Dark Wolf Running (Bloodrunners)

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “Not today you won’t, you little shit.”

  Every head turned sharply toward the front steps of the house, where Elise stood, her claw-tipped hands dripping with crimson blood. Holy shit! Had she killed the guards who’d been told to stay outside her room? She must have, and Wyatt could only stare in complete and total wonder, his damn eyes wet with tears.

  She’d released her claws and fangs, her dark blue gaze burning with rage, glowing in the pale beauty of her face, the fading sunset setting the auburn strands of her hair on fire. She looked so fucking hot he felt his jaw drop and, God, that was a sure sign of how deeply she affected him. Here they were, trapped in this life-and-death situation, surrounded by the enemy, and she was overwhelming him with lust and emotion.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one overcome by the sight of her.

  “Hmm. I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any sexier than you were that night, broken and bleeding in the mud. But this look suits you,” Sebastian drawled, his body showing the clear signs of his interest with his bulging jeans. “My old man was always telling me that I shouldn’t fuck my enemies. That it makes things too messy. But you’re an exception, aren’t you? A little snatch like you—you were just made to be fucked.”

  “You’re a monster!” she snarled, the graveled words nearly drowned out by Wyatt’s earsplitting roar of fury. The guttural sound was only choked off when one of the Whiteclaw soldiers came up behind him, wrapping his arm around Wyatt’s throat as he struggled.

  Stepping closer to the steps where she stood, Sebastian’s shoulders shook as he cackled. “Are you really in a position to cast stones, Miss Drake? After the things your own father did? His blood flows through your veins. Doesn’t that make you a monster, too?”

  She watched him through narrow, burning eyes, the blue so bright it was almost blinding. “Yeah, I have his blood,” she rasped. “And I’ll use it to rip you to bloody pieces.”

  He laughed even harder. “You couldn’t change then, and you can’t completely change now. And I know why.” He grinned as he moved forward another step, closing the distance between them. “You’re weak and pathetic. A sniveling little bitch who was so easy to break, it was a joke. You should have heard the things Daddy Drake used to say about you. How ashamed he was. No one has ever loved you. No one even cares if you live or die. They just put up with you out of pity.”

  Wyatt struggled harder against the bastards holding him, willing her with his eyes not to believe it. Her breathing quickened, and he could see the pounding of her pulse at the base of her throat.

  “We never told him we were the ones who used you that night,” Sebastian murmured, his next step bringing him to within a foot of where she stood. “But knowing how your father felt about you, I can’t help but think he would have approved. If we had explained that you were a means to an end, he would have understood. He didn’t think you were any better than a lab rat. If not for your brothers, he probably would have handed you right over, grateful to us for taking you off his hands.”

  Rage erupted from her in the form of her hand cracking across Claymore’s muzzled face. But in his hybrid Lycan form, his head barely moved from the blow.

  As the sun dipped a little deeper on the horizon, Wyatt’s wolf seethed within his body, desperate to escape and fight for the woman they loved. But there wasn’t going to be enough time. She needed to deal with the bastard now, before it was too late.

  “Goddamn it, Elise! Fight him!” Wyatt managed to shout, just as the Lycan behind him shifted his hold.

  Her chest shuddered as she breathed in violent gusts, tears streaming over her pale cheeks. Then Sebastian motioned for the soldiers to move in on her, and she froze. “You don’t get to touch me,” she told them, the low words thick with fury. “And you sure as hell don’t get to touch him,” she said with more force, cutting her brilliant gaze in Wyatt’s direction. Their gazes locked, a thousand messages and emotions flying across the crackling connection.

  And then she went into motion.

  From one instant to the next, her eyes bled from blue to a scorching golden-amber, and she became the most perfect killing machine he’d ever seen. He knew, in that moment, that her Dark Wolf had finally risen inside her, determined to protect her from these monsters.

