Chapter Twenty-One
By the time they’d snuck to the back of the warehouse, Sierra and Navi had flung the door open and made their loud and flashy entrance. Jer slunk close behind Finn, brimming with a seriousness that he didn’t often show. While Jer could give it as good as any shifter, he was always more of a lover and a thinker than a fighter, unlike Finn, who rolled on brawn. The second the girls announced their presence, he forced his wolf in place to keep from bolting up front to join them. The urge to protect was a fierce one to wrangle. But Sierra and Navi were two of the strongest fighters he’d met, and this was his one chance to go after Rossi.
He crept through the stacks they’d slunk around the night before, heading in the direction of the basement. Rossi hadn’t been among the guys up front and chances were he’d be cooking the meth in the basement again. The scent here stripped his nostrils with the intensity of paint thinner and he wasn’t relishing revisiting the disgusting stench in wolf form. The steps leading to the basement were coated in grime, as were the walls. Even the door had been left open a crack for further ventilation, since the jury-rigged vents they’d set up could only do so much.
“Why did I volunteer for this?” Jer grumbled, keeping close behind him.
“Because you love me,” Finn responded with a smirk, taking the first step down. He paused, listening for any sound from below. The clank and rattle of whatever equipment they used masked the rustle of movement from whoever waited below. “If you spot any sort of paperwork down there, grab it,” he murmured. “Navi needs intel on why Mackey has the Landsliders doing these drug and smuggling runs in the area.”
“Does that mean I can lean back and watch while you fight all the big bads?” Jer responded, humor in his tone even though his voice skated to a near whisper.
Finn shook his head while he edged down the steps. “I’ll do the heavy lifting.” With each step closer, his heart pounded a bit faster and he couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline through his veins. He didn’t think he would get the chance, but, unlike yesterday, this time he wouldn’t freeze. This time, he would deliver the sentence Dale Rossi deserved. He stepped to the door and almost gagged from the fumes filtering through the opening.
He was done creeping around. Finn didn’t try to peer in the door or listen—he kicked the door wide open and strode inside.
The setup was even more of a mess than he’d expected, three once-white folding tables spread out against the walls and filled with a mess of bottles, carboys and tubing that teetered one step away from implosion. Paint peeled off the walls in large patches and debris and scorch marks decorated the concrete flooring. Liquid bubbled in the tubing and the steam traveled up to the ceiling, a couple of large fans directing it toward the vents. Two guys stood at the tables with their backs to him as they measured from the bottles in their hands. Their shoulders tensed upon his entrance, but neither dared to move until they’d finished pouring whatever caustic liquid they were messing around with.
The third bastard in the room was the very guy he’d come here for. Dale Rossi.
He’d recognize the sour face anywhere. Even though the man’s eyes were red-rimmed now, probably from working with drugs his entire life, he had the same deadened look he’d always had. The man’s brows furrowed in irritation, and Finn didn’t miss the way the bastard’s claws popped out. His stomach bottomed as he met Rossi’s gaze, but he didn’t step back. He would not falter.
“Long time no see,” Finn said, not bothering to hide his fangs with his grim smile.
“Who the hell are you?” Rossi asked, stepping a pace away from the door. The man was a coward through and through—guaranteed he would be inching toward some sort of weapon.
Finn continued his approach, one slow step at a time. “You don’t remember me? I’m hurt,” he said, in a dry tone. “I’m the kid you left orphaned after you murdered my folks, the junkies who used to run for you.” Jer crept behind him, sticking to the opposite wall while he made his own, quieter approach. At this point, the two guys who’d been working at the tables set their equipment down. They both pivoted around to see what was causing the ruckus.
Recognition flashed in the man’s watery eyes and Rossi’s scowl deepened. “Sounds like I did you a favor. If they’re the wastes of space I remember, they sure as hell weren’t much use as runners, let alone parents.”
The growl ripped from Finn’s throat unbidden.
