Chapter 15

“All teams, ready on my mark,” Gage said over the radio as Lana’s urgent plea echoed in Max’s ears. “We go in five…four…”

The terror in Lana’s voice had frozen Max solid, but Gage’s countdown broke through that ice, forcing him to move. On the east side of the roof of the clinic, Max snapped into his rappel line alongside Remy and Brooks, then braced his feet on the edge of the roofline and waited, heart pounding.

“Three…two…one…go!”

As one, all three of them kicked away from the edge of the roof, dropping their ropes behind them at the same time. Since the clinic was only a two-story building, it wasn’t going to be much of a rappel. One jump away from the building, a long slide down the rope, then they’d be crashing through the front doors. On the west side of the building, Alex, Trey, and Diego were doing the exact same thing through the back doors.

Max and his teammates had slipped onto the roof ten minutes ago. It would be their jobs to get to the hostages and protect them, while Gage and the rest of the SWAT team went in through the side windows of the clinic and took out the hunters. Gage had deliberately put Max, Alex, and Remy on hostage rescue, knowing that’s where their heads would be anyway.

The ground came up fast between Max’s feet as the rope slid through the carabiner clip at his waist. As he glided toward the building in a graceful swing, he yanked the slack end of his rope around behind his right hip, jerking his body to a rapid halt. The momentum of his swing carried him inward, and a moment later, he crashed through what little glass was left in the main doors.

Brooks and Remy hit the floor right beside him, weapons coming out as they kicked the gurneys in front of the door aside and dove forward to cover up the hostages. Max would have done the same, but he caught sight of Boyd dragging Lana kicking and struggling toward the operating room.

Max took off after them with a snarl, ignoring the gunfire erupting in the entryway of the clinic and the burning stench of the hunters’ poison as it hung in the air. He stayed low to the ground as he moved, his feet churning as he closed the distance between him and Lana. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gage’s team come in through the windows. One of them went down immediately, but Max didn’t see who it was.

Ahead of him, Boyd backed through the swinging doors of the OR, Lana firmly in his grasp. The hunter must have caught sight of Max coming his way because he turned and fired a few rounds in his direction. Lana shoved her shoulder into the man’s chest, throwing off his aim, and the bullets hit the floor in front of Max, shattering violently and spreading more of the poisonous mist, but he kept moving, ignoring the sting of the stuff against his skin and in his nose.

He was moving at full speed when he hit the swinging double doors, slamming through them. He dived to the floor and rolled, expecting a shower of poison bullets to come his way, but nothing happened.

Max came up, his weapon ready, but Boyd and Lana were nowhere in sight. The room was dark except for the light over Zane’s bed and those blinking on the monitors around him. Not that Max needed lights. His nose told him everything he needed to know.

Lana was on the other side of Zane’s bed. Max had learned in New Orleans that hunters used a spray to mask their scent, so although he couldn’t smell Boyd, he knew the asshole was with her.

He discovered he was right when Boyd popped up behind Zane’s bed, a squirming Lana grasped in his arms. The hunter had his weapon to the side of her head and a hand clasped over her mouth. Blood oozed between the man’s fingers, where Max’s soul mate must have bitten him.

Boyd ignored that, grinning at Max with a sick smile. Shit, Max thought. Boyd was going to kill Lana right in front of him, then take him out after forcing him to watch the woman he loved die.

Max charged, his fangs and claws coming out. Boyd’s eyes widened as Max crossed the distance between them in the space of two heartbeats. Max wondered how many times—if ever—the hunter had faced down an alpha. Judging by his reaction, the answer was probably never.

Cursing, Boyd swung his weapon on Max. Lana shoved her elbow in the man’s ribs as he fired the MP5 submachine gun, knocking his aim off a little, but Max was too close for it to make a difference.

He felt the initial sting as the small 9mm rounds from the MP5 hit him as he leaped across the bed in the center of the room and Zane’s comatose form. One hit him in the left side of the rib cage, one to the right of the sternum, and another in his right shoulder. He ignored the immediate bloom of burning pain that followed, knowing what it was and also knowing there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Boyd tried to adjust his aim when he realized the first few shots that hit Max weren’t going to stop him, but by then, Max had cleared Zane’s bed and slammed into both Lana and the hunter. Max hated running into her so hard, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to get Boyd away from her. He accomplished that, sending Lana tumbling as he landed on Boyd and rode him to the ground.

