Chapter Twenty-Six
Confrontations, Confessions, and Curveballs
Nick
I try to pry my eyes open. The light is too sharp. I blink it closed again. I feel drowsy and fatigued. But it doesn’t hurt. Anywhere. The lack of pain is worrying.
Am I dead? I hope everyone else survived. I hope Elliot got to punch that motherf— Wait, Elliot was there too. I can’t die without making sure he’s alright.
I snap my eyes open. The scene in front of me has to be fake because not even my wildest imagination could have conjured it.
My brain is slow, but not enough to notice Meena chatting with Serena in the corner of the room.
You know, my human LAPD partner who knows nothing about werewolves or Meena? It doesn’t compute. So, I don’t try.
I’m still leaning back against the hard wall, this time without chains. A few steps ahead, Matt stands beside a pile of dust and broken concrete, speaking into his phone. The previously dark and stuffy room now has an uneven sunroof, casting an angelic glow on everything.
I turn my head to find Bree slumped beside me, Cami kneeling in front of her. “Oh, good, you’re up.” She walks over to me. Bree turns to shoot me a tired smile.
Cami pokes and prods me, checking for injuries. Then she shines a light into my eyes to check for a concussion. “I’m sorry to say, you’ll be spending some time in bed. Werewolf healing would fast-track your recovery, but I wouldn’t recommend moving around too much for at least a week.”
So not dead? “Do I even want to know what happened to the roof?”
“Oh, you—” She stiffens when a couple of people I recognize as Bureau agents walk towards a hunched-up silhouette on the opposite corner. When they haul him up, he growls. Ignoring it completely, they drag him towards the door.
When he passes us, I finally recognize him as Raymond Booth. They got him. Fuck, they finally got him. My body, which was apparently still on high alert, relaxes. They fucking got him.
I spot Elliot in my periphery, watching his monster walk away. My eyes inevitably turn to him. His expression is hard to read. Relaxed, smug, but I can see the fear lingering in his eyes. He doesn’t even have to look at me. It’s clear as day to me.
Anger bursts through me. This man made him look like that. I was going to kill this man. Maybe someday I will.
Before they take Raymond towards what I’m assuming is the door, he raises his head. Turning, he glances at my Elliot.
I’m going to snatch his eyes out. I’m going to make sure he never lays eyes—
A loud groan, and one of the men holding Raymond slumps down without a warning, his body violently shaking. While we make sense of what’s happening, Raymond kicks the other agent and dives towards Elliot.
Without processing, I find myself running towards them. I slam into Raymond before he can reach Elliot. I won’t let him hurt Elliot. Never again. Pain shoots through my body, and I notice blood oozing out of my abdomen. A sharp claw buried into me.
I don’t let it deter me. I punch him as hard as I can. It’s enough to push him away a couple of steps.
He rallies quickly, slamming me against a pillar, my head making the contact first.
Stars explode behind my eyes as the roar of blood rushing through my head drowns out everything else. “A hero, aren’t you? This is what heroes get,” he growls, following it up with a punch to my gut.
Blinding pain freezes me for a second. I shake it off. I’m definitely not dead. I drive my head into his with everything I have. The impact snaps his head back, and a raw, animalistic howl tears from his throat as he doubles over, clutching his nose.
Then I kick him while gathering enough energy to pop out my claws. My body must be really running low on reserves because they refuse to come out.
Not a problem for our friend Raymond here, though, he pounces at me again, claws out. I barely dodge the first swipe.
Then I hear a click that’s unfortunately becoming a familiar noise.
While I’m distracted for a split second, Raymond yanks me against him. My exposed throat goes straight to third base with a pair of razor-sharp claws.
Elliot is holding the gun pointed right at me. Or the man behind me. The scene gives me the strangest deja vu. It has barely been over a month since we were standing in the same positions, except that last time I had the gun. And I wasn’t terrified of the man with the claws.
Raymond snorts. My body recoils from the noise. “Are you going to shoot me, Eli boy?” He outright laughs then. Elliot hesitates. His breath audibly hitches. “You were right. We’re nothing alike because you won’t shoot.”
If I trip this man right now, he’ll definitely cut a vein or two open before going down. But then one of the thousand Bureau agents here will have a chance to catch him and put him away so Elliot won’t ever have to look at him again. Maybe Cami will be able to save me, too?
“You, with your fancy ways of killing werewolves so you didn’t have to fight before they died? The Vigilante Wolf Hunter. Too long a name for a coward like you.”
No no no no. I gear up to twist my knees when I feel claws prickling my skin. Blood flows down my neck.
Elliot’s fear contorts into a smile right in front of my eyes. A loud bang, and Raymond collapses, his cruelty finally reduced to flesh and blood.
No one moves. But I don’t pay any attention to anyone else. My gaze is focused on Elliot.
He stands frozen, gun still trained up. I walk toward him slowly, only partly because of the dizziness. Every time I lift a leg, a fresh wave of nausea threatens to make me hurl. Every cell in my body hurts with movement. But I swallow the winces and groans.
When I gently coax the gun out of Elliot’s hand, it feels like we’re the only ones here. His hands are cold. He doesn’t fight me. Gives it to me easily. I slide it into my pocket before pulling him onto my chest.
He wraps his arms around me, slumping into me. My body protests at the contact. Blood is still oozing out of open wounds. Elliot will never be able to wear this shirt again.
He rests his head on my chest. I’ll keep him here forever. Safe and happy. If only I had enough energy to lift my eyes. The next dizziness spell is worse than the last, and I find myself falling over, taking Elliot with me. I hear his worried cries before I go down, just like Raymond.
Before I close my eyes, I see Meena walking over with cuffs. Then all I hear is, “Elliot Rhodes, you’re under arrest for eleven counts of murder,” before it goes dark.