Chapter Five
“ His hog was there?”
Matias’s voice tightened, unease coiling deep in his gut. Diablo wouldn’t just ditch his bike. It was as vital as breathing, an extension of the man himself. Something was terribly wrong.
Santiago handed him a cell phone, its screen cracked. “Found this on the ground next to Diablo’s leather,”
he said quietly, his tone grim. “He wouldn’t part with leather. His dad had given it to him.”
Matias’s fingers tightened around the phone, understanding the weight of that statement. The jacket itself was a living narrative, a battle-worn relic scarred by highway dust and hard living. Diablo had shared its significance during one of their long rides. It had stuck with Matias. While Diablo had been fortunate with good parents, Matias had been abandoned by his own. Instead, it had been his grandfather, Alverto Salvador, who molded him, channeling raw aggression into strength, transforming his alpha instincts into leadership tempered with compassion.
The old man had also instilled in him the wisdom to make decisions others shied away from. When to show mercy and when mercy had no place.
“It reeked of hyena,”
Santiago said, his voice edged with tension. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
Matias’s jaw tightened, muscles flexing beneath his skin. Territory was sacred among shifters. Yet, this pack had brazenly moved in, sowing chaos, igniting a war against the Salvador pack.
Matias did his best to prevent the conflict from affecting the unsuspecting humans, but his efforts weren’t always successful.
“We find them,”
Matias growled. “Now. Every minute Diablo’s in their claws is another minute closer to losing him for good.”
The thought of them killing Diablo was something Matias didn’t want to consider.
Already he’d lost two pack members to this war and was determined not to lose anyone else.
“We’ve scoured every inch of this territory,”
Santiago said, frustration darkening his expression. “Their tracks vanished before we even pick up the scent.”
Matias glanced at the phone in his hand, turning it over as the weight of the situation sat heavily on his shoulders.
“Keep the doors locked until we find Diablo,”
Matias finally ordered. “No one comes in or out. Today, the only business we have is bringing him home.”
Santiago rested his arm against the kitchen doorway, appearing pensive. Matias met his gaze. “They wanted my attention”—his voice lowered dangerously, a promise of retribution carved into every word—“and now they have it.”
“So, what’re you going to do about the little captives down the hall?”
A faint smirk curved his lips, but it quickly faded. “Elijah is downright pissed. Don’t you think he at least deserves an explanation? He didn't ask for any of this.”
Matias’s gaze flicked to him. “If he hadn’t been wasted, I wouldn’t have needed to use the room Diablo was in.”
Santiago glared at him. Bold move. Probably the only male who could get away with it. Two decades as alpha meant nothing if his men sensed weakness. Strength was respected. Weakness was eliminated.
“I know you don’t blame him for Diablo taking off.”
Matias didn’t blame Elijah. He blamed himself. Diablo had been chilling in one of the bedrooms, dealing with the weight of his trip. And Matias had barged in, ordering Diablo out.
He’d been too focused on Elijah to see what was right in front of him.
That was on him.
“No.”
He scanned the pack members lingering in the tavern before returning his attention to Santiago. “Gather everyone for a meeting. Those who aren’t here, call them in.”
Santiago nodded but hesitated. “What about the pocket-sized troublemakers? Percy’s gonna lose his shit if he can’t check on his mom. The scene he just made? Calm waters compared to what he’ll do if we keep him from her.”
“And if the hyenas are watching this place?”
Matias gestured toward the rooms. “They spot Percy and Elijah leaving from here, they’ll wish for the comfort of that room compared to what’ll happen to them. I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m trying to keep them alive.”
He exhaled heavily. “Send someone to watch the mom’s place. And warn them about Jacob.”
“For the record, I never thought you were being an asshole. I just thought you were being a prick for not explaining things to Elijah.”
Matias growled, his patience as far as Santiago’s insults had ended. “You’re getting dangerously close.”
“Yes, sir.”
Santiago nodded. “I’ll gather the pack.”
