chapter twenty-three
A roar burned up Wolfrik’s throat. He shifted and jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain as it returned and pecked at his bones like relentless buzzards.
Kallie’s eyes expanded—a look of horror covering her entire face as she took in his bruised and bloody state.
“Wolfrik!” Her voice sounded tortured. A moment later, her nostrils flared. She yanked her arms free and turned on one of the men. “How dare you hurt him?” she screamed. She threw a fist, but it glanced off the man’s face. He twisted her arm back, and she yelped.
Wolfrik wanted to bite off every finger that pressed into her naked flesh. Kallie wasn’t familiar with fighting in human form, and the men were armed.
Wolfrik’s attention snapped to Hawk. “Let her go and I might let you walk out of here with both your legs still attached,” he growled.
Hawk’s eyes lit up as he inched closer to Kallie. “Is this your mate?” he asked gleefully.
Wolfrik ground his jaw into a tight scowl. “She’s a packmate, that’s all. Unlike humans, we protect our females.”
“The way you’re protecting my sister?” Hawk challenged. “Isn’t this where you were keeping her?”
Wolfrik shrugged. It was hard to pull off with all the tension digging into his shoulders and fear stabbing his gut.
Hawk sneered. “For all I know, you’ve been hurting her as revenge on me.”
Wolfrik gave a huff. “The way she tells it, you’re the one who hurt her—or, more accurately—you had your men beat her.” He looked Hawk up and down, lip curling in disgust. “Never could do your own dirty work, could you, Hawk?” Wolfrik spit the last word out as though it were mucus caught in the back of his throat.
Storm clouds gathered in Hawk’s turbulent gaze. In one leaping stride, he took the knife from his man and grabbed Kallie. She yelped in surprise as Hawk pulled her against him and held the knife at her throat. “I came for my sister, but this is so much better,” Hawk hissed at Wolfrik from behind Kallie. “I’ve got your bitch and unborn child.”
Wolfrik sucked in too much air at once and choked, coughing so hard his eyes watered. When they cleared, he stared in shock at Kallie’s stomach.
Hawk chuckled. “You didn’t know your woman was pregnant? Congratulations on another fruitful full moon, and thank you for the gift. Once she pops the first one out, I’m going to breed your bitch and your baby, once it’s old enough. Who knows? Maybe she’ll give birth to a little Cujo junior.”
Wolfrik bellowed. He roared. He raged.
He started toward Hawk then stopped when he saw the knife dig into Kallie’s neck and a red bead of blood appear.
Aden growled, and Rover answered with a snarl, but both beasts kept their places as though tethered to the ground.
“Let her go,” Wolfrik snarled. “It’s me you want.”
“No. It’s me.”
Their heads all turned to watch Sparrow emerge from the trees, the hem of her dress flowing with the deliberate strides of her legs.
Kallie scowled at her, and Hawk let up on her neck with the knife, his eyes focused on his sister. “Sparrow,” he said evenly.
“Hello, Hawk. Come to get me? It took you boys long enough.” Sparrow drifted to his side, looking the calmest Wolfrik had ever seen her. “Can we go home now?”
Hawk tightened his hold on Kallie, making no move toward Sparrow. His eyes narrowed. “Nice try, sister.”
Sparrow folded her arms over her chest. “I should have never run away, but you had me beaten—your own sister.” She scowled at Hawk.
Hawk’s eyebrows arched over his forehead. “And now you want to come home?”
Sparrow wrinkled her nose and looked around the campsite. “Anywhere is better than this place.”
“Then why didn’t you return on your own?”
“Because they kept me hostage. They wanted to kill me. The only reason they didn’t was so they could use me as bait.” Sparrow uncrossed her arms. They shook as she spoke.
Hawk pursed his lips. He plainly didn’t know whether to believe her, nor did Wolfrik. She was playing one of them, and he couldn’t be certain which side she’d chosen. He knew only one thing with certainty—never trust a human.
“Don’t believe me? Ask your prized pet over there.” Sparrow glared at Wolfrik.
His grin was one of pure hatred as he locked eyes with Sparrow. It didn’t matter whose side she was on. She’d endangered Kallie’s life and every packmate in the hollow. The damned fortune-telling crone had been right. The birds had flown north and doomed them all.
