“Thank you.” Omar grabbed her arms and hauled her up and over the back of the chair.
Panic seized her and she screamed.
CHAPTER FORTY
Ronan stood in the great room of Adare’s lake retreat in the middle of nowhere. He owned the entire valley and lake between two large mountain ranges in western Montana. The log home had several bedrooms, bathrooms, and modern conveniences. But the office was just an office and the computer a regular computer. No command center or satellite feeds.
Ivar typed away on the computer, grumbling about mountain headquarters and the time necessary to create and protect them. He leaned over the keyboard, attempting to locate the GPS on his phone. Hopefully Faith had kept possession of the device somehow.
Benny sat on a wide sofa in front of the fire, his head bent as he tried to heal the burn wounds down his back. “Has anybody checked on the patients?”
Logan emerged from Garrett’s room, fire burning in his green eyes. “Garrett is out cold and unreachable—no healing activity. It’s like he’s not really here. Grace is still in a coma and her blood pressure has dropped more. She doesn’t have much time left.” The young immortal wiped his hands down jeans so faded they were nearly white. “Adare is still unconscious, but I can feel healing in the air, so he’s mending.”
They were a fucking mess.
Ronan wiped a hand over his pounding forehead. Where was Faith? The idea of her in Omar’s hands clenched his hands into fists. If she was harmed, Ronan would feel it in his soul. He’d loved her before he’d even met her, and once he had finally touched her, she was even better than he’d dreamed. Why hadn’t he expressed those feelings to her?
If she died, she’d never know.
“I’ve got her.” Ivar emerged from the office, his voice still raspy and a long red line across his throat. He hadn’t healed completely. “I traced the phone to a farming community near Boise. It’ll take less than an hour to get there.”
Ronan nodded. “Benny, stay here and heal. Ivar, you and Logan protect the home and watch the vitals of the patients. I’ll bring Faith back.”
Benny lifted his head, one of his eyes still too swollen to see. “You can’t go by yourself. I’ll go with you.”
Ivar strode for the door. “I’m going. My neck is better than your face, and I have the tracking information. Plus, I fly faster and lower than you do.” He didn’t even bother to look back at Ronan. “And Ro, you don’t know how to fly, brother.”
He had been planning on winging it.
“Wait.” Benny shifted and drew a sheathed knife from his back pocket to toss to Ronan. “Most of our weapons were destroyed.”
“Thanks.” Ronan tucked the knife at his calf and checked his gun. Only three bullets left. “They’ll know we’re coming,” he warned Ivar as he followed him outside in the cool early evening and ran for the helicopter.
“Maybe. They might not have confirmation on their downed copter,” Ivar said, jumping inside.
Ronan walked around the front and opened the door, sliding in and wincing as his ankle protested. He had an hour to heal himself.
Ivar powered up the craft, and soon they were rising into the air and banking left. “Ronan, you need to prepare yourself. The Kurjans have no reason to keep her alive.” Ivar’s voice dropped and regret filled it. “Just in case.”
Faith was alive. She had to be. “I love her, Ivar.” Saying the words out loud helped, somehow. “She’s brilliant, became a doctor to help people. Then when she discovered her gift, she tried to help more people and focus on coma victims.”
“I like her too,” Ivar said, adjusting buttons on the dash.
“She’s a sweetheart too. Saves cats and dogs. And neighbors.” Ronan rubbed his chest. Now he had to save her.
Ivar lowered the craft beneath the clouds and skimmed treetops. They sped along as darkness began to take over. The clouds kept the moon hidden, so the forest looked fathomless below. “Sounds like her heart gets in the way of her head.”
“Agreed,” Ronan said, trying to keep his temper at bay. “She left safety for a slim chance of saving her sister.”
“You would’ve done the same for one of us.”
Ronan glanced out the window. “Yes, but I’m not a vulnerable human, now am I?”
“No.”
They made the rest of the trip in silence, each trying to heal their wounds before getting new ones. Finally, Ivar spoke again. “I brought up a Google map of the area, and the farm has several outbuildings. There are only two of us, Ronan. The odds aren’t good.”
Ronan turned and looked at the male who had become his brother. “Agreed. You should head back.”
“Nope.” Ivar lowered the craft into an incredibly small area between several trees. “I flew low enough they probably didn’t detect us. We’re about a half-mile out from the farm and will have to run.” He powered down the helicopter and turned to face Ronan. “We’re together, Ro. Always.”
Brothers. Yeah. Gratitude warmed Ronan’s chest, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. No longer. He was no longer condemned to isolation.
He had a life to live again. Opening his door, he stepped out onto leafy ground cover. The forest was silent around him, the wildlife no doubt quiet after the helicopter had dropped. He tuned in his senses, finding no threats near.
Ivar pointed a direction and Ronan nodded, leading the way through trees and over bushes. There were no human trails, but the deer and elk had left a couple of routes for him.
Soon he reached the edge of the forest and surveyed the farm. The house was dark, yet lights illuminated two of the barns.
Ivar came up on his side and Ronan lifted a hand to stop him. Troops of Cyst soldiers were finishing loading up a couple of helicopters, climbing inside. The two aircraft quickly lifted into the air.
