Above This Grave (The Cloven Pack Series: Book Three)

by D. Fischer

  Irene Scott

  My heart fills with relief when Flint steps from the trees, and instantly sinks when Zane stalks toward him.

  Flint punches Zane in the jaw with a quick strike. Jazz turns her body from mine as soon as Zane grunts. I blink several times, attempting to get the tears to clear from my face.

  My brother is dead. Burned to nothing.

  I take the moment to try wiggling through my ropes again, but they’re too tight. I need to get out of here. The bitch will pay for what she’s done.

  Zane throws his fist at Flint, but he slaps it away like a fly. His clawed hand scrapes Zane’s wrist as he does so.

  Zane glances at his bleeding wrist momentarily. He roars and partially shifts. They begin to circle each other, their bodies slightly crouched, ready to spring.

  Zane charges and Flint kicks out his foot with a roar, sending Zane tumbling to the ground. He flips himself from his back to his feet and swipes his claws out. Flint isn’t prepared this time and receives three large gashes across his chest.

  My breath seizes in my chest. Another tear rolls down my cheek.

  This is why hope can be the most dangerous thing to grasp for.

  Brenna Johnson

  I place my clawed hands around her head—one at the base and one at the jaw—of the partially shifted wolf. She’s on her knees before me, forced there by a well-aimed kick to her knee cap. Her leg snapped on impact. As she howls in pain, I twist with all my strength. The snapping of her bone vibrates in my clawed fingertips, and her cries of pain are cut off. I let go of her head and she drops to the ground. Lifeless. Dead.

  Instead of staring at the body like I want to, I glance around. If I stare, I’ll think about it. If I think about it, awareness will click. I’ve just ended a life. That should never sit right with anyone. Rogue life or not, she was still a living being.

  I shove the thoughts aside before they consume me.

  Ben is engaged with a wolf who’s fully shifted. The wolf charges at him, snarling and snapping his jaw. Ben punches him between the eyes. At this close of proximity, the sound of the hit is quite loud.

  Startled, the wolf shakes his head with a whine, trying to gain back his vision. Ben takes the opportunity and slams the wolf onto the ground. He straddles him and grips his hands around his fur-covered throat. The wolf attempts to snap at his exposed arms, his back claws raking against Ben’s back.

  I wince, my heart thudding in slight fear for my mate. Blood oozes from his fresh cuts. Through our mating, I can feel Ben’s pain, but he continues strangling the wolf, undistracted. He’s in his dark place, completing his tasks in a detached frame of mind.

  His partially shifted hand buries into the fur and flesh. I notice blood seeping out when I advance in their direction before Ben rips the wolf’s esophagus from the wolf’s body.

  The wolf struggles before it dies, unable to take in the oxygen it needs. The sound he makes causes my stomach to roll.

  Ben stands when the wolf’s movements still. He turns to face me. With heavy huffs, his shoulders rise and fall. He takes a moment to touch the gash on my cheek, concern etching his face. His eyes travel down my body, checking for more injuries.

  I grab his hand from my cheek. “I’m fine,” I reassure him.

  He narrows his eyes before nodding his head, satisfied with feeling my truth.

  We glance around together, seeing what’s left of the Rogue wolves. These wolves weren’t properly trained, aiming pointlessly and tiring quickly.

  The Riva Pack has formidable wolves. They dispose of the bodies with swift and fluid action, raking through the scene with practiced skill. They’ve been trained well and I’m proud to fight by their side.

  I frown while taking one more sweep of the wolves fighting before me. “Where’s Flint?” I yell over the noise.

  A yelp sounds beside us and we whip our heads in that direction. Rex’s red wolf rips another wolf’s leg right out from under him. Blood squirts from the fresh wound.

  Having seen enough blood and death tonight, some at my own hands, I turn my head from the scene. I don’t want to watch another death.

  A spray of blood hits the tree behind me as Rex’s wolf rips out his throat. The wolf goes silent.

  “Flint kept going,” Ben yells back.

  The battle nears its end. Romaine, partially shifted, joins us, Victoria’s russet orange wolf pads behind him.

