Chapter Twenty-One
Hollis was losing his mind. Fists punched, feet kicked, and one solid blow to the back of his head seemed to knock everything lose. Bones snapped. His ribs. One lung was filling with blood—and making breathing difficult. And his wolf waited for more.
Somewhere behind the pain, a red-hot fury was brewing. His vision shifted, flickering red until his eye sockets felt singed. His hands gripped the chair, nails piercing the fake leather cover and bending the metal beneath.
How he ended up here was a blur. He’d gone to the basement, shoving a duffel bag full of their latest in weaponry, then headed back to the elevator. He’d grabbed a smaller gun, turning it over in his hand. He’d tested it. It was deceptively small for the punch it packed. He shoved a clip into his pocket, the gun into the waistband of his pants, and smoothed his shirt and his lab coat over it. His wolf hadn’t wanted to take the elevator. That was the first alarm.
He’d pulled his phone from his pocket and texted Finn. They wouldn’t need to go to Kim’s to find the Others. His wolf assured him they were already here.
Fuck. He took the stairs, pressing himself flat against the wall as he navigated each turn up to the warehouse. If he sensed them, they probably already knew he was here. There was no fucking way he was going to lead them to Ellen.
He pulled the gun out and pushed through the doors. The night techs, men who had been on his payroll for years, were stacked inside the office. Bodies pale and blood-spattered, they’d had their throats ripped out. In the time it had taken for him to realize that, he’d been clubbed on the back of the head and kicked in the chest.
Now he was taped to a fucking chair. And a fucking Other had his gun. Not that Hollis cared at the moment. Cyrus was watching him. Closely, those near-colorless eyes blank and empty. Whatever semblance of a soul this man—this creature—once had was long gone. In its place was evil.
Cyrus smiled as he pulled a long, skinny knife from the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. “You’re the brains, aren’t you? Dr. Hollis Robbins. I’ve read papers about you. Noble. Sacrificing. Hoping to save the world?” He shook his head.
“Pathetic. Considering you can’t even save yourself, can you?” He leaned forward, sniffing his head and face. “I won’t waste any silver on you,” he said, sliding the knife into Hollis’s chest—inches from his heart. His wolf growled, thrashing to be free. Cyrus waited, watching. “No wolf?” With a sigh, he stepped back and waved the two Others forward. “We’ll see what it takes to pull him out.”
Hollis almost laughed then.
Until they went to work on him. Broken nose. The spurt of hot blood on his cheeks and crunch of cartilage was proof. The knife. Pulled free. Then buried in his thigh. His shoulder. Pinning one hand to his chair. His wolf welcomed the pain, drowning in it, using it to truly wake his senses and form.
The ding of the elevator ended the assault on his body.
Even his wolf froze, terrified at what was waiting on the other side of the elevator doors. The sight of Kim, small and trembling, was a huge relief. And horrible.
“Ms. Su?” Cyrus stepped forward, wiping the blood from his knuckles with a pristine white handkerchief. “How delightful to meet you.”
Hollis stiffened at Ellen’s scent. On Kim. Her blood stained the woman’s hands.
“You smell like my favorite snack,” Cyrus rasped, leaning forward to sniff Kim’s hands. “What happened?”
“I-I’m shaking,” Kim explained, holding out the remaining vials. “I’m s-sorry. Too tight.”
Cyrus took the vials, lifted her hands closer to his nose, and breathed deep. “How very wasteful of you. This is nectar of the gods, Ms. Su. Did you know that?” His smile chilled Hollis’s insides. “Addictive.” His tongue traced along Kim’s arm. “Delicious.”
Kim gasped, her attempts to break free of his hold failing—miserably.
“No,” he spoke softly. He gripped her by the throat and lifted her from the floor, shaking her. “You do as I say, or you won’t like the consequences.” He placed her feet on the floor, his hold easing enough for her to breath. “I’m sorry to say your mother didn’t listen, Ms. Su.”
Kim was sobbing now, her hands at her throat.
Cyrus eyed the vials, a real smile on his lips. He pulled the cork free and downed one vial. His eyes closed, then opened. Another vial drained, his groan enough to make Hollis’s wolf see red. But then Cyrus’s smile was replaced by something hard, cold, and absolutely terrifying. “You?” he asked, his voice coarse, his jaw thickening and stretching. “You touched her? You made life grow inside her?”
