was talking, swinging a pair of bolt cutters in one hand near his hip, and Doc strained to hear what he said.
“Can you make it out?” Clara whispered. But it wasn’t just her human ears that were causing her to miss whatever was being discussed. The man was speaking low.
Doc squinted, trying to make the scene clearer. The lights cast the strange man in shadow, but he called over his shoulder to his crew. Seconds ticked by before a couple emerged from the truck. One seemed to be struggling, kicking up dust as he was dragged forward into the wide beam of the spotlight.
As the dust cleared, Doc’s heart stalled.
“No.” It was merely a breath, but it felt like a hundred pound weight falling from her lips. “Owyn.”
A thick stream of blood trickled down the side of his head. He looked ready to turn his panther loose but was still in his human form. The wolves must have threatened him with a reason not to shift.
Doc stared at the grim sight before her.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.
She rushed forward, ready to do whatever necessary to help her mate. He’d always been there, right beside her, when she was fighting a battle, a surgery, a sickness. Now she’d be there for him.
She felt her cougar rising to the surface, eager to shred their enemies, when heavy arms wrapped around her from behind.
“No, Doc,” Bailey hissed in her ear. “You can’t do this. We need you here.”
“He needs me,” she roared, and the wolf with the bolt cutters jerked his head in her direction. Owyn too. And probably the others.
Shit. He’d heard. Owyn had heard.
Had she endangered them all?
“See,” Bailey said. “You’ll distract them like this. Let them fight. Let Owyn’s panther know you’re safe so he can find a way out!”
“Keep it together, Doc,” Clara murmured, shuffling from foot to foot, the gun Gash had given her hanging from the hand at her hip in case she needed it.
She and Bailey were ready to protect the others in the kitchen. Clara was willing to leave her mate out front fighting the battle before them. She had that much trust in their cats even though she was human. Even though her eyes were sick with worry and her gaze kept darting to Eagan outside the window.
Breathing heavy with rage, Doc honed in on that emotion, blocking out the sheer panic at seeing her mate threatened. Those wolves wouldn’t rattle her like this. She’d do what Magic asked. Take care of his mate, and trust that Owyn could take care of himself.
“I’m good,” she muttered, shaking Bailey off. “I’m okay.”
As she stared out the window, she focused on sending Owyn all her love through their mating bond. She’d make him stronger from afar. And when this was all over, she was going to mark the hell out of him.
And demand the same in return.
***
A booted foot kicked the back of Owyn’s legs, and his knees hit the ground, the impact jarring his teeth. Whooping and hollering from the wolves on the trucks filled the night air.
He spat blood in the dirt before glaring up at the male who’d gotten the best of him in the woods. The sides of his head were shaved into a mohawk and he wore more chains than Marley’s ghost. His eyes gave off a crazy glint, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scowl.
A sucker punch with a fucking log. No honor in that. Owyn hadn’t even had time to shift. It told him everything he needed to know about these wolves. They were nothing like his friends in Cedar Valley.
The other asshole with the crowbar—no, those were cutters—stepped in front of Owyn to face the clan.
“Alright, good little kitties,” he drawled sarcastically. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Rigor.” He stood tall and pressed his hand to his chest as if he was secretly a gentleman, introducing himself in a room full of ladies wearing puffy dresses. “And this is my crew. They’re a little wild, I’ll admit, but there’s no need to worry. We have no beef with you. As long as you cooperate, we’ll be in and out of here, lickety split.”
Magic hooked his hands aro
und his hips, turning his head to spit on the ground, and Owyn had to give him credit. He looked murderous. His hair hung in his face, framing eyes that promised pain. Owyn prayed Josie and Bethany were somewhere safe.
“Well, you’re a right-bad little puppy, aren’t you,” Magic smirked. “Coming in here with your horns blaring and lights flashing. Was that supposed to scare us? What’d your boss tell you about us? That we’d cower at a little noise? We look weak to you, fuckhead?”
Rigor stiffened, but then smiled, like he was talking to a petulant child. “You look small to me. That’s what you look like. But alas, I’m not here to compare dicks. I’m here for Gash.”
His gaze leveled on the cat who’d inadvertently brought all this trouble to the lodge in the first place.
