20. Jaime
Chapter 20
“You really don’t know how to pick your friends, kid. First that bitch, Vera, and now the Silver Rapids half-breed?”
Jaime had to be having a nightmare. That voice—Jackson Bishop’s voice—yes, he was having a nightmare.
Bishop reached down and grabbed Jaime by the upper arm, claws digging in harshly as he yanked him from the bed. He looked Jaime up and down, clad only in his boxer briefs, nostrils flaring before his lip curled up in disgust.
“You’d be pretty if you weren’t covered in that mutt’s cum. Did you let him fuck you, or did he just take what he wanted?”
That shook Jaime out of his frozen stupor and he scrambled to get away, hitting and scratching and fighting Bishop’s hold, all the while yelling and screaming for Finn.
Too late, he realized that Bishop was shifted, and of course he was, he was a fucking wolf, and Jaime’s attempts to get away were swiftly rendered useless as Bishop wrapped a heavily muscled arm around Jaime’s throat, ceasing his ability to scream, and pulled him downstairs.
Through the choking hold, scratching deep marks into Bishop’s arms that began to heal and close right before his eyes, Jaime rasped out, “Finn is coming back soon—he’ll kill you for this.”
Bishop chuckled, and Jaime hated how the sound skittered up his spine. He threw Jaime onto the couch, and growled, “Don’t fucking move.”
Leaning back against the counter, Bishop smirked at Jaime’s frantic attempt to cover himself with the blanket that was left sprawled there from the night before.
“He’s not coming back inside anytime soon. It’s just you and me, and we are going to have a conversation.”
Jaime’s breath started coming too fast. All he could picture was Finn, his beautiful, kind, and gentle Finn, sprawled out on the ground outside, torn open and ravaged the way Vera had been…
“Relax. He’s not dead. Yet. Just tied up. Alpha Cain will decide what to do with him—he could be useful with the right motivation. You, though. You’ve been a fucking thorn in my side from the start.”
Jaime couldn’t get his voice to stop shaking. “How did you find me?”
“I didn’t find you,” Bishop spit. “You were a mistake the first time, too. One that I should have ended. I won’t make the same mistake again. No, I’m not here for you. The Detective told me that reject alpha’s Second would be here, but when I smelled you on him, so fresh, I knew you were inside. So I came to do what I should have done a year ago.”
Jaime’s mind was spinning, momentarily shocked out of his panicked worry for Finn. He couldn’t process anything this monster was saying.
“But—the attack at my house. The Salt Creek wolves on the force leaked my identity to the press. Why would you?—”
“Do you really think that we couldn’t have killed you at any time in the last year if we had wanted to? Our contacts in Monroe PD knew who you were the whole time. They knew you never saw me, that all you have is a vague recollection of a phone call. We left you alive in hopes they’d blame the murder on you, and when that didn’t happen, leaking your identity became a useful distraction while they organized my escape. You never mattered. You were always the sideshow. Vera was always the sideshow, too.”
Jaime felt his world tilting upside down.
Finn. Where is Finn?
If Jaime could get out of here, if he could find him… Bishop chuckled again.
He had seen pictures of him of course, but up close he really was the monster of Jaime’s nightmares. Not because of his dark eyes, or thinning blonde hair, or the elongated canines and claws, but because of the look in his eyes.
It was feral, barely contained rage. Hate. Contempt.
“You’re not getting out of here alive, so stop looking like you’re about to bolt. You can’t outrun me, anyway.” He gave Jaime another long, calculating look. “Your idiot brother hiring that security firm to protect you was the worst decision he could have made, but it turned out to be a lucky break for us. They didn’t attack your house to kill you, kid. They were there for the reject and the mutt. Why do you think they waited until he showed up? Until they were separated? Attacking them at your house was the perfect cover—everyone would think that they were there for you.”
Jaime shook his head. “But, why? They didn’t get involved in all of this until they were hired to protect me. They haven’t done anything?— ”
“They were the target from the very fucking beginning!” Bishop roared, an unhinged look in his eyes.
Had he always been like that, or had a year in prison messed with his head? Probably both.
“Second Dugan dispatched me to kill the reject alpha and his sorry excuse for a pack—the mutt outside, and the other one he lets boss him around. But his meddling wife stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, and she found out about our plan. She threatened to go to the police if we didn’t call it off. So, we pivoted. I was going to kill her, drive to the reject’s house to kill him and the mutt who lived there too, and then plant everything on Sheppard. The DA is already suspicious that he’s hiding shit from law enforcement through his business. They may have squabbled a bit about motive, but all of that evidence on him would have been too overwhelming. It would have been an easy sell.”
He pushed off the counter, sauntering toward Jaime. “But then you showed up at her house that night, and it fucked everything up. We decided to hold off on the rest of the plan until things died down after her murder, but then the neighbors found that security camera footage and they arrested me. And I will not spend the rest of my life in prison because of one insignificant mistake. You’ll not be the reason I rot in there. So, here we are.”
