Chapter Nine
He barely noticed the bruises on his own ribs or the scratches on his arms that hadn’t been there before he’d woken up this morning.
The hunger gnawed at him. Not a metaphorical hunger, either. Actual stomach-clawing, eat-half-a-cow hunger pounding through his veins. Wade could have eaten one of Zeppelin’s biceps right off and called it dinner.
Instead, he made a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring the ache in his lower back that promised a hell of a limp if he didn’t start stretching before sex.
The kitchen lights were blazing so bright they could’ve doubled as a hospital trauma bay.
Wade squinted against the glare, blinking at the chaos.
Snack wrappers everywhere. Foil glinting.
Three mugs left abandoned, one upright, the other two on their sides, coffee slowly crawling across the granite.
The bowl of fruit looked like it had survived a raccoon attack.
Brownie plate half gone, jagged edges of chocolate staring back at him like broken teeth.
Four paper plates, each with a different constellation of crumbs.
But the kitchen was empty.
Not empty, really.
Just missing the people who gave it a pulse.
He’d expected a circus. The usual squabble, at least. Preston and Jalen dissecting a recipe, Sasha glued to his phone, Newt hovering above the fridge and dropping cereal on the other mates, who’d learned to ignore it.
Instead, just silence, broken by the hum of the fridge cycling on and the automated whir of the coffee maker prepping for another round no one was here to drink.
Something wasn’t adding up.
His gut soured with every second. He scanned the room again, this time slower, like maybe the first pass had missed a mate hiding behind the trash can. Not likely, but stranger shit had happened in this house.
Still… Wade ran his palm across his jaw, trying to fit the facts together.
Glancing at the island, he spotted four cell phones. Not a single one plugged into the charger. The sight of them abandoned hit him sideways.
No one in this house went anywhere without their phone. It would be easier to pry a spare rib from Zeppelin or get Newt to eat a hot dog.
Was this some weird prank? Or had the mates gone full Stepford overnight and decided to ditch their digital leashes?
He checked again. All four, just sitting there.
Sasha’s with the custom rainbow case Quinn had bought his mate.
Preston’s tucked under a napkin but still visible.
Jalen’s, locked and grimly black, like the man himself before his first coffee of the morning.
Newt’s, blue and covered in so many stickers it was a miracle the thing even recognized touch.
Each one abandoned, as if the men had all simultaneously decided they’d had enough connectivity for the night.
Not likely.
Not with these guys.
Brownies, coffee, half-eaten fruit, and phones. Zero people.
His wolf, buried bone-deep, went uneasy.
Bet his hackles would have bristled, if he hadn’t just spent most of the last twelve hours fucking his mate into a limp ragdoll.
Something was badly wrong.
Wade reached for his own cell, not even feeling the motion of his hand. His fingers moved on their own, punching in Zeppelin’s number.
His alpha answered before the phone could finish a full ring.
“Yeah?” Zep’s voice came through, rough and distracted.
“Need you in the kitchen,” Wade said, keeping his voice level despite the alarm bells clanging in his head. “Something’s wrong.”
Zeppelin didn’t waste time with questions. “On my way.”
Every instinct screamed at him to keep looking. He prowled to the back door, peered out at the yard. Porch lights glared against the glass, illuminating the wet grass and the line of trees hugging the forest.
Nothing moved.
He wasn’t expecting to see a mate performing somersaults, but it would have been better than this.
No sign of anybody in the front yard, either. The only people visible were the ones locked in his memory, laughing or half fighting over pie and cinnamon rolls.
The footsteps coming down the hall made the hair on his arms stand up.
Zeppelin didn’t walk.
He moved.
Wade braced himself at the island, keeping one eye on the kitchen entryway.
His alpha entered, looking like he’d been carved out of the wall. He glanced once at Wade then at the kitchen.
“Talk to me,” Zeppelin said.
Wade pointed at the evidence as he ticked them off. “Lights on. Snacks and coffee left out. Four mate phones just lying there, but not a mate in sight. You tell me.”
For two seconds, Zeppelin just stared, processing. Then his jaw bunched like a pit bull’s.
“Where the hell would they go without their phones?” Zeppelin muttered, mostly to himself, but Wade caught every word. His alpha’s gaze raked over the room, detail by detail, just like Wade’s had.
Zeppelin’s expression darkened. Without another word, he strode to the doorway and bellowed up the stairs, voice carrying through the entire house with that alpha command that demanded obedience. “Everyone downstairs! Now!”
The stampede started immediately. Wolves poured down from every level, some half-dressed, others looking like they’d been dragged from sleep. Chase appeared first, followed by Vaughn, then Quinn practically vaulting down the last few steps.