“I do want to kill you, Sparrow,” Wolfrik said in a low, dangerous voice. “I’ve always wanted to kill you, even after you let me go. You endangered my pack by coming here. You’re a danger to all wolf shifters. You’re the reason Eric died.”
Color drained from Sparrow’s face.
“You killed Eric,” she sputtered.
“No,” Wolfrik said firmly. “You got him killed.”
Sparrow jerked back as though he’d slapped her. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.
Hawk nodded. “Cujo makes a good point.”
Sparrow’s upper lip curled, and she glared at Hawk. He chuckled. “Still want to come home, sister?”
Before she could answer, Kallie leaned forward and spit on her. The burning hatred in her eyes looked deeper than Wolfrik’s own, yet she hadn’t met the human until now.
Hawk chuckled. “Wolfrik’s bitch really doesn’t like you.”
Sparrow wiped her cheeks and avoided Kallie’s scorching glare. “No one here likes me. Why do you think I want to come home?”
One of Hawk’s men cleared his throat. “We should go before more shifters come.”
Hawk nodded. “Benny, Luke, I want you on the she-wolf,” he said, nodding at Kallie. “Carson, Tim, and Derrick, you stay on Cujo. Paul and Jeffry . . . Take care of Sasquatch.”
“He’s gone!”
“What?”
“He just disappeared.”
Wolfrik confirmed what the other men had reported. Aden had vanished into thin air—impressive for a large shifter who usually made a lot of noise. While everyone was focused on Sparrow, he must have slipped away.
“Keep your eyes open. We need to leave now,” Hawk said.
Three of his men moved toward Wolfrik. When he growled, they pulled their guns out.
“Start walking,” one of them said, gun aimed at his face.
Wolfrik lifted his chin. “No.”
“Give him until the count of three,” Hawk said.
“One. Two.”
Wolfrik raised his eyebrows in challenge.
“Thr—”
“Wolfrik, please,” Kallie cried. “Don’t leave me alone with these barbarians.”
Wolfrik’s head jerked. He blinked and met her stare. There was fear and anguish in that look, but something that went deeper. In the shine of her eyes, he saw her resolve and belief in him. They would make it out of this together.
Wolfrik sighed and took a step forward. The three men flanking him led the way with Kallie and her two guards behind them. Hawk followed behind them, Rover walking at his side, and the last two men at the end of the procession looking over their shoulders behind them and to either side. Every time Rover growled, they whipped around. Sometimes they looked into the treetops as though expecting Aden to make another crash landing over them.
After all the talking, the silence sounded unnatural. Every rustle and scrape made Hawk and his men jerk.
“Hurry up,” Hawk said.
Wolfrik shuffled past the cave, glaring at the three men flanking him. He looked back at the two walking on either side of Kallie and lifted his lip, making all kinds of silent promises that ended with violence and death. Kallie glanced at the cave and then him, her brows pulling together atop a tight frown.
Wolfrik had to get her away from Hawk and his men without getting her shot or knifed in the process. He had to be ready for Aden’s next attack.
He flexed his muscles and inhaled deeply, looking and listening for any signs of the werewolf. A gunshot went off behind him, and he spun around, taking two leaping steps to jump in front of Kallie.
There was a second gunshot, followed by a man’s scream.
That’s when Wolfrik noticed Sparrow holding a gun on one of the men in back. His partner lay on the ground, not moving. The second one held his arm as blood seeped out. Sparrow fired again, this time hitting the man in the chest. He went down with a look of shock.
Sparrow aimed at her brother next. Rover’s ears went back, and he snarled viciously. Through the growls, Hawk bellowed, “You unfaithful bitch!”
“Fuck you, Hawk!” Sparrow yelled back.
The two men who had been guarding Kallie rushed to Hawk’s side, lifting their guns. They didn’t fire—wisely waiting for Hawk’s permission to kill his sister. There wasn’t much time.
Ever so lightly, Wolfrik pushed Kallie toward the cave. “Get inside,” he whispered, his mouth barely moving. “Protect yourself and the baby.”