Magic crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, you’re not fucking getting him. He’s one of ours now, under our protection.”
“Do you even know what he is? What he’s done?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Magic growled. “He’s ours.”
Rigor looked genuinely surprised, his brow lifting and bolt cutters pausing mid swing. “That the way of things then?”
Magic gave a single nod, and Owyn’s gaze caught on Gash. The war in that man’s eyes was epic. Guilt clashed with hope, clashing with regret, clashing with fury, clashing with appreciation. The big guy was having trouble dealing with the unconditional acceptance the clan offered him. He’d found more than a group of cats to live with. He’d found a family. And now they were threatened because of him.
Owyn knew it was taking its toll.
“You welcome a murderer into your home with open arms, and when he brings trouble your way, you just… defend him?” Rigor laughed humorlessly. “Maybe you are stupid after all.” He spun on his heel and stared down at Owyn, thoughtful. “Good thing I have a backup plan.”
A growl ripped from Owyn’s throat, but he held his panther back. If he changed, the wolves would too, and then any hope of this going right was out the window.
“Here’s the deal,” Rigor called over his shoulder to the cats. “For every minute I don’t have Gash in my custody, this cat loses a finger.”
With his announcement, the air grew heavy. Rage swirled, tension so thick a chainsaw wouldn’t touch it.
“Hear me, Gash? Your brother wants you back, and if we have to hurt a few kitties to make it happen… well,” he shrugged, “…that’s what we’ll do.”
“Fuck you,” Owyn spat. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Rigor pursed his lips. “We’ll see about that. Time’s ticking, Gash.”
Owyn met Magic’s furious gaze with a slight shake of his head before catching Gash’s and giving him the same signal. He could lose a couple fingers. It would fucking suck, especially since he used his hands for a living. But Gash belonged here, with Bailey and the possibility of a happily ever after. And these assholes weren’t going to bully him away.
Besides, he had Doc to help with the pain.
Doc. He let his eyes creep back to the dining room window. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her, and he knew she was watching from behind the glass. He hated the idea that she’d be witness to this.
Fuck.
“Thirty seconds. Timer,” Rigor called.
“Yeah, boss?” A deep voice bellowed from the cab of the wrecker behind Owyn.
“Tell me when the clock ticks out.”
“My pleasure, boss.” Owyn could hear the grin in the guy’s voice.
“Shit,” Gash muttered, shifting from one foot to the other, clenching his fists. “Magic, I—”
“Stay where you are,” Magic roared, freezing Gash in place with the command.
Owyn focused on his clan. Eagan, Layna, Renner, Mason, and Ryan. They were ready for this kind of battle. They’d been preparing since Christmas, and the righteous anger and determination rolling off them gave Owyn all the confirmation he needed. It might get bloody, but no one was breaking what they had built here.
A whistle sounded from the cab.
“Time’s up,” Rigor murmured, and Owyn didn’t miss the wave of dread in his voice. “What’ll it be, Gash?”
Owyn met his friend’s tortured gaze. Gash’s jaw was clenched tight, his face giving nothing away, but he was close to caving. Owyn could read it in his eyes.
“Don’t you even think about it,” he growled at Gash, and the male threw his shoulders back, standing tall to honor Owyn’s command.
Rigor looked back and forth between the two of them, his whole countenance changing. He went from taunting bully, pushing his weight around to calm fury.
“Very well.” The resignation in his tone had Owyn’s heart beating double time. “Which hand do you use?” he growled, gripping the bolt cutters in both hands to open them. “And I suggest you give it to me straight.”
Shit. The panther bucked inside, desperate to be let out.
Mohawk was breathing down his neck, and Owyn had the urge to lie, but at the last minute, told the truth. “Right.”
Rigor looked up at Mohawk. “Hold him.”
The wolf grabbed Owyn’s left hand, holding it steady for Rigor’s cut. The two wolves shared a look, and Rigor nodded.
“Deep breath, cat. This is gonna hurt.” With that, he positioned the cutters over Owyn’s left pinkie, and jerked the handles closed with a snap.
