Hold Steady (Becoming the Wolf Book 2)

by T. S. Joyce

  Chapter Ten

  Reason number two hundred and forty-seven it sucked to be a werewolf: When Grey was hurt, other werewolves wanted to hurt him worse.

  Jason held a constant growl as he worked over Grey, staunching the flow of blood from his open chest and stomach. Jason was helping, but he wasn’t being gentle about it. Sweat dripped down the enforcer’s face and lightened gray eyes stayed riveted on the warm blood pooled on his torso.

  Grey wished Brent had found him first. He was submissive and wouldn’t have to fight that instinct to best a more dominant injured wolf. As it stood, Jason didn’t have an ounce of submission in him, and the strain from attempting not to fight him was evident in the tight tendons of his neck, and the veins that popped out of his sweaty forehead. The smell of the rapidly expanding puddle of blood underneath his half dead carcass probably wasn’t helping Jason’s resolve either.

  “Lana?” Grey rasped.

  “She’s fine. I have her set up in the living room. I didn’t want her to see you like this anymore than she already has.”

  Jason’s voice sounded deep and gravelly, like it hurt him to speak.

  He’ll fight and we’re in the worst position to defend ourselves. Wolf’s snarled warning filled his head.

  The fine hairs rose on his body as he thought of the pain he’d endure if Jason couldn’t control his instincts. “Do we have a problem here, Jason?”

  “It’s been a while since I Changed. I’m not the best one for this job, but I was closest. The others will be here shortly, but I don’t want you bleeding out before they get here.” The growling resumed.

  “I guess I should tell you I was stabbed in the back with silver also.”

  “Shhhhit,” Jason hissed, rubbing sweat from his forehead with the back of his blood-soaked hand. “I don’t know what to do here. I’m supposed to be the cleanup man, you know, stashing bodies and stuff. I deal with dead things, not keeping things alive.” Another snarl ripped through him and he retreated by inches. “Sorry.”

  Grey couldn’t stand being on his back in this situation anymore. Jason was a beast, built like a damn Mac truck, but Grey could take him on his worst days. If Jason attacked him in that position with the injuries he had sustained though, he would be at a colossal disadvantage.

  Move, Wolf growled.

  He shifted slightly and the pain from his injuries burned like he’d been set on fire. At the faint scent of smoke, he glanced at the open flesh on his stomach, but he couldn’t find any. It was either his imagination or the silver knife wound on his back was still sizzling and charring his flesh. From the pain radiating through it, he wouldn’t be surprised.

  Okay, like a Band-Aid then. He lunged upward until he was staggering on his feet, and Jason flew backward into a defensive stance. At least from this position, he had a freaking shot at surviving his rescuer.

  “I’m hurt. But if you come at me, I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” Grey said in a gritty voice. “I’m at the end of what I can handle today.” He didn’t have time for battle right now, not with Morgan missing. He needed to plan and hunt. Bringing her back was the only thing that mattered, and this jackhole was standing in the way of his mission.

  Jason stepped toward him.

  Grey shook his head slowly as he bit out the words. “Don’t test me.”

  The corner of Jason’s lip curved up as he circled, and his eyes went completely vacant. Blood dripped from his hands as he tensed to attack.

  The front door flew open, slamming against the wall with the force, and Jason hesitated.

  “Get out!” Marissa yelled.

  Jason looked at her with a dumbfounded expression, fists still clenched from the bloodlust. Marissa reared back and slapped him across the face and then pointed to the door again. “Get out,” she repeated, snarling deep in her throat.

  Maybe Grey was hallucinating. Fragile, timid Marissa had just walloped Jason across the jaw and hard.

  Jason turned on his heel and barged out the front door while Marissa turned slowly with her eyes downcast. She didn’t have to worry about getting into a lower position than Grey. He towered over her by a foot.

  “I told the others to stay outside and head to the garage to start dealing with the bodies,” she whispered. “Dean won’t come in, but Wade needs to fix you up, and I don’t know how to get around that.”