God, he hoped Faith hadn’t been in one of those.
Two other helicopters remained, quiet and waiting their turn to take off, over to the south. A Kurjan soldier patrolled next to them. Damn it. Night had fallen, which meant the monsters could walk freely.
Ivar jerked his head. “Let’s take him out first,” he whispered.
Ronan nodded. “You go from the east, and I’ll approach from the west. Be careful, brother.” Then he settled himself into battle mode.
The helicopters could probably hold six passengers each. That meant at least twelve on the ground.
The odds were less than good. To use the vernacular of the day…they sucked.
* * * *
Faith huddled in the corner of the barn, her shoulder aching from constantly twisting. Omar had left her there an hour ago, telling her that anticipation of an event was almost as good as the actual moment. He’d shackled her wrists to rings in the wall with twist ties, making sure she faced the heavy wood table in the center.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
Iron shackles had been placed along the entire length, and blood had darkened the wood to a reddish-black. Hay covered the floor, dyed red by more blood. The place smelled like copper, pain, and death.
She’d managed to grasp the knife and had cut through the binding of her right hand by twisting her shoulder in an unnatural and painful way.
The sound of helicopters starting and then flying away came through the slightly open doors. Thunder rolled in the distance. If Omar had gotten most of his troops off, he’d be back soon. Her breath heated and she partially turned to try to saw through the other tie. It was made of a material much sturdier than most plastics, and her wrist was already tired.
She had to get out of there before he returned.
Biting her lip, she sawed as hard as she could. The material finally started to break. She cut harder and the individual strings in the odd plastic peeled away. One final slice, and she was free.
She jumped to her feet and wobbled when her
legs cramped. Ouch. She kicked them out, stretching her neck. Her tennis shoes slid in the wet hay, but she maneuvered around the table of death to the door. The old wood scratched her hand as she slowly slid it open.
The night air chilled her bare skin, but she ignored it, searching for the best route to the forest. There she’d find cover.
“Well. Nicely done.” Omar yanked open the door and pushed her several feet back. “Knife, huh? We didn’t even search you for that.” He closed the door and leaned back against it. “I’m impressed.”
She couldn’t breathe. Okay. Settle and focus. She retreated another step and gripped the knife handle tightly in her hand. She’d never stabbed anybody, and she wasn’t exactly trained in hand-to-hand. So there would be just one chance at this.
She was a doctor and understood anatomy exceedingly well. The Cyst’s body didn’t seem that different from a human’s, and she formulated her best chance to harm him. Cutting into flesh wasn’t difficult. She could kill this asshole.
He shoved his shirtsleeves up his pale forearms, his eyes gleaming a bright purple now. “Did you know we actually get stronger during the night?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know anything about you except that you’re a sadistic, psychotic killer.”
His fangs dropped, oddly yellow. Not white like Ronan’s. “Sadism is in the eye of the beholder, Dr. Cooper.” He tilted his head to the side, studying her. “As an Enhanced, can you feel your death coming? Is vision one of your gifts?”
“Can you feel yours?” she snapped, angling to the side. The walls in this horrific room were new, so if there was a back door, it was hidden somewhere. She’d have to go through him to get outside.
“You’re cute. I like you.” He watched her like a bird of prey eyeing a rodent. “I strive to be fair in my dealings. So here is your deal. Drop the knife and get up on the table like a good girl, and I’ll let you die the third time you ask.”
Her mouth dried up like she’d swallowed sand. Lightning cracked outside, and she jumped.
He smiled. “Or you can fight me, and I’ll make this last for days. While I should return to headquarters, sometimes a soldier just needs some ‘me time.’ I’m due a vacation.” The sarcasm showed just how twisted he was.
She settled her stance. There was no way she was getting on that table, so she darted around it, putting the gruesome device between them.
The skies opened up and rain slashed down, spilling inside.
He shoved off from the door. “Interesting.” He feinted left and then right, pausing to laugh when she tensed and tried to go the other way.
Physics and elementary geometry dictated he could only go one way, so she settled her feet, waiting to see whether it would be left or right.
He came right over the table at her. Instead of ducking or trying to get out of the way, she brought up the knife, aiming true.
The blade pierced his right eye and he shrieked.
She ducked as he went over her head and then put her shoulder to the table, rolling over to the other side. Her feet had barely touched the bloody hay before she’d bounded out the door and into the rain.
The wind whipped into her, but she turned and ran as hard as she could for the nearest stand of trees.
Omar’s bellow filled the night. He crashed through the doors behind her, but she didn’t pause in her flight.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Her feet slapped the dirt road and kicked up dust and now mud. She had to get away from him. She could feel him behind her, coming at her fast. The trees were too far. She wasn’t going to make it.
Out of nowhere, a massive force careened out of the darkness. Ronan! He hit Omar and the sound of the two immortals clashing was louder than the thunder still roaring across the sky.
She gulped and turned around, sliding in the mud.
The two males grappled across the earth, throwing punches so rapidly their figures were just a blur. But the glint of a knife showed. Her knife! Omar lifted his arm and brought the blade down into Ronan’s shoulder, just above his shield.