“Because she is mine!” Hollis yelled the words, muffled by the tape. She was his and Cyrus would never lay a hand on her. He closed his eyes, hoping she’d honor the vow she made him, yet knowing, deep down, she couldn’t.
Kim backed away. Maybe it was the sudden movement or the effects of Ellen’s blood, but Cyrus snapped. He slapped Kim hard enough to send her into the wall. Her small form slid to the ground as the second elevator dinged. The doors opened, but the elevator was empty.
Because his mate was brilliant, fierce, and made for battle. Hollis could do nothing but watch as she approached silently. With one kick, the Other’s knee snapped out, sending him forward. But her fingers gripped his head, twisting sharply, and tore the man’s head free before he ever hit the floor. The surprise on his face was almost comical. Almost.
Hollis jerked against his bonds, bucking against the chair when the remaining Other turned, moving toward Ellen. The blade she threw lodged itself in the man’s eye. He tipped back onto his heels, his arms pinwheeling, while she sliced cleanly through his neck with what looked like an antique surgical knife.
She stood, knives dripping, and stared at Cyrus.
“You’re here.” The excitement in Cyrus’s voice was jarring. He was mesmerized, staring at Ellen with something that made Hollis’s skin crawl and his wolf howl in desperation. “This is a surprise, Ellen. A wonderful surprise.”
God, he loved the fury on her face. There was nothing more beautiful. Or more terrifying.
“Let him go.” Her growl made his wolf howl.
“The good doctor? Your stunted wolf of a mate?” He bared his teeth.
“Let him go.” Ellen’s jaw flexed. “And Kim, too.”
“Let him live? What about the dozen wolves waiting outside? They didn’t come here to escort you home, Ellen. They came here looking for a fight.” Cyrus’s pale brows rose.
Her smile was hard. “They came here because you made them come here. And they will leave, fight or not, if you tell them to go.”
His smile was surprisingly genuine. “Come with me now and I will tell them to go.”
Hollis jerked, fighting the tape and rope binding him in place. His protests were muffled by the tape covering his mouth. She wouldn’t go. She wouldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from yelling. A seed of doubt had been planted. She’d said she’d put their child first, protecting their baby was all that mattered. And yet she was the reason two men were dead on the floor. To protect him, his wolf was quick to remind him, as they would protect her.
But he couldn’t protect himself. How could he expect to protect her?
His wolf reared up, pushing inside until it hurt to breathe.
“Ellen,” he barked her name, over and over, cursing the fucking tape.
“He’s worried about you. Sitting there, trapped in his human body, too weak to free himself—let alone defend you. Why him, Ellen?” Cyrus asked, not bothering to look at him. “He can’t satisfy you, he can’t protect you. He can’t understand you. He is an embarrassment to the wolf.”
Ellen’s lip curled, her hands fisted at her sides, but she kept quiet.
“Or is the abomination in your stomach what he’s worried about?” Cyrus shook his head. “You must have gone into heat to let one of these false wolves taint your bloodline.”
“Fuck you. I will gut you.” Hollis growled against the tape, knowing his insults were indecipherable and not caring. He wished the bastard understood every word he said, wished it would taunt him into action. “You’re going to die.” He fought harder, tugging until his skin burned from the rope.
His wolf was losing it, pushing and clawing to get out. All that mattered was Ellen. Fuck Cyrus and his pack—she had to live, she had to be safe. She wouldn’t go. She’d given him her word that she’d protect their child.
Cyrus studied her, his pale eyes narrowing. “No one else will die tonight.”
“Ellen,” Hollis pleaded. If she’d look at him, she’d understand. “Ellen, dammit, don’t.”
But she wouldn’t look at him. No matter how hard he stared at her—no matter how much his wolf pleaded with hers.
“I give you my word,” Cyrus said, holding his hand out to her.
Ellen’s gaze fell to the ground, searching the blood and carnage for something. His gaze followed hers, hunting until he understood. The vials. Two empty vials. As much as he wanted to believe they’d have an effect on Cyrus, he wasn’t willing to risk her life on it. Or the life of his child. “Her mother?” There was resignation in her voice and it turned Hollis’s stomach.
