59. Isobel
The moment Quin’s tiger lifts away, I scramble to my feet. I quickly check over Arina, who has somehow emerged completely unscathed from this entire encounter. She’s starting to wriggle and fuss, miraculously only now beginning to wake from her nap. Loud pops turn into pained groans behind me, and I dart a look over my shoulder to see Quin back in his human form. I hurriedly pass Arina over to him, needing to go to Tálstrom and make sure he’s okay. I can’t feel him down our bond at all, in fact it feels as though it never even existed. I brush my fingers over the scarred-over mating bites Simon gave me—was it only last night?—and whimper when I only feel unblemished flesh.
What’s happened to our bond?
A low moan has me looking up, and I slam my hands over my mouth at the absolutely destroyed body of Simon, still doggedly making his way toward Catherine. I can see his ribs and even part of his spine through his flayed flesh, and the blood leaking from his body is slowing from a gush to a slow pump. I need to get to him, now.
I’m only feet away when half of my world ends.
“Catherine,”Simon rasps out, his voice like gasoline and razor blades, “you should have never come here. You should have learned your lesson from last time.” With those words, Simon reaches out with his right arm, and I think for a moment he is going to choke her with his bare hands.Instead, I gape in horrified fascination as Catherine chokes and gurgles on her own blood, drowning in it. Simon has ripped out her throat, and unless she gets immediate help, she’s going to die.
Spoiler alert: it’ll be a cold day in Hell before I give that heinous bitch any sort of first aid.
Catherine’s eyes are pleading as she tries to stem the torrent of blood gushing from her neck, but my gaze swiftly moves from her to Simon as he drops to his knees, blood dripping from the right paw that’s taken the place of his hand.
“Simon?” I call, then scream as he collapses to the ground, stumbling to my own knees beside him.
He’s covered in wounds, strips of flesh dangling from his frame, and the wheezing rattle emerging from his chest fills me with dread.
“No, Simon, don’t you dare!” I plead, my hands fluttering over his body, not knowing which of his wounds I need to treat first. “I’ve already patched you up once this lifetime, I don’t know if I can do it again!”
Heavy hands land on my shoulders, pulling me away from Simon’s side, and it unleashes something wild inside of me. I scream out in fury, kicking and squirming, but the hands are firm and strong. They lift me up and carry me away from my mate, and I scratch and claw at the dark skin keeping me away from one of the loves of my life.
It’s only when I lean down to bite whoever has me that they speak, shifting me into one arm while using their free hand to tangle in my hair, firmly but carefully controlling my head.
“Hey, now, little lady. I know you want to help, but there ain’t no reason for you to behave that way. I’m not trying to take you away from Simon. The medics just need you out of there so they can get to work. Now, how’s about you and me go over to that tiger who looks ready to tear through my brothers to get to me?”
The deep rumble of the shifter’s voice soothes and settles me enough that I’m able to take in the warzone that is my front yard.
There are black-clad shifters manhandling the bodies of Caleb and Lori Bassatne into body bags, while others stand around staring at the remains of Chad Corbin and Brantley L?nnberg in horrified fascination. A flurry of activity surrounds Simon’s form, with a petite platinum-blonde shifter barking orders to the medics.
“Oh, no you fucking don’t. That cunt—yes, Rhys, I called her a cunt—can finally fucking die for all the shit she’s been tits deep in. I will fucking tear the balls off any medic who even thinks of trying to save that festering piece of shit! Saving Simon is your main—nay, your only—objective at this point in time. So, get fucking to it.”
The medics pay heed to her threats, concentrating on tending to Simon. If I try to get back to him, I’ll only interfere with their work, and saving Simon and having him return to us is more important than my own wants or needs right now.
Feeling me relax, the man holding me sighs heavily before setting me to my feet, and I look up to finally get a glimpse of him.
Holy heck, this guy is HUGE.
Well over six and a half feet tall, and almost half that wide, the giant smiles gently down at me with sadness in his dark eyes. His black hair is contained, both in ropes of locs, and gathered and tied at the back of his skull.
While his expression gives off the impression that he’s someone who’ll strike first and ask questions later, the gentle way he handles me—even when I was doing my best to hurt him—tells me more than enough about this titan’s nature.
He’s a protective, gentle giant.
“Sorry about that,” I apologize, clearing my throat as we make our way back to a distressed and agitated Quin. “My name is Isobel Basset-Calhoun. Simon is one of my mates, and Catherine shot him with something that has done something to our bonds. I… I can’t feel him—” Tears well up behind my eyes and clog my throat. It takes me several attempts to swallow them back, my throat constricting around the massive lump of emotion lodged there. I struggle to breathe, let alone speak.
“Izzy!” Quin’s own frantic voice pulls at me, and then he’s there in front of me, one arm full of awake and squirming tiger cub, the other held open wide in invitation.
I walk straight into his embrace.
“C… can you feel him?” I stutter, hoping against hope that it’s just me and my bond to Simon that’s been affected. The stony silence that follows my question destroys any possibility of denial on my part.
I bite back a sob, knowing that now is not the time to lose my ever-loving mind. Simon needs me—needs us—to stay strong for him, to be there for him when he wakes again.
He will wake again. I refuse to entertain any other option.
I don’t know how long we stand there surrounded by shifters I don’t recognize or know, but I feel the moment Simon slips away from us all. It’s like an invisible hand punches through my chest and grips my heart, squeezing and tearing it from its cavity. A wail of pure loss and anguish climbs up my throat, bursting out of my mouth and rising into the air. Quin tilts his face to the air and roars, joining the cacophony of growls, snarls, and cries ripping through us all.