Wade clocked it all as background noise, which said something got the mates, and it wasn’t the need for a fucking stroll.
Everyone’s eyes zeroed in on Zeppelin.
Wade kept his arms folded so his hands wouldn’t shake. He ticked off the details for the other men, not trusting himself to keep the fear out of his voice.
“What’s going on?” Chase asked.
“The mates are missing,” Zeppelin said flatly. “Search every room. Every closet. Every corner of this house.”
The pack scattered like buckshot, tearing through the house with systematic efficiency. Wade took the upstairs, checking every bedroom, every bathroom, even the goddamn linen closet. Behind him, he could hear doors slamming, voices calling out as each room came up empty.
Wade headed downstairs where the pack was reconvening in the kitchen, all of them wearing matching expressions of frustration and confusion.
“Nothing,” Bayne reported. “They’re not in the house.”
Zeppelin dragged a hand through his hair, already pulling his phone out. “Then we expand the search.”
Wade looked around the room. The air tasted wrong, like an empty gas station in the middle of the night. All the men knew how to fight. None of them were equipped for this.
Zeppelin started making calls. The alpha reeled off names, talking to any wolf, bear, or whatever the hell else patrolled the local packs.
He put out a missing persons alert, mate edition.
Within minutes, every shifter in the county would be out looking for five men with zero ability to pass as ordinary humans.
“They’re not in town,” Wade said once Zeppelin had ended the last call.
His alpha’s eyes snapped to him. “What’re you thinking?”
Even though Zeppelin appeared calm, Wade could see the worry and fear in his eyes.
“If they’d left on their own, they would’ve taken their phones.
If someone grabbed them locally, there would’ve been signs.
A struggle, broken dishes, something.” Wade gestured at the pristine kitchen, aside from the normal mess of snacking.
“This was clean. Professional. And the only being we know who’s actively hunting one of our mates is—”
“Valcore,” Zeppelin finished, the name coming out like a curse.
He clenched his jaw then made another call. Wade didn’t have to ask who was on the other end.
Within seconds, Panahasi answered. The demon leader’s voice rumbled through the phone, low and smooth. “Yes?”
Zeppelin didn’t waste time. “Five mates are missing, vanished in an instant. No signs of struggle. I think a demon got to them. I need a ride into the demon realm.”
A pause. Then, “Give me ten seconds. Shut off the kitchen lights.”
The pack hit the lights around the room, plunging them into darkness. Then a set of floating eyes appeared, the irises appearing like fire in a fireplace. The lights instantly turned on without anyone moving.
Panahasi’s gaze took in the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “Those who aren’t going, leave the room.”
The unmated wolves filed out without argument, though Bayne shot Wade a look that promised hell if they didn’t bring everyone back safely.
“We’re ready to hunt,” Zeppelin said, jaw clenched.
Darkness swallowed Wade whole. Not the comfortable dark of a bedroom at night but an absolute absence of everything.
No sight, no sound, just the sensation of falling through nothing.
His stomach lurched. Vertigo spun his inner ear.
Every instinct screamed that he was dying, suffocating, drowning in ink.
Then he slammed into solid ground.
“Fuck,” he groaned, fighting a wave of nausea. When Wade opened his eyes, he saw Panahasi and Zeppelin standing, while the rest of them were splayed on the ground, everyone either moaning or cursing.
Around him, the pack hauled themselves upright, some faster than others. Quinn swore under his breath, wiping grass off his jeans. Vaughn looked ready to tear something apart, his jaw working as he scanned their surroundings.
Rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks from the landing, Wade pushed himself up and took stock of where Panahasi had dumped them.
The demon realm looked disturbingly normal at first glance—paved streets, brick buildings, people walking around like they were heading to their day jobs instead of plotting someone’s demise.
But the wrongness crawled over Wade’s skin like static electricity, making every hair stand at attention.
No cars, no engines, just the eerie quiet of foot traffic and muffled conversations drifting from open doorways.
Panahasi gestured toward a brick building across the street, its blue neon sign reading Jake’s Java in cursive letters that seemed too cheerful for this place.
“There,” the demon said, his tone flat and certain.
Following Panahasi’s gaze, Wade squinted through the large glass windows fronting the shop. His vision sharpened, focusing past the glare of interior lights.
Every muscle in his body locked up when he spotted them.
All five mates huddled near the counter, pressed so close together they looked like they were trying to merge into one person.
Even from here, Wade could read the fear in their postures—shoulders hunched, heads down, Newt practically climbing into Preston’s back pocket.