“I prefer my dinner young and tender, but waste not, want not.” Cyrus glanced at Kim. “She’d be tastier. A snack, but filling.”
Ellen glanced at Kim’s form, crumpled in the corner. “Put the blade away, Cyrus.”
Hollis watched as the fight drained from Ellen. He knew, deep down, she’d already made her decision. And his wolf was mad as hell.
“I’ll go with you,” she mumbled.
Cyrus nodded, tucking the blade back into his jacket with practiced skill. He moved quickly and tugged the small blade from Hollis’s hand. The slide of metal on his bone set his teeth on edge, but he kept quiet.
“Shall we?” Cyrus asked, gesturing toward the warehouse door. He pressed a button, the large metal garage door sliding up and revealing the empty loading docks outside. Beyond that were three unmarked white vans waiting.
She was leaving. Walking away. But when she looked back at him, he saw only trust. Her wolf. She knew what he was capable of—and trusted him to do it.
Cyrus’s hand rested on Ellen’s back, his voice low. “You understand you will be punished, Ellen. You know that. And this child of yours? Belongs to me.”
A sort of bloodlust descended on his wolf. His vision burned red. Cyrus’s words echoed in his ears until his skull was bursting. His skin was hot and tight, lancing with a relentless and blinding pain. Hollis understood how pain worked. Specialized sensory receptors detected unpleasant stimuli, transforming the stimuli into electrical signals, and passing them to the central nervous system. It was a chemical process all living things experienced. To free his wolf, pain was necessary. And welcome.
He closed his eyes and concentrated.
The roll and twist of muscle made him freeze. Bones moved. Each click and snap more pronounced than the last. A surge of strength crashed into him. The tape couldn’t hold him, the chair he was tied to shattered beneath him. His spine and hips realigned, pushing him forward onto his hands and knees. And still, the pain was welcomed.
Kim’s scream was faint, a distant echo.
His heart was thumping, the liquid squish of his lungs growing heavy and full. His chest collapsed in on itself before swelling forward and expanding. Skin split, the tearing searing sensation raw—but bearable. Fingers and toes broke and came together. Hands and feet twisted, long claws slicing through the newly layered muscle and fur.
His heart thumped on. Out of rhythm and irregular. Squeezing.
His jaw dislocated, the grate of bone-on-bone as the hinge joint ground into place. His nose, already broken, lengthened—allowing scents to sharpen. Sounds echoed, reverberated, the hum of the computer, and Kim’s panicked crying.
When he opened his eyes, his world was forever changed. Minute details magnified instantly, providing added depth and perception. Breathing was easier. The wounds Cyrus and the Others had caused were gone. But his heart shuddered to a near stop, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.
His wolf refused to be stopped. Whether or not Ellen agreed with him, their child needed protection. Nothing would stop him. He was a wolf and it was time he started acting like it. He gritted his teeth as his heart pumped, torqued hard, and stilled for one long second. It began again, beating strong and steady for the first time in his life. And the power of it rolled over him.
“Dr. Robbins?” Kim asked.
His wolf was in charge now. And he wanted blood. A long, low howl split from his throat—calling out a challenge—as he ran out the open door. The first white van came to a screeching halt, the door slid open, and Cyrus climbed down—smiling ear to ear.
Hollis’s wolf didn’t hesitate, he charged. He didn’t care about the vans, the Others shifting for a fight, or how outnumbered he might be. It didn’t matter. Where was she? As long as she was safe, as long as she was alive… His gaze swept the parking lot, scenting the air, until he found her.
The doors to a van was opened. She lay on the floor, her hands and feet tied, and her mouth gagged, her nose bleeding and her eyes closed, a silver collar around her neck. It was all the motivation he needed. His wolf said they could do it. If she believed him, he wasn’t about to argue. His wolf would lead, he would follow.
They both agreed—no one would take her from them.
Cyrus shrugged out of his jacket and shirt, waiting. He held his blade in his hand, braced and ready. No shifting. No fear. Only anticipation.
Big mistake.
The door stayed open, giving his wolf all the incentive he needed.
