by Reine, SM
“You don’t look pregnant,” Gwyn said, noticing her paranoia. Moonlight filtering through the gaps in the tent shimmered in her eyes. She fidgeted with Rylie’s sleeve, trying to smooth the satin flat.
“Why are you crying?” Rylie asked.
Gwyn picked up her shotgun and started loading it with silver bullets. “It’s just—you look beautiful, babe. I wish your dad was here to see the way you look tonight.”
Rylie swallowed around the lump in her throat. It was a horrible thing to think, but she had always been kind of glad that he died before she became a werewolf. He never knew that his baby girl had become a killing machine and leader of a monstrous race. And it also meant that he couldn’t walk her down the aisle in front of enemies.
Her aunt jacked a round into the chamber. Propped the gun against her shoulder. “You ready?”
Rylie closed her eyes and imagined everyone waiting for her to step outside. Werewolves on one side. Plainclothes Union army on the other. Scott Whyte waiting to officiate the wedding. And who knew how many men loyal to Cain would be hiding in the crowd?
The processional music started to play. Whether or not Rylie was ready, it was time to walk down the aisle.
She picked up the bouquet and used the blossoms to conceal the claws that had already replaced her fingernails. Her inner wolf was stirring. It was afraid, and ready for a fight.
Gwyn cradled the shotgun in her arm and draped her wrap over it.
Rylie took a deep breath, nodded once, and stepped outside for the wedding.
TWELVE
Forever Hold Your Peace
Abel had been running for hours, but he just wasn’t fast enough. The hills and plains and farms were long and unending. Rylie was still too many miles away from him.
He was out of his mind with adrenaline and fatigue. He couldn’t feel his bare feet, couldn’t feel the muscles in his legs, couldn’t feel his hands or nose or cheeks because of the cold wind blowing past him. All he could think about was her—and the wolf’s overpowering need to be with Rylie.
Abel couldn’t let Cain get to her first. She was his mate. He needed to protect her.
So he pushed through the exhaustion, pushed through the snow, and kept running.
The hills turned into a blur around him. Daylight faded into evening. He only knew that he was crossing a highway when the thin snow under his feet suddenly turned to pavement.
A car skidded in front of him. Abel barely dodged it in him.
He glimpsed the driver as the vehicle passed—it was Cain, gripping the wheel in both hands with fire in his eyes as he tore down the road. He didn’t even notice that he had almost hit someone.
Abel stopped to look around. The stretch of road was familiar. He recognized the sign for the Batemans’ farm, which was just down the road from the Gresham Ranch.
He was almost there. And so was Cain.
The melodious tones of a three piece orchestra drifted through the air, and Rylie felt like she floated down the aisle on a sea of music. She was hyper-aware of the people watching her—Levi in the back row, and Stephanie behind him; all the men in black suits were on the other side. Their staring eyes drove straight through her skin and made her gut cramp.
Her fingers tensed on Gwyn’s arm. She almost stopped walking. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered to her aunt.
“You’re going to be fine, pumpkin,” Gwyneth said. “I promise.”
That was the name that Rylie’s dad used to call her. Hearing it again reminded her of him, and his reassuring smile, and it filled her with warmth.
Rylie swallowed hard and kept walking.
She brought her gaze up the aisle. Bekah had spread rose petals over the snow where Rylie was meant to walk, and her path through the audience was marked with crimson ribbon. Snowflakes caught on her veil so that she could see the tiny crystals just beyond her nose.
Her gaze focused on who was waiting for her at the altar—and the rest of the world dropped away.
Seth’s hands were folded in front of him, and the sight of him in his suit made her heart give a funny flop. His shoulders and chest were broad, filling out the tuxedo until it looked like he strained the seams. The white material offset his dark skin. That charming, slanted smile made his face glow—and glow for her.
Rylie hesitated a few steps away, heart beating in her chest like a caged animal.
Ever since she had first seen Seth, she had known that she loved him. But she had been such a different girl then. So much younger. Rylie was a different person, and she didn’t know if the change was for the better, but Seth was the same.
