Chapter 16 - Ryder
Oh, gods, his body hurt. Every inch of Ryder's skin burned like a furnace, and his insides felt as though they had been stomped to a pulp. He coughed roughly, his throat dry and tight, and struggled to force the air down through his windpipe. As he forced himself up onto his elbows, his vision blurred in and out, making the room spin and shift nauseatingly around him. Something heavy on his chest made it difficult to move. When he glanced down, a mop of auburn hair filled his field of view. Warm, soft skin draped across his own, bathing in the faint rays of the early morning sun filtering through the curtains.
The last thing he remembered was stumbling through the woods. It took him a moment to fully reorient himself, his thoughts hazy and jumbled. They were back at the safe house. The only answer he could think of was that she must have been the one who'd gotten them here. But how? She was a tiny, delicate little thing, while he was easily double her size in height and muscle. She could hardly have carried him up the steep, narrow path by herself. A question for later, perhaps, when the fog around his brain had cleared a bit, and he could form a coherent thought.
The air smelled faintly of various herbs, and his chest was coated in a sticky, slimy substance that he knew all too well from his various injuries over the years: a magical healing paste. Carefully, he moved the sleeping girl aside to examine his wounds. Sure enough, they were almost fully healed already, fresh pink skin scarring where they gaped open and oozed blood before he passed out. A surge of affection flowed through him, along with intense gratitude. She'd saved his life. Even after he'd treated her like that. Idiot.
Slowly, he maneuvered off the couch and tucked a blanket around Elena's sleeping form to make sure she was warm and comfortable. With some difficulty, he stretched out his tired, aching muscles and shuffled painfully over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and gulping down several refreshing mouthfuls. On the way, his gaze was drawn to the hallway. His brows furrowed in surprise at the sight of scattered debris, splinters, and deep cracks covering the entire corridor.
Gingerly, he wandered closer to inspect the damage. When he realized what he was seeing, he let out a long sigh. The bedroom door behind which Elena had been locked had been blasted open, the wood shredded to bits, like someone had thrown a bomb at it. The entire hallway was a mess of scattered remnants, the walls and the other doors marked by chunks and fragments embedded deeply enough to penetrate the wood. The surrounding areas looked as though a whirlwind had ripped through, leaving destruction in its wake. Peering around the corner to the bedroom, he saw a disheveled, messy room littered with broken furniture and shattered glass. It was a wonder the whole cabin hadn't crumbled to dust.
He glanced back at Elena. This had to be her doing. He had seen the destruction her magic could cause when she was truly distressed the day he had brought her here, so it didn't entirely shock him that she could accomplish this much. Still, it sent an intense pang of guilt shooting through his chest, knowing that he was the reason for her anguish. All because he couldn't cope with the repercussions of his actions and couldn't deal with his own feelings. What an absolute fool he'd been. In all ways.
Going off racing blindly into the woods like that, knowing that there were rogue wolves in the area? Inexcusable. He should have been vigilant. Should have picked up on the scent long before he put himself in a position where he could be ambushed. He may as well have painted an enormous target on himself and asked to get mauled.
His heart paused when he realized the implications of his reckless decision. He hadn't been thinking when he crawled back here. He hadn't taken any measures to ensure he was not followed or that there weren't other enemies lurking nearby. He had been too wounded and hazy to notice if there had been more unfamiliar shifter scents or sounds around. They very well might be sitting ducks now.
Without wasting another moment, he went into action, immediately alert as the years of training kicked in. Every muscle in his body ached with protest, his nerves still shot from the traumatic experience, but he forced himself to move into the improvised office he'd set up to contact Zach. He pushed the door open and saw... Oh, fuck.
Much like the bedroom and the hallway, the room was in utter disarray, his desk upturned, contents strewn across the floor, electrical components flickering sporadically as they hung from torn wires. The radio—his sole means of communicating with the outside world—was trashed beyond repair, unrecognizable in the tangled heap. It looked like a hurricane had blown through here, destroying everything in its path indiscriminately. It would be a miracle if he got that to work again. Now, they were truly cut off. With a pack of renegade murderers presumably on their trail. If they stayed here, it would only be a matter of time before they arrived to finish the job.
He tried to make his way to the front door to go out and cover what he could of his trail. Assuming it wasn't already too late. Before he got the chance, though, his leg gave out from under him, still weakened from the attack. He staggered forward, stumbling heavily and hitting the floor hard with a grunt of discomfort. After laying motionless for a brief moment, he twisted over and laid flat on his back, glaring sullenly up at the ceiling. Fucking perfect.