He could still smell the metallic scent of the blood that had coated everything in the motel room, splatters across the mattresses, the paisley carpeting and the scratch-and-dent nightstand. His father had been lying on the floor, flaps of mottled skin on the ground and his chest shredded. His mom’s throat had been torn out and she lay collapsed on the other side of the bed, her limbs askew. Then the door had creaked, Finn hid and Rossi and his guys sauntered back in with incriminating crimson painting their hands. They’d gone straight for the nightstand, grabbed the baggie of blow his folks had stashed and out they’d gone, as if they hadn’t snuffed out two lives.
Finn’s claws came out and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep his wolf leashed.
“Doesn’t matter,” he responded, his voice filled with loathing. “That was never your call to make.”
Rossi glanced to the door, as if he was figuring how fast he could alert the rest of his crew. Despite the way Ace had loomed in his memories, time had changed them both. Finn had grown taller, stronger and into the sort of fighter who could take on all three of these bastards while barely breaking a sweat.
“There’s an intruder down here,” Rossi called at the top of his lungs, the sound reverberating throughout the room.
Finn flexed his claws while the shift prickled beneath his skin. “They’re not coming,” he growled and the wolf emerged.
Silver and rust-red fur began forming in patches and his bones melded into those of a wolf as he transitioned. His shirt ripped in the process. A moment later, Finn shifted onto all fours and was facing the asshole who’d left him an orphan—and his wolf side didn’t know the meaning of mercy.
The moment Finn began the transition, Rossi did as well and his two cronies followed suit. Within seconds, three wolves faced him, mangy, ratty creatures without any of the majesty of the Red Rocks he ran with. Finn didn’t blink twice. Jer remained in human form, his gaze flicking to them while he edged around the corner of the room in the direction of the filing cabinets. They’d fought together a thousand times before and, in team formations, it often helped to have one in each form.
Finn paced in front of the door, waiting for the first wolf to strike.
Two of them leapt for him in unison. Rossi, the coward, hung back to watch.
Finn crouched low to the ground, preparing for their descent.
When their paws hit the ground, he darted past and whipped around to face them. By the time the first guy pivoted around his way, Finn hurled his full weight into the bastard. He barely noticed the sting of the slam, his blood pumping faster and faster. The wolf stumbled back a couple of paces, colliding with the other one, and Finn took ruthless advantage of the chaos. Finn snapped his jaw down on the closest leg and, when his teeth sank in, he yanked back. A piercing howl came from one wolf and the other rammed into his side.
The breath flew from him in a fierce sweep, but he let go of the limb and turned to face the opposite opponent, blood and spittle dripping from his muzzle. Finn crouched on his back legs before launching himself forward at top speed. The wolf had barely settled on his back paws when Finn collided with him, the force propelling them against the wall with a crunch.
In his peripheral, Finn caught Rossi padding toward the door. No fucking way.
He bolted toward Rossi at full speed. Before the scumbag could make a break for the door, Finn landed in front of him, fangs bared. Rossi let out a growl, lunging forward, but Finn didn’t back down or step out of the doorway. Even as those teeth snapped in front of him, Finn dipped right beneath to slam his head into Rossi’s windpipe.
“Watch out.” Jer’s voice broke through the resounding growls and the bubble and clank of the meth production.
Except, before Finn could turn around, Rossi snapped at him again, this time sinking his teeth into his shoulder. He shrugged off the sting, and a growl ripped from his mouth. Finn lashed to the side, trying to thrash out of the grip. He only got resistance, those points sinking in deeper until his muscles started to scream in pain. Finn gritted his teeth and pushed forward instead, the sudden movement breaking his vise grip.
Right in time for the other wolf to ram headfirst into him.
Pain seared his side as he stumbled back, the force sending him colliding with Rossi.
