Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-eight
COLBY
Colby startled awake at the sound of pounding on the door, his body still warm from sleep, his mind slow to remember what day it was. Then it hit. Today.
“Forty minutes.” He couldn’t tell whose voice it was, but it was deep and businesslike.
Tristan was stirring beside him and reality crashed in on Colby. Tristan was going to face Cale and Nico. Without him.
“Morning.” Tristan’s voice was deep with sleep, and he’d propped himself up on one elbow to look at Colby. “Now there’s a sight I could get used to,” he said. Like he’d forgotten what today was.
Or maybe… maybe this was his way of coping with it, in which case, Colby would play along. Anything to get Tristan through this unscarred.
“You and me both,” he said, and trailed a finger down Tristan’s cheek.
Tristan leaned down to kiss him, and Colby held him close, telling himself this wasn’t the last time. That Tristan would be back. That he’d still be Tristan, no matter what happened.
Tristan explored Colby’s mouth with increasing intent, and his cock was pushing eagerly against Colby.
But however much Colby wanted this, and wanted to give Tristan this, part of his brain couldn’t switch off.
He pulled away, reluctantly. “We don’t have time,” he said. “Not if you’re going to shower.”
“Shower or you?” Tristan said, a grin in his eyes. “Not exactly a difficult choice.”
For an instant, Colby let himself drown in those eyes, in Tristan’s optimistic embrace of life, which held no fear about how wrong things could go. But he had to protect Tristan, so he smiled back at him, letting him know this wasn’t rejection, and threw back the covers.
“You can’t go in there with any scent of me on you,” he said. “Nico would smell it, and he’d go straight for you. You need to shower, and then we can’t touch again before you leave.”
Tristan’s brows drew down slightly as he climbed out of bed, as if, for the first time, he understood the gravity of what he was about to do.
Tristan had his own history with Nico, brief but scarring.
He knew the man’s violence. What he didn’t fully grasp was that Nico wasn’t just brutal.
He was cruel. And Colby knew, it was the kind of cruel that didn’t just hurt a person—he made them thank him for it.
“In that case, hold me one more time,” Tristan said, and Colby folded his arms around him, wanting more than anything to keep him safe.
Tristan’s face was turned against his neck, as he breathed in Colby, like he was sealing his scent deep inside him. And then he pulled back with a slightly shaky smile and headed for the shower.
* * *
The pack was assembling in the kitchen as Tristan and Colby went through. Some had breakfast, but most made do with coffee while Matt went over the plans. And then, with one last, long look over his shoulder at Colby, Tristan followed Matt into the darkness outside.
Colby stood at the front door, unmoving. He’d wrapped his arms around himself, as if he could hold himself together. The trucks disappeared down the driveway, one by one, the last of the tail lights blinking out like dying fireflies.
Riley turned to him. “Coffee?”
“Yeah,” Colby said, and it came out hoarsely.
“Unless you happen to know where Matt stashes his bourbon,” Riley said, and for the first time, Colby realized he wasn’t alone in this. Riley must be just as worried about Jason.
They retreated to the kitchen, where Colby tried not to watch out the window for the moment when the sky started to lighten. He needed a distraction. Riley was playing with the sugar and obviously not about to volunteer anything.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how does a non-shifter end up as part of a pack?” he asked.
Riley gave him a faint, crooked smile. “Let’s just say, it wasn’t exactly my finest hour.”
It figured Colby would put his foot in it. “At least you weren’t an enemy pack member,” he offered.
That got a small huff of laughter. They sipped their coffee in silence, and Colby refused to look at the window or think of Tristan approaching Cale’s compound in the early morning mist.
TRISTAN
Tristan was teamed with Matt and Jesse, in Matt’s truck.
Tension thrummed through him, every nerve in his body alight.
From the way Jesse was fidgeting in the front seat, Tristan knew he wasn’t the only one to feel it.
Matt, though—Matt was steady as a rock, just the way he always was. Calm, focused, and deadly.
Tristan turned to look behind them as Bryce’s truck pulled off the road about ten miles from Cale’s compound.
He was heading for the back of the camp.
Tristan had made sure to go to Bryce before they left.
Things might be strained between them now, but he loved Bryce and knew he was loved in return, and he’d wanted that moment of connection and reassurance.
To know that, when he had to face Cale’s pack again, he wasn’t alone.
In a half-forgotten ritual they’d had when Tristan was younger, Bryce had opened his arms and swept Tristan into them. He’d clung to Bryce for a moment, feeling the strength of feeling behind the hug he received, before he’d let go of that familiar security and stepped back. They had things to do.
They paused on the highway about six miles out, engine idling.
The sky was growing lighter, and Tristan stared out the window, imagining he could see big gray wolves ghosting through the mist that lay low across the ground.
He shook himself. He had been scared of Nico and the others, but that was when he’d been alone. Now, he was with his pack.
He should be thinking about their strategy and the terrain. But all he could think about was Colby. What this place had done to him. What it had taken from him.
Minutes crawled by before Matt’s phone finally sounded. He’d long ago bought satellite phones for anyone working the far reaches of the ranch, not trusting cell reception. That farsightedness was paying off.
