by Celia Kyle
“You,” Declan rasped, and Abby’s heart ached for him.
She saw the emotions in his eyes, the way his shoulders trembled and the curve of his stomach as he lurched. His brother’s betrayal speared him deep, digging into his soul, and she wanted nothing more than to go to him. She ached to pull him into her arms and pretend none of this had ever happened.
Pike smirked. “Me.”
The twist of his lips was cocky bravado, but Abby spotted the fear as well. Her world, her entire life, depended on the details in the world around her. Whether it was listening for a polar bear or catching sight of another’s emotional pain, her life depended on her abilities.
“Declan,” she whispered. She’d lost her voice at some point. Now she could only scream, and even that nearly brought her to tears. “Declan.” She tried again, tugging against her bindings. The jangle of her chains and last whispered plea got his attention. “Declan.”
Those wolf eyes landed on her, his narrow-eyed stare taking in her appearance once more. She needed him to push past the pain of betrayal and think clearly. If he let his beast take too much control, the wolf would—
Pike destroyed her attempt at distracting Declan. In truth, it didn’t take much—a simple shift of his weight from one foot to the other. The connection she had to Declan snapped like a dried twig.
That was the moment Declan went after his brother. He tossed aside his gun and leaped, transitioning as he flew. The wolf’s maw appeared, and his other hand shifted into a claw. Fangs grew, long and sharp, descending from his gums. His shoulders broadened, and arms thickened. That increase in size continued down his body, legs stretching his pants to their limits.
Dark gray fur—nearly black—covered him from snout to tail, and his eyes glowed an eerie amber. A yellow that wasn’t quite that of a natural wolf. It betrayed his status as something more, something better. To her anyway.
And his size…A natural wolf stood two and a half feet at the shoulders, but Declan easily hit nearly four feet, and the rest of him was just as large. The snout, the teeth, the paws and thick muscles that hid beneath his midnight fur.
Bigger than any wolf she’d ever seen.
Declan landed on Pike with a snarl, and the other wolf grunted when his back struck the hard tile. But while Declan embraced his beast, Pike…didn’t.
He took Declan’s punches, one after another after another. He didn’t retaliate, only defended, blocking Declan when he would have captured Pike’s throat between his jaws.
They rolled, exchanging the dominant position, while Declan continued to beat on Pike—beat on his brother.
“Declan!” The shout was hardly more than a wheeze, her voice abandoning her. Neither wolf gave her a glance. She turned inward, sought her cougar, and beckoned her forward. They couldn’t get out of this, end the battle and escape, if they remained bound.
Her cougar released a soft whine. It didn’t want to come out. It didn’t want to experience pain. It’d had enough over the last couple of days.
Abby talked to the cat. And we can’t mate him if he loses his mind after he kills his brother.
The cat purred at the word “mate.” Purred and rubbed and changed her tune when she realized Abby was giving in to the inevitable. Declan was hers—theirs—and their future could be over before it began if they didn’t figure this mess out. Like Declan, Abby began to shift.
The bindings would still take some work, but there were differences between human-shaped Abby and cat-shaped Abby. Differences that allowed first one wrist and then the other to jerk free of her chains while Pike was distracted.
She glanced at Declan and Pike, at Pike’s limp body and Declan’s continued shift. It wouldn’t be long before her mate was done. Then Pike would be done.
Her legs shifted next, making it easy to pull out of the cuffs that bound her. And the moment she had unrestricted movement, the cat withdrew, returning human feet and leaving only delicate claws at the tips of her fingers. The cat knew human was needed, but they didn’t want to be unarmed.
As if Declan would ever hurt her.
But Pike would. Pike had.
Declan’s shift was nearly complete, his exhaustion plain. He shouldn’t have taken this long to change. Or he was simply giving Pike plenty of time to match him.
She tried to call Declan’s name, but she had no voice.
Five feet separated her from the two men. Then four. Then three. With that next step, Declan’s shift completed, his wolf fully in control and aching for blood. There was a hunger for death in his eyes, one that would be sated only by eliminating Pike.
