Chapter 67 #3
We’re moving towards the next door when a shout booms from deeper in the cavern, in the direction Maverick went.
The pack link blares with a notice, and a second later, the front door is forced open.
I mutter a curse as I watch our thundering horde of wolves rushing in from outside meet the tidal wave of rogues that creep out from the building’s hidden alcoves. There are more of them inside than us right now, and not enough space to fight, but everyone seems to … make do.
“We’re in it now,” Julian grumbles, vaulting over the barrier, calling his shift mid-jump so he lands in the crowd of rogues with his canines already out.
Beckett is already behind him, and soon, so are the others. I leave them to it while I face the rogues that spill into the upper halls with me.
My canines drop; my claws follow. Then I charge.
In every rogue I cut down, I look for him. He’s here, I know he is, and I pray to Goddess he’s still the coward he’s always been—hiding from the fight—so that I’m the one who takes his life.
I carve through bodies like they’re already dead, moving through the dingy halls until I reach the end, where no light shines—just one more door.
Heart in my throat, I race towards it and wrench it open. And there he is, standing in the same spot he was eleven years ago.
The only light comes from behind me, spilling over the room to reveal a pup on the table. Reon stands above him. A needle juts from the pup’s chest, the tubing empty.
My vision goes red.
In the moments when fear made me believe he was still out there, I fantasised—down to the bloodied detail—what I’d do when I found him. Sometimes the kill was quick and painless, just so I could be free of him. Others, it went on until every inch of his skin was peeled from his body.
I had things to say—things to scream. I had revenge to see through. I’ve never had tears, and I don’t have them now. I had plans to see through, though.
But now that the moment’s here, and Reon turns to face me, the same man who’s haunted me all my life, I don’t think about myself at all.
All I can think about is getting him away from that boy.
I rush him in a blind haze of rage, restraint gone.
My claws dig into his stomach, sinking and curling in to drag him to me, so he connects with my fist as it crashes into his jaw. Bones crack, and the sound has never been so satisfying as he reels to the side, but I keep him upright by my internal grip on his organs.
Then, I can’t stop.
It’s a torrent of bloody punches that crush bone and distort muscle while I keep a firm hold of his intestines so he doesn’t go anywhere. None of the words I have prepared come to mind. They don’t need to.
There’s only the blood, and how fucking good his life feels in my hands.
A whimper is what breaks the fog. A soft sound that is barely audible amongst all the chaos inside my head, but I hear it. I hear it like a gunshot and stop immediately. The child.
Glancing back at him, I find him shaking atop the table, with a fucking muzzle over his mouth.
I growl as I shove Reon into the nearest wall and hold him up by his neck while his feet scramble beneath him.
When I first saw him with Oliver, he looked just like before, as if nothing had changed. But maybe that had been my mind’s deception, because now, he’s greying, and not nearly as clean as he’d once been.
The fearsome image of the big bad rogue is lost as I scent his desperation, his fear, and above all, his hopelessness.
“Remember me?” I whisper as I finally remember words, and they feel so good to speak aloud.
Reon makes a sound, but I shush him with a whisper.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you,” I say as I feel my lips stretch into a sick smile.
“I’m going to take my time repaying you for what you’ve done to me.
” His eyes bulge, and mine glow. “I prepared a room for you back home. I wasn’t sure if I’d get to use it, but I’m glad we will.
It’s dark, just like you like it, and it has all your favourite tools, and some of my own.
” I lean closer to breathe my promise. “I’ll break you, the same way you broke me. ”
I don’t wait for a response before slamming his head into the wall, knocking him out, before I throw his limp body across the room. He slumps without a sound and folds into himself, a sack of bones and muscle.
That’s it.
There’s no more. He’s done. Mine. And this … this is truly over. But if it is, then why is all the rage still there?
I release a slow breath as I turn and eye the child.
He’s so small, so much smaller than I was.
He can’t be more than five, and yet every inch of his body is strapped to the table.
Every inch. The muzzle is far too big for his small face, covering everything but his olive-green eyes that I’m forced to watch darken until they’re completely black, with only a hint of his old green shining through.
In his blackened eyes, panic and fear I know too well shine back at me, and it’s almost too much, but it’s not about me. Not this time. Steadying his head, I rip the muzzle off and reach for the needle next, but his teeth are sunk into my hand before I can.
I hiss a curse as I rip my flesh free of those sharp teeth before glaring at him, but he’s already glaring up at me while he struggles to free himself from the restraints.
“What the hell, kid? Didn’t you see me take him out?
I’m on your side!” I bark, and it’s enough to settle him, if only from fear.
“Shit,” I mumble before I try again. “I’m getting you out,” I tell him before stepping closer.
“I know you don’t know me, but I’m Aiden …
I’m a good guy, okay? You don’t have to be scared. ”
Breathing heavily, the pup only stares at me, but when I reach for the syringe, he doesn’t move. I ease it out of his chest carefully, heart bleeding when he whimpers again, but then I’m working on the rest of it.
I shred the leather bands until he’s completely free, and he doesn’t waste a moment before scrambling from the table. I step back, giving him room as he grabs the closest weapon—a scalpel. Fair enough, he’ll want to feel safe, like he can protect himself a—
“Hey! Wait a sec—” I warn as the kid races towards me with his blade aimed at my gut. “Kid!”
Deaf or dumb, he ignores me, but I don’t let him get close enough to bury that thing in my skin. I jab my fist out, getting him right between the eyes with enough force that he stumbles to a stop as his eyes roll back.
I catch his small body before he can fall and lift him into my arms. He’s lighter than he looks, and not quite so vicious looking when he’s asleep. Still, he’s a little fighter.
Looking around the room, I note the all-too-familiar blood-laced tools, the unmistakable needles and sutures, and …
no. Breath lodged in my throat, I approach the small notebook and lift it with shaking fingers.
My heart breaks at the sight of the familiar numbers starting on the first page, and thankfully, ending there, but it’s still too much.
I swallow hard as I tighten my hold on the kid and glare at Reon’s slumped figure. He’d fucking pay.
Pocketing the book, I shift the little guy’s head to my shoulder and carry him out of the room. I’m grateful to find the rest of the combatants done with only our people standing, moving through the aftermath, checking the bodies.
“They’re all dead,” Emitt reports, slipping into step beside me. “All of them.”
“Good,” I nod towards the room behind me. “He’s in there. Get him and make sure he ends up chained in the dungeon.”
Emitt gives me a look but nods, already turning to see the command through. I search for my mate, and I find Julian already heading my way.
When we see each other, there’s a second, where for the first time in a long time, we both know we’re safe.
He races towards me, but he slows when he sees the pup in my arms.
“You found him,” he breathes, reaching to brush the boy’s hair aside, and something in his eyes softens. “Was he—”
“He had him,” I cut in tightly. “But he’s safe now.”
Julian nods quickly before he looks at me, really looks at me. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I say with a dry laugh, “but we can deal with that at home. Right now, the kid needs us.”
His brow creases when he glances at the pup again. “Why is he sleeping?”
“I knocked him out—oh, don’t give me that look. He was coming at me with a knife. Besides, he’s fine.”
Julian rolls his eyes, but exhaustion weighs them down.
“Emitt said they’re all dead.”
“Every single one,” he confirms. “I checked myself.”
“Good,” I mumble with a nod, and finally, the unrelenting itch beneath my skin eases.
“Let’s go home,” he whispers, threading his fingers through mine. “We’ve got a long journey home, and apparently,” he glances at the pup, “some special cargo, too.”
I follow his gaze, and my hold on the boy tightens—the same way it does on my mate.
“Yeah,” I say. “We do.”