As Santiago walked away, Matias stared at the hallway. He owed Elijah nothing, because he hadn’t asked the little bunny to come to his tavern in the first place. But… it was the right thing to do.
Sighing, he headed toward the bedroom where the males were being held, a migraine pounding in his head. Now he was about to deal with a bigger headache for locking Elijah in the room.
How on earth had a pipsqueak human caused so much turmoil inside of him? Elijah made him what to pull his hair out and crave him in the same breath.
“He said he was doing it for your own good,”
Percy said on the other side of the door, causing Matias to pause. “Do you really hate him for trying to protect you?”
He held his breath for Elijah’s answer. Not because he gave a damn whether his bunny hated him. He didn't. Elijah’s response was strictly intel. Strategic. Just a piece of information to determine his next move.
Bullshit.
He tightened his jaw. He absolutely, completely didn't care.
Liar.
Matias exhaled slowly. Okay, maybe he cared. A little. But he’d rip the head off anyone who said it out loud.
“You dragged me off my couch last night, begging me to come with you,”
Elijah snapped. “I was trying to forget Trent and ended up…in this mess. I might’ve handled it better if the asshole had at least told me why I had to stay here.”
Matias reluctantly admitted he could’ve handled it better.
But who the fuck was Trent?
Was Trent the reason Elijah had looked so frightened last night? Was he the reason Elijah had been softly crying in the parking lot?
His wolf snarled. Matias didn't even know who Trent was, but he was already prepared to tear the asshole apart. Slowly.
“I was already manipulated once, Percy. You know Trent loved playing head games.”
“Loved trying to control you,”
Percy added with a loud huff. “Treacherous Trent. It should be illegal for scumbags like him to date.”
Matias unlocked the door and stepped inside. Percy was seated on the edge of the bed, lounging to the side on one arm.
Elijah stood beside him, his arms crossed, glaring daggers at Matias.
“Percy, go to the kitchen and get a bite to eat.”
Matias’s voice was firm, but even. The male immediately obeyed. When he passed, Matias stopped him with a single glance. “Do not leave the tavern under any circumstances. Understood?”
“As clear as a rainbow.”
He grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling. Matias wasn’t even going to try to understand what that meant. “Here’s some advice you didn’t ask for.”
He leaned closer, humor gone. “If you thought I showed my ass earlier, keep making my best friend cry and I’ll show you just how truly insane I can get.”
He pulled back and grinned as Matias snarled. “I guess that was more of a warning label than advice. Tootles.” He hurried out the door, slamming it closed behind him.
Matias wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip Percy’s tongue out of his mouth or laugh at the absurdity of the threat.
Shaking his head, he turned to Elijah. “There are things at play you don’t understand, conejito .”
Elijah stayed silent, gaze fierce, arms locked tight across his chest. Matias saw it clearly now—the desperate desire to trust battling hard-earned distrust. Elijah was vulnerability wrapped in barbed wire. No muscle, yet tougher than most men twice his size.
He hid his wounds deep, refusing to hand anyone a weapon forged from his own pain.
Someone had ripped innocence from Elijah’s bones and left a bitter survivor in its place.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, Matias stepped deeper into the room, weighing how much to say. Denial was pointless. Elijah wasn’t just another handsome face.
There was something special about him.
He’d triggered Matias’s wolf at first glance, and the fact that Matias couldn’t stay away spoke louder than words ever could. And now, the idea of confessing what he was said even more about how messed up his head had gotten.
Elijah’s gaze tracked his every step. The male felt it. The strong attraction between them, impossible to deny.
“My pack is at war, conejito .”
Fear flickered briefly in Elijah’s eyes.
“One of mine was taken. If you are seen leaving Sin’s, you may become a target as well.”
Matias didn’t say more. Allowed Elijah time to digest it. Let him choose. Break or brace.
“Pack? War?”
He laughed hard then abruptly quieted. “You’re serious.”
Matias watched him closely—stiff posture, glint of fear in his eyes, shallow breaths.
