“Mom?” Michael sounded concerned now. All of them were. She could see it in their faces as they looked to her for direction. For the first time ever, she couldn’t care enough to reassure them.
Benjamin took over. “Come on. Let’s get moving.” His eyes tracked around the woods. “I’m feeling exposed all of a sudden.”
The tinge of fear in his voice snapped her out of her depression enough for her to notice how quiet it suddenly was. Too quiet. She caught a scent on the air and it made her blood run cold.
“Run,” she yelled, just as a shot cracked the air. Benjamin gave a cry, clutched his shoulder and fell to the ground. Hank ran to his side.
Meredith saw red, tearing at her clothing and shifting on the fly, she headed for the direction of the shot, ignoring the frantic cries of her sons behind her.
Chapter Eleven
Ice encased Isaiah as he walked away from Meredith. Obviously he’d been wrong about what had happened between them. Or maybe it was all one-sided. Maybe he was the only one who’d experienced the soul-deep connection.
With each step he took away from her, he felt as though his guts had been torn out and were dragging on the ground beside him. His chest ached and his brain wanted to explode.
Not his business. Not his business.
Her words echoed in his head, beating at him like a sledgehammer. He wanted it to be his business.
She was surrounded by males who didn’t know the first thing about fighting, about protecting her. Who would have taught them? Meredith was an alpha female without a male. They would have been all children beneath her rule. There was little wonder she’d been able to hold them together all these years. Where had the rest of them come from? Werewolves were fiercely possessive when it came to their children. It was obvious that only Benjamin and Michael were blood relations to her.
Not his business.
He wanted to physically remove those three words from his head and crush them beneath his heel.
He strode out of the park and down the cracked sidewalk, ignoring the light traffic and the few people who were still out and about at almost three in the morning.
The challenge had been over him. Her son had questioned her leadership because she’d slept with him. Still, he’d wanted Meredith to choose his side over that of her sons in their fight. Wanted her to stand beside him with pride.
And how fucking stupid was that? He was just passing through Chicago, he wasn’t moving to the city. Wasn’t mated with her.
“Damn it.” He stopped and stood with his head down, hands on his hips. The farther away he got from Meredith the more tense he became. “She doesn’t want you,” he reminded himself.
That sure as hell wasn’t true. She’d definitely wanted him last night when she’d arched against him and screamed his name.
He was panting hard now, as though he’d been running full out for miles. He could still feel her body wrapped around his, her slick, tight channel squeezing his cock.
“Fuck,” he swore again. He wouldn’t go back. If nothing else, he had to retain some sense of pride. The woman had sent him packing. She couldn’t get any plainer than that.
It was then he got a tickle on the back of his neck that went down his spine. “Shit,” he muttered as he dove to one side and rolled, ending up at the mouth of an alleyway. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe it was just one of Meredith’s pack following him to make sure he left the area. Whatever it was, his instincts were screaming at him to take cover.
And they’d kept him alive too many times for him to ignore them now.
Concrete shattered near his head, several shards hitting his face just as a muffled sound reached his ears. Someone was shooting at him. Definitely not Meredith’s pack. Not unless they’d had some concealed weapons he hadn’t seen.
There was another distinct sound of a gun being fired, this one in the distance. Meredith and her pack were under attack.
His breathing slowed, his senses becoming even more acute. He listened even as he began to move, keeping low to the ground. He didn’t shift. Not yet. He didn’t know who he was dealing with—humans, hunters or werewolves. He was exposed out here on the streets and couldn’t risk changing, not unless he absolutely had to.
Either way they were dead. No one shot at his woman and lived.
Isaiah loped forward, sniffing the wind. He could scent gunpowder and sweat and veered off to the right. This shooter was closer and had to be the one who took the potshot at him.
“Come out, wolf. I know you’re in there.”
Isaiah raised his brow at the man’s stupidity. A hunter, but not an experienced one otherwise he’d never have given away his location. Either that or he was smart and had a partner ready to take a shot when Isaiah exposed himself.
