No Ifs, Ands, or Bears About It

by Celia Kyle

  In one fluid movement, Keen rolled to his knees and pointed a gun at the hallway, seemingly not hindered by his wounds. Two bears barreled into the room, blood matting their fur and rage filling their eyes.

  “Thank fuck.” His shoulders slumped. “Ash, to the left of the dishwasher, panel’s on the right.”

  “How many guns are in this kitchen? And when did you install all of this?” Her eyes popped wide when yet another cache of weapons was revealed.

  “A lot and when everyone was sleeping.”

  The crunch and crack of bone preceded the two bears shifting from two feet to four and she recalled seeing them around the house. They each sported several bullet holes, but the pain didn’t seem to affect them. The moment they were back in human form, they were on the move, heading toward Ash.

  The basement door swung wide and the males surrounding her tensed. Every gun in the room centered on the portal and the man in their sights.

  “Wait! Dad, stay put!”

  “What the hell?” Another barrage of bullets halted his words.

  “Griss has come to visit his cousin.” Keen slid a weapon over the glass strewn floor to her dad. “Use it.” Keen turned his attention to her then. “Itana, you’re staying here with Ash and your father. They’ll cover the kitchen entrances. You two.” He pointed at the other two guards, and Mia realized she didn’t even know their names. They were heading into battle and she’d never… “One at the east end, other at the west. I’ll take care of the front. Ty is on his way with a shit-ton of backup. We just have to stay alive and keep the Itana safe until then.”

  “But—”

  “Go. I’ll lay cover.” Keen ignored her and rose to his knees, popping off a few bullets through the now missing window.

  The rapid rain of fire ceased as he countered their attack. The two guards took their chance. Keeping low, they split off, heading in opposite directions as Keen ordered.

  One raced to the left, his obvious injuries not slowing him. Blood coated his right leg, flowing from a wound in his thigh. The other headed right, mimicking his fellow bear’s movements. Except an attacker chose that moment, that second, to sneak through the kitchen door. He slunk inside, gun poised and centered on one of her protectors.

  Mia screamed, yelling a warning, but the stranger fired off two rounds, killing the male ready to die for her in less than a blink. It didn’t matter that the interloper wasn’t able to take another breath—her father and Keen took care of that—but one of her saviors was dead.

  Gone.

  In an instant.

  “He killed him,” the words were barely a whisper. “He killed him, Keen. He’s gone.”

  “Mia.” Keen gripped her shoulders. “Mia.” She blinked rapidly, tearing herself out of her daze, and focused on him. “You’re not going to freak out on me, okay?”

  She nodded.

  He shook her. “I need the words. You’re not gonna freak out.”

  “Right. No freaking out.” Her heart raced, pounding and pushing against the walls of her chest in an effort to burst free.

  “That’s good. Ash, pick up the east.” The crunch of booted feet against glass announced Ash’s retreat, and Keen turned to her father. “Can you make it over here?”

  Her dad didn’t respond, but simply raced across the open expanse of the kitchen and dove behind the island. “I’ve got her. Go.”

  With that, Keen was gone, dashing toward the front of the house and leaving them alone.

  “I’m scared.” And she wasn’t afraid to admit it.

  “Point and shoot, remember that, little cub.”

  “Right. Right.” She nodded, not truly believing in her ability to protect herself.

  More pops, bangs, and cracks filled the air, the sounds bouncing off the walls. Suddenly roars joined in, the strike of flesh on flesh reaching them along with the snap of bone. Crap, crap, crap…

  So focused on the sounds coming from the front of the house, neither of them noticed the new intruder. A rough, fur covered arm wrapped around her throat, yanking her away from her father and into the center of the kitchen. Mia screamed and clawed at her assailant, scratching and scraping the forearm that held her captive.

  The rotting scent of sweat and blood clung to the male that clutched her, sinking into her pores and soaking her in the stench. His rancid breath fanned her face and invaded her nose.

  “Got you.”

  Oh, God, no. Not Griss. She fought harder, wrenching against his ever tightening grasp. The press of his arm on her neck crushed her windpipe. Breathing became harder with each passing second. Soon she’d lose consciousness and drift in the horror of darkness.