A soft groan from the couch drew his attention back toward the beautiful witch who had saved his life. He scrambled frantically to regain some measure of dignity, forcing himself to sit up despite the jabbing pain coursing through him. He tried unsuccessfully to brush some of the dirt from his clothes and hair. Elena lifted her head groggily from the cushions, bleary-eyed and confused. Her emerald gaze fixed on him as he watched her apprehensively. Within an instant, the previous night's events seemed to come rushing back to her, and a mix of emotions flashed over her face. Joy, sorrow, anger, concern, confusion—all before settling into an odd, thoughtful expression he didn't recognize.
“Ryder,” she breathed softly, her eyes wide and glossy, “you're alive. You're okay. You—” Her words faltered as her eyes scanned over him, noting the dried blood and wounds, then darted around the room to take in the chaos. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. “I almost lost you.”
He dragged himself laboriously back up on the couch next to her, still unsteady and sore. A fresh wave of regret washed over him when he caught sight of the red-tinged tear stains trailing down her cheeks.
“Ellie, I'm sorry,” he said quietly, unable to hold her gaze. “I shouldn't have run off like that. It was stupid and reckless of me, and I put us both in danger. I screwed up. Badly.”
She tilted her head slightly and sniffled. “Yeah, that was dumb,” she answered with a small nod. “What happened to you? Your wounds? I thought you were—” She broke off with a gasp, sniffling once more and wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand.
He shook his head in dismay. “Well, I guess I found out where the rogues have been staying,” he sighed heavily, running his fingers through his mussed mane of golden hair. “We have to get you out of here. The one that attacked me won't be a problem anymore, but the others... If they haven't already, they'll find him, and they'll find my scent all over him. I led them right back here. Fuck, Elena, I'm so sorry. For all of this.”
“Nobody's found us yet,” she reminded him softly, “and right now, you're weak from your injuries. We can figure it all out once you've rested, recovered some strength, and eaten. I'll brew up something for the pain.”
Her thumb massaged tenderly along the crook of his arm, and he couldn't help relaxing slightly at her comforting motions. Still, even through the haze, the situation was dire. As much as he wanted to give into the calming effects of her presence, he couldn't.
“No, we have to get moving,” he said, pushing himself up off the couch with a grimace. His entire body was stiff and sore, as if every muscle fiber had been pulled taut, stretching to its limit, and snapped back with extreme tension. He pushed himself forward, determined to ignore the pain—and made it all of three steps before his knees buckled. He fell forward, crashing into the side table with an irritated growl as he clutched it for support.
“Okay,” Elena sighed, getting up and reaching out a hand toward him, “that's not going to work. We're stuck here until you can walk, at least. Get your stubborn ass back on the couch, and let me fix you some breakfast before you faint again.”
He scowled, prepared to argue, but the stern look she gave him chastened him. In the last twenty-four hours, he had done nothing but make their situation worse. If not for her, he'd be dead. As much as he hated it, he had to accept her assessment. His body wasn’t cooperating, and no amount of willpower was going to force it to. He groaned in resignation, allowing her to wrap his arm around her shoulders and assist him in moving back to the sofa. She draped a spare blanket around him and began bustling about in the kitchen, fumbling around in cabinets and drawers. All Ryder could do was lie there and watch in silence, trying to fight off the fear and shame swirling through him.
A short time later, she returned with a steaming hot plate of beans and rice, a glass of water, and a pitcher of an herbal concoction she had mixed up. She held a straw to his lips, and he accepted it grudgingly, sipping cautiously as the fragrant liquid slid down his throat, cooling and soothing his aching insides. Once his stomach was full, he leaned back against the cushion with a weary sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. Elena found a washcloth and started to clean some of the blood and grime from his skin. Under her gentle touch, the panic felt a little less overwhelming.
For the rest of the day, he slipped in and out of consciousness while Elena fussed over him and tried to clean the mess around them. His body needed to heal and replenish itself, and the effort of merely existing wore him out rapidly. He couldn't keep track of time, drifting in a strange sort of half-awareness as hours passed by unseen. Several times, he startled awake when he sensed a movement near him, the lingering paranoia causing him to react on instinct, but every time he tried to move, his body refused to listen. Right now, he was forced to admit he was absolutely useless.
By the time evening rolled around and they'd eaten dinner, his strength was returning a little, and he could sit up mostly without straining himself. There was still no sign of any imminent threat, and he hadn't caught any new scents, either. Right now, at least, there was no immediate danger. He turned to the redhead beside him, feeling embarrassed and frustrated yet touched at the way she had cared for him.
“Thank you,” he said softly, letting his fingers brush against hers, “I owe you one.”
“Let's call it even,” she said with a soft smile. “Look, is there something I can do to help keep us safe right now? You're probably going to need another few days to recover, and if you're right, we don't have that much time. So, tell me what to do, and I'll try.”