Ellen would be fine. Their baby was fine. No matter what, his wolf would make sure of that. Cyrus had no idea what he’d done. But Hollis’s wolf was only too happy to show him. Ellen may have shown him he was a wolf, but Cyrus had unleashed it. And now his wolf wanted nothing more than to see Cyrus bleed out on the concrete under their feet.
“Your loyalty is surprising, Dr. Robbins, if misguided. She is mine. She’s always been mine,” Cyrus taunted. His words were like gasoline on an open flame. “You will die here, tonight, and she will go home with me.”
Hollis let the fury engulf him. Instinct was all the wolf needed. A pack of Others stood between him and Cyrus. His wolf looked forward to the practice.
Combining his medical knowledge with the wolf’s physical dominance was highly effective. A claw swipe to the back of the leg meant slicing through the fibular artery. Sinking his teeth into the belly of an attacker was easy. Teeth shredded muscle to disembowel his victim. Death wasn’t necessary. Razor-sharp claws shredded skin, muscle, and bone—disabling his foe and freeing him to move on to the next one. He was only beginning to realize how powerful he was.
And so were the Others.
Seven bodies lay on the ground. Six Others hesitated, staring between him and Cyrus. Suddenly their own mortality mattered. Maybe Ellen was right. Maybe cutting off the head would free the rest. Maybe killing Cyrus could end this all.
If only the vaccine would work. But he saw no dilated pupils, heard no break in Cyrus’s breathing, or involuntary spasms of his muscles.
“A challenge?” Cyrus asked. “You’re so quick to die.”
Hollis charged, dodging Cyrus at the last minute. Claws gouged a hunk of meat from Cyrus’s thigh. A warm spurt of blood spattered Hollis’s fur, the scent mingling with the stench of fight, adrenaline, pain, and death. His wolf breathed it in.
Cyrus’s grip on the knife tightened as he swung the blade with enough force to split muscle from bone. The impact was jarring—the pain unexpected. Hollis shook it off, his wolf dismissing the blinding throb of the wound.
He circled, moving in, then backing off. Cyrus didn’t like it, so Hollis’s wolf kept at it. He was light on his feet, quick. His opponent hadn’t expected that, and it gave him the edge he needed. The wolf pounced, knocking the man face-first to the concrete parking lot. He bit into the thick trapezius, shredding the muscle fibers on the right side before he leaped back.
Cyrus rolled, his eyes blazing with rage. “You can’t hurt me. You’re not a real fucking wolf.” He smiled. “That’s why your mate left you. She missed a real man in her bed. A real wolf.”
Hollis’s wolf lost control and Cyrus used it against him. He attacked blindly, putting himself in harm’s reach. Arms like steel bands clamped him tightly, a searing burn slid deep in his side. The fucker’s blade fit between his ribs to puncture his lung. But it wasn’t just a blade… His blood felt heavier, thicker around it, weighing him down and making his already labored breathing a true challenge.
“Silver,” Cyrus ground out, ramming the blade deeper. “Hurts, doesn’t it? It will weaken you, too. You’ll see.”
His wolf fought harder, frantic to knock the blade free. When that didn’t work, he bit into Cyrus’s right hand, crushing bone until Cyrus released him.
“Enough,” Cyrus said. “Is this little display because she’s watching? You’re the only one who doesn’t know you’ve lost.”
Hollis wouldn’t look at Ellen, he couldn’t. He had to focus.
Cyrus smiled. “Have you ever fought a wolf, Dr. Robbins? Time to teach you what pain is.”
Ellen moaned then, the muffled sound echoing in the van, demanding his attention. Pain didn’t describe the pressure that threatened to crush his chest. It was more urgent, desperate, and impossible to ignore. He knew what pain was. Having her in danger—their baby in danger. And knowing she hadn’t trusted him to keep either one of them safe. It shredded his heart and infuriated his wolf.
“He’s mine,” Cyrus said to his pack before he fell forward onto his knees, his body contorting and stretching.
Now would be a good time to attack. Cyrus had never been honorable, there was no reason Hollis had to be. His wolf could easily tear him to pieces.
But he wasn’t Cyrus.
He scented cars arriving, aware of the rubber on asphalt, the low hum of an engine, but his gaze remained on Cyrus. Whether it was more Others, police, or Finn, he couldn’t afford to look. Now was the time to finish this. For Ellen. For his pack. For his child. And for his wolf.
