by Odessa Lynne
“You chose your fate when you refused to submit the first time,” the wolf said in a husky voice right at Mason’s ear. “We will fuck, and if you don’t die fighting your fate, I might allow you to live through the rest of the heat.”
Mason tried to get one foot on the step in front of him but his balance shifted and he jerked, his body reacting instinctively to the feeling that he was about to fall backward.
The wolf took another long sniff along the side of Mason’s face. “In fact, your alpha might sacrifice himself to have you returned to him. I smell his mark all over you—the mark of a mate.” A harsh growl followed. “Traesikeille allows you humans an honor you do not deserve. But it won’t be for much longer. Jetikima will see the end of the false alpha’s rule.”
“I don’t… even know… what… you’re… talking about,” Mason wheezed out. He tried to drag in another breath, but it was difficult getting anything into his lungs with the wolf squeezing his windpipe closed.
“Got it!” Marcus yelled, just seconds before a bright, blinding light hit Mason in the face. His eyes burned and watered and it was impossible to see through the deluge of sunlight that spilled down the stairwell from above.
Marcus yelled again, this time nothing Mason understood, and a loud bang echoed off the walls.
Then a wolf roared, so goddamned fierce it made Mason’s whole body tense in alarm.
His captor growled and squeezed at Mason’s throat before half turning, dragging Mason right up onto the next step, where one of Mason’s boots finally found some footing and he shoved forward with all the power he had in his leg, throwing all hundred and eighty pounds of his weight toward the wolf.
The wolf staggered and fell back into the stairs, pulling Mason down with him.
Frantic to make the most of his moment, Mason jammed his knee into the wolf’s groin as hard as he could, even as he tried to catch himself with his hand on the stairs. His right arm gave out, his shoulder burning so white-hot that he let out a short, sharp scream of pain.
The wolf roared and slashed at Mason’s face, catching Mason over the cheek, mere inches from his eye. He threw Mason off him, and Mason’s back slammed into the wall, his head cracking against the rail hard enough to make him bite his tongue. The iron tang of blood filled his mouth.
He shook his head and the whole world moved under him. He groaned and tried to push himself up, but his body was too heavy and his muscles too weak.
The shadowy form of a lean and powerful wolf leapt into the center of his rapidly narrowing field of vision with another deafening roar.
Mason tried to blink back the darkness but it was impossible.
Didn’t matter. For the first time in two days, the pressure in his chest wasn’t suffocating him.
Five was back, and he was alive, and he was going to kick that goddamn wolf’s ass.
Chapter 32
Mason returned to consciousness just in time to feel himself being yanked down the stairs.
He didn’t have time to think or wonder what had happened before the back of his head took a glancing blow on the edge of a stair tread, knocking him nearly senseless again.
Groaning, he tried to roll onto his stomach to protect his head, grabbing at the wall to stop the painful jarring as his body banged into the hard edge of one stair after another.
He could almost feel claws biting through the tough skin of his boots and scratching at his ankle, but he couldn’t kick free.
Then a flash of something at the corner of his eye caught his attention and bodies collided, and the wolf trying to drag him into the middle of the fight was wrenched away from him with a force strong enough to tear Mason’s boot right off his foot.
Five’s roar of rage was so dark and full that it sent a sharp stabbing pain through Mason’s eardrums. Then Five raised his arm and brought it down in an arc, and dark red blood splattered across the wall beside them.
A surge of adrenaline finally pushed away the foggy disorientation in Mason’s head and he scrambled around and started crawling up the stairs on hand and knees. He put his hand down and barely caught the edge of the next step. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the double vision, but it didn’t work.
He grabbed for the rail, missed, and tried again. His fingers caught the next time and he hauled himself to his feet, a chill going through him as the sole of his bare foot touched the cold tread under him.
A few feet above him, he could see the hazy shape of Jordan struggling against the bonds of the fire hose, his upper body suspended from the rail and his bound legs pushing at the stairs without much effect.
Relief weakened Mason’s knees. Jordan was alive.
“Mason!”
Mason jerked his gaze up to see a hazy vision of Marcus standing in the halo of light that spilled through the open door at the top of the stairs.
“Let’s go!”
Another roar rattled the stairwell and the thud of heavy bodies followed. Mason turned his head toward the sound just as Five and the wolf slammed into the landing. Their fight had the kind of desperate struggle to it that said they were well-matched for speed and strength, and all it would take was one lucky break to determine the victor.
“Mason, goddammit! Come on!”
Mason’s head throbbed in time to the frantic pounding of his heart.
What could he do? How could he help?
He turned toward Marcus. “Give me your knife!”
Marcus hesitated for the briefest moment. He might have cursed, Mason wasn’t sure. But finally, after one quick look over his shoulder, Marcus rushed down the stairs.
When Marcus reached Jordan, he slammed his back to the wall and squeezed his way past.
Jordan’s head came up, tracking Marcus’s position. He didn’t speak but a low grumble came from his chest and his movements became more agitated, his attempt to free himself more focused.
Concern tickled at the base of Mason’s skull but he didn’t have time to deal with it.