Both hunters and wolves knew they didn’t have much time until the cops showed up, and none of them wanted to deal with the authorities. The hunters had no respect for government or its employees, but neither faction wanted to kill a cop. That would bring too much unwanted attention to both groups.
He skirted down the alley toward the hunter, using a dumpster for cover. Scenting the air, he listened for any telltale sound. His nostrils filled with the stench of trash. But just beneath it he could smell anticipation, sweat and gunpowder.
Isaiah didn’t hesitate. He jumped, propelling himself up onto the lid of the dumpster and launching himself at his attacker. The hunter had been expecting such a move and was waiting, rifle raised and ready. Isaiah twisted his body, praying he’d reach the hunter before he could get off a good shot.
Time froze. The hunter seemed to move in slow motion, the barrel of his rifle tracking Isaiah’s movements. A shot rang out. He waited for the pain to kick in. Sure as hell, the hunter had silver bullets—bullets that would kill him instantly if they hit his heart or slowly poison him if they hit him elsewhere.
He felt nothing but the collision of his larger body with the hunter. Isaiah didn’t hesitate. He gripped the man’s neck and twisted. The crack was unnaturally loud, echoing in Isaiah’s ears.
He dropped the hunter’s body to the ground, panting heavily. It was then he saw the blood staining the front of the hunter’s chest. Someone had shot him.
Isaiah slammed his back against the wall as his eyes tracked the rooftops around him. He caught a glimpse of a shadow above him and then nothing. Who the hell had shot the hunter?
That was a riddle to puzzle over later. Someone was shooting at Meredith and the others. Leaving the hunter lying in the dirt and filth of the alley without a backward glance, he sprinted toward the park.
His heart pounded frantically. He was afraid. Not for himself, but for Meredith and her small pack. He heard grunts and groans as he raced past the iron fence and fountain and deeper into the park. His preternatural senses helped him catalogue the situation immediately.
Benjamin was down. Hank was beside him, his shirt off, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Neema was beside him, doing what she could. Teague and Kevin had shifted and were guarding the small group. Meredith and Michael were missing.
“That way,” Hank pointed when he saw Isaiah.
His legs were pumping, but not going fast enough. Was he going to be too late once again to save someone he loved? Despair threatened, but he shoved it back. Meredith wasn’t a child like as his sister had been. She was a mature woman. She’d held her pack together alone for years. She was a fighter. And he was no longer a young wolf. He was a male in his prime. He would protect what was his.
And whether she ever admitted it or not, Meredith was his. Isaiah was past fighting his instincts.
Sweat rolled down his temple. His shirt clung to his torso as he sped toward Meredith. A man was down on the ground, his neck ripped open. Meredith stood over him, blood dripping from her fangs. Michael was nowhere to be seen.
Isaiah skidded to a stop and stared at her. Pure despair filled her gaze as she looked back at him. He knew that she’d hated taking this hunter’s life, even though
she’d had no choice. Unlike him, she’d suffer for this night’s work. The way he figured it, they’d come hunting. They deserved what they got.
Meredith was softer. Kinder. Not that she wouldn’t do what needed to be done. The evidence of that truth was lying on the ground in front of him. But it hurt her to do it.
“It’s okay.” He eased forward, hands out in front of him. “He’s gone. I got another one in an alley just outside the park.”
He heard a sound and spun around, catching the scent of another wolf. Michael loped up to his mother and shifted back into human form. “I got one just beyond the basketball court.” Hurrying to the base of a nearby bush, he grabbed his clothes and began yanking them on as fast as he could.
Sirens sounded in the distance. They had to get out of here. This place was going to be crawling with cops within minutes.
“We’ve got to go.” He wanted to pick Meredith up into his arms and carry her away from all this death. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t her mate.
She lowered her head and raced off. He quickly followed with Michael on his heels. Only Kevin was waiting when they reached the original clearing. “The others took Benjamin home. He’s still bleeding.”