He still loved her. It showed in his eyes, his smile, the way he held himself. He didn’t care that she had killed more than a dozen people while sick with silver poisoning. He didn’t care about her position in the pack. He only cared about the woman he had loved for years, and in his eyes, she felt like all her sins were forgiven.
Rylie faced her aunt, who used one hand to lift the veil. Gwyn was still cradling the shotgun under her wrap.
She bent down, and Gwyn kissed her cheek. “Love you, babe,” she said.
Rylie gave a tearful smile. “I love you, too,” she whispered back.
Gwyn stepped away, leaving Rylie nothing to do but take Seth’s outstretched hand. His fingers were warm. She wished that she could kiss him now, instead of waiting for the end of the ceremony. She could have used the comfort.
“You okay?” he whispered as everybody in the audience sat.
Rylie nodded, unable to speak.
His hands tightened on hers.
“Dearly beloved,” Scott said to her left, “we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Rylie Gresham and Seth Wilder in holy matrimony…”
She was so on edge that she barely heard him. Blood roared in her ears.
Rylie thought she was going to faint.
Her wolf was struggling to emerge from within, making her gums ache and fingertips itch. She could smell the pack surrounding her, the stink of gun lubricant and silver bullets, hear distant footsteps on snow…
Wait. Footsteps.
Rylie’s ears perked up, and she tuned out the drone of Scott’s voice so that she could listen closer.
It sounded like someone was approaching. Running hard. Panting, gasping, staggering.
A faint breeze lifted, making her veil flutter behind her. Rylie let her eyes close so that she could take a sniff of the masculine smell of sweat and gunpowder.
“Will the bride please repeat after me?” Scott said, stirring Rylie from her daze.
She opened her eyes. Seth was looking worried.
And then his eyes focused over her shoulder.
“It can’t be,” he breathed.
Rylie gathered her skirts and turned, but she already knew who was approaching the gazebo.
Abel sprinted up the snowy hill. He was in a black tank top and jeans, completely unarmed, and looking exhausted. His foot caught on a rock under the snow, and he spilled onto the ground.
She sucked in a gasp. “Abel!”
Everyone in the audience stirred, craning to see him. Rylie heard guns drawn from holsters, safeties released, the soft growl of werewolves on the alert.
Rylie didn’t even realize that she was running until she reached Abel’s side. She dropped beside him.
“Oh my God,” she said, hands hovering over his body. She wanted to touch him, but he was looking so pale—was he injured? “Abel, what are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
He shoved himself over to roll onto his back. Every breath tore from his throat and made him grimace. “Rylie,” Abel gasped. “Cain—”
Seth crunched through the snow to them. “Your timing sucks, man,” he said, grabbing Abel’s arm. “Are you okay?”
Abel gripped Seth’s shoulders and stared in his face. “Cain is coming.”
A gunshot split the air, and someone in the gazebo screamed.
THIRTEEN
Until Death
Seth released Abel and whirled, drawing a handgun from inside his tuxedo.
It was chaos in the gazebo. Guns fired, people shouted, and Rylie couldn’t see what was happening. From the number of weapons firing, there had to be a lot of enemies—but through the tumult of bodies, it was impossible to tell who was attacking who.
“Stay here,” Seth said, launching up the hill again.
Rylie choked on a sudden surge of bile, clapping her hand to her mouth.
“You okay?” Abel asked, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. His touch was warm and familiar. Her wolf was dizzyingly happy to see him alive, and Rylie found herself leaning into his shoulder.
“I thought you were gone,” she whispered once she was certain that she could speak without vomiting.
He cupped her face in his hand. “I would never leave you behind, Rylie. You’re my pack. My mate.”
Seth’s shout echoed over the hill. Rylie’s head jerked up, and her wolf senses focused on him instantly.
He was firing from the hip at a moving target. A blur darting over the hill.
Cain.