Tristan expected it to be Karl reporting that he’d cleared the perimeter for them, and he thought Matt would just give a tight nod and drive on. Instead, Matt’s voice was sharp and surprised as he questioned Karl. “The others?”
Jesse was leaning in to Matt, practically flapping his ears trying to hear Karl’s side of the conversation.
“Be careful,” Matt warned Karl. “I’m going in the front door in ten minutes, unless I hear back from you.”
He killed the call and turned to face Jesse, glancing swiftly at where Tristan was hanging over the seat, eager to know what was going on.
“It seems the perimeter’s currently unguarded,” he said. “Karl’s found two bodies, both shot.”
A million and one questions rose to Tristan’s lips, but he bit them all back. It wasn’t like Matt would know the answers, and he sure as hell wouldn’t welcome the distraction.
“Well, that ain’t precisely what we expected,” Jesse said, and the understatement in his gravelly voice had Tristan wanting to laugh all of a sudden. He knew it was just the release of tension, but he had to bite at his hand to keep it in, the edge of hysteria far too close.
When Matt made no reply but simply sat looking at his watch, the urge to laugh died. The second hand ticked, impossibly slow. Tristan held his breath as long as he could, lungs tight and burning.
Redness was reflecting off the snow on the mountain peaks when Matt put the truck into drive.
They knew the plan—Matt was going to drop them at the edge of the trees, where they’d shift and be ready to run interference with Cale’s pack if necessary, while Matt walked in there alone to challenge Cale.
Jesse had practically had a hissy fit on hearing Matt’s plan, but Matt had been unshakeable. Tristan thought the only thing that had kept Jesse from losing it was knowing that this time, he was allowed to be there. “Because this time, I’m ending it,” Matt had said.
As they drew closer, Tristan thought of Colby—how this place had shaped and scarred him, how it still lived in his nightmares. Maybe for Matt, this was about eliminating a threat, but for Tristan, it felt like justice.
Once the camp came into sight, Matt eased off the gas. Instead of sliding quietly out of the truck and heading for the trees, Jesse leaned forward, peering through the windshield. Tristan couldn’t see Matt’s face, but his shoulders were tight with tension.
“Matt,” Jesse said softly, just as Tristan realized what was nagging at him.
“The lights are still on,” he said. It came out loudly, and he winced as Matt and Jesse turned to look at him.
“I mean,” he continued more quietly, “when I was there, they turned them off at first light, saving fuel, I guess.” But right now, as the day grew lighter by the minute, those big lights were still blazing away above the compound.
“Sit tight,” Matt said, shifting the truck slowly up the hill.
When they reached the entrance, Karl pulled the gate open, careful of the razor wire wrapped around it. He was pale and grim. Christian, still in wolf form, paced a tight circuit behind him, his movements clipped and restless, his face pinched as he watched Karl’s back.
Matt killed the engine and opened the driver’s door.
The smell hit Tristan like a punch—thick, metallic, and something darker, cloying and terrifying.
His wolf whined, wanting to flee, but he opened his door and slid out behind Matt, his gut clenched in cold fear.
He needed the comfort of his alpha’s closeness.
“Karl?” Matt’s voice was razor sharp.
“It’s bad. No survivors, at least none we’ve found. Most were killed by wolves, but some have been shot.”
Tristan swayed slightly, trying to understand as that smell ate into him, and his wolf snarled at him to run from the wrongness of this place. He’d never known that the tang of blood clung to the air like smoke, and he didn’t think he’d ever breathe clean air again.
“Fuck,” Matt said, pivoting on his heel to look around through narrowed eyes. “Is there any chance whoever did this is still here?”
Karl shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t want to stake anyone’s life on it. Whoever did this, they’re pros. They could be out there watching.”
Tristan was frozen to the spot, the scent of blood and fear rooting him there. Jesse, however, had started prowling around as Matt and Karl talked.
“We do a quick check for survivors, see if there are any obvious clues, then get the hell out,” Matt snapped. “Tell Bryce to keep Jason out of this.” He spun around to fix his eyes on Tristan. “You, too.”
Tristan nodded silently, deeply relieved.
“We need to know if Cale’s among the dead,” Matt added to Karl.
“Nico.” Tristan’s voice was hoarse. “Cale’s beta. Colby’s—” His throat closed around the rest of that sentence. “Can you see—Colby will need to know. He’s got long dark hair and an eagle tattoo on his right arm.”
Matt turned to Tristan. “Get back in the truck. I―”
He broke off at the sound of a low-pitched whimper, whipping his head around. Tristan saw its source an instant before Matt did—Jesse was clutching at the doorframe of an outbuilding as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
Tristan was still gaping as Matt strode across the yard to Jesse. Jesse, who never let anything show. Who turned everything into a joke and dared the world to call his bluff. Seeing him like that made everything real in a way even the smell of blood hadn’t.
“In the truck,” Karl said, a low snarl running through his voice, and Tristan scrambled to obey.
He stared through the windshield as Jesse folded into Matt’s arms, shaking and—God, was he crying? What the hell could he have seen that had brought him to this?
Tristan sat and shivered, longing for Colby’s strong, steady arms around him.