“Out of the way,” Jer shouted again. Finn didn’t know what his packmate planned, he just knew he didn’t want to be crouching where he was when it happened. Finn lunged for the entrance, blocking the way so Rossi couldn’t slip past.
A second later, one of the beakers hit the floor next to the wolf who’d attacked. Frantic howls resounded through the tight space a second later as sizzling followed, and whatever fluid had been in the container began eating through the beast’s flesh, increasing the burnt, horrible stench in this room.
“I’ve got the other one,” Jer called. “You handle Rossi.”
Finn settled in the middle of the doorframe, staring down Dale fucking Rossi, the sleazebag who’d done more damage to this area than most accomplished in a lifetime. Some goddamn wolf. The man had no honor, no pride and had only survived this long by selling out everyone he could. The biggest mistake he had made was returning to Red Rock territory where a broken kid had become one mean motherfucker who wouldn’t allow scum like that to thrive.
In an instant, the shadow that had loomed over him for so long dissipated. He saw the craven wolf who stood quaking before him and he knew deep in his marrow he could take him down.
Rossi crouched, ready to take any opportunity to dart past him and escape, his eyes watery and weak even in this form. Finn wouldn’t give him the option.
Finn feinted forward and the asshole fell for it. The moment he faked his leap, Rossi bolted for the door. Finn whipped around to slam into him full force, sending him sliding across the concrete, his claws screeching with the movement.
Except, he wouldn’t get the chance to rise.
Finn crashed into him and buried his fangs in the monster’s neck.
Rossi thrashed, but Finn was far heavier and pinned him with his front paws, clamping his jaw like a vise around the wolf’s throat.
He might never get the chance to change his parents’ future, but one thing had become clearer than ever since Navi had rolled into town.
Finn could change his own.
He tightened his bite and yanked back, the muscle tearing with the motion. As his jaw clenched down even more, an audible crack sounded, the force reverberating through his fangs. Blood spurted from the massive tear in Rossi’s neck and the wolf went limp in his grip.
Finn let go, blood thick on his tongue, the liquid dripping from his muzzle. Rossi dropped, slumping on the ground, his form still. Finn crouched, sniffing around him and watching to see if his chest moved. But no ragged breaths shuddered, no feeble wisps. Those pale eyes were glazed and still in death.
He sucked in a sharp breath. A triumphant adrenaline rush surged through him, but even while he felt the kick of satisfaction, he knew in his heart killing Dale Rossi wouldn’t erase his complicated past. His parents were dead and his past still filled with pain. But resolution settled in his gut. Now he knew this was what he wanted in life—tracking down bastards just like Rossi who had escaped justice for too long and making them pay for their crimes. He was made for this.
A shout came from Jer, drawing Finn’s attention.
His best friend backed against the table when the wolf he’d burned with acid lunged for him.
When the table shook, several of the beakers and jars on the table toppled over. Liquids spilled across the surface, mingling with one another and seeping into the seams, underneath the carboys and tubes. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room.
Jer threw himself forward out of the way right as the wolf went sailing to crash into the table.
Oh, hell.
Finn’s ears began to ring right as the blinding light flashed in front of him and, for a moment, the world went blank while the lab exploded.
Thick, oily clouds poured out in every direction and even as Finn took a couple of gasps in, he spluttered out. Jer was farther in there. He needed to get to his friend. Unable to see much more than the choking tufts, he padded one careful step at a time. Heat crackled around him, singeing his fur, and amidst all the noxious clouds, he caught the glimmer of flames. This room would burn up within minutes.
He thudded against something solid and he dipped his muzzle down. Not like he could smell or see anything around him. Fingers wove through his fur, which had grown crispy around the edges.
Jer’s grip tightened in his fur and Finn led them forward. He might not be able to see, might not be able to sense anything amidst the fumes searing his nostrils and the tendrils of flame biting at his paws, but he would follow the airflow to the open door.
Finn needed to make it out of here and back to Navi. He refused to accept the alternative.