Jaime felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t put it all together right now, couldn’t follow the thread of a thought through the clawing panic that Finn was just outside, hurt.
His voice was hoarse when he asked, “If you’re just here to kill me, then why haven’t you, yet? Why wait and draw this out, why tell me all of this?”
Bishop grinned, and it was the most horrible thing Jaime had ever seen. “I wanted you to know how insignificant you were before you died. That it had never been about you. You were just a means to an end, even now. And as for why I haven’t killed you yet… I know your mutt mate will fight the bindings.”
At Jaime’s surprised look, he continued, “You both reek of the mating bond. I know he will get free eventually, and he will fight harder from sensing that you’re still alive. Still afraid. It will give him a sense of hope, before I crush him.”
The look Jaime was giving him must have been suitably horrified, because he gleefully went on. “I am going to kill you, but we need to break the mutt. He’s the best collateral we have against the Silver Rapids alpha since he doesn’t have a mate of his own, but his Second won’t do what we want until we’ve fully destroyed his spirit.”
He scraped his claws along the countertop. “So, we wait until he shows up, desperate to save you, and then I’ll rip your guts out right in front of him. Just like I did to her.”
Jaime’s face hardened. Judging by the slightly put out look on Bishop’s face, it wasn’t the reaction he was looking for. He wanted the fearful human he’d shoved in a closet last year. The helpless, confused man who sat trembling on the sofa while someone threatened to take away his life, threatened to break his mate’s spirit. He’d clearly expected Jaime to cower, to beg in fear.
His mistake.
Jaime smiled, and it was almost the snarl that he’d seen on Finn’s face that day in the truck, when they had found the Salt Creek wolves prowling around his house.
“I don’t think you will.”
Bishop raised an eyebrow, “You don’t think I will?”
Jaime held up the phone he’d tucked into the folds of the blanket wrapped hastily around his waist after Bishop threw him on the couch. He’d hidden the three taps it took to call Silas as embarrassment, the poor human trembling to cover himself.
“Silas, how much of that did you hear?”
“All of it.” His voice was a deep, earth-shaking growl. Jaime had never heard anything like it before.
Bishop looked frazzled, caught off guard. Still, he chuckled. “You think I give a fuck if that cast-off heard what I said? A phone call isn’t going to save you. He’s four hours away in Silver Rapids, too far to help you now.”
Jaime shifted back as Bishop moved toward him. “That may be true, but my mate isn’t.”
Finn burst through the door, splintering it to pieces as he took one giant leap, propelled by the corded muscle bunching in all four legs, claws and teeth slicing for Bishop. He barely had time to turn and shift before Finn was on him, jaws clamped tightly around Bishop’s throat as he shook and ripped.
Jaime threw himself toward the staircase, scrambling up and out of the way of the two giant wolves as they tumbled and snarled, slamming into furniture and shaking the cabin with their heft.
But, to Jaime’s overwhelming relief, it really wasn’t much of a fight at all.
Maybe if Bishop hadn’t been caught off guard, if he hadn’t been distracted by Jaime’s antics with the phone, it would have been more evenly matched. Or maybe Finn’s training in the military gave him the upper hand. Or maybe Finn was just more motivated, with his mate’s life at stake to fuel his rage and power.
Whatever the reason, it was quick.
No sooner had Jaime reached the loft and looked back down did he see Finn tear Bishop’s throat to ribbons, his claws anchoring the other wolf down, pinning him.
He didn’t stop there, though. Jaime could see the muscle and viscera around Bishop’s throat trying to heal itself even as Finn continued to tear.
And now Jaime understood how Vera could have looked so destroyed after only a few seconds of being alone in the hallway. He knew now, the damage these wolves would be able to inflict on his fragile human body. How close to death he’d been, alone in this cabin with Bishop while he’d baited and distracted him, praying it would buy enough time for Finn to free himself from his bindings.
Jaime watched as Finn placed one giant paw on Bishop’s head, claws digging in. He listened to the guttural sound of the trapped wolf as Finn dove in one final time, shredding his neck and yanking with his paw at the same time. He saw Bishop’s head roll, separated from his body.
He watched as Finn panted and growled down at the dead wolf, waiting—making sure he was really dead.
On shaky legs that he couldn’t feel, Jaime stood and slowly made his way downstairs. Stepping over the splintered coffee table, making sure not to cut his feet on the jagged pieces of wood, he moved to where Finn crouched, hovering over Bishop’s body still in wolf form.
Standing where Finn would be able to see him, scent him, Jaime placed a hand on his flank.
Big, brown eyes, darker and wilder than he’d ever seen them, focused on him. Took him in. Jaime caught the moment that Finn was looking back at him again. Or, more of Finn, and less of the wolf inside.
Jaime cupped Finn’s giant, gore-covered maw with both hands. “He’s dead. Come on, let’s clean you up.”