Ronan bellowed and punched out.
Faith ran forward and jumped on Omar’s back, trying to jerk him away from Ronan.
Omar twisted and threw her hard. She landed in the mud and rolled end over end, mud flying from her hair. She planted her hands in the mud and pushed herself to stand.
Ronan leaped to his feet just as Omar did the same.
Omar smiled. “This is almost as much fun as cutting her to pieces.” Faster than a thought, he drew a gun from his jacket and pointed at her, firing.
“No!” Ronan leaped across the space and took the bullets to his chest, falling to the side and throwing mud in every direction.
She gasped and dropped, grabbing him. “Ronan.” Oh God. No.
He immediately stood, pushing her behind him. “Bullets can’t hurt my chest, Doc.”
Oh yeah. The shield.
Omar charged in a fierce tackle.
Ronan’s shoulder hit her and she flew through the air, straight for a tree. Ivar jumped in front of her, blood on his face, and rolled in her midair to land on top of him on the ground. It was like hitting a brick wall.
He stood and helped her up.
Ronan rolled to his feet as Omar did the same, the two circling like ravenous dogs. “Get her out of the way. If it looks like I’m struggling, take her to the helicopter. Now,” Ronan ordered.
“No—” Faith protested just as Ivar swept her up and moved toward the forest, turning at the last second to watch the fight.
Twin war cries echoed through the night.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ronan calmed his inner beast as Ivar got Faith away from the danger. She was okay. When he’d seen her running from Omar in her bra and jeans, he’d almost lost his mind. But she wasn’t bleeding and nothing appeared broken.
Omar, on the other hand, was missing an eye. “Looks like my woman kicked your ass,” Ronan said, his boots sure in the mud as the rain pummeled them.
Omar snarled, revealing sharp canines. His empty eye socket was bleeding. It took weeks to replace an entire eyeball, and it hurt like hell. “She’ll regret it. After I kill you, I’ll do nothing else until I hunt that bitch down.”
“That’s never going to happen.” Ronan tuned his senses into the surrounding area. He and Ivar had taken out six soldiers, one at a time. He couldn’t sense any other Kurjan or Cyst.
Omar removed a knife from his belt and lifted it, crouching and circling. “We’ll see.”
Ronan yanked the knife out of his neck. An inch lower, and the strike wouldn’t have even scratched him. Without question, Omar had been training to fight the Seven. He’d known right where to place the blade. “Where are the Enhanced women you’ve taken?”
Omar feinted left. “You’ll never find them.”
It was his job to find them. “I will, and I think you know that.” Ronan flipped the knife to his left hand since his right shoulder was weakening.
Omar watched the movement with his good eye. “You know you can’t win. We’ve trained for over a thousand years. Xeno has created a Cyst army that will decimate any enemy.” He moved slightly to the right, his shoulders tightening.
Xeno was still alive? “I figured the Realm had taken him out.” The leader of the Cyst was truly crazy and always had been.
“The Realm doesn’t know we exist.” Omar charged, knife going low and punch going high.
Ronan blocked the knife with his own blade, twisting sideways. The punch hit him right in the temple, and his head rocked back. His vision blurred, so he kicked straight up and nailed Omar in the neck. The soldier stumbled several feet back.
Ronan took precious moments to regain his footing, centering himself. He was back.
The pain from the bonding, the agony of the shield breaking, the fear for his mate’s safety,
all melted away. He pulled the elements in, using the strength of the oncoming storm to increase his own. Power, pure and real, finally flowed through his veins.
The branding mark on his right hand pulsed in perfect time with the scars of the Seven on his left. All in harmony. His woman was safe and his enemy stood right before him.
Omar came at him with a wild roar, his knife up and his fangs down.
Ronan grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him, his fangs slashing across the Cyst’s throat. Blood spurted over Ronan’s neck, burning like fiery ashes. He dropped to the ground and used the strength of the entire universe—all the universes—to punch through Omar’s neck to the muddy ground below.
Bones, cartilage, and finally the earth impacted his hand, shooting sparks of pain up his entire arm.
Omar’s remaining eye bugged out and he clutched at his throat.
Ronan back flipped to his feet and brought his boot down with all force, severing the remaining tendons in Omar’s neck.
The soldier gasped in death as his head slowly rolled away in the mud.
Ronan panted.
He stood straighter in the pouring rain, blood washing down his chest, and his fangs bared. He turned to see Faith in Ivar’s arms. All color had left her delicate face, and her eyes were a shocked deep brown.
It was good she’d seen the killer inside him. As her mate, he wouldn’t hide any part of himself from her. Ever.
He tugged his shirt over his head while moving toward her and then quickly pulled the wet material over her head. Then he took her from Ivar and began striding through the forest. “Did they hurt you?” He needed confirmation more than his next breath.
“No,” she said, feeling way too fragile in his arms. “I fought until you got here. I’m fine.”
The crazy noise in his head abated. She was all right. Thank God. “Good.”
She wiped rain off his chin. “Did everyone make it out of the mountain?” She seemed to hold her breath.
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