Alex stood slightly in front of the others, his small frame rigid with tension, hands clenched into fists.
Baring his canines, Wade took a step forward. His mate was right there, close enough that Wade could probably reach him in thirty seconds if he sprinted.
Except for the dozen men scattered throughout the shop.
Not customers. Wade’s gut twisted with certainty as he catalogued them—positioned too strategically, eyes too alert, movements too coordinated. Some leaned against walls near the exits. Others sat at tables with untouched drinks.
All of them watching the mates with the focused attention of predators circling prey.
Ambush didn’t begin to cover it.
“How many?” Zeppelin asked, already assessing angles and weak points.
“Twelve, maybe fifteen,” Wade replied, forcing himself to think tactically instead of just charging in like an idiot. “Spread out. Blocking the doors.”
Quinn cracked his knuckles. “So we go through them. I can take about five, maybe more if they stop me from getting to my firefly.”
Panahasi’s eyes flared brighter for a second, the only indication he’d heard. Without another word, the demon started across the street. Not rushing, just walking with that unhurried confidence that said he could level the building if he felt like it.
Zeppelin fell in beside him, the rest of the pack fanning out in formation.
Wade’s heart thundered as they closed the distance. Through the window, he watched Alex’s head snap up, eyes widening when he spotted them. Relief flooded his mate’s expression for half a second before terror replaced it.
Alex’s mouth moved, probably warning the others, and all four mates turned to look.
Then the men inside moved.
Before Wade’s boot hit the first step leading to the door, one of the demons near the counter raised his hand. Lightning crackled between his fingers, blue-white and vicious, illuminating his face with harsh shadows.
Valcore.
Had to be.
No time to confirm. The demon hurled the bolt directly at the mates.
Alex shoved Newt and Sasha sideways, sending them sprawling behind the counter as the lightning scorched the air where they’d been standing. The smell of ozone flooded through the open door, sharp and acrid.
All pretense of civility shattered.
Panahasi wrenched the door off its hinges with one hand and hurled it at the nearest demon. The guy went down hard, pinned under twisted metal and glass.
Chaos erupted.
Wade barreled through the entrance, targeting the demons closest to his mate. One lunged at him with claws extended, moving fast enough to blur.
Twisting sideways, Wade drove his elbow into the guy’s throat, felt cartilage crunch, then grabbed him by the collar and slammed him face-first into the nearest table. Wood splintered. The demon went limp.
Another rushed him from the left. Wade ducked under a wild swing, came up inside the demon’s guard, and drove his fist into the soft tissue below the ribcage. Air whooshed out of the guy’s lungs.
Wade followed up with a knee to the face that sent teeth flying.
Around him, the pack tore through Valcore’s men with brutal efficiency. Zeppelin snapped one guy’s arm like kindling then used the broken limb to clothesline another.
Quinn moved like water, flowing between attacks and delivering devastating counters that left bodies crumpled in his wake.
Vaughn fought with a fury that suggested he had personal scores to settle, each hit landing with bone-crushing force.
But Valcore stood in the center of it all, untouched, lightning dancing between his fingers as he watched Wade with cold calculation.
“You’re persistent,” Valcore said, his voice cutting through the violence. “Stupid, but persistent.”
Launching himself over an overturned chair, Wade closed the distance. Valcore raised his hand and released another bolt.
Wade threw himself sideways, felt the heat sear past his shoulder close enough to singe hair. He rolled, came up running, and angled left to throw off the demon’s aim.
Another bolt. This one clipped his thigh, pain exploding through muscle and nerve. Wade’s leg buckled, but he forced himself forward, teeth gritted against the agony.
“Stay down,” Valcore suggested, already charging for another attack. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”
“Harder for you, maybe,” Wade snarled then lunged.
Valcore released the bolt at point-blank range. Wade twisted, felt electricity rake across his ribs, smelled his own flesh burning.
Wade didn’t stop. He slammed into Valcore with his full weight, driving them both backward into the counter. Coffee mugs shattered. The register crashed to the floor.
Up close, Wade could see the demon’s eyes—flat and black, devoid of anything resembling humanity. Valcore brought his hands up, lightning already crackling.
Wade grabbed the demon’s wrists and slammed them against the counter, once, twice, until the electricity fizzled out.
Valcore snarled and brought his knee up, catching Wade in the gut hard enough to fold him.
Staggering back, Wade barely avoided the follow-up strike aimed at his head. His vision swam. Blood dripped from somewhere, maybe his mouth, maybe his nose. Everything hurt.
Behind the counter, Alex’s face appeared, pale and terrified.