The hunter tried to twist the barrel of his weapon around and get it pointed at Max’s head, but Max wasn’t going to let that happen. The pain of the poison coursing through his chest was already becoming unbearable, and his body was starting to shake. He didn’t have much time to end this.

Max reached out and grabbed Boyd’s right forearm, clamping down as hard as he could, then twisting so the man would drop his weapon. There was a snapping sound, then a roar of pain as the hunter’s arm broke. Boyd punched Max in the face with his free hand, trying to push Max off him.

Max ignored everything—the fire roaring through his chest, the tremors breaking out all over his body, even the asshole punching him in the face—and focused on what he needed to do to make sure Boyd never hurt anyone he loved ever again.

Grabbing Boyd by the hair, Max yanked his head to the side, then darted forward and sank his fangs into the hunter’s neck. He’d never done anything like that before, but he didn’t question the need now.

When Boyd was dead, Max pushed away from him, rolling onto the floor as his body started to convulse uncontrollably.

Lana was at his side in a heartbeat, screaming and crying as she pulled his upper body into her lap. She put her face close to his, and while he could see her mouth moving, he couldn’t hear what she was saying. All he could hear was the thrum of his rapidly weakening heartbeat.

But he didn’t need to hear what she was saying, because her face said it all.

“I love you, too,” he tried to say, but nothing came out.

Max opened his mouth to try again, but the pain was suddenly too much, and his whole body began to spasm.

Lana’s eyes went wide with terror, and at that moment, all Max could think was that he wished she didn’t have to see this.

* * *

Lana had known everything was going to crap when Boyd grabbed her and dragged her away from the doors. Then Max and the other SWAT alphas were swinging into the outer hallway, bullets flying everywhere, and for a moment, she allowed herself to believe this was all going to work out okay.

Then Max had smashed through the OR doors and Boyd had shot him.

From that moment forward, time had slowed to a crawl as Max had leaped over Zane’s unconscious form and slammed into her and the hunter. They’d all gone down in a heap, and by the time she’d scrambled up, it had only been to see Max ripping Boyd’s throat out.

Lana had barely reached his side before the poison-induced convulsions hit, twisting Max’s body so savagely she thought he might break his own spine. She’d seen where he’d been hit, and she knew it was bad. Trey had said it just the day before.

What happens the next time we tangle with the hunters and they put a poison bullet through a werewolf’s chest? He or she won’t live more than a couple minutes—if that.

Tears streaming down her face, she pulled Max into her lap and shouted for help even though she heard occasional shooting and fighting still going on outside the OR. But she couldn’t sit there and watch Max die. There had to be something she could do.

“I love you, damn it,” she told him. “Don’t you dare leave me!”

She pressed her hand to the wound in the center of his chest, hopelessly trying to stop the bleeding even as her palm stung from the poison pumping out of him along with his blood.

“Please don’t leave me, Max. I love you.”

She babbled the words over and over, praying it was enough to help him live. He tried to respond, but no sound came out. His heart pounded faster and faster. He wasn’t going to last long.

Then Trey and Alex were at her side, yanking Max out of her arms and rolling him over to check his back.

“Two of them went through and through,” Alex said, his voice tight. “The one in his chest is still in there.”

Lana watched through her tears as they flipped him over onto his back and went to work, shoving forceps and probes into the wound, coming out with fragment after fragment of the poison-filled hollow point before flushing the wound with saline.

Max was already unconscious but still convulsing. His heart was starting to slow. He was dying.

Lana didn’t know why they were still bothering to clean the wound. The poison was already in him. Nothing they were doing was going to save him.

“Go help the others,” Alex said to Trey. “I’ve got this.”

Others had been hit? This nightmare couldn’t get any worse.

Trey took off at a run. Then suddenly, Dr. Saunders was at Max’s side, his face calm, his movements sure. For a moment, Lana tried to convince herself the doctor could help, that he could get Max cooled down and into a hypothermic coma before he died. Then she remembered that the research clinic had only this one small OR, and Zane was already using the only equipment capable of putting a werewolf under.

