Harden
It was after nine by the time he got back to the Embassy, and he could see the bus parked outside.
Great.
Angelo and the dickbags were back in town. It almost sounded like a really bad wannabe band name. Angelo and the Dickbags. He hoped they got booed off stage.
The trouble started once he walked past the bus and approached the stairs.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here? I don’t remember seeing you get on any of the buses,” Angelo said as he sauntered out from the motel, descending the stairs and stopping Harden before he could reach them. “Do any of you boys remember him being on your bus?”
Other figures emerged from the shadows. Four more.
“I see the band is growing. Have you told them that they’re not actually going to get paid? That you spent all the money on hookers and blow?”
“What?” Angelo snarled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” he said, waving them off. Although all shifters tended to avoid a lot of human society, he found that Cadia was extra closed off compared to the others. In Kronum he’d been exposed to things like television a bit more than his compatriots here.
“So where have you been then?” Angelo asked, cracking his knuckles in what was supposed to be an intimidating gesture.
Only two cracks sounded.
Harden paused, his eyes on the other’s hands, looking on expectantly. “Oh, are you done?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure.”
Angelo’s eyes lit with anger, but to Harden’s surprise, he restrained himself.
“We’re not here to fight. That would be silly of us. We’re just checking up, making sure that you’re not breaking any of the rules.”
Harden laughed, loudly and over the top. “Seriously? Breaking any of the rules. What rules, Dickbag Prime? Your little imaginary ones?”
“The one where I said not to talk to that woman anymore.”
Harden rolled his eyes. “You’re so dumb. Goodbye, Angelo.”
He pushed past the leader, but whirled as he felt someone snatch the cellphone from his back pocket.
“Give that back,” he snarled, reaching for it.
Angelo pulled back out of reach, and several of his thugs got in the way. They still only had the one bear shifter among them, but four on one not including Angelo was poor odds, even for someone like Harden. Two, maybe three he could take. Four was pushing it. Five was suicide.
“Well well. Here’s a number that you’ve called a lot. Shall we see who it is?” Angelo pressed the dial button and the phone began to ring.
Harden shook impotently with rage, unable to do anything that wouldn’t start a fight. He prepared himself to speak up, to shout to not say a word, but one little shake of the head from the bear shifter warned him not to. He contemplated his options, decided that if he didn’t say anything, he’d be in bigger trouble.
The phone clicked as someone answered.
“DON’T SPE—!” he tried to shout out, not finishing the last word before a fist took him in the stomach.
“Harden?” he heard Erika’s voice. “Harden are you there?”
“No, I’m sorry, Harden isn’t here right now,” Angelo said into the phone, his words liquid smooth as his goons pummeled Harden to the ground in a shower of fists and feet. “But someone else will be there. And shortly.”
The phone clicked, and Harden saw him crush it under one booted foot.
“You’ve been a bad, bad man, Harden. Disobeying the rules. You know what happens when someone breaks the law?”
“Get bent,” he spat, earning a ringing blow to the jaw for his efforts.
“They get punished. And both of you broke the law. So now I’m going to have to punish both of you.”
“Angelo, wait!” he protested, but the wolf shifter was already turning away. “Angelo don’t do this!”
A fist slammed into his face again, and he spat blood. “Don’t you touch her!”
A boot connected with his temple and all Harden saw was darkness.
***
He awoke an unknown amount of time later. Not much, he judged as his brain cleared, since someone was just putting the finishing touches on his restraints.
“Ow,” he muttered.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good.”
Angelo’s younger brother moved into his vision, cocked his fist, and drove it into his face. Harden rocked back under the blow, cataloging the pain from it along with all the dozens or other hurts he was currently feeling.
“That’s for the other day. I’ve been waiting for that for a long, long time,” he snarled.
“About a week I’d guess,” Harden said. “Not really that long, if you think about it.”
“Shut up!” the youth said and hit him again.
Harden did, but not because the kid had told him to. He needed to stop wasting time. Angelo and two of his goons were on their way to talk to Erika. Or worse. He needed to stop them. Which meant he needed to get free. But he was hurting, and hurting bad.
Closing his eyes, he went through his body by feel. Nothing was broken—that was a start—but he was cut and bruised everywhere. Those would heal in an hour, perhaps two, but that would be far too late. He needed to heal now.
Breathing in deeply, he reached into his core, to the blank spot where his wolf was supposed to be. Pushing on it, he told it what he needed. Resistance built up, but he pushed through it, forcing his idea into where his wolf would have been, hoping some part of him would still work with it.
Shifters healed fast. Much faster than any human could ever hope to match. They often had no need to heal faster than necessary. But in some extreme cases, that need overcame them. Pouring his energy, his reserves into his body, Harden forced himself to fast-heal. It hurt. A lot. In the span of seconds he felt all the pain he would from bruises and cuts as they healed normally, as he banged them against things or moved his body in ways it would protest.
It sapped his energy, but he’d eaten well and exercised all week. He was in good shape, with enough hopefully left in the tank to see him through. Feeling healthy and ready, he opened his eyes to see the youth staring at him in shock.
“How did you do that?” he asked, awed.
Harden snarled. “Experience. Something you’re unlikely to ever get.”
The youth laughed. “Look at you, talking shit from where you are. What are you going to do? The big bad wolf is all tied up. Are you going to huff and puff and blow me over?” he giggled.
“No,” Harden said. “I’m going to huff, and puff, and beat the shit out of you.”
And he twisted his arms, wrenching them to the sides as he did, letting out a mighty howl as he stood up. The bonds didn’t break, but that didn’t matter. He broke the chair itself over his own back. Wood flew everywhere and he charged at the kid, arms jabbing forward, sharp ends of the chair still attached to them. He drove them deep into the kids chest, whirled and flung him across the room with a grunt.
“Fuck you,” he snapped, watching the young shifter go through uncovered drywall into the adjoining room, blood flying everywhere.
He doubted it was a mortal wound, but truthfully he didn’t care. Ripping the bonds from his arms and legs, he stumped from the room, unsure of where the hell he was.
A blow to his back sent him stumbling forward at a metal pole supporting the roof.
Right. The second shifter that had stayed behind. Feeling embarrassed, he grabbed the pole, spun around it, and used it as leverage to deliver a two-foot flying kick. Like he’d hoped, the other wolf shifter had charged after him. The move caught him in the collarbone instead of the face like he’d hoped, but it was enough. The shifter stopped cold and went flying backward.
Harden leapt after him and the pair went down in a flurry of blows. He had to end it, and soon. A lot of energy had been used while he healed, and he didn’t have the time for an extended fight. Not with this guy at least. He had to save his remaining energy to deal with Angelo.
So he went for the dirty tricks. A knee to the groin, a thumb in the eye, and moments later it was all over as the shifter rolled back and forth, holding his hands over the mush that used to be his eyes.
“Fuck you too,” he said, and delivered a spiteful kick to his head on the way out.
The shifter fell silent.
Harden flew up the stairs now, only one thing on his mind.
Erika.