Chapter Eighteen
Hollis was barely keeping it together. His wolf pushed to get out. As far as it was concerned, they needed to hunt down Cyrus and rip him into tiny pieces now. This minute. His body was shaking. Violence wasn’t something he approved of, but the more Ellen talked, the more he was beginning to agree with his wolf.
No matter how hard he concentrated on breathing and staying calm, his wolf rebelled. Skin tight. Aching bones. Jaw clenched. Even his eyes felt dry and swollen. His wolf was growing impatient. Everything was braced—ready. But there was nothing he could do. What the hell would happen if his wolf forced his way out? He needed to learn how to communicate with his wolf or this could end badly.
“It won’t be easy. He’s lived a long time. This—we—are merely entertainment.” The edge to Ellen’s voice told him she was struggling.
If she was struggling, he would be fucking strong, for her. She was strong and fierce and powerful, but Cyrus had kept her caged. He understood the hate she felt—it made his blood boil to think about it. It took every ounce of self-control he had to steady his heart rate, his breathing, and fight the red from his gaze.
When Finn spoke, it was hard and cold. “How long has he been alive?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “My memories only go back so far.”
“When was that?” Finn asked, his earlier reticence gone.
“Nineteen hundred and six. In the aftermath of the San Francisco earthquake.” Ellen’s voice was equally matter-of-fact.
Hollis looked at her, longing to pull her up and into his arms. He respected her show of strength but knew she’d only last so long. It had been hard for her to share with him, her mate, so this was worse. But only he could see her hands, white-knuckled and clenched, resting in her lap.
He reached for her, resting his hand on her back.
She glanced up at him, her gaze haunted—lodging a knot in his throat. His wolf growled, rearing up inside of him. Touching her was his only choice, calming him and the wolf.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and took in his pack’s reactions. Now that he had Ellen, he knew exactly what his Alpha was thinking about.. Finn was thinking of Jessa, of course he was, rigid with fear and anger. She was his mate, his world, and he had yet to turn her. He and his children would live lifetimes without her. Hollis couldn’t imagine it. Luckily, he wouldn’t have to.
Mal tugged Olivia close, burying her nose against his temple, smiling.
While Anders and Dante sat, stunned.
“Talk about taking lifelong commitment to a whole new level,” Anders quipped, easing the tension in the room.
“Anything else?” Mal asked, studying Ellen.
“I think this is more than enough for now,” Finn argued. “Mal, Olivia, head back tomorrow. Hollis, Ellen, wrap things up and head to the refuge as soon as possible.”
“Give us a few days? Saturday?” Hollis said.
“The plane will be on standby.” Finn nodded. “Once this is all over, we should all visit the vault.” He smiled. “I’m grateful for what you’ve shared, Ellen. I know it wasn’t easy.”
Ellen nodded but remained silent.
“See you soon.” Finn paused. “Sighting or not, we need to be on high alert.”
The Others’ quiet was abnormal. They moved about with a sort of reckless challenge, daring the world to intervene and taunt their beasts. For entertainment. Ellen’s simple explanation had been horrifying. And illuminating. Whatever happened between the packs would decide their future. Finn’s pack, their wolves, could not let Cyrus win.
He had a lot to learn when it came to his wolf. But imagining Cyrus’s death was something they could both enjoy. His wolf wanted to taste his blood, to split skin and bone with his teeth, to hear the man’s screams, and watch as the life drained from his eyes. It unsettled the shit out of him. And filled him with strength that made him believe he could, somehow, manage to carry out this fantasy.
His hands fisted at his sides, still grappling with all she’d been through. Avenging his mate was not a burden to his wolf, or to him. It was a necessity.
“How do you turn the thing off?” Mal asked, shielding his eyes as he stooped to turn off the projector.
“Here,” he offered, flipped off the projector, and tried not to look at Ellen. If he did, she might sense his wolf. And then what? She wanted Hollis to accept him, to find a way for them to work together. He did, too. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be a wolf—to shift and fight and defend his pack. And his mate.
Self-loathing and frustration threatened to consume him.
His heart murmur prevented his ability to shift, but that wouldn’t prevent him from unleashing his wolf. Could his human form do what his wolf wanted? Glancing at Ellen, he knew the answer. He had no choice. Sitting, curled up in that chair, she was fragile.
He took her hand as they made their way from the Robbins Pharmaceuticals and Research facility and made the drive from the medical research park to their hotel downtown. He was aware of snippets of conversation, places to have dinner, going dancing, the lights and water show along the river. But his mind was crowded and his body strung tight.
When they arrived at the hotel, Ellen yawned.
“Tired?” His gaze settled on the tattooed scar by her eye. Where had that come from? Did he dare ask? He swallowed. No. No more questions tonight.
She nodded. “I’ll have a shower and then we can have dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Olivia said, walking with her to the elevators.