Cyrus’s massive white wolf charged him, his teeth sinking into Hollis’s back leg and flipping Hollis onto his back. Neck exposed, Hollis dug his back legs into Cyrus stomach and kicked with all he had. Cyrus flew back, slamming into the parking lot, shaking his head as he stood on all fours.
Cyrus wavered then, his body racked with sudden coughing. Blood dripped from his jaws, pooling on the ground beneath his front paws.
The vaccine.
Cyrus glared at him, his growl wet and garbled. Internal bleeding. Cyrus charged again, leaping onto Hollis’s back and biting into his shoulder. He hung on, as if he knew what was coming. Teeth sunk deep, he tugged with all his strength, pulling the fur and muscle free from Hollis’s shoulder.
Hollis growled, falling hard onto his back and pinning Cyrus between him and the asphalt beneath. Cyrus’ body going unexpectedly still. Hollis stood, staring down at the white wolf. Eyes rolled back, tongue lolling, the wolf seized violently, flopping against the concrete before going still again. White fur receded as Cyrus’s involuntary shift began.
Shifting now meant certain death. But staying in wolf form wouldn’t help him recover this time. The vaccine stole that from him. Stunned, Cyrus pushed himself up and onto his feet. His misshapen hands clawed at his own chest and throat, an ear-splitting screech piercing the air as the man’s warped chest expanded farther. Stuck between wolf and man. Cyrus’s eyes bulged as he stared at Hollis, his entire body bowing tight before blood erupted from his mouth. Hollis watched, stunned, as Cyrus’s chest swelled, expanding rapidly. Blood streamed from his nostrils, eyes, and ears.
“You…did th-this?” His words were thick and slurred, but the hate and fear in his eyes was enough. He knew he was dying and Hollis—and Ellen—had killed him.
Hollis’s wolf nodded. He wanted Cyrus to know. One way or another, he had killed the Others’ Alpha.
With an anguished cry, Cyrus pressed his hands to his throat. Body swaying, his chest expanded severely, then popped as his skin, muscle, and bone collapsed in on itself with a sickening wet crunch. He dropped to the ground, his pale eyes murky. The shift incomplete, Cyrus’s remains were grotesquely broken, twitching and heaving on the blacktop.
And then nothing.
The silence stretched until the fur on the back of his neck bristled. The Others’ wolves were breathing hard, panicked, ready to fight but hesitant to start something with an unknown outcome—and no one to lead them. They wouldn’t just be facing him now, the scent of Finn and his pack assured him he was no longer alone.
Ellen was struggling to sit up in the van, eager to fight but unable. A silver collar circled her long, slim neck, infuriating his wolf, keeping him ready and willing for whatever the rest of the pack might throw at them.
“We don’t have to fight.” Finn used his Alpha voice—commanding and strong. “Your Alpha is dead. Whatever you do now is your choice.”
The Others’ confusion was understandable. Their leader used fear and intimidation. How would they react when confronted by the people who Cyrus had convinced them were their enemies.
His death would divide them. Some would hold on to his teachings. Others would be open to change.
A lethal growl sounded before three wolves attacked, two more following.
Hollis answered the growl, planted his front paws, and bared his teeth. The two that followed broke off and turned back, hiding behind the protection of their pack.
The clash of teeth and claws was quick. His wolf wanted this, needed it, and offered no mercy. When it was over, they lay dead and he was bleeding from the snout and neck—but the overwhelming urge to kill was beginning to fade.
“Better?” Anders asked him.
Hollis snorted.
“What the hell happened to him? This is seriously fucked-up shit,” Mal whispered, staring down at what was Cyrus. “What the fuck did you do?”
“He sort of…exploded,” Dante added.
Anders grimaced down at Cyrus. “That was—is—the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Hollis’s wolf stared at the pulpy mess. Only one thing mattered, and his wolf wasn’t going to wait any longer. Hollis might be angry, but his wolf was ready to move on. He pushed past the rest of the pack and climbed into the van. He bit through her ropes, groaning at the feel of her hands sinking into his fur. Nothing in his life came close to it. Being near her, having her touch him, was heaven. He stared down at Ellen, nudging her with his nose. But the tears streaming down her cheeks caught him off guard. Why was she crying? Now, when it was over and the danger was gone. He nuzzled her face and throat, drawing her scent deep. Her scent. His mate. She was the only one who could tame his wolf.
