by Marcy Jacks
"Honestly, I didn't think you would show up."
Sam didn't understand that. "Why wouldn't I come and save my own father?"
The man with the weapon shrugged. They walked by the chair where Sam's father had been sitting that whole time, and Sam cringed at the sight of blood and other stains on it.
"I just thought of what an asshole my old man was. I would have fed him to those animals you were fucking in a heartbeat if I could get away with it. He must have been a good dad."
"Yeah, he is." Sam tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but he knew he'd failed terribly with that. "So what do you want me to do until my dad tells the wolves that you have me here?"
The man shrugged. "Take a seat over there and make yourself comfortable if you like. I don't really care."
Right. The asshole sounded tired. As though he were the one going through some horrible trial and tribulation here. As if he thought he was a warrior struggling with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Sam wanted to make this as hard for him as he could, but he didn't want these people doing whatever it was they had been doing to his dad to him.
And this man still had a gun.
So he sat down.
When the other two assholes came back and Sam heard the car driving off in the distance, he allowed himself to relax a little.
His dad was all right. He was going to be all right.
And these guys were going to die.
"So why are you doing this?" Sam asked. "Do you get paid? Or do you just hate werewolves that much that you want to kill them all?"
The little guy sneered at Sam. As though he was the stupid one in the room.
Maybe he was. He was mouthing off to people who had guns and other weapons on them. Didn’t that make him a little dumb?
“Like you don’t know. I thought the entire point of being a wolf soul, or whatever the fuck they call you, is that you help them control their base instincts? Their need to kill and maim. They do that shit, and you want to defend them?”
Sam swallowed. “It’s not like that.”
The man with the gun set his weapon down onto his lap. He lit a cigarette. As calm and clean as though they were all sitting down for a coffee.
“You really are as stupid as you look. You really think that shifter fucking you hasn’t killed anyone before? You think he hasn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it?”
Sam didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t like that these people were getting him to think about something he didn’t want to think about.
“Go on. Tell me you think that. I fucking dare you.”
Sam swallowed hard. “I don’t…I don’t know.”
And he’d never bothered to ask either. What did that make him? Maxwell had warned him that some wolves had so little control that they sometimes attacked their own mates.
Collin would never do that to him. He was sure of it. Sam was his soul. His other half.
But there had been that situation where Collin’s wolf brought him down into the woods.
Because it had wanted Collin to claim him.
Whether he wanted it or not? Sam couldn’t be sure. He liked to think not. Collin had shown an impressive amount of control when he was with Sam. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to touch Sam until he was positive Sam was fully recovered from his illness.
Until he was sure he wouldn’t be pressuring Sam into doing anything he didn’t want him to do.
Sam sneered at them. “You’re all so full of shit. Of course he would never do anything like that.”
“Whatever.” The man with the gun shrugged, as though it was no skin off his back.
“Do you actually have sex with it when it’s in wolf shape?” the third hunter asked, a horrified curiosity in his eyes.”
Sam glared at him. “Of course not!”
“Yeah right.” The little guy was spitting mad. He looked ready to vibrate right off his chair and come to strangle Sam for saying something as blasphemous as werewolves weren’t all that bad.
Sam sighed, knowing it was time to wait. He didn’t want to talk to any of these people, and he didn’t want them to talk to him either. He might as well just stay quiet.
He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, however. He just wanted to sit there and wait until his dad grabbed Maxwell.
He hoped Collin was all right, wherever he was. If Sam had anything to be grateful for, it was that he wasn’t going to be distracted from his task with this.
If Sam got out of this alive, he was going to have to think of a way to make this up to him.
“So are we going to sit on our asses waiting for those wolves to get over here?”
Don’t see me. I’m invisible. I’m not even here at all.
Of course that didn’t work. Whoever said that positive thinking could have an outcome on the real world was full of shit. Everyone looked at Sam.
“Meh, he likes to fuck animals? We can show him what we do to people who have sex with dogs.”
They got up. Sam did, too. Ready to run, until the sound of the meanest, lowest growling noise he’d ever heard made him freeze up.
He slowly turned his head, Sam’s stomach dropped.
That was Collin standing right there in his wolf shape, and with two other big wolves on either side of him, they stepped into the factory.
Chapter Nine
Sam thought he was going to drop dead from shock and then from relief.
And wouldn't that be hilarious to get killed from the shock of having his mate come to save his ass?
He took a step forward, wanting to run to Collin, but he heard the click of the gun behind him, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
The worst kind of chill went down his spine. A drop of cold sweat trickled down the middle of his back as Sam turned to get a look at what waited behind him.
All three men were on their feet. The one in the middle had his handgun pointed right at Sam's chest. He realized how close he was to death in that moment, and he wasn't all right with that. He didn't want to die. He wanted to go home, back to Collin's arms. He didn't want someone to have to tell his dad that he'd been killed.