  His eyes burned as he watched her take out the Whiteclaw soldiers closest to her, while the others panicked and tried to flee into the forest, seeking an escape from the brutal carnage. She moved so quickly, Wyatt could only see her in a blur of colors. Peaches-and-cream skin, flaming red hair, blood-soaked claws. His mouth gaped with shock when she took out the two behemoths who had been holding his arms, as well as the one who’d held his throat from behind.

  He was distantly aware of his friends arriving in the midst of the chaos. Every Runner, with the exception of Carla, was spreading out behind him, along with others. Moving to his feet, he cast a quick glance over the bloodied group, who had obviously had to fight their way into the town, surprised to see Elliot and Max were among them, as well as Mason’s father, Robert. There were even a few pack members who had recently made it clear that they were tired of the divide between the Alley and the town.

  Wyatt had called Cian on his way to Hawkley, telling him he was going after Elise. The Runner had promised they wouldn’t be far behind him, but he hadn’t expected them to be able to mobilize so quickly when they’d been scattered in so many different directions.

  They were all watching the scene with wide, shocked eyes, same as he was, not knowing what to do...or how to help. Not that she needed any. His woman was kicking ass unlike anything he had ever seen, and Wyatt was so damn proud of her he was nearly choking on it. And then she was suddenly standing before him, no more than a few feet away. She was in her completely human form again—but she was still incredibly strong. Strong enough to trap Sebastian Claymore’s shuddering body in her arms, his back to her front, and her claws held tight against his throat.

  Sensing that she needed some time to figure out what she wanted to do with the Lycan, Wyatt gave her a moment as he turned his attention to the others. Brody tossed him a gun, which he tucked into the front of his jeans before looking at Mason. “Did you find Farrow?”

  Mason shook his head, his expression grim. “He’s gone missing.”

  With a muttered curse on his lips, Wyatt cut his gaze toward Cian, who was holding a struggling Harris Claymore against the front of his body, the Lycan’s arms twisted behind his back, much like Elise was holding Sebastian.

  “Found this one trying to run away,” the Irishman murmured, his gray eyes glowing with a cold, deadly fire. “I have a vested interest in ridding the world of slime. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  Cian’s fangs flashed as he released his hold on Harris, blocking the blow the Lycan immediately aimed at his face. With a sibilant hiss of sound, Cian freed the claws on his right hand and drew his arm back. Then he swung, slashing his claws through the air, nearly severing the Lycan’s head from his shoulders. As Harris’s bulky body fell to the ground, Cian lifted his arm and licked the blood from the inside of his wrist, a feral gleam in his glowing eyes. Wyatt cast a quick look over their group, gauging the fresh surge of shock on their faces. They knew Hennessey was an incredible fighter, but they had never seen anything like that. Even Brody, Cian’s partner, looked as if he were struggling to understand how the Irishman had taken his opponent down so easily.

  “El?” Wyatt rasped, finally bringing his gaze back to hers. He let her know with his eyes that whatever happened next, it was her call.

  She dropped Sebastian’s body at his feet, then stepped back. At his questioning look, she shook her head, her slender throat working as she swallowed. “Can’t. Don’t want to touch him.”

  “You sure?” he asked, kneeling down. Satisfaction burned through his veins as he sunk his claws into Sebastian’s groin, the Lycan’s startled hiss of pain nearly making him smile.

  She nodded, then droppe
d to her knees, swaying, her clothes hanging off her pale form in tatters. Cian for once didn’t make a snide comment. He simply shrugged out of his gray flannel shirt and gently placed it around her shoulders. Then Eric came forward and reached for his sister, crushing her against his chest. Seeing that she was safe and surrounded by his friends, Wyatt turned his attention back to the whimpering man he literally had by the balls. Sebastian’s hybrid form had bled back into the fragile shape of the man, his pale skin dotted with sweat. But the look in his eyes was still defiant. Gloating and evil.

  “Did you kill Farrow, after he did your dirty work?” Wyatt asked, his voice low and deadly. “Or are you letting him hide behind your skirts? Was he one of the ones who attacked Elise three years ago? I want names, you bastard. All of them.”

  “I don’t know anything about Farrow!”