She couldn’t let that happen. Not when questions remained. Questions that could be answered only by the unconscious shifter.
Which was why, when she should have stayed out of the way, Abby fell forward. She stumbled one step and then another until her bare knees hit tile and her chest fell across Pike’s. She was a battered blanket of protection. Now Declan would either recognize her presence or kill her, but it would give Pike a chance. It would give Declan a chance. He already carried too many kills on his conscience. She wouldn’t let him add this death, too—no matter how pissed she was at Pike herself.
Hot fangs pressed tight to her neck, saliva dripping, and hot breath fanned the side of her face. She was captured, her neck vulnerable and in the place of Pike’s. Her life was in his jaws. He tightened his bite, fangs digging in to her skin but not yet piercing her flesh.
Until he froze.
The wolf above her growled. It was a pure threat, the beast’s frustration voiced aloud. He could be as angry as he liked. It wouldn’t change her actions. Standing between the brothers—saving Pike—seemed so right. Pike might be sentenced to death for his actions, but he wouldn’t die at Declan’s claws. It would kill her mate. Kill him.
Abby swallowed hard and licked her chapped lips, working to bring a little moisture to her mouth so she could attempt to talk once more. “Declan, stop.” She winced with the effort and the rough scrape of her throat, but she pushed on. “You have to stop.” His renewed growl told her he didn’t agree. “Please.” That growl increased in volume, and she shuddered. “Please, Declan. Please stop.”
A single tear escaped her eye, trailing down her cheek and sliding through blood until it fell to the tile.
Declan whined, the wolf shuddering, and then released a whimper while he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Indecision. Worry. Finally the wolf opened his jaws. He retreated slowly, carefully, until her neck was no longer held immobile by his deadly fangs.
He moved away yet stayed close the entire time. He let her ease off Pike, and she stayed on her knees, unable to even consider pushing to her feet.
At least that’d been her plan until a new wave of threats piled into the room. One after another they rushed into the space, fangs bared, claws flexed, and guns searching for a target.
The rest of Declan’s team.
Chapter Thirty-four
If they shot Declan, she’d kill them. Kill them all. She wasn’t sure how, but it’d happen. It would take time, planning, money if she had to hire someone like Declan, but by the end they’d all be buried six feet under.
“Abby, wanna tell me what I’m looking at?” Birch’s gaze flicked through the room. There was so much blood, it was hard to discern hers from Pike’s from Declan’s.
She opened her mouth, ready to say something, but Declan chose that moment to move. Not toward Birch, but her. He darted across the slick tile floor until he stood in front of her. Legs braced, muscles stiff, ruff standing on end, and teeth bared—he acted as a physical shield between her and his team. A shield? Or a possessive claiming?
Regardless, Birch squeezed the trigger, and a bullet slammed into the tile where Declan once stood.
“What the hell?” She managed to shout the words, her cougar having healed enough of her vocal cords to make speech possible. At least for that one yell. She wheezed the moment her bellow left her mouth, a new wave of pain squeezing h
er throat.
Three other guns pointed in their direction. At Declan. She swallowed hard once more and begged her cat for help, pleaded with her to heal her voice instead of her cuts and bruises. The feline whined, torn between listening and preparing their body for a fight. If it came to that.
Her throat tingled, followed by a healing burn and a scratchy itch as flesh knitted back together. She coughed and wheezed, then cleared her throat.
“Easy,” she said in an attempt to calm the beast. “I’m right here. I’m alive. I’m okay.”
The wolf snorted, and the team echoed the scoff, which only served to draw Declan’s fury once more.
“Don’t listen to them, Declan.” She kept her voice soft and low. “They don’t matter.” Abby’s fingers brushed fur, and she sank them into his bloody ruff. “You saved me and protected me. They just want to help.”
Cole changed position, the tiniest shift of his weight from one foot to the other, and destroyed the minute progress she’d made.