“We’ll be up in a minute…getting a drink first,” Mal said, nudging him, hard, in the side. Once the women were on the elevator, Mal turned on him. “You need to chill the fuck out. You’re giving off all sorts of hunting vibes and, as far as I know, that’s not an option for you.”
Hollis glared at him and headed into the bar.
“You’re welcome, by the way. Figured you could let off some steam here and give her a break.” Mal sat on the barstool beside him. “Today had to have been hell for you.” He gestured for the bartender. “Whiskey. Leave the bottle.”
In the beginning, Mal matched him drink for drink. When Mal switched to beer and he ended up drinking alone, he didn’t know. Instead of comfortably numb, he wound up fuming. He knocked back his drink and then slammed the glass onto the counter. Mal stared at him, ever watchful—but blissfully silent.
“Done yet?” Mal asked, eyeing the near-empty bottle on the bar. “I need to pack.”
“Who’s stopping you?” Hollis bit back. “I’m not done getting drunk.”
“Because that solves every damn thing.” Mal sighed.
Hollis scowled. “I’m so goddamn tired of being the one to solve everything.” He couldn’t do a fucking thing about this. Any of it. He stared at the blinking fluorescent beer lights over the mirrored back of the bar. “What fucking good is problem-solving when you’re facing sociopaths? With teeth and claws?”
“I thought you liked being the brains behind the pack.” Mal sipped his beer.
“Maybe I’d like to be the muscle instead. You know, make an actual difference.” He shook his head and pushed himself off the barstool.
Mal followed, his expression dark. Once the elevator doors closed, he said, “I get you’re upset. If Olivia had been through that—”
“Don’t,” he said on a growl. “You can protect Olivia, Mal. I can’t fight with the pack. I can’t protect my fucking mate.” Mal opened his mouth, but Hollis cut him off. “I get she doesn’t need much protection, but it would be nice to know I could—if the need arose.”
Mal kept quiet.
“And the vaccine?” He paced the small space. “The thing that’s going to give us all our lives back. It’s never going to work.”
Mal sighed. “It’s okay, man. I think the only person that hasn’t accepted this is our life is you. I get it, too. But shifting doesn’t make you a wolf. He’s there. You’re the only one that doesn’t get that.”
It was like he’d been punched in the gut. His wolf was there, waiting for his place in the pack. Hollis kept pushing him aside, pretending he wasn’t there—out of fear. But turning into a wolf was nothing compared to the fear of losing Ellen. Whatever Ellen and his pack needed, he’d do it. Facing Cyrus would be a hell of a lot easier if his wolf was with him.
…
Ellen sat in the tub, her knees drawn up to her chest. It was done—now they understood what they were up against. There had been no insults or slaps, no punishment for speaking out. No one had laid a hand on her, there had been no torture or rape… They’d listened to her. And believed her. But the telling had been intense, and she was vibrating with barely suppressed anger. It was her favorite emotion. It kept her warm, active, motivated, and alive. Every cut, bite, punch, or minute in the hole had fed her anger, made it stronger—and all-consuming.
And destructive. She’d spent so much time hating Cyrus and the Others, so much time plotting their downfall, she’d stopped believing good existed. But now she had Hollis. He’d changed everything. With him at her side, she had hope. A pack. And, if her wolf was right, so much more. A child.
Her wolf was overjoyed—informing her as they’d wrapped up their teleconference with Finn. While the pack was rallying for a fight, she was fighting for control. How could she fight now?
“Are you sure?” she whispered aloud.
Her wolf was adamant. A child made from a pure bond. Due beneath the last blood moon of the decade. Her hands pressed against her stomach. This was what she’d dreamed of. A mate and child to love and protect. She had that now.
So why was she so terrified?
Her wolf growled, wanting to celebrate. This was her child, their child. To love and teach and cherish each day. “I will protect you,” she murmured, her hands resting against her abdomen. “Your father will protect you. And love you so.”
Father. How would Hollis react?
She groaned, her head falling back against the side of the bath tub.
His wolf wanted freedom. Every revelation she’d shared with the pack had driven his wolf closer to the edge. But he’d fought for control. Or his heart murmur had stopped the transformation. No matter how much she wanted Hollis to know his wolf and the freedom it would give to him, she wanted him alive more.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, seeking guidance from her wolf. Somehow years of seeking revenge and holding on to every past wrong seemed trivial. How could she be angry knowing she carried Hollis’s child?
A baby.
My baby.
Her wolf, the one determined to tear Cyrus from limb from limb before devouring him, had lost her fight. All that mattered now was keeping this child safe, bringing it into the world, and watching it grow big and strong. Finn’s pack would welcome the child as one of their own. And this child would never worry about the day Cyrus came for him or her—Finn and the pack would make sure of that.
She had one job now: protecting this baby. And knowing that filled her with pure joy.