Chapter 6
COLTER
Need to shoot. Strangle. Carve.
Blood sloshes through my veins like river rapids, the churn so loud that I can hardly hear the world around me.
My teeth saw from side to side beneath my mask.
Taken.
Brylee’s been taken.
A canyon gouges through my chest at that reality. A canyon that I’m going to pile full of bodies until it doesn’t fucking exist.
We have a location.
Fucking finally.
Our esteemed guest—ahem, prisoner—came through after a little encouragement from us, and now we’re gearing up to head out. It’s hard to keep my pulse under control. Ruthlessness surges hot and quick beneath my skin. The need to protect her and shatter everyone in her vicinity.
Broken strands of the present break through the rush of fury.
Ridge snarling at our prisoner, his fists covered in blood, a few drops speckling his cheeks.
Kylian jabbing his knife into the fucker’s leg with a deranged laugh that rattles my teeth.
The fucking king and queen speaking to us through the phone, holed up in a safe house or bunker somewhere, demanding we save the princess “no matter the cost.”
The walk back to our cabin.
Luka’s quiet focus, the expression on his face the darkest I’ve ever seen it.
But I only absorb quick moments. Tiny blurs of the world around me. Most of my focus is internal. On this need blaring like an alarm. Loud and overpowering.
Mate.
We have to rescue our mate.
Now, crowded into the living room of our tiny cabin under the golden glow of the fan light whirring overhead, we’ve pulled out the arsenal that’s kept us all alive over the years. Guns stacked so tightly that the couch is hardly visible beneath them.
It better be enough to keep her alive.
If it’s not…
Nope. Can’t think that possibility into existence.
I check the magazine on my semi-automatic, feel the satisfying click as it glides into place. Seated. Ready to destroy.
Extra mags go into the strap running diagonally across my bare torso. The stupid penguin clothes are shredded in the corner and barely visible in the periphery of my vision as I grab a rifle and a hunting knife. An extra pistol at the back of the waistband of my cargo pants. A few grenades.
Boots not even laced up, I turn to the others, who all wear the grim, determined looks of alphas in a wild rage. Angry scents fill the room as we all prepare to kill.
Beneath a new bulletproof metallic skull mask, my own face heats.
Pulse thunders.
“Let’s move!” Ridge commands, and we file out, splitting into two vehicles, because you never know what we’ll face.
I shove my seat back to get enough leg room and then ignore my seat belt to lace my boots as Kylian drives like a bat out of hell.
A string of fatal promises falls from his lips in between screeching, tire-burning turns.
“Those fucks. I’m going to use their intestines for a jump rope.”
“I’m going to carve their torsos like a jack-o-lantern, pulling out chunks of flesh one by one so they can see. Then I’m gonna shove a lit candle up their asses—”
His list of extreme methods gets longer the farther we drive, and I have no doubt that he’ll execute each and every one. I’ve seen it.
When Kylian goes on a spree, he’s manic. He turns a slow death into art.
I’m grateful to have him at my side right now because he’s exactly what Brylee needs.
Deserves.
Our mate deserves to be protected.
Adored.
Worshipped as she’s painted with the blood of our enemies like some pagan goddess.
We’ll throw body after body like sacrifices at her feet.
I crack my knuckles and resist the urge to punch out a window just to release some of the wild violence roaring through me like a squall.
“Here.” Ridge’s voice crackles through my earpiece.
Glancing around, I realize that we’re in a suburb that’s heavily wooded, a little fairytale forest community where parents can pretend things are as good as they were “back in the day.”
My lip curls at that realization because it means things could get messy.
Dammit.
They better all be tucked in for the night.
“Civvies all around.” Ridge points out what we already know. “Park here. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”
I throw open the door of the car before Kylian’s even stopped. Jumping out, I let him worry about parking while I scan the trees for snipers.
“All clear,” I call.
“Van’s parked at the building down this unkempt road. The satellite image looked like an old warehouse.” Ridge’s voice is calm and steady as we fan out and raise our guns, walking slowly under the canopy just like we’ve done a million times before.
Except, this time, the stakes are higher.
We glide through the forest like wraiths until we come to the tall warehouse building. With two stories of windows, it’s a combination of cinderblock and metal sheeting. A faded logo on one wall shows it’s been abandoned for a while.
Easy target for guys like us…which means we’re probably facing our Noth equivalent.
Tension rachets up my spine. Tight. Tighter.