Marcus stopped on the step above Mason, huffing slightly. “You’re being a shitbrain, you know that? That wolf can handle himself better than—”
A loud thud came from below, and Mason jerked. He looked around to see Five and the wolf fighting several steps down from the lower landing. The wolf had Five tight to the wall, and the only thing keeping his teeth from Five’s throat was Five’s grip on the wolf’s shoulders.
The fact that neither wolf was saying a word was what unsettled Mason the most. Both were focused on only one thing from the look of things: kill his opponent.
Mason turned back to Marcus, his knees almost giving out on him before he steadied himself. He released the rail and thrust out his hand. “Just give me the goddamned knife.”
Marcus was already digging into his pocket. The clip that held the knife in place snapped as Marcus pulled it free. He smacked it into Mason’s palm.
Mason didn’t close his fist. “Open it, goddammit.”
Marcus snatched the knife out of Mason’s hand, flicked the longest blade open and handed it back. “You’re making a mistake. You can’t do anything to help him. You’ve only got one working arm!”
Mason clenched the handle in his fist and met Marcus’s gaze. “I never was the smart one. You know that.”
“You expect me to argue any different now? This is fucking insane. You’re going to get us both killed.”
“You’re not coming with me.”
He turned away, his attention already refocusing on the fight, but Marcus’s hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him before he could start down the stairs.
“Something’s going on out there, I could hear it when the door opened. Wolves and guns and engines. We can’t let these guys get away. If they found my phone—”
Mason looked over his shoulder. “Marcus, get the fuck out of here.”
Marcus’s expression turned into a tight scowl. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m leaving—”
“Who’s going to save the world if I
fuck this up?”
“Mace, goddammit—”
“There were wolves coming to collect the bodies. Maybe they’re already here. Go. This might be your best chance, maybe they’re all distracted. Find your phone. I’ll be there if I can.”
Marcus looked over his shoulder toward the open door at the top of the stairwell. “I don’t want to leave you down here alone.”
“I’m not alone, Five’s here.”
Marcus stared at Mason too long. Mason was on the verge of turning away again when Marcus said, “Don’t get yourself killed, you asshole,” then shook his head, turned, and started climbing the stairs as fast as he had raced down them.
Mason was proud of his brother. Marcus could set aside his feelings to do what needed to be done. Mason couldn’t. He’d proven it time and again. He hadn’t cared about the world when this had all started; he’d wanted only to save his brother. Now here he was, risking the world again, for reasons that only made sense if he’d lost his fucking mind.
Mason released a harsh exhale and turned to look down the stairs again, but Five and the other wolf had slipped below his line of sight. He leaned over the interior rail, trying to see what he was about to walk into but they were under him and all he caught was a glimpse of someone’s back.
Five. He was wearing the dark shirt, Mason was sure of it. Then again, the stairwell was shadowed and dark that far down and Mason couldn’t be sure of anything with his impaired vision.
Behind him, he heard Jordan growl even as his frantic attempt to get free of the fire hose intensified.
He turned quickly, only to see that Marcus was sliding by Jordan without any hesitation at all.
Jordan lunged, a growl rising harsh and fast in his chest.
“Sorry for leaving you like this,” Marcus said, pulling away from the wall a few steps above Jordan, “but somebody’s got to stop those motherfuckers before they destroy the world.”
That was all Mason needed to hear.
He began a halting limp down the steps, knife held tightly in his hand, hand dragging along the rail for balance, right arm numb at his side.
He’d lost his fucking mind, no doubt about it.
Something jarred through rail and he paused, listening.
A harsh groan came from below. Mason sped up. He couldn’t know what had happened, but he was done wasting time.
He rounded the stairwell at the next landing, and then jerked back as the wolf Five was fighting slammed into the wall. The roar that followed make the hair on Mason’s arms stand on end.
He hunkered down, knife at the ready, and tried to make sense of the noises.
A harsh growl was followed by a clank and a screak—something like claws raking across the metal of the stair rail. Whatever it was, the sound made him cringe as his spine tingled and gooseflesh rose on his skin.
He yelled around the corner, “You guys might want to take it easy on the building!”
His answer was a roar and the sound of something big rushing for his position. He started to rise, but changed his mind and just leaned into the wall for support in case the wolf—or Five—came crashing into him.
His hope was that the wolf who wanted him dead would try to use him against Five, giving Five an opening to bring him down.
Unfortunately, Mason recognized Five the moment he raced around the corner, blood dripping from several nasty gashes down his cheek.
“Mine!” Five roared, his eyes glassy but his movements fluid as he swung around just in time to stop the other wolf from barreling into him and Mason both.
The landing wasn’t big enough for them all, and the wolf and Five staggered into the wall, both of them wrestling furiously for control. Mason had two seconds to question his sanity again, then he threw himself right into the fray and sliced as deeply as he could through the wolf’s dark trousers and across his thigh.
The wolf reacted with a howl but the moment of distraction was all Five needed to lunge forward and dig his teeth into the wolf’s exposed throat.
Before Mason could pull back, the two wolves crashed into him, knocking him backward into the stairs. His ass hit hard and then his back, and the weight of both wolves came down on top of him.