  Her father’s roar came on the heels of Griss’s words and then her focus was captured by the sight of Griss’s arm rising, his hand clutching a gun pointed at her dad.

  As if in slow motion she glimpsed the flex of muscles in the man’s bicep, the shift of skin as the tightening rippled down his arm, the constriction of his hand on the handgun. The bullet left the muzzle in a flaring flash of light, singing across the room in a blurry zing.

  When it slammed into her dad’s chest, his skin reacted as if a pebble had struck the surface of a smooth pond. The ripples began at the very center and traveled outward, growing larger and larger. On its heels was an ever expanding blooming spot of blood, traveling through the cloth and soaking the fabric.

  Her father’s gaze met hers—fear, panic and pain tingeing his features—and then he slowly slumped sideways, body falling to the ground while his eyes fluttered closed.

  No. No no no. Her frenzied attack on her captor increased, adrenaline and terror giving her strength. The pressure eased so she could breathe, which only served to give her more power. She struggled, twisting her body while kicking at Griss’s legs. Mia dug her nails into his arm as hard as she could, and was rewarded with a snarl.

  They approached the basement door, and he flung her down the steps. Her body slammed into stair after stair; shoulders, back, arms, and legs gouged by wood corners. She wrapped her arms around her head, hoping against hope she wouldn’t break her neck or crush her skull. Staying conscious would be a very, very good thing.

  Mia grunted when she finally landed on the bare concrete floor, body skidding until she collided with the cold bars of the cell.

  Warm hands gripped her biceps and then slid over her body. She opened her eyes and met the guard’s worried gaze.

  “Itana?”

  She wheezed, “Behind—”

  Griss filled the man’s body with bullets. The echoing sounds thundered off the brick walls, and she covered her ears to muffle the report.

  The guard—she didn’t even know his name—stumbled and then crumpled beside her. Oh God, blood flowed from his wounds and sunk into his clothing, bathing the fabric in red. Despite the pain ravaging her body, she reached for him, stretched her arm until she gripped one of his hands. Mia clutched him, tightening her hold and giving him whatever strength she possessed.

  “Itana…” Blood gathered in his mouth and spilled past his lips, tiny air bubbles peppering the fluid.

  “Shh… It’s okay.” She squeezed his hand and tears stung her eyes. He was dying for her. Right here, right now, his life was draining away. All because of her. “It’s okay.”

  “Ita…” The light in his eyes dulled and then disappeared, his soul fleeing him as his last breath slipped from his lungs.

  Eruptions, roars, and death from the continuing fight hovered above them, growing louder with each passing second, but her focus remained on the male beside her.

  A rough hand collided with her cheek, sending her head rocking and face cracking against the concrete.

  “You interfering, bitch!” Griss fisted her hair, dragging her to her feet. He stomped to the other side of the room and forced her to her knees. He shoved the muzzle of his gun into the underside of her chin. “Stay right fucking there. Move and you’ll go back to Ty in fucking pieces.”

  Mia shuddered at the
visual and bit her tongue. She knew she was dead no matter what and she wasn’t about to listen to him. The moment his back was turned…

  “Griss, what the hell are you doing?” the captured Itan roared.

  “Going to the source, old man.” The words were garbled by Griss’s half shift, but his intent was clear. He centered his focus on Robert. “Why the hell do I need to eventually fucking inherit the title, huh? Fuck that. I handled the brat like you wanted. I’ll take care of you, and Cutler is mine.”

  “No, that wasn’t the plan, you ungrateful—”

  The Itan didn’t have a chance to finish. Shot after shot flew at the male and bullets tore holes into his frail, aged body. Surprise coated his features, and then nothing as blood fled his face and death overtook him.

  Griss strode toward the dead guard at the base of the stairs and dug through his pockets, searching and then finally finding what he sought. The male palmed a set of keys and went to the cell’s doors, trying one key after another until the familiar click of a disengaging lock sounded.