  Jacob shifts back as the last wolf is dealt with. He’s naked, and I avert my gaze before my jealous mate thinks my eyes are wandering. “That’s the last of it.” He turns to a few of his wolves. “Do another sweep,” he orders. The wolves take off, dirt mixed with blood spraying from the ground as their claws dig in for traction.

  “Let’s go find Flint,” I say, concern etching my voice. I don’t like that my friend is out of my sight. Not when he just became himself again. I need to be there, to support him, no matter his state of mind.

  Staring at all the dead bodies one last time, I turn my back from them. So much death tonight.

  Ben kisses the top of my messy blond hair and lets me lead the way.

  Flint Rockland

  I breathe heavily, the task difficult with my newly broken ribs. Zane and I are fairly-matched. I hear Jazz giggle each time Zane connects. Exhausted and trying desperately to preserve my energy, I let Zane attack. I shift my head to the left as he swings his fist. Again, I move from the flying punch as he repeats his actions.

  Frustrated, he lets out a growl and tackles me. I’m too fatigued to move my entire body out of the way before his body pummels into mine. The wind rushes from my lungs on impact, my ribs crying in pain as we both hit the ground with a thud.

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  My wolf wants full control. I shove him down. This is my fight.

  Zane, landing on top, growls in my face before connecting his head to my nose. The crack rings in my ears and I see stars. Pain blossoms across the bridge of my nose, my eyes water, and warm blood dribbles down my cheek from above my top lip.

  His hand grips my throat. My claws dig into his arms for purchase. Blood wells from his torn skin, dripping onto my chest. I hear Irene scream in the background. I ignore it, my eyes bulging and shifting to my left, landing on a shadowing figure.

  The shadow takes shape. A male stands with his hands in his pockets, transparent and shimmering. The world seems to slow around me, Zane’s growls becoming a distant sound. I can see the shed behind the figure, clearly making out the details in the metal siding. His head of dark hair is lowered before he lifts it slightly to meet my eyes. Such sorrow in their depths, such regret. I recognize him immediately, and if I could currently breathe, my breath would have hitched in my throat.

  Dyson . . . How is he here? Why is he transparent . . .

  It clicks, like a lightbulb illuminating a dark closet. He’s a shade.

  Breathe.

  His voice echoes and bounces around in the space of my oxygen-deprived brain, as if he’s actually speaking the words himself.

  I love you, man.

  Treat your girl right.

  You’re not the only one who suffers, Flint.

  Time speeds back up, my confusion replaced with a renewed energy, purpose, and rage. I tear my eyes away from Dyson’s shade.

  My fist connects with Zane’s temple, stunning him into releasing his grip from my throat. I push him off and he falls to my side, landing on his hands and knees. I stand quickly as he shakes his head to clear his vision. By the time I’m on my feet and behind him, he lifts himself to his knees.

  Glancing at Dyson’s shade, I watch him incline his head, his lips turn up in a smile before his shade shimmers away.

  I double blink before I roar. The sound rips from my chest, vibrates every bone, and tenses every muscle.

  Pulling my arm back, I throw it forward with all the strength I have. My claw buries into Zane’s back, slices through his skin, muscle, and bone, until it hits the thudding beat of his heart.


  This heart isn’t heavy and covered in thick goo. It’s warm, slippery, . . . beating. He stills his movements, crying out in pain as I wrap my fingers around the organ.

  Sounds are drowned out, my hearing muffled by the adrenaline thrusting through my body. My chest rises and falls with exaggeration, my eyes wide and wild.

  Breathe.

  Dyson’s toothy grin, his extra skip in his step, his obnoxious laugh, flash before my eyes.

  “Enjoy hell,” I growl.

  In one swift motion, I yank the beating heart from his back and toss it aside. I watch as his muscles go slack and he slumps forward.

  Sounds come crashing back in full force. It’s like coming out of a dark tunnel and onto a busy street. Birds screech and frantically flap their wings. Fire roars and licks the tree. A soft breeze rustles the branches. The subtle noises are disorienting, almost too loud for my ears. My chest rises and falls, the pain a crippling reminder, before I turn to face Jazz.