  He let his claws sink a little deeper. “I’ll ask you once more, Claymore. You answer truthfully, and I’ll give you a quick death. You fucking lie to me, and I give you my word that we’ll be here all night. Hell, if I have Jillian keep you alive, we could go on for days.”

  Sebastian curled his lip and laughed. “You’re not a sadistic torturer.”

  Wyatt leaned right into the Lycan’s face. “I love her, you piece of shit. She’s mine. Mine to protect. Mine to avenge. I will do whatever needs to be done for her. Without guilt. Without remorse. Without a second thought.” He twisted his claws even deeper, hitting bone. “Still think I won’t deliver on my threat?”

  The cockiness in Sebastian’s gaze finally bled away, replaced by a sickening look of fear. “It was me and Harris. And his idiot friend Danny, who was the one who first started cooking up our drugs. He’s the one your brother killed.” He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. “And then there was my uncle.”

  Wyatt snarled. “Roy?”

  Seb nodded, then lifted his lashes. Bitterness thickened his words. “We were his first blackmail tape, though he called it insurance for Danny’s benefit. He didn’t fuck her until she’d lost consciousness. But he worked her over rougher than the rest of us. Said she was the sweetest little piece of ass he’d ever had.”

  In a violent burst of rage, Wyatt grabbed Sebastian’s head and gave it a violent twist, severing his spinal column and instantly ending his life. “Where’s Roy?” he rasped, looking around at the Whiteclaw soldiers who had started to edge closer to their group as he moved to his full height, leaving Sebastian’s lifeless body lying on the ground. When no one answered him, he roared, “Where the fuck is he?”

  “I’m right here.” Flanked by two guards, Roy Claymore walked around the edge of the house where they’d been keeping Elise and made his way into the street. He was a tall, brawny male, with thick black hair, a crooked nose and the moral code of a rat. “Once again, it looks like the Silvercrest Runners are taking care of the trash for me. First Curtis Donovan, and now my nephews,” he muttered, flicking a disgusted look over Harris’s and Sebastian’s bodies.

  “I thought Seb and Harris were your golden boys,” Wyatt growled.

  “They were, before they went into heat over the bitch. I never wanted them to leave. That was my brother. He learned what we’d done after her brother killed Danny, and feared it would lead to war. Once the story of what had happened to her began circulating the mountains, we knew the fool hadn’t given her enough of the drug to blank her mind completely. Me, I was ready to test our strength against the Silvercrest. But not my brother. He worried for days that she would remember something that would bring your pack knocking on our door. And in the end he sent his own flesh and blood away, fearing what else they might do to cause trouble. At the time, I thought he was wrong. Now,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw, “well, I begin to see there was some truth in his fear. When I brought them back, I told them to forget her. She’d served her purpose, but there were more important things for us to focus on. But the little idiots just wouldn’t listen,” he ended with a sneer.

  “Why did you even want them back in the first place?” Cian asked from Wyatt’s side.

  “Because a good leader always invites his soldiers home in time for war.”

  “A soldier fights for what’s right,” Wyatt growled. “You and your nephews are nothing more than butchers.”

  “Butchers. Monsters. Soldiers.” Roy looked at Elise and smiled. “Rapists. Whatever you want to call us, this is a war.”

  He could have wasted time arguing with the bastard. Making threats. Venting for all the vile shit this son of a bitch had done. Hell, he would have gone ahead and just killed him then and there, but he didn’t want to risk another fight when Elise needed to be taken somewhere safe. And with Roy’s guards, it would definitely be a fight. That being the case, Wyatt simply lifted the Glock Brody had given him and fired, shooting the Lycan right between the eyes. The wolves at Roy’s sides snarled with outrage, but neither moved to attack, protecting the fallen body of their leader. Wyatt knew that Roy would likely survive the shot, but the healing process was going to hurt like a bitch. And when they next met on the battlefield, he would get his revenge.

  “We have to get out of here—now,” Cian muttered at his side as they caught sight of more Whiteclaw soldiers coming down the road. Wyatt’s teeth were clenched together too hard for him to speak, so he simply responded with a jerky nod, took Elise from Eric’s arms and headed into the forest with the others.