“The gorgeous ones really are insane,”
he murmured. His folded arms tightened. “Pack of what exactly?”
“Wolves.”
Elijah’s brows knitted, his nose wrinkled, then his head tilted. His tongue slid between his bottom lip and gums. “Wolves.”
He drew the word out slowly. “ Right .”
Matias could practically see the wheels turning in the male’s head, the cogs struggling to gain traction.
The frown hardened, Elijah’s lips growing flat. “Instead of simply confessing that you have boundary problems, quite possibly intimacy issues, and lack self-control, you would have me believe you’re a wolf?”
“I don’t have intimacy issues,”
Matias snarled.
“But you don’t deny lack of boundaries or self-control. Within five seconds of meeting, you decided to seduce me. But you didn’t stop there. Oh no . You’re not the type to do things half-assed. You just had to kidnap me too.”
His scowl deepened as he jabbed a finger at Matias. “You’re an over-achieving lunatic!”
“That doesn’t have intimacy issues!”
Holy fuck. Matias was officially losing his goddamn mind. He never lost control. Never engaged in a shouting match. Never allowed someone to get under his skin so badly.
And had never been so insulted in his life. Elijah thought he had a problem getting an erection? Never before had Matias wanted to prove someone so wrong.
“ Puedes llamarme loco todo lo que quieras, ?pero nunca insultes mi hombría! You can call me crazy all you want, but don’t you ever insult my manhood!
A slow, wicked smile formed. “You’re raging about the intimacy insult, aren’t you?”
“You threw that jab on purpose.”
Matias narrowed his eyes. “You went for the throat.”
“You went for my sanity. A wolf, really?”
Elijah still appeared pissed. “You insult my intelligence, Matias.”
A growl rumbled in his chest, his pride wounded, his control gone. “You think I’m lying to you?”
he asked calmly. “You think I have some wires crossed?”
Elijah spoke just as calmly, just as slowly. “More than some .”
Matias smirked, turned on by Elijah’s fiery personality. Short and slim but made of steel. But if he was going to wipe that smug look off of Elijah’s handsome face… “And what reward will you give me, conejito , if I prove I’m telling the truth?”
His gaze slid heatedly over Elijah’s sultry body.
“You’re seriously bargaining sex for absurdity?”
Elijah asked incredulously. “You’re only proving my point, Matias.”
His name on the human’s lips shot straight to his groin. Never before had he wanted to strip someone naked and fuck while fighting. “I never uttered those words.”
“But your hungry gaze did.”
Elijah crossed his arms. “Fine. Prove you’re not lying, that you’re a”—he erupted into laughter then settled—“a wolf, and I’ll not only forgive you for holding me hostage I’ll…”
Matias arched a brow, daring Elijah to finish his sentence, because he was curious as hell to know what he was going to say.
“I’ll willingly stay.”
He should’ve known better than to hope for something more intimate. “Are you sure you don’t want to up the stakes?”
Matias shrugged, enjoying this a little too much. “Since you believe I’m handing you a surefire win, why not make it more enticing ?”
“I’m not bargaining sex, no matter how sure I am.”
Elijah scowled, but Matias saw the flare in his eyes. He might not want to bargain sex, but the male sure as hell was interested in the idea.
“Ready?”
“No,”
Elijah said flippantly.
Matias grinned. As pissed and turned on as he was, he was also proud of Elijah for standing his ground. The male had the kind of fire Matias could only deeply admire.
And crave.
Pulling his hand free from his pocket, Matias held it up. Fingers spread, he slid his claws free.
Elijah’s eyes rolled back as he hit the floor.
* * * *
Each drip of water echoed precisely seven seconds apart. Every four seconds, a rush of hot air swept from right to left then reversed its course. A metal chair groaned under shifting weight, followed by the deep, weary exhale of someone nearby.
Diablo kept his eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness. Pain radiated through his arms, shoulders, and back, searing like fire. Chains bit cruelly into his wrists, suspending him in midair. His bare feet throbbed with a dull, relentless ache.