Meredith stepped out from behind a tree fully dressed but disheveled. “We’ve got to hurry.” Isaiah fell into step beside her. She shot him a glare. “What are you still doing here?”
He ignored the pang in his heart and kept his features level. “You ever remove a silver bullet before?”
She bit her bottom lip as they swung out of the park and shot across a street and down an alley just as the first cop car pulled up outside the park. “No.”
“I have.”
Nothing more was said as they took a circuitous route back to the club, ducking in through the kitchen door in the back. Isaiah kept an eye on their back trail just in case, but sensed no one following them.
Meredith hurried up the stairs and burst through the door on the left side of the hallway. “Benjamin!” She called her son’s name as she ran.
“In here, Mom.” His voice was weak, but the fact that he was able to talk was a relief. She stumbled and Isaiah reached out a hand to catch her, but she shook him off.
Blood stained the bedclothes even though Teague was keeping pressure on the wound. Isaiah took charge. “Do you have any medical supplies?” Most packs kept some basic stuff on hand for situations like this.
Hank came in behind them, a large plastic tub cradled in his arms. “This is everything.”
Isaiah flipped open the lid and began sorting through packages and boxes. He pulled out a disposable scalpel, some forceps, bandages and some sutures. “I need to wash up.”
Meredith pointed toward a door off the bedroom. “In there.”
Meredith wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. She’d killed a man tonight. It hadn’t been the first life she’d had to take, but that didn’t mean it got any easier. Michael had also killed a man. It was a first for him.
She sought out her eldest son and found him standing silently in a corner watching his brother. Benjamin was injured. In all the years they’d been running, none of them had been seriously hurt before. They always ran rather than stand and fight. This time there’d been no choice. It was fight or die.
Water ran in the background, a stark reminder of what was about to happen. Isaiah was about to operate on her son. Meredith moved to the side of the bed and sat. Benjamin turned to her, his face pale and wan.
“It hurts more than I thought it would.”
Her heart squeezed. He sounded like a small boy looking for reassurance from his mother. “Everything is going to be okay,” she promised. At least she hoped it would. She brushed a lock of his thick dark hair away from his face.
Benjamin nodded and closed his eyes.
Isaiah came back into the room, a rolled-up towel in his hands. “Teague, hold his shoulders.” He glanced at Hank. “You hold his legs.”
“What about me?” She couldn’t find it in her to object to his heavy-handedness. Not when she was expecting him to save her son’s life.
“Hold his hand, but be ready if I need anything.”
She nodded and gripped Benjamin’s hand in hers.
“This is going to hurt like hell.” Isaiah’s movements were sure and brisk as he eased aside the bandage and studied the wound. “Are you ready?”
Benjamin nodded and Teague and Hank both gave the go-ahead. Isaiah brought the rolled-up towel to her son’s lips. “Bite on this.”
When the towel was clenched firmly in Benjamin’s teeth, Isaiah took the scalpel in his hand and made a cut. Blood seeped from the wound, making her stomach lurch and her head spin. She wasn’t usually squeamish, but this was her son’s blood.
“It’s a shoulder wound, so it’s not too bad.” Isaiah talked as he worked. She focused less on his words than on his tone. He didn’t seem overly disturbed and that calmed her somewhat.
She trusted him. Deep down on a cellular level, she trusted him with her son’s life.
He took the forceps in his hands and dug into the area he’d opened up. Benjamin’s entire body jerked, a muted cry coming from between his clenched lips. His limbs started to shorten and coarse hair appeared on his arms.
“Benjamin.” She took her son’s face between her hands and stared into familiar blue eyes, so like hers and filled with so much pain. “Fight it. You can’t change. Not now.”
He nodded and closed his eyes once again. He took a deep breath and his limbs returned to normal.
“Got it.” Isaiah dumped the slug on the bed and went back to the wound, picking out pieces of cloth and bone fragments. Meredith thought he’d never finish, but finally, he picked up the sutures and set several stitches. “The bullet didn’t go through. It did cause some slight damage to the bone when it hit. Whoever got him wasn’t using a rifle, but a smaller caliber weapon.”