Several medics move away from Simon’s motionless body, their expressions solemn. The ones remaining hover around his head, looking for someone, anyone, to give them instructions on how to proceed.
“No!”the platinum blonde screams, flailing and fighting against the tight embrace of a male shifter with blond hair as they collapse to the ground together, another with dark hair wavering on his feet behind them. They’re joined by the dark titan who held me earlier, his enormous hands landing on the other men’s shoulders, linking them together in their sorrow. A little distance away another trio—two men and a woman—are on their knees, clutching at each other as flames and heat halo them. A solitary woman with tight black curls and warm chestnut skin stands silently as tears pour down her cheeks, before she turns and spits savagely on Catherine L?nnberg’s cooling corpse.
I grab Quin’s hand and drag him over to Simon, refusing to allow this to be the end of our story together. Simon’s died so many times already, and although I know it destroyed something inside him every time he came back, he has us to lean on this time.
I refuse to let him go.
I land heavily on my knees and rest my distraught daughter over the chest of her other father. Wordlessly directing Quin to lie on the other side, we sandwich Simon between the two of us, our hands resting over where his heart should be beating.
“Simon Gatto, you promised us forever. You swore you’d never leave us, that you’d always have our back,” I whisper, pushing every single ounce of love, hope, despair, and completion that I’ve experienced since he stumbled into my life into my words. “We’re your family, and we need you. I need you. Quin needs you. Arina needs you. Please, come back to us.”
My palm warms the skin beneath it, and I visualize all my emotions and strength flooding out of my body through my hand and into his.
“Simon, Arina needs you. She needs her daddy. She adores you, from the moment she grabbed onto your finger only minutes after she was born. Don’t leave her behind. Don’t leave us behind where we can’t follow, my love.”
“Simon… Tál… my brothers.” Quin’s broken whisper washes over our shattered family. “You swore to me that you’d defend all that I cherish to your last breath. Well, I cherish you both. I need you beside me as we walk through this life together. I swore I’d tie my life to yours, and I don’t give a flying fuck what my parents had O’Hare create, our vows to each other are stronger than any chemical shit he can come up with. So, both of you, wake the fuck up! Don’t be the asshole who breaks his vows.”
But Simon doesn’t stir. No miracles occur, and the power of our love is nothing but whispers on the wind.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I look up to see Paw Paw kneeling beside me.
“Up you come, Izzy-bizzy. Rhys Brenin has one last card up his sleeve, but he needs you all out of the way before he can play it. Come on, now, let’s get our boy back, hmmm?”
I take Paw Paw’s hand, letting him help me up. Da is over the other side helping Quin to stand, hauling him into a back-slapping hug then passing him over to Dillon while Dane lifts a blood-soaked Arina from Simon’s chest. She does not appreciate this and wails furiously once more. I quickly take her back into my arms, jiggling her in the hopes she’ll take comfort from my presence.My shirt sticks to my body, the fabric stained the same crimson as the specks littering my daughter’s face. We’re likely a gruesome sight, but I refuse to leave him. Not until he’s back with us.
Getting clean can wait.
The moment we’re far enough from Simon’s body, a handsome, dark-haired man in a suit steps forward, closely followed by a rather androgynous person. This person—or should I say shifter?—appears quite exotic. Their skin, a sun-kissed bronze, is draped in a bright kaftan over black leggings. Their dark hair, tipped in colors of flame, falls to their shoulders in tight coils and braids like the pharaohs of old, and their upturned eyes burn like the sun.
They kneel beside Simon, laying their hands on his head and chest, before they begin humming an eerie, haunting tune.
A hot wind stirs around us all, bringing the scent of sand, heat, incense, and burnt feathers. The air shimmers around this newcomer, their entire being lighting up from within. In the time it takes me to inhale sharply, this stranger emits a glow so bright they rival the sun. The light pulses and flares, causing me to close my eyes or risk permanent blindness. When I open them again, the shifter is back on their feet, waving the medics forward urgently.
Quin and I scramble forward, but it’s too late. The medics have Simon bundled onto a stretcher and are practically sprinting toward the ambulance I’ve only just noticed is pulled up in front of the house.
We follow them to the rear of the vehicle, our determination to stay by our mate’s side pulsing through our bond. When we go to enter the back, however, another shifter bars our way.
It’s the platinum-blonde who was barking out orders from before.
“Uh, I don’t know who you are, lady, but that there is my blood brother, and I’m not letting him out of my sight.”
The same wildness from before churns through me, and I spin, shoulder-checking her out of the way. A few paces behind her is the blond, with the brunet and gentle giant taking up the rear.
“I’m his gosh-darn mate, and if you think I’m going to let him out of our sight, then you need to get smacked upside the head with my Paw Paw’s clue-by-four. Now, if you’ll excuse us, our daughter wants to be close to her daddy.”
Ignoring the outraged sputtering behind me, I clamber aboard the ambulance, Quin’s firm touch stabilizing me before he leaps up behind me. One of the medics passes him a pair of scrubs, which he pulls on before sitting next to me on the padded side bench. He brushes the hands of the medic away as they attempt to check his wounds, his gaze fixed firmly on where Simon is lying on the stretcher.
Staring at Simon.
Staring at Simon’s chest.
Which is moving.