“Cole, keep your ass still.” The cougar even went so far as to add a growl to her voice. Sure, the tiger could tear her to shreds without breaking into a sweat, but the idea of losing Declan trumped any pain the other man could inflict.
Another growl from Declan, more soft shushes from Abby. “Easy, Declan.”
She moved the tiniest bit closer, knees scooching across the uneven tile while she closed the distance between them. His attention remained locked on the males in front of them while she crawled nearer and nearer. So close her bare stomach brushed his side.
“I’m right here,” she whispered, and leaned forward, giving him some of her weight, proving that she lived and breathed because of him. “I’m right here. You got to me. You protected me. I’m okay.”
She sifted her fingers through his matted fur once more, sliding her arm around his rib cage and finally resting her head between his shoulders. She listened to his heartbeat, the pulse steady despite his obvious fury. The heart of a killer. One who stared at danger and didn’t feel an ounce of fear.
But he was ready to fight—to die—for her, wasn’t he?
“I’m okay.” She breathed deep and exhaled slowly, sending her breath swirling around them. He needed to creep past the aromas of the blood and find hers. “I’m okay and you’re going to take me home.”
His growl renewed, bursting through the room like a shot. Her cougar purred, the animal able to translate his rumble. It was pure possessiveness and a soul-deep determination to keep her at his side.
“Your home, Declan. We’re going together. We’re going to let your team deal with Pike, huh?” The growl changed, anger creeping into the rolling rumble. “The team will handle him. They won’t let him go. Shhh…” She rubbed her cheek on his back. “He’ll be punished, but right now I need you, huh?”
He narrowed his eyes, attention stroking what little of her he could see, and she could pinpoint the moment he was reminded she wore very little. Possessiveness filled his wolf’s gaze once more, and the growl returned, directed at the conscious males in the room.
“They don’t want me, Declan,” she rushed to assure him, keeping her volume low.
Grant had to talk. “Well, I mean, I’d—”
The sound of flesh striking flesh was quickly followed by a grunt, and she hoped one of the other men had hit Grant to shut him up.
“Birch, how do we get out of here?” Abby stroked the spot behind Declan’s ear, carefully petting him—even if he wasn’t a dog—to calm him once more.
“Helo’s inbound. Less than five, and that’s about how long it’ll take to get to the surface.” The bear spoke, but when she glanced at him, she realized his attention was on the unconscious Pike behind them, not on her and Declan.
“Birch?” She waited until his eyes met hers. “He hurt me, but I don’t think he’s…” She couldn’t figure out how to put it into words. “There’s something off. Just…talk to him before you do anything, okay?”
Birch grunted, and she figured that was the most she’d get as far as agreements went. He brought a hand to his ear, attention split between her and Declan and whatever voice came over the com. “Let’s go. They’re dropping in for a landing, and I want to get to work on this place.”
“Okay.” She stroked Declan once again, touch gentle. “You ready, wolf?” She combed his fur with her fingers. “We’re going to walk out of here. No one is going to try to take me or hurt me, huh?”
He kept up his growl but with a tiny change, a shift of the tone that told her he grumbled out of habit instead of true unease and anger.
“We’ll give escort.” Birch broke in once more. “Grant takes point, and for the love of fuck, Grant, keep your trap shut.”
Declan huffed in annoyance, but she felt his muscles relax, some of the greatest tension bleeding away.
“Okay, we’re ready.” As Abby pushed to her feet, she swayed, her legs wobbly. But she could work through the lingering pain and exhaustion. If she didn’t, there was no telling what Declan would do—to the others and to Pike.
She kept one hand buried in his ruff, fingers fisting the strands, and she used that grip as both a restraint and support. She didn’t want him diving after anyone, but she wasn’t sure she could stand on her own either.
Grant left first while the others retreated, giving them space to pass, and they trailed in the other wolf’s wake.
She paused long enough to glance at Birch. “Where are we going?”