All the better for the silver bullet to stay in and poison him. Still, it could have been worse. If Benjamin had been hit in a vital spot or if Isaiah hadn’t been here and able to operate so quickly—she broke off from those thoughts. Benjamin was going to be fine.
Isaiah’s hands were steady and competent as he stitched her son back together. “He should shift as soon as I’m done if he has the energy. It will help the chipped bone repair itself.”
He stepped back and dumped the needle onto the bedside table, his hands covered in blood. “His werewolf genetics will heal the bone, but it will take a bit longer than normal because of the silver coating the bullet. Make him rest a few days at least. A week would be best.”
“I will,” she promised. She removed the towel from between her son’s lips. “Can you shift now?”
Benjamin struggled to answer. “Think so.”
“If you can’t, don’t push it.” Isaiah rested his hand on Benjamin’s forehead, his concern obvious. “You can rest and try again later.”
Benjamin shut his eyes. His face contorted with pain. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. She was just about to call a halt when his body began to shift.
He cried out in agony, but didn’t stop. By the time he’d finished shifting, Meredith was soaked to the skin in sweat. She’d felt every inch of the change her son had experienced.
The black wolf on the bed shut his eyes, his chest moving up and down in an even rhythm. Isaiah studied the wound to make sure it hadn’t broken open during the change. “We should move him and change the sheets so he’ll be more comfortable.”
“We’ll take care of that.” Meredith ran her hand up and down her son’s side before placing her hand over his heart to feel the steady beat.
“How did the hunters find us?” Michael stepped away from the corner where he’d been standing silent and watchful during the entire operation.
Everyone in the room stilled. Tension rose as Michael confronted Isaiah. “We’ve lived here for more than a decade and we’ve been fine. You’re here for a few days and we have hunters after us. Do they know wher
e we live?”
Meredith gasped as the implication of tonight’s attack hit her. She’d been so worried about getting her pack away before the cops arrived and frantic about Benjamin’s injury, she hadn’t thought beyond.
“Oh, God!” Neema cried. “What if they come for us? What if they told other werewolves?”
“Neema.” Teague’s voice was sharp, something it rarely was with his mate.
She bit her bottom lip and burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry.” She glanced at Meredith, remorse in her eyes.
Meredith hoped Isaiah hadn’t picked up on Neema’s slip of the tongue.
“They attacked at the park, not here at the club. You have to assume it was pure bad luck they found you tonight. Maybe they patrol the parks regularly.” Isaiah figured if there were hunters in the city, they probably did check out the green spaces on a regular basis.
“Maybe they followed you?” Michael stepped forward, fists curled, shoulders thrust forward, more than ready for a fight. “Or maybe you sent them?”
Isaiah’s lips thinned and Meredith could see he was grasping for patience. “Why would I do that? I was shot at tonight too.”
“So you say,” Michael sneered. “We only have your word on that. And as to why…” He pointed to the bed. “Maybe so you could come to the rescue and play hero. But we don’t need you. We took care of the hunters who attacked us on our own.”
“Michael,” she began, even as her mind started picking through the facts.
“You can’t dismiss this as coincidence,” her son insisted.
All eyes were on her now. She had a decision to make that was too important to all of them for her to make a mistake. “No, I can’t dismiss it.”
Michael inclined his head and she could see the look of triumph in his eyes. Isaiah just stared at her, his eyes blank.
“Do you truly believe I’d knowingly bring the hunters to your doorstep?” Isaiah asked. He grabbed the towel that Benjamin had held clenched between his teeth and used it to wipe his hands. Hands that were coated with her son’s blood. He’d saved Benjamin’s life. None of them could have removed that bullet, not without possibly causing even more injury. They just weren’t skilled enough.
Isaiah's Haven: Legacy, Book 2 Page 13