…
“Oh, Hollis,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. He was beautiful and strong and safe. Watching him fight had been the most exciting moment of her life—and the most terrifying.
His wolf groaned, nudging her with his nose. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes. Neither of them were good with words. But this, now, was enough. It was good, even when his satisfied groan shifted to a reprimanding growl.
She’d broken her promise. “I’m sorry,” she said, nodding. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let them hurt you—”
He nudged her again, baring his teeth.
“I couldn’t stand by and let them hurt you.”
This time he snorted. His wolf would forgive her, he told her that. But Hollis the man was hurt. He believed she hadn’t trusted his wolf—that she’d fought because she feared he wasn’t able. And Cyrus’s insults and digs only made matters worse.
She cradled his face, searching his vibrant green gaze. There was so much to ask, say, and forgive. But there was time now. With Cyrus gone, they had so much time.
His wolf rubbed his head against hers, a long groan rumbling from deep within his chest. She wished she could shift. Her wolf longed to meet her mate, to touch him, smell him, and experience the bliss of his touch. Happiness bubbled up inside of her, tentative and fragile.
He’d shifted to save her.
“I love you,” she whispered against his ear. Her beautiful wolf, this beautiful man.
His groan turned into a soft growl, a warning of sorts.
She nodded, letting him lead the way from the van. Letting their guard down now would be a mistake. The Others gathered were ready for a fight.
“Everyone accounted for?” Finn asked, his gaze sweeping the windows of the building. “No reinforcements for their team in there?”
“Hollis’s assistant is inside. No one else,” Ellen said. “This was a retrieval mission.” She kept a hold of Hollis, pulling from his strength. Regardless of the tension in the air or the rigid posture of those facing off in the dimly lit lot, his wolf knew no fear. If it came to a fight, his wolf would win.
“He always sends this many for a retrieval mission?” Anders asked.
“I get the feeling he was expecting trouble.” Dante nodded at the Others still wavering.
“Maybe not that sort of trouble.” Mal was still looking at what had once been Cyrus. “I have to say, even though I didn’t have shit to do this”—he nudged Cyrus’s foot with his own and looked at Hollis—“You did good.”
Hollis snorted, still too preoccupied by the possible threat they were facing. Ellen stroked the thick fur between his shoulders, taking heart from his protective stance. Hollis had found his wolf and his wolf was intimidating as hell.
“Are we fighting or what?” Anders asked, rolling his head. “Gentry’s got his big gun loaded and is chomping at the bit to use it.” He glanced over his shoulder at the Humvee that had followed the black Suburban.
Sure enough, she could see Gentry peeking through the roof, a massive gun resting on the roll bar. Exhaustion rolled over her, not just physical but emotional. “There’s no need for that. Too many have died for him. You are no match for this pack. Surely you all see how futile that would be now?”
“They are our enemy,” an Other spoke up, his anger simmering beneath the surface.
“According to him,” Ellen continued. “Cyrus was the one who tormented them. If he’d left them alone, they would never have sought him out. But power was all that mattered to him. He feared losing it, because he was afraid of them. He should have been.”
“We are expendable,” one of the female Others said.
The announcement was so matter-of-fact that all any of Finn’s pack could do was stare. Ellen, however, was familiar with Cyrus’s philosophy. She’d pitied those who’d so willingly believed it.
“Is that what he told you?” Finn asked.
The woman nodded. “We have one purpose.”
The man next to her nudged her, hard.
“He’s dead.” Mal pointed at the body. “You’re not going to get beaten or skinned, tortured or locked up for talking. That’s not how we do things.”
The man frowned.
“What’s the one purpose?” Finn asked.
“Your pack,” the woman said. “To capture and kill you.” She glanced at Ellen. “And bring her back. She’s the witch?”
Ellen saw the way the pack looked at her. She glared back at them. There was nothing to fear here.
“She can be a little mean sometimes but that doesn’t make her a witch,” Anders attempt to tease fell short.
“He says I am a witch because I refused to believe what he said,” she said. “Telling you I’m a witch made you hate me instead of pity me.”