Kallie gave the barest nod. She inched her way toward the cave.
“Hey!” As soon as one of the men noticed, Wolfrik clocked him in the jaw, and Kallie sprinted the rest of the way, disappearing into the shadows.
Relief flowed through him like a quenching drink of water. He lunged for the next man and punched him in the face—once, twice, three times, four—pounding on him the way they’d come at him. Once the man doubled over, Wolfrik went for one of the last men who’d been leading him. He ripped the gun from his hand and tossed it aside then pounded him in the head.
A woman screamed, and Wolfrik’s heart dropped to his feet. But it was Sparrow, not Kallie. Her brother’s men had gotten the gun away from her and were dragging her to Hawk. Hawk punched her in the face with such force, she flew back and would have fallen if his men hadn’t been ready to catch her and haul her back up for more.
“I should have done this myself the first time,” Hawk seethed. He yanked Sparrow toward him by her hair and punched her again.
She cried out and stumbled to her knees.
A spectacular bellow shook the leaves on the trees right before Aden reappeared, dashing in from the forest. As soon as he reached the nearest man, he jumped onto two legs and ripped the guy’s screaming head right off.
“Oh my god!” came the terrified holler of the other man. He fired at Aden and missed, then screamed when Aden ripped his arm off and tossed it aside like a wayward branch.
The screams were deafening—until Aden made them stop.
Rover snarled and attacked, leaping into the air and landing on Aden’s chest. The black wolf clawed at Aden, leaving bloody trails where his nails had dug through fur and flesh.
Aden bellowed, and the two beasts landed on the ground in a flurry and flash of brown and black fur, turning round and round like boulders in an avalanche.
Wolfrik’s opponent took a swing at him, reminding him that he had his own fight to finish. He leered into the bruised and bloodied face in front of him. “Go ahead, try and fight me. No one ever beats Cujo.” Wolfrik grinned wolfishly.
Fear flashed through the man’s eyes. Wolfrik wrapped his arm around the man’s neck and slid around him, squeezing the human into a chokehold. The man thrashed against him, but it was no more than a ripple in a pond.
In front of them, werewolf and black wolf made the loudest sounds as they growled and snapped at one another. Blood glistened on their fangs.
Sparrow crouched on the ground, trying to protect her head as her brother rained blows on her, cursing like a crazed man. His entire face had turned red, and his eyes looked bloodshot and wild. He hauled his sister to her feet by her hair. Her lip was split, and both eyes were swollen shut. Out of everyone, she looked the worst, but at least her head was still attached, and she had both arms.
The man wheezed above Wolfrik’s arm. He pulled back harder, crushing his windpipe and holding on until the man went limp and breathless in his arms. Wolfrik pushed him forward and took large, purposeful steps toward Hawk.
The barbarian’s wrath at his sister was an anthill compared to the towering mountain of rage Wolfrik felt for this monster after everything he’d put him through . . . then showing up in his home and threatening his female and unborn child. Aden had the right idea. Wolfrik wanted to rip Hawk apart limb by limb.
Hawk took note of him as he approached, his eye twitching. His fingers squeezed into Sparrow’s arms, and his upper lip curled as he flung her headfirst at the cave’s slanted outer wall. She hit the rocks and crumpled to the ground.
The sight stirred the fury burning up Wolfrik’s cheeks. No man should ever beat on a woman—not without a death sentence.
Hawk pulled out a knife as Wolfrik stormed toward him. Once he was closer, Hawk lunged and slashed at him. Wolfrik jerked back and circled Hawk.
“Good thing you have a knife, or this would be over a lot quicker,” Wolfrik taunted.
“Give me a second to get my gun, and it will be over really quick,” Hawk returned.
Wolfrik clucked his tongue and shook his head. “What fun would that be?” He lunged at Hawk, but the brute was twitchier than a fall leaf. He jabbed the knife forward and nearly nicked Wolfrik in the gut. Wolfrik jumped aside and laughed. “No surprise that the fight master doesn’t fight fair.”
“Fair?” Hawk sneered. “You’re a shifter, and you’ve had years of practice in the pit.”
Wolfrik’s grin widened as Hawk turned in place, keeping him in sight.