There was a second of nothing, and then pain like fire lit him up, his hand bleeding lava as the amputated digit flew into the shadows somewhere.
He let out a roar of pain, battling with the panther not to shift.
“You fucking bastard,” Magic hissed, hands clenched, barely holding his ground.
Panting through the agony, Owyn was aware of the noise coming from inside the lodge. Doc. Fuck, it sounded like she was going batshit crazy.
“Another minute on the clock,” Rigor called. His voice was solid, but Owyn could see the way his hands trembled where they gripped the bloody cutters.
The doors to the lodge burst open and Doc ran out, looking crazed and furious.
“You monster!” she screamed at Rigor, running forward only to get snagged in Magic’s grasp. “You fucking monster!” She struggled against Magic, slapping him with her claws and leaving blood. But he lifted her backward off her feet to keep her from getting any closer to the wolves.
Thank you, brother. If Owyn could’ve spoken he would’ve said it out loud. But Mohawk was wrapping a towel around the bleeding stump where his pinkie used to live.
Rigor stared wide-eyed at Doc, frozen, with the cutters hanging limp from his hand. “Doctor? Doctor Davis?”
Doc froze, forgetting the fight with Magic. Recognition dawned in her expression, turning her face into a mask of disbelief.
“You,” she hissed, narrowing her gaze at Rigor. “You! How could you do this? How could you? What would your female think?”
The wolf stiffened, and it became apparent the two knew each other. “Is this your mate?” he asked quietly.
Doc shoved away from Magic and ran to Owyn, ignoring his panting pleas for her to stay where she was.
“Yes,” she growled, kneeling in the dirt to examine his fucked up hand.
“It’s just one finger, Doc,” Owyn managed. “Go inside.”
She shook her head, frantic. “Where is it? I can reattach it if we hurry.”
But a whistle from the wrecker told them there wouldn’t be any reattaching. And worse, Owyn was about to lose another finger.
Fucking hell. Fucking cock-sucking hell.
Pushing his pain down, Owyn stood to his feet. They wouldn’t take anymore from him while he was on his knees. And if Gash’s freedom cost him every damn one of his fingers, he’d pay that price. His panther was willing, and so was he.
Meeting Rigor’s gaze, Owyn held his injured hand out willingly this time.
“Do what’cha gotta do, asshole. But it’s like Magic said… Gash is ours.”
Chapter Twelve
There were times when Rigor felt
justified in his crimes. Where he weighed shit on his own scales of justice and things seemed pretty damn even. Times where the ends justified the means, and if he kept his head straight, he could make some good come of the matter.
Then there were times like this, when every move he made felt like the wrong one and his heart turned a little blacker with each action.
He stared at the panther’s outstretched hand, his mind reeling. The male was mated to the doctor. The one who’d come through for him at the worst time in his life. The one who’d kept his unborn young alive when Eva was bleeding out from the wounds the hunters gave her.
Rigor glanced at his second in command. Traxler was a solid brother, even if his outward appearance begged to differ. He’d follow Rigor’s lead, always. He was the most trustworthy of the dogs. But he also had the truest moral compass.
His dark eyes were wary as he stared hard at Rigor, confirming what he already knew to be true: Nothing justified taking something away from the doctor who’d given him so much.
So no one was more surprised than Rigor when he brought the bolt cutters up to the panther’s next finger.
He’d tried to go easy on the male, taking the fingers from his non-dominant hand. But it wasn’t enough to assuage Rigor’s guilt.
And yet, he was going to take another one.
“No,” the doctor said. “You can’t do this.”
“Gash can stop this at any time, cat,” Rigor snapped.
“What happened to you?” she breathed. “How did you become… this? I hope to fucking god your son doesn’t grow up to be like his father.”
Her words clawed at the space behind his eyes. His son. He wanted so much more for him. But it would never happen until Rigor could have his revenge, until he could move past what happened to Eva.
“I hope he doesn’t either.” Rigor let the honesty come through, and it was the first right thing he’d done since he stepped foot on the cats’ property.
His shitty scales tipped a hair in the right direction, but everything was still ass-up fucked.
“Goddamn it,” the clan leader muttered. “You take another finger off my man and this little show is over, ya hear. We fight.”
