Chapter Twenty-nine
MATT
A snarl burst from deep inside Matt as he raced down the field, clods flying beneath his paws. Muscles straining, he ran for his life. Ran for his mate, whose name was in every beat of his heart.
He tore through the kitchen, silent and swift, blood scent already thick in the air. The house was wrong.
He sidestepped the blood on the hallway floor, refusing to believe it was Jesse’s or Tristan’s. Instead, he followed the scent of intruders, heart hammering against his ribs.
The pack was close behind him as he reached the living room doorway, but his attention was focused on the defiant wolf who was snarling and snapping, daring any of the three big wolves who had him cornered to come a step closer.
Tristan’s hackles were up, his teeth bared, and savage fury burned in his eyes.
When Matt saw what Tristan was protecting, he understood. Jesse lay limp on the floor behind him, his blood puddled on the floorboards.
Matt flung himself silently at the wolf closest to Tristan, ripping into him with lethal precision. The world narrowed to snarls and ragged growls, and blood hot in his mouth, until the wolf beneath him stilled.
He looked up. The intruders were gone, the room thick with blood and panic. Karl was with Tristan, turning his shoulder into the younger wolf’s space, letting Tristan’s snapping jaws meet fur instead of flesh, pushing him gently, persistently, back from Jesse’s side.
But Tristan wouldn’t yield, no longer able to tell friend from foe.
Matt surged forward, growling low. That broke through. Recognition flickered in Tristan’s eyes, and he dropped low, stomach brushing the floor, submitting.
Matt didn’t spare him another glance. He was at Jesse’s side in an instant, nudging at him, seeing the deep slice in his belly where it looked like he’d been torn half open. He gently bumped Jesse’s face, licking at him, making soft, desperate attempts to get him to wake.
Jesse’s eyes opened slowly, and he saw Matt. The look in his eyes broke Matt—so much relief, and love, and apology. And then his eyes closed again, his side scarcely moving with each shallow, uneven gasp.
Matt let out a desperate, high-pitched whine—instinctive, primal. He nosed under Jesse’s chin, lifting his head, willing him to stay awake. Stay here.
For one fleeting second, Jesse’s tongue flicked out, a weak lick against Matt’s muzzle. And then his head lolled back, slipping from Matt’s touch.
A low sobbing moan escaped Matt, for this was beyond bearing. He pointed his muzzle to the sky in a long, agonized cry of loss and fury.
The pack shuddered with it. Somewhere behind him, a voice joined in, a deep, aching note—Karl. One by one, the others followed, their voices carrying Matt’s grief to the stars.
But Jesse lay silent, unmoving.
And the world had never felt emptier.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Bryce showed the vet in to a crowded, bloodstained room. Matt was focused on Jesse, lying so limp and still. He held a compress against the terrible wound as he comforted and exhorted him in turn, all the while stroking that impossible coat of his, the cause of all this.
With the part of his mind that was always alert for danger, Matt knew Bryce and Christian had removed the body of the wolf he’d attacked, and that Tristan was in shock, clinging to Karl, of all people.
Karl hadn’t shifted—he looked too far gone to do anything except lean into Tristan, offering silent strength and comfort.
Bryce had checked everyone for injuries, and Christian, Jason and Dave were now piled together, a furry heap finding comfort in one another.
And none of them could take their eyes from their alpha, kneeling in his mate’s blood.
“Let me see, Matt.” Don’s voice was calm despite the urgency of the situation.
He’d started off as the vet for their stock, quickly earning Matt’s liking and trust with his calm, confident approach and, above all, his success rate.
He’d unenthusiastically agreed to Matt’s request that he would do any doctoring necessary when they were in wolf form, but his initial reluctance had quickly turned to fascination.
Matt didn’t have the same sort of hang-ups so many shifters did when it came to medical treatment.
As far as he was concerned, when they were wolves, they needed a vet, not some fancy doctor who pretended to know about animals as well, just so they could extend their practice by signing up the local pack.
Matt moved slightly, allowing Don to get to Jesse. As Don started his examination, his blunt fingers as capable and gentle as ever, Bryce’s grip was firm and comforting on Matt’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Don said at last, turning to the kit he’d brought in with him. He extracted some clippers and began to shave the area around Jesse’s wound. Matt’s eyes pricked at the sight of Jesse, so proud and independent, suffering such indignity in front of them all.
Matt leaned forward over Jesse’s neck so that if Jesse were to wake up, his first act wouldn’t be sinking his teeth into Don’s arm.
The room swam as he moved. The adrenaline that had kept him going this long was fading fast, and weakness and nausea were rising in him as he propped himself on trembling arms over Jesse’s body, desperate to guard him, to watch him, to will him to recover.
“What happened, Tristan?” His voice sounded like gravel. He needed to know. He needed to take his mind off Don’s hands deep inside Jesse, the latex gloves he was wearing red and slick with blood.
“They smashed the back door and broke into the house. Jesse wanted me to run, but I wouldn’t leave him alone.” Tristan gulped suddenly, and Bryce’s hand squeezed hard on Matt’s shoulder, as if he were comforting Tristan from across the room.
“I tried, Matt—I swear to God, I tried. But there were too many of them, and we had to fall back here, and then this wolf came at me, and I knew he was going to tear me apart. And somehow Jesse was there between us, and he got Jesse instead, and Jesse went down, blood everywhere.” Tristan drew another shuddering breath.
“And then I just had to stop anyone else getting to him.”
“You did good, Tristan,” Bryce said. “You did real good.”
“You did, kid,” Matt said, tearing his eyes from Jesse long enough to look at Tristan. And for the first time in a while, he really looked.
Tristan had always been the pup, the baby of the pack. The one they teased, indulged and protected. But tonight, he’d become the protector. Tristan wasn’t a kid anymore. He hadn’t been for a while, though none of them had seen it. “Thank you, Tristan,” he said gruffly.
Tristan’s eyes filled as he lowered his head. Karl pressed in closer against him and Tristan’s hand twisted in the fur around Karl’s neck. “When that wolf saw what he’d done, he turned tail and ran,” Tristan said, his voice quivering. “I don’t know what happened to him after that.”
Remembering the way Cale had savaged one of his own just to psych out Matt earlier, Matt wasn’t surprised the offender had fled. Cale’s retribution on whoever had damaged the Argent would be brutal, no matter that it had been accidental.
Not as brutal as Matt’s would be when he hunted the culprit down.
There would be no mercy for the wolf that had done this to his mate.
Matt would be every bit as harsh and merciless as his life without Jesse would be.
His heart stopped beating at the very thought of being without Jesse.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t lose Jesse. He couldn’t.
Don’s quiet voice intruded, and he realized he’d lost himself somewhere in his desperate thoughts. Don was talking to Bryce. “I think a transfusion would help, but I don’t have—”
“Can’t one of us donate?”
That was Tristan. He’d do it in a heartbeat.
Any of them would. Matt too, of course, except he thought maybe he wouldn’t have any blood left if he did that, because there seemed to be more of it on his skin than in his veins right now.
He didn’t have one big mortal wound, not like Jesse, but there were so many others, and damn it, why was the room spinning?
“Matt.” Bryce’s voice was urgent, his arms around Matt, and Matt had the impression Bryce was the only thing keeping him upright. “You have to shift. I’ve got Jesse for you, you hear me? You need to shift so Don can treat you.”
But Matt couldn’t. Not when Jesse still needed him.
“Jesse,” he tried to say, but his lips wouldn’t form the word. His body betrayed him, crumpling even as he fought to stay with his mate.
Bryce caught him as he fell. And everything went black.