  I hear rustling in the brush behind me. Bre calls my name. The battle is over. Just one last, soulless life to dispose of.

  Swiveling my head back to Irene, I sweep my eyes over her. “You okay?” I ask around my canines, breathy and with much effort.

  Her eyes are wide and glossy with unshed tears. She waits a moment before she nods. She blinks and a few drops of tears fall over her swollen cheek. My wolf growls, not liking that my mate is injured in any way. Physical wounds are easier to heal then internal ones. I know what that’s like. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially my mate.

  I shake my head, the pain and anger threatening to take over. Removing my eyes from my mate’s, I stalk toward Jazz, purpose and confidence in my step. Her frightened face tells me she knows she’s reached her end. I allow a small, satisfied smile.

  “Nice to see you, Jazz. Been playing dress up, have we?” I ask as I continue my advance.

  She begins to back up, the heel of her shoes stumbling in the slight bumps of dirt. Grabbing a stick wrapped in flaming cloth from the ground, she waves it at me threateningly. “Stay back.” The shake in her voice betrays her.

  My smile grows wider. “Not a chance.”

  Bre appears in my peripheral vision. She unties Irene from the tree. The flaming tree next to it is starting to drop its branches, threatening my mate in her captivity.

  “I’m going to enjoy this. Every last fucking second of it.”

  Rage, fear, love, betrayal, loss—it overwhelms me, fueling my advance, my motives.

  Jazz stills her movements, fear in her eyes. She drops the torch and turns, sprinting toward the forest. Looking back at me as she begins her escape, she pumps her arms faster, trying to get her heeled shoes to work correctly as they continue to sink in the soil with each step.

  I laugh and drop the barrier I’ve been holding up between my wolf and me. All my feelings, all my emotions, all the events this woman has put me and my Pack through, rips through me. I give it all to my wolf. Shifting on the spot, pieces of my clothes fly into the air and scatter across the ground.

  Flint Rockland’s Wolf

  Freedom. Rage. Revenge.

  I tense my muscles, lift my head, and howl at the stars. Hearing my prey disappear into the trees, my head snaps back. My feet dig into the soil, pawing the ground. With a snarl, I push off. Dirt and chunks of grass spray behind me as I chase my prey. My body low to the ground, the wind tickling my fur. Her scent of fear force its way into my nose.

  My prey screams and I lift my lips, exposing my canines. A snarl rips from my chest, my ears flat against my head.

  I leap into the air. My front paws landing on my prey’s back. My jaws clamp around the back of her neck, teeth sinking into the skin. Blood flows over my tongue, tasting of iron. I growl, the red, warm liquid consuming my thoughts. I twist my head, forcing her to the ground. We land with a thud.

  Her screams force my ears to lay flat once more, the sound too loud. She wiggles, shifting my teeth and they hit a vital vein. Blood sprays my face, the ground, the surrounding vegetation.

  She partially shifts, her wolf attempting to fight for their life. I tighten my jaw, my teeth hitting something solid. Bone.

  Her claws dig into the ground, raking the dirt, gathering small piles. She moans. I growl, my eye blinking away the sprays of blood.

  One swift twist of my neck and the bone cracks between my teeth. Her noises stop.

  Limp, quiet. Her heart stills, her jaw slack. The blood now just a steady flow, seeping into my mouth, onto the ground. Instinct takes over and I shake her wilted body. I growl, blink, clench my jaw one more time.

  I open my mouth and she drops to the ground. I stare at the body and bark once. The threat, gone.

  My human smiles inside me, satisfied.

  Freedom. We are free.

  I lick my chops and feel a gentle nudge against the barrier. My human is asking for take control. I blink, unsure. He nudges again. I look once more at the corpse, shake my fur, and obey.

  Bones crack. Reshape. A small whine travels through my nose. I seep, retreat back inside.

  Flint Rockland

  I stand upright with effort, my hand applying pressure to my broken ribs. My firm fingers try to still their movements against my harsh breaths.

  The slight breeze caresses my naked body. Looking down at my wolf’s kill, I curl my top lip.

