7. Morgan #2
I can barely make out Birch walking towards me. He stops and crouches in front of my face. Fully dressed now. When did that happen?
When he strokes a hand down the side of my face, I want to flinch away, but I can’t move. My mind is screaming to get away, but my body won’t fucking cooperate.
He grips my chin and forces me to look at him. “Say hello to Harper for us.”
My head falls onto the ground as he lets go and stands.
They don’t say anything else, just turn and walk away.
Every part of me hurts.
I know I’m bleeding, know I need to get up, to look for my fucking phone or I’m going to die out here. But my eyes are heavy. The lure of sleep is way too enticing to do anything but close my eyes and let the darkness take me.
LYNX
“Get them in the van.”
Two.
Fucking two shifters. That’s all we could get out before they spotted us.
“We could’ve got more,” Beth hisses, like she’s read my mind. “They didn’t have silver bullets. We would’ve been fine .”
“Beth—”
“ They wouldn’t.” Mal stops her before she can get on her bike. He gestures behind him to the now closed van doors. “If we don’t get them back to Corey, then there’s a good chance we’ll lose them.”
Especially the one with curly brown hair.
Fuck me, he’d looked so broken when we freed him from his cage. Sometimes we get them out too late. The damage caused by too many turns in the ring is too much to repair.
I hope it’s not like that this time.
He reminds me of Bale. A younger version, sure, but they have the same eyes. I wonder if Beth sees it too. If that’s why she’s so on edge.
“What do you mean?” She narrows her eyes at Mal.
Mal looks at me.
We haven’t shared this with the rest of the pack.
“They inject a small amount of aconite into them before they fight.”
Her eyes flare bright. “What the fuck?”
“Not enough to affect them right away, but it works through their system as they fight. By the time they come out of the ring, they have anywhere between thirty minutes and an hour to get the antidote in them. If we’d stayed any longer...”
It took too long to get them out. We couldn’t risk staying without putting them in danger.
Her gaze darts to the van again.
“Jet’s giving them the antidote now. But they’ll need more when we get back to the compound.”
“Fuck.” She runs a hand through her hair. Frustrated. Angry. I don’t blame her.
“We saved two.” I grip her shoulder, not letting go until she faces me. “That’s two lives that won’t end for the entertainment of others.”
We have to take the wins where we can get them, because Goddess knows, we don’t get many.
She nods once then gets on her bike.
Jet jumps out of the van and trades places with Mal.
Five minutes later we’re on the road headed back. It’ll take longer sticking to the speed limits, but we can’t afford to get stopped with our cargo. Explaining that to the police isn’t something I’m in a hurry to experience.
My muscles ache.
Injuries heal, but the ache lingers for a few hours after. I’ll take it a hundred times over if it means we can keep doing this.
LYNX
We’re about five miles from home when I catch sight of something shiny through the trees. Normally I’d ride straight on by, but something tugs in my belly, a gut feeling telling me I need to go investigate.
This late at night, or early morning, there’s nothing on the roads, so I slow down, signalling for the others to do the same. Circling back to the spot I saw it, I come to a stop and turn my engine off.
Jet pulls alongside me. “Problem?”
“I saw something in the woods. Need to check it out.”
He nods and gets off his bike, no further explanation needed. It’s not even an alpha thing. It’s just a wolf thing. We know better than to ignore our instincts, no matter how strange the situation.
Beth and Mal stay with the van, as Jet and I head into the forest following the path.
The smell hits me about twenty feet from the road.
Blood.
Jet curls his lip, grabbing my arm to pull me to a stop. We scan the forest, listening for any sounds that don’t belong. The night is far from quiet, but all I detect is nature doing its thing.
We start walking again, slower, more cautious, gaze sweeping the surrounding trees for any movement, any threat. The scent of blood grows stronger the deeper we get, and suddenly it’s not the only scent I pick up.
“FBs were here,” Jet states, distaste clear in his tone. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve fucked with someone in the woods. But this is way too close to our territory, even for them.
Another scent hits me, horrifyingly familiar, and it takes a moment for me to connect the fucking dots before I’m off and running with Jet racing to catch up.
I burst through the trees into the small clearing and skid to a halt.
“Ahh fuck.” Jet spits out a couple more curses, surveying the scene.
Blood spatters the trees and surrounding flora in too many places to count. And there, lying unconscious at the foot of a thick oak tree, is Morgan Webb.
Beaten and half naked.