"You're not going anywhere. Sit down."
The wolves behind Sam growled again. He heard Collin's voice in his head.
Do as he says, Sam.
Sam shivered. Part of him hoped Collin would tell him to make a run for it. He wanted to make a run for it. His legs itched to go, but he was forced to move calmly and quietly back toward the people who wanted to hurt him, who wanted to hurt his dad and his new mate.
He didn't want to, but for now, Sam was going to trust that there was something else to this, that there was some other plan. That this wasn't the only thing his mate had in store.
"Sit your ass down," commanded the man with the gun. He pointed it a little too much at Sam. Sam told himself again and again that it was better he pointed it at him. It meant he didn't point it at Collin.
All three men looked worried. Very worried. Collin wouldn't stop growling. His hackles were the highest Sam had ever seen them. If he couldn't hear the man in his head, he would have assumed the other wolf had gone feral.
The look in the wolf’s eyes scared the hell out of him.
He assumed the wolves standing next to him were Maxwell and Dennis. Or was that Flynn? It was difficult to say when Sam hadn't spent much time seeing each person in their wolf form. He'd grown used to what Collin looked like. Sam had seen him like that enough to know on sight that it was him.
The others…that was a different matter.
Sam looked at the guys holding on to their weapons. They seemed a little nervous. Maybe it was because there were three huge werewolves in front of them and they hadn't expected to get this far.
Sam didn't much care.
The hunter with the gun pointed it at him again, as if he were treating the thing like a magic wand.
"You! Will you tell them to back off?"
Sam looked at the wolves.
He glanced back at the hunters. "What do you want me to do?"
He hoped this was going somewhere. He didn't want these guys to shoot him.
"You can control them! Tell them to back off!"
Sam raised his hands. "It doesn't work like that. I can only…influence my mate. I can't control them. None of these wolves are my mate."
"Bullshit. Your kind fucks any shifter you set your sights on. Tell them to back the fuck off right now."
"I don't even know who these wolves are! They're not part of my pack!"
He hoped that came off as believable. He was still sweating over the fact that gun was being pointed at him. He didn't want that. He didn't want to be here, and he wanted to go home.
But Collin and the other wolves were still slowly stepping forward, as though they were stalking an enemy. As if they were hunting.
That made Sam shudder, and for a half second, with their lips pulled back and the teeth exposed, Sam had to wonder if they really were in control or not.
This had to be a trick. This had to be something they were doing just to freak out the hunters.
But then, wouldn't the hunters just end up shooting Sam?
"Tell them to stop!" screamed the man with the gun.
Sam couldn't take it anymore. He looked right at Collin. "Stop!"
Collin hesitated, looked right at him, and then kept right on going.
Sam couldn't believe it. That chill frosted his stomach. "Stop! What are you doing? They're going to shoot me. Collin!"
He yelled the man's name, hoping it would get his attention. No such luck, and Sam thought he was going to be sick when the giant wolf walked right by him.
Collin put himself between Sam and the hunters. Sam was so stunned that Collin would take a risk like that in the first place.
Christ, didn't the man care if Sam was shot? Didn't he care if he was killed?
Run away now, sweetheart. I'll meet up with you soon.
"Don't fucking come near us!"
"Shoot them already!"
Sam! Run!
Sam did as he was told, as though there was some invisible force that propelled his body into action when otherwise he would have been still like death.
A rush of energy hit him hard. His legs could fly. Sam was out of there. He heard the popping noise of the gun going off behind him. He didn't stop to look back, even though he desperately wanted to.
Nothing hurt, so that meant he wasn't the one who’d been shot.
Just keep running. Don't look back. Don't stop.
Sam wanted to adhere to that, but he couldn't quite do it.
The spirit was willing, but the body not so much, and even with the threat of death behind him, Sam made it a little way down the road leading away from the factory before his stomach started to cramp, and then the pain became so much that he couldn't hold back anymore. He had to stop. He had to stop running before he pulled something.
And he was already starting to feel like maybe he had.
Sam struggled to catch his breath. Maybe he was only so out of breath because he'd lost it all the second the gun was pointed at him the first time. Now he couldn't think. He couldn't breathe.
"Oh fuck."
Sam sank down to his knees. He couldn't hold himself up anymore.
A car parked right next to him. Sam didn't notice it until someone got out of the driver's side.
He still couldn't move. Not really. He was so caught up in what had just happened that he barely flinched when someone touched his shoulders.
"It's okay. Come on. Come on, now."
His dad. Sam sighed. He wanted to fall into the man's arms and cry. He never wanted to walk away from him ever again or see him drive away.
"Don't be sorry. Just get in the car."
Was he babbling? He might have been. But then it didn't matter because Sam was sitting in the passenger side of the car he'd borrowed from someone in the pack, and then his dad was in the driver's seat. He still moved as though he was sore. He still had blood on him, but he was moving with a renewed strength.
