Immersive

by Becky Moynihan

  Ryker’s arm swung in a perfect arc.

  And delivered a powerful uppercut. Straight to the chin.

  The king toppled.

  Ryker was on him in a heartbeat. Pounding his face. Repeatedly. Like a demon possessed. He roared. As if in pain. As if he hated what he was doing but couldn’t stop. Blood spurted onto his neck. Cheeks. Coating his hand. I was frozen by the violent display—agony mixed with hatred.

  I didn’t see the next move coming.

  No one did.

  How could we have? From day one, Rollie had spouted the importance of open honesty, of honoring the code and clan. So the last thing I expected. The very last thing . . .

  Was for him to break it.

  Out of nowhere, a knife flashed. He plunged the blade into Ryker’s back. Bells screamed and wrenched free of Bren’s hold. He lunged for her, but fear had given her wings. She sprinted forward, her brother in hot pursuit.

  The panic in his voice as he yelled her name broke me from my trance. I charged after her. So did Jaxon. But we were all too late. Too late to stop her from flinging herself at Ryker. Too late to stop Rollie from blocking her path and delivering a powerful backhand.

  The blow was so brutal, her body spun through the air. She crumpled into a fragile heap.

  “No!” Bren roared. He slid the last few feet to her prone body. His hands fluttered over her but didn’t make contact, as if afraid to touch her. As if afraid that she was . . . dead.

  I dropped next to Bren and immediately felt for her pulse. My own was pounding so savagely that it took me longer than necessary to find what I sought. “She’s alive. But her neck might have been injured. I wouldn’t move her.”

  Bren made a sound in the back of his throat—part relief, part “I’m going to beat that man’s brain in.” I grabbed his arm. He shook me off with little effort, his Sensor strength raging. He stood, preparing to attack. A warning shout burned on the tip of my tongue, but Jaxon tackled him from behind.

  “Prohibere. Opus tibi est viveret,” he fiercely whispered to Bren. I couldn’t understand, but it was enough to calm Bren down, allowing me to breathe again.

  Then I remembered Ryker.

  Ryker!

  If he was dead, we were so screwed.

  My eyes found him just as Rollie plowed a boot into his gut. I winced at the pained groan, at the coughing that no doubt sent fire streaking through his wrecked body.

  But he was alive. Alive.

  His back was smeared red where he must have taken out the knife. I searched the rooftop and found the discarded weapon a few yards away. But what if Rollie had more? He could easily slit Ryker’s throat in his vulnerable state.

  Ryker must have thought the same thing, because he staggered to his feet. The man had many flaws, but a low pain threshold wasn’t one of them. He spat blood and pressed a hand to the purpling bruise over his rib cage. “You’re going to pay for hurting her.”

  Rollie’s laid-back demeanor was gone. His expression was feral, wild like an animal. A wolf. A Berserker? “You won’t take this clan away from me. I’ve worked too hard, too hard to let my good-for-nothing son have it. There’s only one head alpha. One king. And it’s going to be me.”

  Ryker’s eyes took on a weary light. “No matter what I did, I was never good enough for you,” he said dully. “It took me forever to figure out, but I know why now. She loves me and not you, and you can’t stand it.”

  His father stiffened, slowly curling his hands into fists. “I dare you to say that again.”

  Oh crap. There was no way Ryker wouldn’t—

  “She. Doesn’t. Love. You.”

  Yeah. That.

  Like a rope stretched too taut, Rollie snapped. He barreled into Ryker, sweeping him clean off his feet. When his injured back slammed onto the rooftop, phantom pain shot up my spine.

  “It’s all your fault,” the boss roared in his son’s face. “I should have killed you years ago so she’d see me. Her mate. Her husband!”

  He struck Ryker’s face again and again, a succession of hits that left the younger man dazed. And all I could do was watch. Helplessly watch as he took the beating. Tears of frustration dripped off my chin.

  Desperate for a way to stop this, I fixed pleading eyes on Bren. His gaze was locked on Ryker, but I could see the glistening trail down his cheek. He was crying, too.

  Crying for the boy he’d grown up with.

  The sight almost crushed my lungs.