  While he was distracted, Mia eased toward the staircase, dragging her body in slow, torturous flexes of muscle and skin grinding against concrete. The pain pierced her with every movement. She bit her tongue to keep screams at bay. She had to escape, get away from the madman that destroyed her home.

  Griss swung the cell door wide and stomped to the prone Cutler Itan. He pressed his fingers against the man’s neck. Mia fought to get to the steps. She sensed his rage, and knew she’d die at his hands if she didn’t get away.

  She crawled faster, scratching the smooth ground. She hurt everywhere, the entire expanse of her body throbbing with agonizing pain.

  Then an earth-shaking roar battered the house, racing through the very foundation of the home and pulsing through her. It ached and rattled, but it was so very, very welcome.

  Her Itan had come home.

  “Fuck, no you don’t. You’re my ticket out of here.” Clawed hands grabbed her, nails slicing into her skin until scraping against bone.

  Mia screamed with the added pain. Her yell was answered by yet another roar from above. Ty.

  “You bitch.” The grasp tightened, stealing her breath.

  He hauled her toward the steps. Her feet tangled with the leaden limbs of the dead guard, but Griss didn’t stop. Her dragging weight forced his claws to dig higher along her biceps until her muscles were exposed from elbow to armpit. Blood flowed, rushing down her arms and leaving a ruby red river in its wake.

  They emerged into the kitchen, glass and blood decorating the floor in a macabre mosaic of glittering color. But one person, one man-beast, captured her attention. Ty stood in the middle of the room, rage filling every inch of his heavily muscled, fur coated body. His blood-soaked clothes hung in tatters, barely clinging to his expanded body. Paws replaced hands and feet, while fangs and muzzle replaced a human mouth and teeth.

  But his wounds drew her most. Large, gaping gashes and scrapes laid open, exposing the muscles of his body. Blood had dyed his clothing a deep red and she gasped when he swayed ever so slightly.

  “Mine!” The roar, like the others, boomed through the home.

  “You can have her as soon as you let me go. I’ll fucking kill her if you don’t.” Griss’s words filled her ear.

  Even in his weakened state, Ty’s bear wouldn’t hear of it. “Mine. Die.”

  Griss laughed, the maniacal shriek bouncing off the bloody walls and glass-strewn floor. “Not until I’m out. I leave, and she lives. Otherwise, I’ll gut her right fucking now.” One clawed hand released her arm and moved to her stomach, the razor-sharp tips slicing easily through her shirt. “Back off.”

  Ty’s gaze left hers for the briefest of moments, flicking to something above her and then focusing on Mia once again. That was her only warning, the only hint she received before the room exploded into action. Rough arms wrapped around her and Griss, breaking the hold the male had on her body. She was wrenched aside while Griss was shoved toward her crazed Itan.

  The body that encased her was warm, familiar, and coated in as much blood as she was. She raised her gaze to look at her savior and met her father’s concerned visage.

  “Dad? You’re okay?”

  He managed a quick nod before the action in the center of the room drew them. The second she was free, Ty attacked, claws and teeth going after Griss with ferocious, deadly intensity. Her father pulled on her, tugged and yanked in an effort to leave, but she refused.

  “No. I have to watch. I have to…”

  Be there when he killed Griss?

  Be there when he died?

  No, Ty would win. Even beaten and damaged, he would destroy the inferior bear and then they could pick up the pieces of their lives, one by one.

  Ty swiped at Griss, and the other bear countered, nails barely missing her Itan’s already gash covered stomach. Ty responded with another, this time feinting with a half-assed attack on the man’s stomach and then aiming for his neck. His nails grazed the insane Griss, sending rivulets of blood down his chest.

  The men broke apart, easing away as they circled one another. Bodies crouched, fingers flexing, weight resting on the balls of their feet. They had eyes for each other and nothing else.

  Movement near the doorway to the living room caught her attention, and she met Van’s weary gaze. A bloodied Keen and Isaac soon crowded behind him. All four of the Abrams brothers were battered and wounded, but it was Ty they worried about.

  She glared at the Abrams brothers. Ty was obviously severely injured and he wasn’t healing as he should. “Why aren’t you helping him?”