  The rhythmic patter of blood drops were hitting the already-soaked rug like the second hand of a clock, ticking off the seconds Grey had left.

  “Lana, go back in the living room and watch TV,” she said as Lana poked her head around the corner to check on what was going on. “I swear I’ll stay with you and protect you from Wade,” Marissa promised him.

  Wolf snarled at the insinuation that he needed help.

  “Do you want me to knock you out?” she asked.

  After a second’s hesitation, he nodded curtly. “Probably best. Do it quick before Wolf changes my mind.”

  Marissa stuck a needle in his arm before he even finished the last word, and then she stepped back quickly. “I’m going to take Lana out and come back for you. We need to get you guys to pack property. It isn’t safe here.”

  He nodded and leaned against the back door as a heavy numbness spread up his arm.

  “The bodies…,” he slurred.

  “Jason will take care of them.”

  Marissa led Lana to the front door where Rachel waited outside.

  Brent jogged to his side and draped an arm over his shoulder. “Sorry, man. I ran every red light to get here, but I was in Uptown.”

  The light from the entryway dimmed and the hallway lengthened and swayed. Words slurred and got caught in his throat. “They took her.”

  “And we’ll get her back.” Brent pulled him through the doorway and waved off help from Dean. “They won’t hurt her. Morgan is too valuable.”

  He couldn’t tell if the sick feeling in his stomach was from dread, injury, or the tranquilizer pumping through his veins, but he closed his eyes against the urge to retch.

  The back seats in Dean’s SUV had been pushed forward and a tarp stretched across the floor. A plastic bin of medical supplies anchored one corner, and Wade knelt there with a headlamp and sterile gloves as he threaded a curved needle that glistened under the artificial light.

  The world tilted dangerously and the numbness pulled at him as he stumbled into the back.

  “Can you fix me?” Grey asked as Wade studied the injury on his stomach with puckered brows.

  “I don’t know.” Honest notes hit every word and Grey closed his eyes against the burn of another needle.

  “You have to try…so I can find…Morgan.” The final black tendrils of unconsciousness covered him again, and pulled him under with her name the last word on his lips.

  Chapter Eleven

  The room was so dark, Grey couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. Turning his head slowly, he blinked and waited for his night vision to adjust. Towering metal bars loomed over him. Gripping the sides of the soft mattress beneath him, he searched for the cage door. The subtle sound of steady breathing was slightly louder than the rattling air conditioning unit currently blasting cold air onto his face from above. He sniffed the air and found a familiar and comforting scent. “Marissa?”

  She sat up quickly. “Hey. Are you okay? Do you need a drink or anything?”

  “Yeah, water. Feels like I got a desert in my throat. Why am I in the cage?”

  “We thought it was safest. You were up in one of the bedrooms while Wade and I finished stitching you up, but you kept trying to Change, and we had to keep giving you drugs so you would stay under. You burned them off really fast and it was pretty scary there for a while. We moved you down here so we could all get sleep and, you know, not worry about you killing us all in our beds.”

  He cleared his dry throat. “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault. I’ll be right back.” She returned with a giant plastic cup of water and handed it to him. He drank deeply while
she jogged to the wall and hit the lights. “Watch your eyes.”

  He winced as the light blinded him. “How is Lana? Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, I mean other than being traumatized, she is all right. I’d be traumatized too if I watched you kill those wolves. One of those guy’s face was missing. Like you crushed his entire kisser. I thought Jason was going to puke. It was awesome. Lana has a bruised tailbone so she is sitting pretty carefully, but Wade went and picked her up one of those hemorrhoid pillows, a pink one, and she totes that around like it is cooler than a Barbie.”

  “Have they found Morgan?”

  “No, but the boys are tracking her. Jason is a police officer; did you know that? That is why he is our pack body stasher. He knows all the tricks. Anyway, he looked up the license plate you gave us and it was a rental like you said. A guy named Robert Mendoza rented it, but he is one of the guys you killed and the car has already been turned back in, so who knows what they are driving now. Brent recognized one of the bodies from one of the Summits we went to, but he said the guy was a problem wolf who was being transferred last he heard, and he didn’t know where to. Dean called around and found out he is a member of the Southern Montana pack. He called them to see if it was a few wolves acting on their own, but no one picked up. Their alpha most likely ordered this. The packs in Montana are pretty small, so I’m pretty sure you killed off a majority of it. Jason says he’s sure they’re taking her back to Montana. What did the wolf who got away look like?”