  But what cracked my heart wide open was seeing a broken Ryker staring at an unconscious Bells. He never once looked away from her.

  And it was his sacrifice that made me do what I did next.

  I gave Bells’ limp hand a gentle squeeze, then slowly rose to a crouch. I sucked in a breath. Let it out. In. Out. Then bolted for the discarded knife. A startled yell followed my pounding footsteps, but I didn’t look back. Within range, I dropped into a skid, all of my focus on scooping up that knife. Success. My fingers wrapped around the cold handle. I only had one shot at this. One. I couldn't fail.

  I jumped up and pulled my arm back, zeroing in on my target.

  This was it. One thrust of the arm and my life was forfeit. But Bells and Ryker, Bren and Jaxon. They would still be alive.

  I stared at the spot between Rollie’s eyes and tensed my muscles for the throw.

  Then choked back a gasp.

  Evangeline. Evie. Ryker’s mother. Was right behind her husband, poised to plunge a needle into his neck.

  Before I could see her do it, something slammed into me. A shock of pain lit up my chest, and the air left my lungs in a giant whoosh. Death by bullet, then. One of the clansmen must have taken the shot. But shouldn’t it hurt more than this? The sensation was like being squeezed by a spectacularly strong pair of arms.

  Wait. I was being squeezed. Bren had me in a death grip. If he didn’t let up soon, my bones were going to rearrange themselves.

  “Bren,” I squeaked. “Bren, I’m not going to throw it. Please . . . let me . . . breathe.”

  “I’m furious with you right now,” he quietly growled, but let me go.

  “Punish me later,” I said distractedly, nudging him aside to scan the scene I’d missed.

  Circling the scene was Jaxon and the three clansmen, all pointing guns. An unconscious Bells and Ryker made up the middle. Evie and Rollie were dead center. Staring at each other.

  “How? Why?” I heard the boss whisper. He blinked lethargically. “What did you . . . do to me?”

  With an effort, she raised her chin. “I knew you’d take my betrayal out on our son, so I escaped and followed your scent. You went too far this time, Roland. You know what he means to me. He’s my world. I couldn’t let you destroy my world, so I . . . I had to destroy you.”

  He stumbled back, shellshocked. “Wha—? How could you—? Evie. My love. Why have you always loved him and not me? I tried to make you happy.” He reached for her, but she shook her head and stepped aside.

  “A pretty cage is still a cage, and you never once asked me what I wanted,” she said, tears of hurt and anger trickling down her face. “I don’t know how long the serum takes to work, but you’re going to lose all of your memories. And I’m glad. So glad. I will finally be free of you.”

  Rollie made a strangled noise, then suddenly swayed, shaking his head. “What’s happening to me?” He backed up, eyes bulging as he noticed his blood-encrusted hands. “Where did this come from? Why can’t I remember?”

  He was panicking now, swiping at the blood, moaning when it wouldn’t come off. And all the while, he continued to back away. Toward the roof’s ledge. I opened my mouth, but Bren laid a hand on my arm. Staying my words. The rooftop was silent, not a single soul offering to help the floundering man as he stumbled against the raised lip. He didn’t cry out as he flailed. As he tipped over the edge. And plummeted to the cracked cement six stories below.

  I felt detached from my body—a spectator—as my feet shuffled across the roof. A numb acceptance sto
le over me, an understanding. His life was forfeit the moment he’d broken the code. There was no guilt over what happened. Only justice.

  But I needed to know for certain.

  I reached the ledge and peered below. As I did, the first golden rays of morning sun swept across my face, nearly blinding me. But I had seen. My fears were put to rest.

  “The king is dead,” I said.

  Word spread like wildfire that Rollie had fallen—literally.

  The three clansmen who’d witnessed the challenge also passed on news of their king’s unforgivable betrayal. There was an uproar. The men refused to give him an honorable burial. And they were shaken enough to listen to the most unlikely of persons: their queen.

  And, stars, she could talk. Too bad the king had never treated her as his equal. She was cunning, yet considerate. Firm, yet forgiving. She, with her Sensor blood and knowledge of their ways, understood the men far better than I ever could.