  A snarl yanked her gaze back to the battling werebears just in time for her to see Ty land another strike. This time, the claws dug into Griss’s chest, burrowing deep and exposing muscle and a hint of pale bone. Griss’s answering roar of agony had her smiling on the inside. Good. The man should feel pain after the anguish he’d caused so many.

  Her father whispered in her ear. “Be easy, little cub. They can’t interfere. Griss has attacked Ty’s clan and injured his Itana. This has turned into a challenge.”

  Griss swiped at Ty’s arm, leaving a new furrow of torn flesh. Mia gasped and tugged against her father’s hold. If no one else would help him, she would. His body couldn’t take much more abuse. It already looked like he wore more blood than his body contained.

  “Mia,” her father snapped, but she didn’t care.

  “I have to get to Ty…”

  Griss dragged his claws through Ty’s jagged flesh.

  “No.” Her father gripped her hard, reminding her about her own injuries. “If you interfere, you both die. Both of you, do you hear me?” She didn’t care and her father sensed that. He read her body language and posture with ease. “If you distract him and he falls, then you belong to Griss. The clan belongs to Griss. Do you understand? You need to stay strong for him. Support your Itan.”

  No. Just… No.

  “Are you gonna stay put?”

  All fight fled her. Every ounce of rage at Griss transformed to worry and fear. Not for herself, but for Ty, for Gigi, for the Abrams brothers, for the clan. What would happen to them if Ty fell beneath Griss’s claws?

  Mia nodded and stopped struggling. She would watch, she would support her Itan, she would be the Itana the clan deserved. Every twinge and throbbing ache ceased to matter, nothing existed in her world except Ty and his battle with Griss. She had to be strong. She could fall apart later.

  Ty landed a blow, digging deep into Griss’s shoulder and a rush of blood welled from the wound. Good.

  The crazed bear attempted to return the strike, but Ty managed to stumble out of the way, easing just out of reach. Another strike. Another lurch. Ty tripped on a broken hunk of wood and caught himself on the kitchen table. His blood-coated palm slipped over the shined surface and a grunt escaped him. Hints of white bone were visible beneath all of the blood and gore and Mia ached for him. Tears stung her eyes, not from her own agony, but his.


  Griss threw his head back and roared, the muscles of his neck straining with the action. The moment the sound left his lips, he leapt at Ty, flying through the air and straight for her Itan.

  The two of them collided and fell to the glass covered ground in a tumbling mass of fur, fang, and claw. They rolled, one over the other, shifting and struggling until they finally collided with the wall.

  Griss straddled Ty, his knees on either side of Ty’s hips, and he attacked. He rained blows down on her Itan, claws and fists colliding with Ty’s destroyed body. Gashes formed on gashes, one cut melding with another and Mia couldn’t withhold her cry.

  “Ty!” She fought her father, pulled and tugged against his hold. No, he wouldn’t die, couldn’t die. Not when she still had breath in her body.

  Mia’s father tightened his grip, the arm around her waist holding her fast. She struggled against him and ignored the pain of deep cuts and broken bones, ignored the agony that came with fighting her father’s grasp.

  Griss brought his fists down again and again… She sensed Ty’s fatigue, saw the way each blow came closer to connecting fatally with his battered body.

  “Ty!” Tears stung her eyes and trailed down her cheeks, the salty fluid adding to the wetness of her blood. Her Itan’s gaze swung to hers, his focus entirely on her and she read his emotions in one sweep. Sorrow, heartbreak, love. “Ty,” she whispered. “No.” She fought her dad anew, scratching and clawing her father’s arm in an effort to free herself. “No!”

  The world moved in slow motion and she saw it then, saw the strike that would end her reason for breathing.

  Griss lowered his arm, claws extended, nails glistening with Ty’s blood. Light in the kitchen reflected off the sticky fluid. Tiny droplets dripped from the tips as they descended, those deadly talons aimed for her Itan’s vulnerable neck. The strike sped closer and closer to Ty and she forced her eyes to remain centered on him, forced herself to hold his gaze to the very end. She prayed that he saw her love for him, prayed he realized that every bit of her soul belonged to him and him alone.