Though, did it matter? They simply needed to be away. Wherever they traveled it simply had to be not there.
“Our home base is in North Carolina. You two can recover there.”
When Declan didn’t growl or stiffen, she figured he was okay with being shuttled off to another state, which meant Abby was fine with it as well. In truth, she simply didn’t have the energy to fight.
“What about the director?”
Birch grunted. “He’ll be happy to see UH destroyed.” The bear shifter waved his hand and then looked to Cole. “Find Foster, and that tablet, grab any other computers they have, and then bring the fucking thing down.”
“And Pike?” Cole’s voice dropped to a low murmur.
Abby strained to hear Birch’s response, but Grant realized she hadn’t followed. “Abby? Something wrong?”
Declan released a soft grumble and stepped forward, his head and shoulders in front of her. He held her captive once again, standing between her and any perceived threat.
“I’m fine.” She stroked the uneasy wolf and spoke to him. “I’m fine, but tired. Let’s go, Declan.”
The tablet, the compound, Pike…could all be handled by someone else.
Chapter Thirty-five
Declan’s mouth remained flooded with saliva, the need for flesh still riding him hard. He wanted to tear into his enemies and bathe in their blood. He wanted to show them all that they shouldn’t touch what belonged to him.
Abby was his. Her small hand knotted in his fur, her weight firm against his side. Grant led them through the halls, gun in hand and body tense. Humans littered the ground—some shot, others torn by claws.
Pride and joy twined inside him. His team had done that—his pack even if they weren’t all wolves. Not just his pack…the closest thing he had to family now that he knew about him.
The wolf’s feral mind pulled on him, wrenching him away from thoughts of his brother and what he’d done.
Abby gave him more and more of her weight with every step, her slow strides gradually turning into shuffles. He turned his head and gave her a low bark. He swept his gaze over her, seeing the blood and bruises.
Fury—scorching hot and lightning fast—overtook him in that instant. More adrenaline flooded his four-legged form, and the craving for blood—retribution—doubled. He’d calmed with Abby’s presence, but the reminder of what she’d endured snatched away that hint of peace.
Her fist eased, and she ran her fingers through his fur. “Shh…I’m fine.”
Sh
e wasn’t fine. She limped. Some of her skin was purple. She bled.
He ached to go back and finish what he’d started in that room.
“Declan?” Grant called out. He flicked one ear toward his teammate while his gaze remained on Abby. “Helo’s landing. Let’s move.”
Declan grumbled and closed his eyes for a moment. His wolf resisted when he fought for calm.
“Declan! Move your furry ass.”
He’d show Grant a furry ass, the asshole.
As they finally exited the building, the echoing thump, thump, thump of the helo’s propeller reached them, overwhelming any other sounds that crept into the space.
Which was why they—he—didn’t see their attacker until it was too late. Because one moment Abby clung to him and the next…the next she was wrenched away and into another man’s arms.
Declan spun with a snarl, muscles tense and lips pulled back to expose his fangs. He growled long and low, the sound escaping before he even recognized who he faced.
Eric Foster held a gun to Abby’s head.
He’d kill him. Slowly. Painfully.
“Back off!” Eric’s voice wavered. The man’s eyes were wide and filled with terror. The muzzle of his gun shook the tiniest bit. In this other hand, he held Abby’s tablet.
“Let her go.” Grant’s rumble rose above the sounds from outside.
“I’m leaving and you’re going to let me.” A tremble of fear still lingered in Eric’s words.
Declan wanted nothing more than to leap onto the human and rip out his throat.
Grant snorted. “Not happening.”
Definitely not.
Eric pressed the muzzle tighter to Abby’s head. “I’ll kill her.”
Declan flexed his claws and sank lower, muscles tense and ready to roar into action. One leap. One bite.
“And you’ll die before she hits the ground.” The slow drawl was followed by the familiar racking of a gun’s slide. Movement behind Eric signaled another team member’s presence.
“Fucking furries…You think you can just kill me?”