Nerves swamped Rylie, and she gripped her stomach with a groan. “Abel…”
“I know,” he said.
She stared at him. “You know?”
He covered her hand with his, and warmth spread through the gentle curve of her belly. For a moment, Rylie heard nothing—no shouts, no gunfire, no chaos. The world was reduced to the place just below her navel, and the feeling of Abel’s skin.
“How can you already know?” she asked. “I haven’t even told Seth yet.”
Amusement flicked through Abel’s eyes. “Cain told me. You can’t fight like this—we have to get you out of here.”
She nodded mutely, and he pulled her down the hill, tripping on her long skirts as they ran. Rylie grabbed fistfuls of the material and hiked it to her knees, but running was still too hard.
They left the gazebo behind them quickly, but not quickly enough. When Rylie glanced behind, she saw three of the black-clad Union men separate from the others.
Bullets pinged into the snow around them, sending up white puffs.
“The Apple,” Rylie gasped. “They’re coming for us!”
Abel growled. “They can’t have you.”
Even though it looked like he had totally exhausted his strength in running, he still wrapped an arm around her and pulled her out of the way just in time for another smattering of bullets to hit the ground.
He scooped her off the ground, skirts and all, and ran faster.
Rylie gave a cry of surprise. “Wait—”
“Shut up,” Abel said, hauling her down the road toward the remnants of the barn.
There wasn’t much of the building left, but there were two half-walls, and it was enough to shelter them. Abel jumped behind it. Bullets smacked into the other side, making the wood crack.
He set her down on the dry ground.
“What are we going to do?” Rylie asked. “We can’t leave them behind! What about Gwyn, and Seth, and…?”
“Seth’s fine,” Abel said, glancing around the corner before facing her again. “Change me.”
“What?”
“You can’t wolf out. You’ll lose the baby. But you’re still Alpha—so change me.”
Rylie reached out a shaking hand and brushed Abel’s forehead. She focused all of her energy on him, and her wolf gladly rose to meet his.
It was easy to draw out his beast with the adrenaline roaring through her, and he changed in a rush of fur.
Seconds later, a massive black beast stood over her. He was the size of a small horse, and a thousand times more imposing.
Rylie smoothed her hand over the ruff of fur at his neck. “Be careful,” she said.
Abel jumped around the wall.
She watched through a crack in the boards as he rushed on the Union soldiers. She couldn’t see much, and she was glad for it—their screaming was horrible, and every time a gun fired, she feared that it would mean Abel’s end.
But he was a blur as he leaped through them, growling as he ripped into the men with his teeth and claws.
Rylie seriously doubted there would be any survivors.
Seth took cover behind the presents’ table to reload his gun. The rush of adrenaline made everything around him brilliant with clarity.
More than half of the Union men had turned on them when Cain attacked. Yasir’s estimate of having five or six people on their side had been seriously optimistic. And what was worse, it looked like some of the wolves had turned traitor, too.
Seth jammed the magazine into his gun and rose, bracing his arm against the table to aim.
It was hard to tell who to shoot. Everyone was tangled in a knot of spraying blood and screams.
His gaze zeroed in on Stephanie Whyte. A werewolf had his hands around her throat.
Seth let out a breath, took aim, and fired.
A silver bullet buried in the shoulder of Stephanie’s assailant—one of the traitorous wolves, who was named Manny. He grabbed his arm with a cry of surprise, then rounded on Seth as Stephanie fled.
Seth fired again, and again. Two more to the chest.
Manny fell, most likely dead.
He didn’t let the kill distract him. He swiveled, knocking a box of china off the table. It shattered on the ground next to him.
Cain stood at the end of the aisle.
“Hello, brother,” he said.
The werewolf moved too damn fast. One second, he was a few feet away, and the next, he was on top of Seth. The handgun flew from his grip and bounced across the snow before he could even think to.
They wrestled, knocking over the table and rolling out from under the shelter of the gazebo. Snow fluttered around them.
Seth’s skull rang as Cain punched him hard, right in the jaw.