"You should have left."
"Don't talk to me right now, boy. You shouldn't have come at all."
He sounded massively pissed off.
Sam didn't want his dad to yell at him right now. Not when he was in the middle of a freak-out of his own.
Sam kept quiet, but he couldn't help but think of Collin. Who he was leaving behind.
"What about the others?"
"The stopped me when I was driving the fuck out of here. Your friend Noah saw what you were doing, he got his mate, and he contacted Collin. I told you they can be dangerous."
"I know." He wasn't in a mood to argue. He just wanted to get out of here. He would argue with his dad over how safe it was or was not to be with his mate after they were both safe and his dad didn't look like he was bleeding out of his head.
"Sammy? Are you all right?"
Sam swallowed. His throat was closing. He didn't want to say another word. Thankfully, his father didn't make him as he drove him home.
* * * *
Sam's dad really did drive him home. Not to the pack, but to his apartment.
Sam was too stunned with everything that had happened to argue with him. He wanted to get upstairs, check his dad's head, and then maybe get some police in on this so these assholes could be brought to justice.
Sam had to snap out of his trance pretty quick when they got upstairs. Holy shit, his dad was still bleeding out of his head. Sam had shit to do.
"Sit down. I'll get the first aid kit."
"You will call the police right now. Don't you dare baby me."
"But you're bleeding."
"Don't argue with me. I can handle this on my own. Go and get the phone. Right now."
Sam did as he was told. Apparently his dad was still pretty mad at him. He didn't like that. It broke his damned heart too much for him to tolerate that.
But what could he do other than get on the phone and call the police?
After doing that, and telling them where to go, Sam went back to help out his dad.
His old man was already trying to wrap something around his head. Sam had to get over there and help him out before he made it worse.
Those people had said they were tearing strips off him. It didn’t look to be the case anywhere Sam could see, but still, he’d clearly been under some massive strain, and the bruises were already dark.
His father didn’t talk to him. Sam struggled with the idea that his dad might actually be disappointed in him. That was the last thing in the world he wanted, but now he was too scared to say anything.
The police came to the apartment. They had Sam and his father give a statement. His dad did not want to go to the hospital, but Sam couldn’t stand the idea that he might be in pain or that there could be something wrong with him that required more than a first aid kit, so he asked the officers to help him convince his dad to go.
Luckily, he did.
Then it was just a matter of time before he found out what happened to Collin.
Chapter Ten
Collin stayed with his dad in the hospital for a couple of hours while they stitched him up.
The back of his head had a pretty bad gash on it, but luckily it wasn't anything the doctors and nurses thought he needed to stay overnight for.
Sam took his father home after he was stitched and bandaged up. He’d signed all the paperwork and made sure to give the police his number if they wanted to contact him.
One of the detectives gave him some sobering, and scary, news.
They went back to the pencil factory where Collin's dad had been held. There had been no one there, but the amount of blood they found was enough for them to keep an eye on the scene.
Humans had a strange relationship with the shifter world. Whenever the authorities weren't heavily scrutinizing the shifters, they were leaving them alone.
Sometimes to the point of ignoring any actual conf
lict or even murder.
There was never any consistency with this sort of thing. Considering Sam had ratted out his own mate and told the authorities where to go, he hoped this would be one of those times.
He didn't want Collin being questioned or handcuffed because he attacked someone who’d tried to hurt Sam’s father. Who’d tried to kill Sam.
Sam was starting to really hate the hunters, but even now, as he and his father settled at the kitchen table, coffees in hand, he couldn't decide whether or not he hoped they were dead.
He kind of wanted them to be. The part of Sam that wanted revenge for how his father looked now, the black eyes and the bandage wrapped around his head, wanted them to suffer and die for this.
Another part of him didn't want them dead. He didn't want that on Collin.
And he didn't want the hunters to be right about what Collin was.
He didn't want to wake up one night and find out his mate had a history of killing people.
The conversation Sam had with his father was an awkward one. He didn't want to ask him too many details about what he'd gone through, but another part of him had to know.
Did they hurt him too badly? Did they scare him? When had they taken him?
His dad still seemed kind of pissed off, and Sam couldn't figure out if the anger was about him going to that place to free him or because Sam had put him into that situation in the first place.
"Dad…"
His father looked at him, really looked at him, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug.
"I'm…really sorry about what happened." Sam's throat closed. He could barely get the words out. "I didn't mean—"
"Stop right there."
Sam did, snapping his mouth shut before he could get another word out.
His father stared at him, that same hard expression that made Sam feel like a little kid under his stare.
"That shit that happened. That had nothing to do with you. You didn't make the decision to become a fucking low-life. You weren't the one who sent them after me."
"Do you think Collin did?" He almost didn't want to ask the question. He was afraid to know what answer he would get.