  Not that I wanted to speak to them or become their princess. Now that Rollie was dead, there was no need to follow through with my plan—at least the princess part. Besides, Ryker was in no condition to claim anyone even if he wanted to. I glanced up at the tavern’s wood-beamed ceiling where I knew he rested. His mother had insisted on keeping him close, and Bells—after regaining consciousness—hadn’t left his side. Not once.

  Both Bren and Jaxon had grumbled, were still grumbling, but I secretly approved of Bells and Ryker as a couple. Had I not been claimed by the hottest man alive, though, I might have been jealous. There was something exquisitely intense yet achingly vulnerable about those two when they were together. I wondered how people felt about me and Bren. We knew Jaxon’s opinion, at least: a bit nauseated.

  I snorted loudly.

  “Earth to Lu Bear,” he singsonged, waving a hand in front of my face. “Care to join the conversation?”

  “Only if it doesn’t involve Ryker and Bells’ love life.”

  The sip of moonshine he took practically showered my lap as he sputtered out a laugh. “Did you just use the L word? She’s just a baby! If anything, it’s a case of Stockholm syndrome.”

  I rolled my eyes even as Bren nodded in agreement. I kicked his shin under the table and he shot me a confused look. “I don’t know what kind of syndrome you’re talking about, but she’s not a baby. You just don’t want her with the big bad wolf. Anyway, I told you his side of things. His methods were questionable, but his intentions were honorable. Mostly.”

  Neither of them looked convinced, but at least the hatred toward him had dissipated. I guessed taking on the boss so Bells wouldn’t get shot had earned Ryker a few points. Jaxon swigged more of his disgusting drink, eyeing the packed room for a moment before whispering, “Do you think they’ll cooperate?”

  I surveyed the boisterous crowd who seemed happy with receiving a few days off from their duties. Upon her husband’s death, Evie had decreed that no one should leave the city until further notice. As far as I knew, they’d listened. Probably out of curiosity more than anything. But I worried for her. Ryker too. If one of the clansmen decided to challenge them for head alpha, neither were in a position to fight. Evie was scrappy, but even the punch she’d laid on me lacked technique.

  “They have to,” I answered Jaxon. “Things are going to change for the better. If they don’t like it, they can leave.”

  He chuckled, patting my shoulder. “If only it were that easy. This is why you won’t be making the speeches.”

  “Hey.” I whacked his arm, feigning offense.

  Bren snickered softly. When I glared at him, he simply leaned toward me and nuzzled my neck, inhaling deeply. My annoyance evaporated as warmth infused my cheeks at his public affection. “I like your direct approach,” he purred, his breath stirring my hair. “You can practice it on me if you want.”

  Holy stars. This man and his wicked tongue.

  And then that tongue flicked out, catching my earlobe. Heat pooled between my legs and I squirmed in my seat. Several heads chose that moment to swivel our way. Crap balls, could they sense my body’s reaction to his touch? Okay, I was so out of here. Negotiations could wait.

  I was about to crawl over the table and make a break for the exit when I heard a growl. Not a human one or even animal, but a mechanical sound that cut through the tavern’s chatter.

  All eyes went to the glass front door.

  “My baby’s here!” Jaxon crowed, jumping up and practically skipping toward the entrance. I saw Evie rise too, so I followed suit, Bren at my heels as we tailed a jubilant Jaxon. I didn’t need a Sensor ability to feel the tension in the room. Animal instincts were kicking in—fight or flight. Hopefully neither would happen this evening, but if they did, I was slightly reassured by the weight of my daggers crisscrossing my back.

  Bren had surprised me with the leather holster shortly after Rollie’s death. I’d almost wept. Dresses and jewelry couldn’t compare to being gifted a fine quality sheath for your favorite weapons. My lips had shown him my appreciation. He’d seemed happy.

  The first thing I noticed after exiting the tavern was the monstrous black vehicle. Round lights on the front pierced the evening gloom. And was that a gun mounted on top? Jaxon was stroking the vehicle’s side, crooning sweet nothings. I caught the words “baby” and “did you miss me?”

  The engine cut off and the doors opened. When I recognized who hopped out of the driver’s side, my heart rate quickened. Spiky black bangs were flipped aside as she rolled her dark, almond-shaped eyes. “I won’t even bother to compete with that,” she said in response to her boyfriend’s antics.