Another deep sigh broke the silence. Identical pitch. The same person. The chair groaned again, longer this time, interrupted by the distant blare of a horn. A semi, perhaps, yet the noise faded too swiftly, indicating a highway nearby.
The sharp smell of mildew hung thick. Diablo took a shallow breath—stagnant water, faint tang of oil. Machinery nearby?
Birds chirped faintly, their songs dampened, as if trapped behind closed windows. The air was stifling, oppressive, clinging to his skin and drawing sweat from every pore. Beads of perspiration trickled down his spine, his scalp, and dripped from his nose.
The drips of water. The relentless swipes of hot air. The drawn-out sighs. The groaning metal chair.
A nd now, the scurrying sound of a rodent.
Diablo was in an abandoned building. The faint wail of a police siren reached his ears, followed six seconds later by the shriek of a fire truck.
A small town or city? The absence of traffic sounds, aside from those already heard, only deepened the mystery.
Insects landed on his bare back, biting him. The sweat made his nose itch. Diablo kept his breathing shallow and even.
How long had he been out? What day was it? Had he missed the anniversary of his parents’ deaths?
Don’t do this to yourself. Focus . How many men? Just the one? More? What in the fuck was that drug? Even now, Diablo couldn’t feel his beast, and that disturbed him to his core. Scared him on a level he didn’t want to think about.
And what was with the foul taste in his mouth? It was like he’d been sucking on a blend of rubbing alcohol and pennies.
The chair scraped against a concrete floor. Approaching footsteps. A huff of air. Cheap cologne or bad-smelling deodorant?
“How in the hell did I get stuck watching your big ass?”
Pressure at Diablo’s gut, causing him to sway. The chains cut deeper into flesh. Pain intensified in his limbs and straining muscles. “Twenty more minutes and I can get the hell out of here.”
A sharp pinch in his side. Fingernails. The bastard was testing to see if Diablo was awake. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.
“You better stay unconscious until it’s time for me to leave.”
The voice was low, somewhere near his chest. No, slightly lower. Diablo focused, visualizing the man’s position as clearly as if his eyes were open. His muscles screamed, stretched beyond their limits, shoulders burning from being suspended by chains for so long.
But pain had never stopped him before. It wouldn’t stop him now.
He moved in an explosive surge, snapping forward and locking his powerful thighs around the captor’s neck. The chains screamed as his body weight shifted abruptly, tearing mercilessly at his already raw wrists. Pain shot like lightning down his arms, leaving trails of agony that threatened to rip a roar from his throat.
He swallowed it down, channeling it into rage instead.
They crashed violently to the concrete floor, metal rattling in harsh echoes. Diablo landed hard, the impact shaking through him, intensifying the agony burning along his stretched, abused muscles. Yet adrenaline surged hotter, drowning out the torment.
His captor thrashed wildly, fingers clawing desperately at Diablo’s thighs, but there was no breaking free from that iron grip.
“You picked the wrong wolf,”
Diablo snarled, voice low and savage.
In a swift, brutal motion, he looped the chains around the man’s throat, yanking tight until the body went limp beneath him.
Panting, Diablo rolled aside, every muscle screaming in protest. The numbness in his arms vanished, replaced by scorching fire. The pain exploded, nearly driving him to his knees. He growled, forcing himself upright, shaking violently as sensation began to return with merciless intensity.
“Fuck,”
he hissed through clenched teeth, trails of sweat trickling down his bare chest. But he stood anyway, refusing to break. He was free now, and someone was going to pay.
“That goddamn pinch hurt, you son of a bitch,”
he snarled.
The guy had said relief was coming in twenty minutes. Diablo had about ten to get far enough away from wherever in the hell they had him.
Revenge would be his, but first, he needed to heal. His arms were of no use right now. He couldn’t even make a fist. Could barely walk on feet that still throbbed mercilessly.
Diablo staggered toward the nearest exit, the chains still dangling from his wrists as he pushed through the door.