“You’re right to fear me,” Wolfrik drawled. “I’m bigger and stronger. I could beat you senseless before you ever knew what hit you—the way you beat your sister.” Wolfrik nodded over Hawk’s shoulder at the motionless body. “You happy you killed her?”
Hawk’s face twitched, but he didn’t turn around—not with Wolfrik in front of him.
“My sister got what she deserved.”
“And you’ll get the same.” Wolfrik’s grin stretched all the way up his face. He’d dreamed of this moment—longed for it ever since he’d left the city. Escape wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t be completely satisfied until he’d killed the man who had made him suffer for all those years.
A piercing yelp from the fighting wolves stung their eardrums, but their eyes remained locked. Wolfrik jumped to one side of Hawk then the other. The bastard jerked one way then the next, making Wolfrik laugh gleefully. He circled around, abruptly changing direction. Hawk’s forehead wrinkled over his brows, deep lines forming around his cheeks while his jaw looked ready to break from the pressure of his clenched teeth.
Then a gunshot exploded, leaving a burning hole in his back thigh. Wolfrik grunted in pain, reaching back to slap at his leg as though a buzzard-sized mosquito bit him. Warm, sticky blood coated his fingers.
Wolfrik turned sideways to see one of the men he’d taken down fire at him from the ground where he sat wounded. The second shot hit Wolfrik in the side, which stung like a fire poker rammed into his bare flesh.
A snarl echoed from the cave, blasting through the opening as a beautiful gray wolf shot out. Kallie jumped on the man before he could fire a third shot. He screamed as she tore into him. Aden joined her. They ripped into the man even after his screams had stopped.
While they finished off the fallen men, Hawk had made a run for it. Sparrow still lay motionless, facedown on the ground. Wolfrik’s shift staunched the flow of his blood. The smell of it, however, filled his nostrils from the men who lay dead on the ground.
Wolfrik took off after Hawk, inhaling his musky, sweaty scent.
Hawk didn’t get far. He’d just made it across the river when Zackary and Dylan headed him off with their snarls. Hawk waved his knife at them.
“Back off or I’ll cut you open.” He stepped forward slowly, as though he understood that his only chance of survival was to keep moving.
The next time Hawk lifted his foot, Zackary dove at him and grabbed his pant leg.
With a roar, Hawk slashed at Zackary’s face. The big wolf released Hawk with a snarl and jumped back. Wolfrik growled at Zackary to back off. This was his prize. His kill. His vengeance.
Heeding his command, Zackary and Dylan prowled several steps behind Wolfrik, their eyes intent on the fleeing human.
Hawk had to move sideways to keep an eye on the three wolves pursuing him with every panicked step. His shoulder bumped into a tree, causing him to hiss and scowl at Wolfrik. “Why don’t you face me like a man?” he demanded.
If Wolfrik could have spoken, he would have said, “Because you treated me like a dog. And you named me like a dog. Now you will die at the fangs of a wolf.”
The next time Hawk stumbled, Wolfrik lunged at him. Hawk jabbed the knife at Wolfrik’s face. He only avoided the blade’s tip by a hair’s breadth. Wolfrik snarled. Because of Hawk, his human body was forever scarred. He wouldn’t allow the human scum to mar his wolf, too.
He remembered Kallie bravely rushing from the cave on four legs to attack the man shooting at Wolfrik and how Aden had joined her to finish off the wounded humans.
Teamwork. That was what made a pack strong.
His growls changed tone. Zackary and Dylan understood at once. They rushed forward, and together they attacked Hawk from different directions. Three wolves. One human. Hawk didn’t stand a chance. He made a feeble attempt to slash at their necks, but Zackary bit through Hawk’s wrist, and he dropped the knife with a scream.
Wolfrik jumped onto Hawk’s chest while Zackary and Dylan took his arms and legs. Hawk continued screaming as they ripped and tore through his clothes, his skin, his flesh. Blood soaked Wolfrik’s nails. He tore into Hawk’s chest cavity with his teeth, chewing his way through flesh and bones.
Hawk’s screams rivaled their snarls. On and on it went.
The human died screaming.