It takes everything I have not to rush over to him, to give in to the wild need raging inside me.
He’s hurt . He needs me.
I curl my hands into fists and embrace the pain of denying such a basic instinct, because Morgan Webb is not mine.
He can’t ever be.
But there’s no stopping the vicious growl building in my chest and I don’t bother trying. It echoes around us, loud and menacing.
“Shit,” Jet hisses, forcing me to focus on Morgan again.
His clothes are ripped to shreds, claw and bites marks all over him. If I had any doubts before who’d done this, I don’t anymore.
I want to kill them all.
“Did they turn him?”
Ice-cold dread hits me full force at the thought of Morgan becoming theirs . I inhale, deep enough to draw Morgan’s scent into my lungs, then shake my head in relief. “No.”
Thank fuck.
The bites are deep, but I can’t sense his body changing.
“Good,” Jet says. “At least we don’t have that to worry about.”
My resolve wavers and I take a step towards him, but Jet grabs my arm. “We need to go,” he hisses, eyes darting around us. “They could still be out there.” He gestures to Morgan. “He’s going to be missed come morning. We can’t leave any trace that we were here.”
We can’t leave him . It’s what I want to say, but I can’t do that either. I have my pack, my club to think about. Neither can afford the attention of hunters or police. “He’s still alive.”
Jet grimaces. “Not for long.”
As much as it hurts to admit it, he’s right. There’s too much blood, and some of those wounds are deep. If we leave him out here, I doubt he’ll last the night.
It would solve more than one problem.
I feel sick to my bones for even thinking it, but I can’t afford to be selfish right now. Too many lives depend on me making the right decision. I can’t jeopardise their safety for something that can never happen anyway.
Even if it means losing him.
So I do what any good alpha should. I push my own feelings down deep and concentrate solely on what’s best for my pack. I sound cold, detached, when I finally speak, “ He’s on our doorstep, Jet. When they find him, that shit’s going to come our way.”
He points to the bike parked a few feet away and the torn sleeping bag on the floor beside it. “It’s not like anyone dragged him here. We have twenty witnesses that say we were at the compound all night.”
I send him a pointed look. “Which might convince the authorities.” Although I doubt it’ll be that easy. “But the hunters’ll take one look at his injuries and come straight for us.”
“Nothing ties us to him.”
“Apart from the fact he came by the compound yesterday to try and join our club.”
“Bollocks.” Jet rubs a hand over his hair, the short black strands poking up through his fingers. “I can finish him off. Take him further into the woods and bury him. His bike is easy enough to get rid of.”
It’s what we should do.
“With any luck, it’ll take them a few years to find his body, if at all, and by that time it should’ve decomposed enough to destroy any evidence that this was done by one of us.”
Fucking Feral Beasts.
I make the mistake of glancing at Morgan again.
He moans softly and I’m hit with a barrage of memories I’ve tried so fucking hard to suppress.
He grimaces, pain etched in every one of his features, and my control wavers.
Something akin to electricity hums through my veins, all the way out to the tips of my fingers. An awareness that makes my wolf stir.
No.
I lock everything down and turn to Jet, my voice cold, business like. “Do it.”
Goddess forgive me.
He hesitates for a beat, as though expecting me to change my mind, but this is the right thing to do for our pack. Our club.
The only thing.
Then why does it feel so fucking wrong?
I curl my hands into fists and force the words out. “Kill him.”
I watch Jet jog back to his bike to retrieve the hunting knife stashed there. When he returns, the sharp blade glints in the moonlight, his fingers wrapped tight around the black handle as he heads towards Morgan.
His breaths have got shallower in the time we’ve been stood here. We could probably wait for nature to take its course, but this is hard enough as it is. I can’t let him suffer when we can end it quickly.
How fucking merciful of me.
Shame and guilt hit me from all sides, and I welcome them with open arms. But I don’t move to intervene.
I can’t .
Jet crouches down and grabs a handful of Morgan’s hair, tilting his head back to expose his throat.
All that pale skin.
And fucking bite marks. A low growl rumbles up and out before I can stop it, followed by a wave of possessiveness so strong I stumble forwards.
Jet glances back at me, eyebrow cocked. He has his knife against Morgan’s throat. One smooth motion and it’ll all be over.
Done.
It won’t be a problem anymore.
He won’t be a problem.
I’m about to plead for Jet to just fucking do it already , when Morgan opens his eyes and looks right at me.
And smiles.