His head slammed against the edge of the stair behind him.
Light burst behind his eyes. He tried to lift his head and that was the last thing he knew until a hard tug on his injured shoulder sent pain zinging through nerve endings that should have been dead already.
He groaned and blinked his eyes open but the world around him was just a haze of color and light. He tried to focus his vision and heard himself groan again. For a moment, he had the weirdest sensation he was outside his own body.
“Shh. Shh. You’re okay. Just a few more minutes. We’ll have some drugs here for you soon.”
Mason didn’t recognize the voice, but he blinked a few more times and a shadowy figure leaned over him, and he recognized that face, even though it had been three years since the last time he’d seen Ian Tucker.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked. He was surprised at how slurred his words sounded.
“Same reason you’re here, I figure. Trying to stop the end of the world.”
“How’s that working?”
The skin around Ian’s eyes crinkled. “Not so bad, actually.”
A surge of relief flowed through Mason. He sighed and let his eyes close. “That’s good.”
A hand landed on Mason’s chest. “He’s in trouble here. How long?”
Noises came from somewhere that Mason couldn’t pinpoint. A voice echoed, saying something Mason couldn’t be bothered to hear. Ian wasn’t talking to him any longer, anyway, and he didn’t feel like asking questions. Then a memory of the fight between Five and that wolf floated to the top of his thoughts and he changed his mind.
He tried to raise his head.
Ian pressed his hand firmly against Mason’s forehead. “You shouldn’t move. You cracked your skull on the stairs and you need some serious medical attention before we try to take you out of here.”
“Is that why it feels like somebody kicked me in the head?”
“For all we know, somebody did kick you in the head.”
Mason tried to remember what might have happened, but everything was a jumble. The last thing he could remember easily was Five trying to hold off that wolf… “Where’s Five?”
“Five?” Ian looked behind him and down, making Mason aware suddenly that he was flat on his back on the stairs, still, and he hadn’t even recognized that fact until then.
An accented voice answered Ian from below. “His mate. Weketekari. You called him ‘Second’ when we brought him out.”
Mason thought about trying to move so he could get a look at the wolf who’d spoken, but the gray at the edges of his vision was already closing in on him again.
“He was the second one you brought out,” Ian said. “It made sense.”
“Of course.” But something about the wolf’s voice sounded funny, as if there were a whole lot more to his answer than a simple agreement.
Ian scoffed quietly and returned his attention to Mason. “He’s never understood why I called him Craig but everyone else got a number.”
Mason heard quiet footsteps, and then the wolf spoke again, his deep voice closer than before. “Your mate isn’t well, but he will heal now that he’s receiving the medical attention he needs.”
“The renegades are using some dangerous new bullets,” Ian said. “The wolves don’t heal the way they should until they’re removed. He was injured pretty badly. Not sure how he survived the way he did.”
“Stubborn bastard… one of his strengths.” It was a weird thing to say and Mason wasn’t even sure why he said it, but it was too late to take it back so he just closed his eyes and didn’t bother listening for a reply.
Ian was one of the good guys. Nothing like Mason at all.
Three years ago, Ian Tucker had punched Mason in the side of the head and ended Mason’s plan
s to take Jay up on the offer he’d made. Mason had been a renegade, not for money, but for principle, and he hadn’t liked where Brendan was taking things. Mason hadn’t been the only one who’d noticed how often the promise of alien technology played into their raids and how little it mattered to Brendan when the wolves ran instead of stood their ground, but Mason had been the only one who’d tried to do anything about it.
Jay’s offer had been a good one, a few hundred gold ten-dollars in exchange for betraying Brendan. But Jay wouldn’t have been any better, and Mason had only realized that after the wolves had taken him and held him against his will and he’d heard what happened with Brendan and the wolves Brendan had been trying to make a deal with.
Ian had stopped Mason from making a terrible mistake. Mason would never forget that, but he would never tell Ian.
But Five… he could see himself telling Five, someday. Five would understand what it meant for him to have one less regret to live with.
The noise around Mason faded until all he could hear was the slow beat of his own heart.
Somewhere out there, Five was healing, and that thought followed Mason into the deep, dark sleep that had been waiting impatiently for him to let go.
Chapter 33
Awareness came in bits and pieces after that. A quiet hum, a low grumble, a sudden shout that roused him just enough to open his eyes for one brief moment. Hands touched him and people moved him, and the ache in his head turned into an explosion of light behind his eyes.
He heard Five’s voice, once, and Mason mumbled his name, not sure why it was important for Five to know he was okay.
But he wasn’t okay. He knew that, although he didn’t know why.
A loud voice cut through the darkness once, followed by a roar and a clatter, and then more voices, too many to listen to, so Mason just drifted back down into the depths of wherever he was and waited for peace.
Peace didn’t come—only a restless need to wake up and ask Five why he’d left—to ask how Jordan was healing—to ask why the bond he’d just started getting used to felt as thin and brittle as a piece of shale.
Once, Mason woke up to a bright room and a loud crash and an unrecognized voice roaring, “Bring him down!”