That was all Wade needed.
Surging forward again, he caught Valcore’s next punch and twisted, using the demon’s momentum to spin him around. He wrapped his arm around Valcore’s throat from behind and squeezed. The demon thrashed, clawing at Wade’s forearm, drawing blood with nails sharp as razors.
“Give up,” Valcore rasped out. “You can’t win this.”
Tightening his grip until his muscles screamed, Wade leaned in close enough to speak directly into the demon’s ear. “Watch me.”
Valcore’s elbow drove backward into Wade’s injured ribs. White-hot pain exploded through his torso. His grip loosened just enough for Valcore to wrench free and spin, hand already glowing with another charge.
The bolt hit Wade square in the abdomen, lifting him off his feet and hurling him backward through a table. Splinters embedded in his back. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Every nerve ending shrieked.
Through blurring vision, Wade watched Valcore advance, electricity arcing between both hands now.
“Disappointing,” the demon said. “I expected more from you.”
Forcing his body to obey, Wade rolled onto his hands and knees. Blood dripped onto the floor beneath him, forming a small puddle. His limbs trembled with the effort of staying upright.
Valcore raised both hands, preparing to end it.
Across the room, Panahasi materialized behind the demon in a swirl of shadows. Before Valcore could react, Panahasi’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Enough,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that made the air itself feel heavier.
Valcore’s lightning sputtered and died. The demon tried to turn, tried to fight, but Panahasi’s grip didn’t budge.
“You’ve made a mistake,” Panahasi continued, almost conversational. “These mates are under my protection now. Touch them again, and I’ll show you what real torment looks like.”
Around them, the remaining demons who were still conscious scrambled for the exits. Panahasi’s reputation preceded him, apparently. Even Valcore had gone still, though rage twisted his features.
“The debt—” Valcore started.
“Is void,” Panahasi interrupted. “Drew’s death nullified any obligation. You know the Ultionem law. You just chose to ignore it because you wanted the bunny for yourself.”
Valcore’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. Couldn’t, really, with Panahasi’s hand still locked on his shoulder and shadows beginning to creep up his arm.
“Leave,” Panahasi said. “And pray I don’t decide to throw you into a cell in the underworld for interfering in a mating.”
With a final glare at Wade, Valcore dissolved into smoke and vanished.
The sudden absence of threat left the coffee shop feeling cavernous. Broken furniture littered the floor. Scorch marks decorated the walls. The smell of burned flesh and ozone hung thick in the air.
Dragging himself upright, Wade limped toward the counter where Alex had taken shelter. His mate vaulted over the debris and met him halfway, small hands immediately reaching for Wade’s face, his arms, checking for injuries.
“You’re hurt,” Alex said, voice shaking. “You’re bleeding everywhere.”
“I’m good.” Wade pulled his mate against him, ignoring the way his ribs screamed in protest. Alex was solid and warm and alive in his arms, and nothing else registered as important. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
Behind them, the other mates emerged from their hiding spots, all of them shaken but unharmed.
Preston immediately went to Zeppelin, who wrapped his arms around his mate and buried his face in Preston’s hair. Quinn did the same with Sasha, while Vaughn pulled Newt into a hug that looked like it might crack ribs. Jalen stood alone for a moment before Chase appeared and tugged him close.
Panahasi surveyed the destruction with an expression that might have been approval. “Jake’s going to bill me for this.”
“Send the bill my way,” Zeppelin replied, not loosening his grip on Preston.
Gathering his strength, Wade scooped Alex up despite his protesting injuries. His mate made a sound of alarm but didn’t fight it, just wrapped his arms around Wade’s neck and held on.
“Get us the hell out of here…please,” Wade said to Panahasi. He was already exhausted and hurting like hell.
But he had his honey bunny.
“The collar,” Vaughn said. “You didn’t get the key.”
Wade cursed.
Panahasi walked over to them, touched the slim collar, and the thin piece of metal loosened.
Alex reached up, yanked the collar off, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll take that.” Panahasi held out his hand, and Alex gave him the collar.
“Thank you,” Alex said to Panahasi. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I feel like I’m in the presence of a mega famous person. I’m a little awestruck.”
Panahasi smirked. “Take care, Alex. Stay out of trouble.”
The demon leader held out his hand, and a swirling vortex appeared.
Wade started to ask why in the hell Panahasi made them drop through darkness when he could’ve used his freaking power to create a vortex to the demon realm.
But he wasn’t suicidal, so he kept his gripe to himself.
Everyone walked through, their mates in their arms. Seeing the familiar walls of their home had never felt sweeter.