But as Saunders shoved a syringe needle into the top of a small vial of a familiar-looking yellow liquid, she realized he wasn’t thinking about putting Max into a medically induced coma. He was going for something more permanent—and risky.

“We don’t have much,” the doctor muttered as he drew back on the plunger of the syringe and began to fill the barrel. “But it will have to do.”

Lana stared in disbelief. “We haven’t tested the antidote. It could kill him.”

Dr. Saunders pulled the syringe out of the vial, then looked at her. “He’s dying already. This is the only chance we have to save him.”

Lana knew he was right but still dreaded giving Max a drug that could make the short time she had left with him even shorter. Dr. Saunders was right, though. This was the only way to save Max.

She blinked back fresh tears and held out her hand for the syringe. “Let me,” she whispered. “If someone has to give it to him, it should be me.”

Dr. Saunders hesitated, then handed her the needle. He guided her hand as she slipped the syringe in between Max’s ribs and straight into his heart. Then she slowly pushed the plunger—and prayed.

Nothing happened. Max’s heart rate continued to drop and his body continued to spasm.

“Should we give him more?” she asked.

Dr. Saunders shook his head even as he started filling four more syringes. “If it’s going to work, the amount I gave him will do it. If I give him more, I won’t have enough for Gage, Hale, and Diego—or Zane.”

Saunders gave two of the syringes to Alex, then both men were up and moving, heading to help the others.

“I’ll get Gage,” the doctor said. “You take Hale and Diego. If the antidote works, we’ll try it on Zane last.”

Alone in the room now, except for a comatose Zane, Lana leaned forward and rested her forehead against Max’s shoulder, still praying as she tried to come to grips with the fact that they might lose more pack members tonight.

She reached down and grabbed his hand, not having a clue whether he knew she was holding it but doing it anyway, just in case. Then she knelt there, waiting for the next beat of Max’s heart to be the last. As she listened to its unsteady thump, she replayed every second she’d spent with this amazing man over the past week. It was difficult to believe it had only been seven days since they’d met. Seven beautiful days she would always remember as the best of her life.

She found herself smiling as she remembered meeting him at the award ceremony and how he’d immediately attracted her attention with his witty charm and devastating smile. Everything from there had been a whirl of emotions and experiences she couldn’t imagine ever forgetting. There’d been the flirting over pizza, the trip to Austin, their first night of perfect lovemaking at his place, the afternoon spent with Terence and his sisters, that crazy night he’d told her she was a werewolf, and then the night she’d shown up at his place after getting away from the hunters and learning Max had been right all along and that she really was a werewolf.

Her smile broadened as she relived that moment she’d shown up at his door, flashing her claws and telling him he’d been right. They’d torn each other’s clothes off and made love up against the door. She actually laughed a little when she realized she hadn’t worried one bit about protection at that point—or at any point over the next couple hours they’d made love over and over. She absently wondered if a child would come out of that crazy night of passion. She hoped so, simply so she’d have something more of Max to remember.

Lana was still daydreaming about that possibility when she felt a hand lightly trailing up her back and into her hair. Her breath caught in her throat when the hand she was holding gripped her fingers tightly and the chest she’d collapsed against bore a heart beating strong and steady.

She jerked her head up and looked at Max, shocked to see his eyes open and clear of pain, a warm smile spreading across this face. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would come. Her body was full of so many emotions right then, she couldn’t think clearly enough to talk.

“Hey there,” Max said, his expression turning serious. “I hope you’re not crying over me. I’d die if I thought for a second I’d done something to make you unhappy enough to cry.”

Lana was about to tell him that of course she’d been crying over him, but instead, she threw herself forward and buried her face in his neck, crying even harder now.

Max held her, murmuring meaningless words that meant the world to her all the same. She squeezed him back until she was finally able to believe he was alive and going to make it; then she lifted her head and shouted for Dr. Saunders, telling him the antidote had worked.

Turning back to Max, she leaned down to kiss him long and slow on the mouth. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again, understand?”

Max smiled up at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered softly, tugging her down for another kiss.