Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Aman in full HPAW tactical gear greets me as I step out of my vehicle. He’s younger than me, maybe in his early twenties, with bright blue eyes and black hair cropped closely to his head. His last name is printed on his chest. Anderson.
Four additional men step out of the crumbling building I parked in front of.
I glance between them, hoping to find a familiar face, but I don’t recognize any of these men.
They’re all as young as Anderson. Fresh HPAW meat.
Waiting indefinitely in some long-abandoned city isn’t a job for the valuable soldiers.
I was hoping Daniel would be here.
“Looking for someone?” Anderson asks. I shake my head. He continues. “Were you followed?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Is Alpha Knox dead?”
I hold back a wince. “I believe so.”
Anderson’s lips flatten into a thin line. “You believe so? How can you not be certain?”
“Alpha Knox was severely injured when I left, but I didn’t stick around to ensure he died,” I admit. “I couldn’t without risking my own life.”
Anderson glances behind him, making eye contact with the four other men. They’re having a silent conversation, one I’m reasonably certain is about me. Whatever. They have no idea what I’ve been through or how hard it is to kill a shifter.
I’m willing to bet HPAW’s simulations are the closest they’ve ever gotten to real combat. They’re in no position to judge me.
After several seconds, Anderson turns back to me. I don’t appreciate the way he’s looking at me—almost as if I’m the enemy. I thought the soldiers would be happier to see me.
“Call in reinforcements,” Anderson says to the others. “Let them know that the marked dove has returned.” He shakes his head. “And let them know that she failed to kill Alpha Knox.”
Asshole. I bite the inside of my cheek, remaining silent. It isn’t easy.
I’ve grown comfortable with speaking my mind these past few weeks, but HPAW doesn’t tolerate it the way Caleb did. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that Caleb enjoyed it. He valued my thoughts and opinions.
I’ll likely never experience that again.
I press my lips together, taking a moment to collect myself, before speaking. “Do you—”
Anderson interrupts me. “Are you compromised?”
“Excuse me?”
“Strip her,” he orders his men. “Make sure she’s clean, and bring her inside once you’ve cleared her.”
Clean? Compromised? What the fuck is he talking about? I step back, blood rushing through my ears as the four men form a circle around me. Who the fuck do they think they are to strip me? I’ve done nothing wrong, and I won’t be treated as the enemy.
The men continue their approach. I spin around, keeping tabs on their position. I won’t win in a fight against four men, but I’m confident I can land a solid hit or two before they take me down. I’ll aim for knees and nuts.
The men attack at once. Two go for my arms, and another for my legs. The fourth stands back, silently observing. I lash out, my dominant fist crushing the nearest nose before being captured. I don’t get the opportunity to swing with my other arm, but the man at my legs is fumbling.
I kick, satisfied as my foot slams against the tender flesh between his thighs. He groans, snapping his knees together with a pained curse. My ankle is trapped between his legs, and when I try to pull it free, he grabs and pins my calves together.
My arms are pulled behind my back, the angle so painful I’m worried about my shoulders dislocating.
“She broke my fucking nose,” the man behind me whines. He sounds nasally. Good.
I throw my head back, satisfied when my hard skull smashes against something. There’s a crack, and the man with the broken nose cries out again.
“Fucking bitch,” he whines. “Leave me alone.”
“You leave me alone!” I hiss. “Let me go!”
My hair is grabbed, preventing me from throwing my head back again. Shame. I was planning to do so. This wasn’t a fair fight, but I’m glad I managed to inflict some damage. Not as much as I hoped, but enough to feel good about myself. Daniel would be proud of me.
The fourth man finally steps forward, tugging at my shirt. I squirm, trying and failing to break free as the fabric is pulled away from my chest. There’s a flash of a knife. He intends to cut my shirt off.
I’m almost relieved when an ear-splitting snarl emerges from behind us.
There’s a sudden commotion, and the men begin dragging me forward. They’re bringing me to the building Anderson went into. It looks to be the only one around still habitable. The elements have gotten to the others.
Bullets spray around us, the pops loud and startling. The soldier on the rooftop is firing.
Is there only one shifter? Is it Caleb? Is he still alive? Hope blooms. I shove it down.
A scream rips from my throat as my left shoulder is pulled, and the man who was holding me flies through the air.
He lands with a sickening crunch several feet away, his head twisted at an odd angle, and there’s a blur of brown fur as a shifter darts past me.
I can’t bring myself to look away as the wolf descends on the man, ripping him apart within seconds.
The other soldiers release me, abandoning me in the street as they run for the building.
I don’t move. There’s no point.
I’d recognize this shifter anywhere, and Caleb isn’t going to let me escape.
Bullets sink into his torso. He hardly seems to notice. The man he’s on is already dead. He was probably dead before he hit the ground.
Caleb springs off him, his muscular form launching him into the air and through the closed doorway of the building HPAW has made their own. The thick oak door doesn’t stand much of a chance against a full-grown shifter male—especially not one as large as Caleb. It splinters beneath his weight.
There are screams from inside. Loud, masculine ones filled with terror. More bullets. More screams.
I stare at my feet. My hands are shaking, and I clasp them together as I wait. Caleb is either going to die inside that building or murder every HPAW soldier. He won’t let himself be captured, and my interference won’t make a difference.
I’ll wait here.
The screaming stops, and the low snarl that vibrates through the open doorway confirms that Caleb is indeed still alive. There’s a shout from the rooftop, another few pops, then silence.
I don’t look up as something heavy falls from above, landing with a loud thump on the cement about a hundred feet away. It’s a body, one covered in clothing. Not Caleb.
Several seconds pass before Caleb emerges from the building, stalking forward in his animal form. It takes all my courage to meet his gaze. He’s already looking at me, nothing but pure hatred in his eyes.
That hatred remains as he transforms out of his animal form. Is this the part where he kills me? I can’t say it’s entirely undeserved.
He’s covered in blood. I can’t tell which is his. He has several active wounds, some bleeding more heavily than others. My stomach roils as he reaches into a wound on his abdomen, his muscles bunching as he wordlessly rips out a bullet.
“You’re lucky that human had shit aim,” Caleb says. He drops the bullet, letting it bounce away, then points to my stolen vehicle. “Get in the car, Evelyn.”
There’s dried blood all along his neck and chest. The wound I inflicted on him has healed, but the evidence remains. An emotion that feels an awful lot like relief washes over me. I didn’t want to kill Caleb, not really. Maybe I subconsciously failed on purpose.
Caleb brushes past me and rips open the passenger seat door. “Get in the fucking car.”
He’s never spoken to me in this tone. I flinch, glancing around. I have nowhere to go.
“Are you alone?” I ask.
“Why?” Caleb raises a brow. “Planning another assassination attempt?"
He blinks, his gaze quickly traveling from my head to my toes before lingering on my shoulder. I’m cradling my arm, but I drop it as soon as he draws attention to it. The soldier overextended it when Caleb attacked him. I’m pretty sure I pulled a muscle.
Caleb doesn’t ask if I’m okay.
He looks away, his upper lip curling.
I take a moment to collect myself, mentally accepting the fact that I’ve failed. I won’t beg for mercy. I won’t beg Caleb to spare my life. I accept this.