  “Black hair, about five-foot-eleven, maybe six-foot, somewhere around there. Dark eyes, slim build.”

  “Sounds like their second. The alpha, Lucan Gates, is a tall blond Viking-looking guy. Jason tracked down a couple of their pack photos from last year’s Summit, so they are recent.”

  “Do we know where this Gates guy lives?”

  “We’ll know by mid-morning, I think. The guys aren’t sleeping, only tracking. They’re following up on every lead.”

  Propping himself up on his elbows and ignoring the screaming pain from his middle, he asked, “When can I get out?”

  She crossed her arms and frowned thoughtfully. “Dean has the keys, but I know where he hides the spare.” She came back a few minutes later and opened the lock. He stood stiffly. Bandages constricted his torso and gave him the itch to shrug out of them.

  “How long was I out?” he asked, pulling his shirt gingerly over his head.

  “Only a day. How did they get to Morgan? I thought you were watching them.” There was no accusation in her voice, only curiosity.

  “They hunted as a pack. Maybe they made me and figured I was a threat. Taking Lana must have been their plan to split us up. And when I went after her, two others took Morgan. She wasn’t moving by the time I saw him putting her in the trunk. He must have knocked her out with something. I know she fought him because the whole entryway was torn up.” Stretching stiff muscles, he tested his flexibility with the bandages.

  “Wade says you are healing well, that you are strong. I mean, I’m glad you have werewolf healing power, because I literally saw your intestines poking out of your stomach. You scared me, Grey.” Catching him by surprise, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her cheek against the bandages. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him, and though it hurt, he patted her back awkwardly. An eighteen-year-old girl had no business seeing a friend bleeding out in front of her, and it had to have been scary thinking she was going to lose him after everything she’d been through. “Hey, I’m all right. It’ll take more than a couple of creeps to get rid of me.”

  She laughed thickly and wiped moisture from her eyes. Her effort at a smile faltered as she dropped her gaze to the tile beneath her sneakers. “They won’t kill her, you know.”

  He strode past her and then paused on the stairs. “Marissa, you of all people know certain things are worse than death. An alpha has a potential breeder. How patient do you think he is going to be?”

  “I’m going with you,” she said. “I know you are going after her, and I want to go too. I can help. You know I can.”

  “I know you can help, that’s why I need you here,” he said, looking into her pleading face. “You are my link to the pack and I need the information they are tracking down. Dean isn’t going to like me hunting that pack on my own, but I have to bring her back. I can’t explain it, but her being gone? It’s on me. I know what Wolf is capable of, what I’m capable of, but I won’t have blood on your hands if we can avoid it. I need you here.”

  She stood defiantly on the stair below him. “Who is going to change your bandages? I can smell the blood soaking them. You are healing fast, but you are still hurt bad. And I can cover you when you go in there to get her. You know I’ll have your back.”

  “Stop, Marissa.” He shook her shoulders gently. “If you go, I will have you and Morgan to protect. I need to focus, and I won’t be able to if I’m worried about you too. I know you’re scared, but I’ll come back. I promise.”

  She looked down and nodded miserably. “Okay, then what do you need from me here?”

  “I need all of the information the pack finds out as soon as possible. I need the address the minute they find it. And the keys to my truck.”

  She smiled and pulled his jangling keychain out of her jeans pocket. “I figured we’d be breaking out tonight.”

  “Atta girl. I’ll need extra bandages and pain meds. Things to get me there.”

  She nodded and jogged to the storage room, returned with a medium-sized plastic box full of medical supplies. He patted the back of his jeans pocket where his wallet was still cradled between the rough material. He was ready.

  She walked quietly beside him to his truck.