  I choose to leave her –there—to rot in the forest for eternity.

  ChapterFifteen

  Evo Johnson

  “It’s done,” I tell my mate after receiving word from Ben. “They should be home soon.” I glance back down at the bundle sleeping in my arms. I press my nose to his hair, the scent comforting me in ways I never knew I needed.

  So peaceful, so oblivious to the day’s events. The sun peeks through the window, alerting me to a new day. But not this little one. He couldn’t care less.

  His tiny fists open and close, looking for something to grasp. I place my finger in it before Darla has the chance to. Growling a soft warning at the woman who has tried everything to sneak more moments in with my son, she backs away and plops back into her chair. A heavy huff escapes her pouting lips and she crosses her arms.

  A tiny squeak comes from the bundle when my chest vibrates against him from my growl. I make a shushing sound and smile. “Coleman,” I coo, calling him by his first name.

  “It fits, doesn’t it,” Kenna says from the bed she sits in. She watches us, adoration thick in her emotions. “I figured . . . that it’d fit . . .” she trails off, a thick tear rolling down her flushed cheeks.

  Coleman was Dyson’s last name. I couldn’t think of better way to honor our fallen Pack mate.

  Cole stirs in my arms. His face scrunches and his mouth opens. A soft, velvety cry escapes and his tongue vibrates from the sound.

  Kenna holds out her arms. “He’s hungry again.”

  I place a kiss on his tiny, squishy forehead and breathe in his scent one more time before passing him to my mate. Her arms fold around him and I kiss away the tear from the edge of her jaw.

  Flint Rockland

  As I hit the clearing, Irene’s warm arms wrap around my bare chest. She buries her face in the crook of my neck, tears wetting the skin.

  I brush her hair with my fingertips, breathe in her scent, and tilt her head back. Rubbing my fingers over her cheeks before caressing her bottom lip with my thumb, I search her wet eyes before bending my head and capturing her mouth.

  A tear escapes my own eyes. It trails down my under-eye, over my cheekbone, and drips from my jaw. Relief frees my emotions. She’s safe. My Pack is safe. I quicken the kiss, desperate to show what I can’t say, what I don’t know how to say. I pour everything I’m feeling into the action.

  A cough sounds behind Irene and I break the kiss, glancing at my Pack and the Riva Pack behind her.

  Some have averted their gaze, some have sorrow in their eyes, and a few try out a smile.

  “How many?” I ask, recognizing the grief in their eyes.
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br />   “Dead?” Ben asks. I nod my head. “Jessup and Evalyn are gone.”

  I briefly close my eyes. I didn’t know them well, but they were still part of our Pack.

  Jacob clears his throat, his voice thick with contained emotion. “We lost two.”

  I breathe deep. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell him, squeezing my arms a little tighter around my mate.

  “Thank you,” he replies, inclining his head.

  “Who?” Irene asks Jacob, her voice muffled.

  Jacob’s jaw ticks. “Joseph and Rachel.”

  I kiss the top of Irene’s head when she squeezes me a little tighter.

  Bre turns her body back to the shed. “What do we do with everything?”

  My eyes narrow at the shed. “Burn it.”

  Ben nods and begins barking orders to bring all the bodies and place them inside the shed.

  “Leave Jazz where she is,” I rumble. Ben glances at me, blinks in acknowledgment, and inclines his head.

  Once alone, I ask Irene, “Your brother?”

  A sob racks her body. “The tree.”

  A shaky breath makes my chest rise and fall. “I see.”

  If I could, I’d bring Jazz back to life and kill her all over again. She hurt my mate and those she cares about.

  A part of me is grateful Irene didn’t receive the same fate. I know it’s selfish to wish such a thing, but at this moment, I deserve to get what I want. I’m a selfish person, and I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about it. It’s who I am. I need to come to terms with it and accept it for what it is. Changing who I am is impossible. That sliver of personality that makes me, me, will always be there. I could pretend for a while, put on a show, and tell myself I’m a changed person, but that sliver will find a way to creep back in. There’s no point in fighting it. I no longer hold shame for who I am. Not when every breathing moment is precious.