  Her gaze sliced to me, and she froze. I held back a wince, waiting for that pale face to twist in anger. Waited for her to stomp over and yell at me for jeopardizing the home she so fiercely protected. She did approach, but her neutral expression made it impossible to predict what she’d do. Would she shoot me the same way she’d been shot?

  I braced for impact, refusing to cower or run. I deserved whatever punishment she wanted to—

  Yukiko slammed into me, wrapping her arms around my back to keep me from falling. She was shorter by a handful of inches but had no trouble keeping us upright as she squeezed me. The stern, no-nonsense girl who could have died because of my stupidity was hugging me. “Thank you,” she mumbled against my shoulder. “For keeping our secrets and saving Bren.”

  I was too shocked to do or say anything. Over her head, I saw Jaxon watching us. He clutched at his heart and pretended to wipe away tears, mouthing, “So sweet.”

  She released me and cleared her throat. “I like the new haircut.” Her eyes widened slightly when she caught sight of the tattoo on my temple. “Nice ink. You’ll have to let me know who did it in case I want something done.”

  Oh crap. I highly doubted she’d want the guy who shot her to stick a needle into her flesh.

  Thankfully, I was spared from answering with the arrival of more Ridge people. Heavily armed guards—hopefully none of the ones who’d shot at me and Ryker—made room for Dominic and Dr. Stacey to approach. I gave my old instructor a tentative smile which he easily returned, pulling me into a quick hug.

  I had to blink away tears. All of this acceptance from the people I’d betrayed was overwhelming. I wondered if this was how Bren had felt when I’d forgiven him for the part he played in my kidnapping.

  “We need to have a long, lengthy chat,” Dominic said and leaned back, his gray eyes sparkling with excitement. “Bren radioed that there were new developments with your abilities?”

  “Uh . . .”

  He waved away my dumbfounded response. “We’ll have time to explore that later, but right now . . .” He stepped around me and held out a hand toward Evie. “Evangeline Jones, I presume? I’m Dominic Holland, emissary to Blue Ridge Sector, a division of Homeland Security. I’m here on behalf of my colleague, Dr. Carl Moore, who oversees The Ridge.”

  She shook his hand with a firm grip but offered a warm smile. “I’ve heard rumors of your mount
ain city. Is it true that everyone has access to clean water and three square meals a day?”

  He returned her smile, launching into a description of their home similar to the one I’d been given upon arrival. I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease as Evie ushered us inside the tavern where negotiations for peace and trade between the Recruiter Clan and Blue Ridge Sector would commence.

  Dr. Moore had chosen well in sending Dominic to speak for him. When Jaxon had helped me radio The Ridge’s leader two days ago, convincing him to form an alliance with the clan hadn’t been easy. But when I’d secretly used my telepathic ability to tell him about the box of memory serum in Bren’s backpack, he was willing to listen to my plan.

  Not only would the alliance free the imprisoned women and children of this city, but it would draw out The Ridge’s traitor. Because whoever was working with Renold was also a part of Blue Ridge Sector’s inner circle. Who else could have orchestrated my escape and shown Ryker exactly where to find Bren? If they knew plots were being hatched against the Supreme Elite, this was the perfect opportunity for them to spy.

  It took everything in me not to glance over my shoulder as I reentered the building, because the person who’d stabbed Bren and drugged me could very well be walking into Pack’s Tavern on my heels.

  “So what triggered her new ability?”

  “I can’t say whether it’s new or not, just that it was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before,” Bren replied to Dominic’s question.

  Dominic had taken me, Bren, and Dr. Stacey to their camp just outside the city for a more private conversation. The site had been cleared out earlier and was now little more than muddy tire tracks, boot prints, and a couple camouflaged tents.

  The negotiations meeting last night had been somewhat successful. A peace and trade treaty had been signed, but with several stipulations. I had wanted to share the news with my mum, but the clansmen had demanded they be given a second chance where the women and children were concerned. Several of them wanted to start families but hadn’t dared with the dangerous ceremony ritual hovering over their heads. The risk had been too high.