  Minutes later, they were sitting in the back of Mason’s truck while Wyatt held Elise on his lap, his lips at her ear as he told her how proud he was of her. And how incredibly sorry he was that he’d let her down. She didn’t say much in response, but kept her arms wrapped tight around his middle, as if she were exactly where she wanted to be. There were so many things he wanted to say to her about how he felt, but didn’t know how. Until he had all the crazy shit going through his head sorted out, he knew it was best to just keep apologizing. God only knew he owed her at least a thousand apologies, if not more.

  And he sure as hell owed her for saving his life.

  Without any doubt, Wyatt knew that what he and the others had witnessed had been some form of the powerful Dark Wolf bloodline that flowed through her veins coming to the fore, which left him with so many questions. It was said that a Dark Wolf could only truly awaken when he or she had found their life mate, but without her Lycan senses, there was no way to know for certain if Elise’s wolf had recognized him as its other half. He wanted it so badly—that certainty and the bond. But the fact that she might never recognize him on an instinctual level didn’t change how he felt about her or make him want her any less, because there was nothing he would change about her. Nothing. The woman was more perfect than anything he could have ever dreamed, and he hoped to God she would decide someday that she needed him as badly as he needed her.

  Even though he knew damn well that he didn’t deserve her.

  The moment they hit the Alley, everything erupted in a flurry of chaos and activity. They were in the process of organizing a search for Carla, loading up on weapons at Mason and Torrance’s cabin, when Torrance’s cell phone rang. She was standing close to Wyatt, and he noticed her look at the number on the phone’s screen with an odd expression on her face before quickly answering the call. “Carla?”

  The petite redhead listened for a moment, then looked at Wyatt and handed the phone over to him. He went into one of the other rooms to talk, where it wasn’t as noisy, since not everyone there had realized he was taking a call. He argued with his partner for a full minute, until she finally hung up on him. Knowing he must look shell-shocked when he came back into the living room, he tried to explain, but all he managed to mutter was a rough “She’s doing it.”

  “Doing what?” several of the Runners asked at the same time.

  “Carla stole a car and now she’s...” He broke off, looking at Eric and Elise. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Carla said she knows how to find Eli. She’s gone to bring him back home.”

  They all looked as confused as he f
elt. As far as they knew, Carla Reyes and Eli Drake had never even met. Why had she taken off to find him? What had happened to her at that compound? What did she know that they didn’t?

  And why in the hell did his partner think Eli Drake was the answer?

  Chapter 17

  Whoever had said that guilt was a bitch didn’t know the half of it. An hour after the call from Carla, Wyatt had left Elise at Torrance and Mason’s, where she was still busy helping to patch everyone up. When he’d snuck out of the cabin, Sayre had been trying to aid Cian with a particularly deep cut on his shoulder, and the Irishman had been adamantly refusing. Whatever was going on with those two, he had a feeling it was going to cause a hell of a shit storm when it finally hit.

  But at the moment, he had his own colossal fuckup to deal with.

  Or not, his wolf snarled. Seeing as how you’re running like a coward.

  He wasn’t running, damn it. He just needed some time to get himself under control, because every single fucking moment that went by was testing him. Pushing him to his breaking point. The longer he’d stayed near her tonight, the stronger the need had become. His control had been shot to hell, and he knew there wasn’t any getting it back. Not until he’d gotten what he needed. Which was her. Or more specifically, him claiming her sweet little ass and making her his...forever.

  Unfortunately, that was the last damn thing that Elise needed right now. Christ, after what he’d done, and after she learned the truth about him, he wasn’t sure she would ever want it. Which just made him want to howl from the pain and frustration cutting through him like a knife, making his emotions bleed.

  He was in the middle of tossing things into the duffel bag he’d set on his bed when Elise came into his bedroom wearing a borrowed shirt and jeans, her blue eyes narrowing as she frowned at him. “Wyatt? You snuck away from there without me. What’s going on?”