“Sorry to crash the party,” Cain growled, “but I think my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”
Twisting free of Cain, Seth clambered to his feet and searched for his gun. He didn’t waste breath on banter. Cain was too strong for him—much too strong.
The gun was a few feet away.
Cain jumped, and Seth rolled under him, avoiding the blow.
His unbroken hand fell on the gun. He aimed and fired.
The shot went wide.
Cain smacked the gun out of Seth’s grip and punched him—hard.
He flattened on the snow. The werewolf straddled him.
“This is for our mother,” Cain growled, drawing back his clawed hand and aiming for Seth’s heart.
A gunshot cracked just behind him.
Red fluid fountained from Cain’s shoulder. Another gunshot, and it poured from his chest. He looked down as though shocked by the wound.
Yasir walked up behind him and pointed his gun straight down at Cain’s skull.
“Watch out,” the commander told Seth, and then he fired a third time.
The bullet exploded from his skull and hit the snow right next to Seth’s head. Cain’s face blanked. He slumped to the side.
Seth pushed Cain’s limp body off of him with a shout and scrambled to his feet.
“You almost hit me!”
“But I didn’t,” Yasir said, turning to pop off a couple more shots at the crowd. His aim was fantastic—he had once been a military sharpshooter, and every bullet hit a traitorous Union member. Two men fell.
Seth couldn’t argue with his reasoning. He crouched beside Cain to inspect the wounds.
It seemed too easy. Three shots, and the half-brother that had menaced Rylie for weeks was gone. “Guess I shouldn’t complain,” he muttered with a scowl at all the blood. It had ruined his tuxedo.
He grabbed his handgun and stood beside Yasir.
There wasn’t any fight left to speak of. Everything had sorted itself out in the fastest, bloodiest way possible—the beautiful gazebo was strewn with bodies, and only a few werewolves were left standing. Seth could see Stephanie hiding behind the altar with S
cott.
There was no sign of Rylie or Gwyn.
Yasir holstered his gun. “Seven of them,” he said, his eyes skimming the bodies. “Seven of my men turned on us.”
“Seems like the Union’s got a pretty big loyalty problem,” Seth said.
The commander barked a laugh and headed for the bodies. Seth moved to follow—but an arm wrapped around his throat, strong and unyielding as an iron band.
He was jerked back against a muscular body. He thrashed hard, but couldn’t break free.
“Cain!” Yasir shouted, spinning to face him again.
“Drop your gun! One move, and I pop off his head,” Cain said. His deep voice thrummed in his chest and vibrated through Seth’s back. “You want this guy alive? I want Rylie.”
Yasir was frozen with his gun half-drawn.
“Don’t,” Seth squeezed out, his vision dimming.
“I shot you in the head,” Yasir said, eyes narrowed. “I used silver bullets.”
“Guess you don’t know much about natural born werewolves,” Cain said. “Rylie. Now.”
Seth tried to shake his head, but he was confined too tightly.
Cain’s arm tightened.
And then a black mass shot over the hilltop and crashed into them both.
Seth bowled over, thrown by the momentum of being struck by a wolf. It ripped him free of Cain’s grip and knocked all the breath out of his lungs. He sprawled on the snow, gasping for oxygen.
His vision blurred, but he could just make out the huge wolf that was Abel clashing with Cain. Even as a human, Cain was powerful—more than a match for Abel. Having a hole in the side of his head didn’t even faze him.
But then Cain made the mistake of trying to shift. His skin rippled, his knees popped, and he fell to all fours.
A moment of vulnerability was enough. Abel pinned Cain to the ground, jaws buried in his throat, and he bit down.
Cain cried out.
Seth got to his feet, dizzy and unsteady. Yasir grabbed him before he could fall over. “I’ve got you,” he said.
Together, they went to Abel’s side. He had a half-human, half-wolf Cain held down with his teeth and one massive paw. He couldn’t seem to finish shifting with Abel’s teeth in his neck.