He’d dropped the phone in his haste to get out of the way of the tumbling wolves, and didn’t know where it was now. He should call Silas back, should call Sheppard and DA Rivera and Sam. He should tell them all that they were alright, that they were alive. But all of that could wait, because Finn, still a giant wolf, was giving him that vulnerable look.
As if, despite the ferociousness he had just demonstrated, one frightened glance from Jaime would gut him.
So Jaime led him over to the kitchen sink, wet down a towel with warm water and began cleaning the blood and viscera off of his face and neck. Lifting one giant paw at a time, he gently wiped down his claws and toe pads. Finn stood still the whole time, letting Jaime fuss.
Finally done, he left the soiled rag to soak and turned back to Finn. He was staring at him, eyes still warm and pleading. “I see you, Finn. And I am not afraid. Please, can I hold you?”
Finn’s face melted. With a whine, a tremor passed through him and then thick, hairy arms were banding around him, Finn’s lips and descended canines pressing into the skin of his neck, his hair, his collarbone. Jaime realized that he was trembling, too.
Between short kisses and demanding hands and too-tight hugs, soft, shaken, words passed back and forth between them. Apologies, and assurances that they were alright, and thank-you’s spilled out in a rush, both talking over the other.
Jaime told Finn to stop apologizing.
Finn assured Jaime that he was ok, more than ok, he’d only been knocked out and tied up.
Jaime promised that Bishop hadn’t hurt him either, hadn’t touched him, that Finn arrived just in time and had saved him. Smacking kisses all over his face, wherever he could reach, Jaime continued to thank him for coming back, and told him that he was amazing.
That he loved him so much.
Finn pulled away, a grave look on his face. “I never wanted you to see me that way.”
Jaime cupped his face, fierce pride swelling in his heart. “I am glad that I saw you that way. You are my mate, Finn. And I am yours. And if our roles were reversed, if you were the human and I was the wolf, I would have done the exact same thing. I would have torn him apart for threatening you. I will never accept an apology from you for that.”
Finn blinked, and then yanked him back into his arms, channeling all of that ferocious will into a passionate kiss, demanding entrance with his tongue, consuming Jaime whole. Finn’s kiss showered him with adoration and gratitude for being his mate. For seeing him, even his worst parts, and loving him. Not despite them, but because of them.
Jaime felt it all through that kiss, and fed his own pride and love into Finn through their connection. Eventually, they pulled apart long enough to realize the phone was ringing non-stop from somewhere under the destroyed coffee table.
“Shit. I called Silas when Bishop got here, he heard everything. He’s probably panicking right now.”
Jaime found the phone first, and picked up the call, putting it on speaker. “Silas. We’re safe. We’re fine, both of us. Finn got here in time.”
He could hear white noise in the background, like Silas was in a vehicle. But the sob that came through the line wasn’t Silas. “Jaime. Oh thank God, Jaime. We thought—all we heard was… Oh my God.”
Sam. Sam was in the car, on the way to see him, and he was crying.
Silas spoke then, voice still a distorted rumble like it had been earlier. “Finny? Are you alright?”
Finn had one arm wrapped around Jaime, guiding him over the broken furniture to sit on the counter, away from the giant beheaded wolf across the room.
Yikes, they’d have to figure out how to deal with that.
“Si. I’m here, brother. I’m ok.”
There was a long pause, but eventually Silas choked out, “Good.”
Jaime stared at the mess before them, avoiding looking at the giant wolf’s body as much as possible. He cleared his throat. “Um. So, not to put a damper on things, but there is a very large, very dead, decapitated wolf in the living room. Who is also a man. What are we going to do about that?”
He heard Sam’s wet chuckle, and it warmed him.
Silas also cleared his throat, some of that grated rumble dissipating. “Sam recorded the entire conversation. Up until the phone cut out anyway, when we heard Jaime shout…” he took a deep breath. “We sent it to Sheppard. We’re on our way; we have been since you first called. Sheppard is right behind us. We’re letting him figure out how to handle Monroe PD. I suppose it’s both better and significantly more complicated that he’s dead in his wolf form. Anyone who isn’t in the know will just think a very large animal attacked you, and you defended yourself. But if we decide to tell the DA the truth that Bishop is dead, things will get very weird.”
Jaime heaved a sigh. “What about all that stuff about Jeffrey Dugan wanting the three of you dead? And his real motive for killing Vera? And why would he want to kill you, anyway?”
Finn looked up, shocked, and Jaime remembered that he hadn’t heard the same things they all had. “I’ll fill you in later,” he mouthed to him.
Bishop had called Silas a “reject alpha”. Did this all have something to do with why he was kicked out of that pack as a child? Slowly, Silas answered. “I’m sure Sheppard is relaying the information we have about Jeffrey Dugan to DA Rivera as we speak, so that he’s arrested and can’t hurt anyone else.”
Finn didn’t let him dodge the question. “What does that mean, wanting to kill the three of us? Why target you? Us?”
There was a long pause, before Silas blew out a heavy sigh. “Alpha Cain is my Uncle. And he probably had his Second planning to kill me because none of his children inherited the alpha line. I did.”