  He gripped her shoulder and leveled her a look. “Be good. I’ll talk to you soon.” When he got into the truck, he plugged his cell phone into the charger and turned the engine. The darkness engulfed Marissa as he drove away, taking the illumination of his taillights with him. Hopefully, he would be able to keep his promise and see her again.

  Dirt, rocks and trees blurred in the headlights as he picked up speed. “Hang on Morgan. I’m coming to get you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dry leaves crunched under Morgan’s bare feet. Jagged rocks and limbs peppered the forest floor and should’ve hurt the tender pads of her feet, but she didn’t feel any pain. A soft breeze lifted strands of her dark hair, and the thin muslin night dress she wore clung to her frame. Scanning the space between the trees, she looked for something. Or maybe she was looking for someone, she couldn’t remember. A twig snapped crisply behind her and she turned. Nothing was there but the movement of low-hung swaying branches. Every step felt like a chore, as exhausted and weak limbs became heavier with every step she took. Vines drooped down from the dense trees; the snake-like hindrances ensnared her arms, exhausting her further with her efforts to rid herself of the clinging manacles. Drained and weak, she tripped time and time again. She moved by inches through the vine-infested forest. As progress stalled, her heart raced, drumming against her chest. The chill in the air showed the frost of her breath chugging in front of her lips. The forest closed in, crowding her until it felt like the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs. Everywhere she looked were more vines, more timber, more brush to trap her for eternity. Lurching for a sliver of light, she burst into a clearing. The woods behind her were ominous and dark, but in front of her stood a tree so wide, she couldn’t find a way around it. The ancient sequoia stretched across the horizon as far as her eyes could see.

  An invisible tether in her chest urged her forward. She had to get to the other side to find what she was looking for.

  Hurry, hurry, the breeze whispered, caressing her neck and lifting her long dark hair. The tree was scarred with a carving etched deep into its injured bark. It stretched to the bottom of its trunk.

  Two wolves, one black, one white, with their heads tilted back as they howled at the moon together. Odd and so familiar. She ran her ha
nds over the beautiful carving. The hairs electrified on the back of her neck as the deep, sinking feeling of dread washed over her skin. She turned slowly.

  A rolling fog snaked its way toward her from the forest she’d escaped, sheltering a pair of glowing eyes moving first to the right and then to the left. Something hunted her. Frantically, she pushed on the carved tree with shaking fingers, looking all around her for an escape as the fog slowly closed in on her. She pushed on the carving of the black wolf and a hissing sound startled her, pulling her focus to the right. Trees, tall, slender, and so close together she couldn’t tell where one ended and where one began were carved into the space around the wolves. A rectangle of the segment slid away, revealing a door. One last glance at the glowing eyes advancing on her with alarming speed had her dragging tired limbs to the doorway and then through it. The panel slammed closed behind her, leaving her in complete darkness.

  Her eyes took time to adjust. A small pinpoint of light danced to her right and she walked slowly toward it. Her feet dragged across the damp soil and her arms hung limply at her sides. She was so tired, growing weaker by the moment, and the light seemed to be getting smaller and farther away. She halted. All she had to do was give in to the sleep that was dragging at her, and it would all be over. The light took pity on her burdened body and grew bigger and then bigger still. Blinding light washed over her as she shielded her face with the back of her hand. When she could see again, she rubbed her watering eyes. A man stood at the edge of a forest with his back to her. She knew him.

  “Grey?”

  He turned slowly until she could see his face. His golden eyes stayed the same while his face constantly shifted from man to wolf and back again. His features changed so readily, it became a blur. Only his eyes stayed focused, staring at her.

  “Hang on Morgan. I’m coming to get you.”

  Morgan jolted awake to a still darkness that gave her the sense of falling. The silence was deafening as she strained her ears for the slightest hint of sound. She was alone. The darkness swallowed her like a black hole, and she bit her lip to stifle an echoing scream. The stink of urine assaulted her nose. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and tried to concentrate on moving her arms. A tingling hummed uncomfortably through her fingers, but she couldn’t move yet. The bastards who’d done this had drugged her.