Her words counted for nothing. A murmur rippled through the pack, ratcheting up the oppressive weight of the air.
“He wanted you to kill us. Now he’s dead. What’s the point?” Finn spoke calmly. “You don’t want to die tonight.”
“Why the hell did the son of a bitch hate us so much?” Anders asked. “What the hell did we ever do to him?”
“We existed.” Mal growled. “You want that fucking collar off?” he asked her, kneeling to dig in Cyrus’s pockets until he found the key.
The moment the collar fell to the ground, her strength returned—as well as a throb in her face. Cyrus’s work. He’d barely dragged her from the room before slapping her hard enough to leave her ears ringing. It was a taste of what was to come—he’d said. An empty threat. Cyrus was gone. Forever.
She leaned heavily against Hollis, trying to accept he was gone. Even if his pack tried to fight Finn, they’d lose. Cyrus had never been one to share power, he’d have made sure there was no one in the pack to challenge him. Now, there would be no one to lead the pack he’d left behind.
“He wanted justice,” the man spoke. “We’ve all lost people to you.”
Finn’s surprise was obvious. “Lost people?”
Ellen’s hand tightened in Hollis’s fur. “You’ve all had loved ones killed?” Her voice shook. Cyrus did this.
“By them,” the woman whispered.
“He lied to you. As he lied to me. His best recruits were those who shared in his common enemy.” She spoke clearly, hoping they’d listen.
“Motherfucker,” Mal ground out. “That’s how he recruits? Blaming us for things he probably did?”
“It’s smart,” Finn agreed. “And, from the looks of it, effective.”
She regarded Cyrus’s remains. The bastard had left a legacy full of hate and deceit. Was there a way to convince the Others their Alpha was the enemy, or was the damage Cyrus had done irreversible?
“Can you prove he lied to us?” the man asked.
“I can try,” Finn said. “In the ten years since I was infected, I have only killed those that attacked me or my pack.”
Another ripple among the Others—she counted eleven. Eleven pairs of disbelieving eyes and barely repressed hostility. They might be confused about Finn and his pack, but all of them had regarded her as the enemy.
Hollis’s wolf nudged her apart, wedging him between her and the Others. He saw it, too. She smiled at him.
“He said you’d say that. He said the witch would use magic on us to make us believe you.” The man’s voice grew thick and gruff, his shift barely restrained. “He said you’d lure us in and wipe us out.”
Hollis nudged Ellen toward the warehouse. Even after she’d shown him what she was capable of, he sought to protect her. And their child—her wolf was quick to remind her. That was why she let him shield her. He was no more comfortable with her fighting than she was when he did it.
“Why would he say anything different?” Finn asked. “He needed you to do his dirty work. Convincing you we’d done horrible things made it okay for you to do them to us.”
“You’re full of shit,” the man spit back, his skin going red.
This man was loyal to Cyrus, she saw it in his pale gaze. Any further conversation would only delay the inevitable. It would be a quick fight. Eleven Others versus their five—and Gentry and whatever canon he was holding.
“He was full of shit.” Mal pointed at Cyrus’s remains. “You want to die over some dead asshole’s lies, we can help you with that.”
Finn placed a hand on Mal’s arm, restraining him. “I’ll say it again. We’re not your enemies. We didn’t come here to fight, only to protect and defend out packmates. Pack is family. We protect one another. No matter what.”
There was a murmur among the group. “You’re outnumbered,” the man said, a slow smile creasing his face.
“Do we look worried?” Mal asked, bowing up.
“You should be,” the woman spoke, falling forward to shift.
The Others launched as one teaming mass of teeth and claws. But Finn and the pack were ready. They met, a teeming mass of growls, snapping teeth, and whimpers. Ellen dodged an Other, the sting of claws cutting through the flesh of her upper arm.
Hollis attacked, knocking her attacker to the ground and snapping his neck.
He growled at her, doing his best to herd her toward the lab while covering her. Running was against her nature. She gripped the hilts tightly. Promise or not, even her wolf knew it was foolish to remain unarmed. She picked up on movement from the corner of her eye. A gray wolf was on her, swiping her legs out from under her, and sending her sprawling on the concrete to whack her head—one blade sliding out of her reach.