I spot a sniper atop the warehouse building. My rifle comes up. I zero the target.
Deep inhale.
Exhale.
Pull.
The man’s skull shatters like a watermelon as he slumps forward, and I’m about to give a vicious grin when his stupid body topples from the roof and lands on the ground with a sickeningly loud thump.
Fuck.
“Guess we won’t be sneaking into the party, boys,” Ridge says in our ears. “Get ready to dance.”
I grab a grenade, and when the door bursts open and a dozen Noths come pouring out, I pull the pin and lob it with everything I’ve got, feeling confident that Brylee isn’t in the immediate vicinity.
If I have to guess, I would say she’s farther in the abandoned warehouse, probably underground where it’ll be difficult for me to smell her.
The orange blast heats my face, and two of the fuckers fall as the explosion lights up the matted collection of unkempt dead leaves and sticks on the ground that no one’s bothered to clear out.
A convenient little bonfire that makes the rest of our targets even easier to see as a few more come dashing out of side doors.
I raise my automatic and let my bullets tell those fuckers exactly what I think of them. Insults bite into their skin. Shred their souls. Make them cry like the pussies they are.
Kidnapping a woman?
My mate?
They’re pathetic and evil, and if I could strip the alpha designation from them, I would.
Next to me, a shotgun blast ripples through my eardrums.
I glance over. Luka’s not interested in subtle. He’s more livid than I’ve ever seen him as he steps forward fearlessly, reloading and shooting again and again. Eyes dark as the devil’s.
Spotting a glimmer of movement from my periphery, I see a gun sliding out from a second-story window of the metallic building.
“Sniper,” I call. “High. My three o’clock.”
“Got him.” Ridge’s tone is flat and even before the window shatters and bullets pour through the opening.
The gun falls out of sight.
No other Noths emerge, but I have no doubt this fight is far from over.
They’re lying in wait. It’s what we would do.
“Move in,” Ridge directs us, and we converge to clear the building.
Heart bombarding my ribs, we flow into the building like water, arrowing to the left, clearing out offices.
At the third door, we take fire from two fucks who’ve created a barricade out of old machine parts. They shoot from small openings between their wall of metal, crouched down so we can’t get to them.
I duck, but a blazing trail skims the top of my shoulder like someone’s dragged a match over it.
“Hit!” I call out.
“Smoke bomb,” Kylian responds.
He tosses it toward the bastards, and we clear out of the room, closing the door behind us.
“I got this,” Luka says, planting himself just past the doorjamb. “Go.”
Trotting down the hall, I spot another Noth. As I raise my arms, I suck in a breath between my teeth, embracing the burn from my wound.
I blast four rounds through that Noth, not stopping until he slumps. Still, the fury of getting shot rides me as the other guys take out targets, coordinating over our earpieces.
But I’m distracted.
Because I don’t smell her.
Not at all. Not even the tiniest bit of scent. Not even a charred, fear-ridden version of her sweetness.
My gut clenches. Cinches.
A bullet slams into my vest, punching me back a step, reverberations rippling through my rib cage.
Unease vanishes as the edges of my vision smear, tunneling in violent focus.
Shoot. Duck for cover.
Shoot. Duck for cover.
Another bullet bites my flank. Don’t care.
Need drives me like a bull. Have to attack.
To survive.
My forearms grow drenched in red as I punch a motherfucker in the gut—directly in his bullet wound—who refuses to die. Who wrestles me until I grab his neck and squeeze until his gurgling choke ceases.
Even Ridge has stopped shouting orders. There’s no organization. Only chaos as bullets fly. As air saws in and out of my chest like it’s made of serrated blades.
I drop the body and glance around. Seeing no immediate threat, I sniff again.
Nothing.
I press the button on the earpiece that’s under my mask. “Does anyone scent her?”
There’s a long pause.
Then a string of answers.
“No.”
“Not here.”
“Negative.”
Fist raised, I punch the concrete wall. Furious.
Feral.
Ridge’s voice is deadly calm as he says, “Bad intel.”
“Or bad intentions,” Kylian snarls in return, his ferocity in overdrive.
I can’t help but side with Kylian as a new wave of Noths surge down the hall.
Keeping a gun in one hand, I unsheathe my long hunting knife. Because bullets are no longer good enough.
I need to see blood spray.
Charging forward down the dimly lit hall, I swing into attack mode, facing off against three opponents at once as a single thought punctures my skull.
The Noth fuck we captured might have sent us here to die.