“There's nothing you can do, kid,” Ryder replied solemnly. “Going out there is too dangerous for you. You'd get yourself—”
“Killed? Like you almost did last night?” Elena interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “Quit it with the tough guy act, okay? Stop trying to do everything alone. Talk to me. Let me in. Let me help. We're all alone out here, and if we're going to survive whatever it is that's coming for you, you need to start trusting me.”
He bit back a retort, pausing to take in the truth of her words. He nodded slowly, sighing. “You're right. I know that,” he conceded reluctantly. “But if these rogues are who I think they are, it's not something you can help me with. Or anyone. This is my fight, Elena. I caused this, and I need to deal with the consequences. Look, you can walk. You can get to the barn where I've hidden the car. You need to go and head toward town—”
“And leave you here alone? Absolutely not,” Elena snapped stubbornly. “Anyway, what if I run into these rogues on the way? I might get lucky and have my magic decide to cooperate, but I can't control it on a good day, so my odds aren't exactly stellar.” She gestured around the cabin. By now, most of the splinters and debris had been tidied up into a pile in the corner, but her point was clear enough. Ryder grunted but didn't argue.
Damn it. She was right. What a fool he had been, dragging her out here. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do. The wolf had attacked her in town—of course, they would be safer out here. He had been certain that he could keep them both safe as long as she stayed in this lodge. After all, he was one of the strongest wolves in the pack. A stray rogue or two wouldn’t be a problem. Well, shouldn’t have been a problem. If only he hadn’t been such a hot-headed idiot and acted recklessly.
“Thank you,” she drawled. “Now talk to me. Who are these people? Why are you so sure they're after you specifically?”
Sighing deeply, he sank back against the couch cushions, his head throbbing. He let his mind drift back through his memories until he landed on the worst mistake of his life. It wasn't something he liked to think about, much less talk about, but at this point, there didn't seem to be an alternative. After the mess he'd dragged her into, she deserved an explanation.
“Remember Asher Hayes?” he muttered quietly.
Elena nodded faintly. “Sure. The guy you all trained with until he abandoned the pack a few years ago, right?” she asked. Ryder nodded. “Tolliver never explained what happened. Why he went rogue.”
“Yeah,” Ryder mumbled, “the pack wanted to keep it quiet. Messy situation.” He shifted uneasily on the sofa, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Back on my very first assignment, I was sent with him and Iris, his mate, to deal with an organization that was trafficking paranormal beings. They were brutal. It was one of those operations with deep pockets and a lot of connections, so we had to infiltrate, gather intel, and wait for an opening to cut it off. You know, routine stuff.”
He forced a chuckle, but there was no mirth there. Elena's eyebrows were arched so high they almost reached her hairline. Tolliver had always been careful to keep her from knowing too much about their missions, afraid of the impact that knowing the details of their dark, bloody work might have on her. Now, though, she had landed smack-dab in the middle of one of their cases. Might as well tell her.
“We made it in undercover. Got close enough to the leaders to start putting a picture together. That was where everything fell apart. I was young and cocky and thought I knew better than everyone else. I deviated from our plan and tried to initiate an altercation with a prominent player who I knew for sure was involved in the business,” he explained, avoiding eye contact. “It backfired and exposed my identity. This led to a full-blown shootout. Iris...” He trailed off and hesitated, fighting the lump rising in his throat. “Iris jumped in to save me, but she paid with her life.”
Silence fell over them both as his words settled in, sinking like heavy stones in water. The memory of the brilliant female shifter filled his senses, drowning out everything around him as he saw her death replay before his eyes. She had taken a bullet meant for him, pushing him aside as they fought to defend themselves. Her death had been instantaneous. There was nothing any healer in the world could have done to stop that wound from taking her life.
“I'm so sorry,” Elena whispered in a hushed tone, breaking through the reverie that clouded him. She squeezed his arm comfortingly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “That wasn't your fault. Accidents happen. Please don't blame yourself.”
“Asher sure blamed me,” Ryder grunted darkly. “Do you know what it's like for a wolf to lose their mate? They say when it happens, it's like a part of our soul dies with them. Asher was never the same after that. The rage consumed him completely. He became volatile, unpredictable, and ruthless. When we got back to town, he demanded that I be exiled for causing her death. Zach stuck by me, though, stood up for me.”
It was a bittersweet memory. Seeing Zach and the others so fervently support him meant the world. Deep down, though, he didn't feel like they should have. Deep down, he knew that Asher was right. It had been his arrogance that cost Iris her life. After that, he had vowed to not let himself slip up again. He wasn’t going to let anything distract him from doing his job and doing it right.
Now, here they were, and because he had let himself get distracted, everyone was in danger once more. Elena, the person he wanted to protect more than anyone, was in danger—and it was all his fault.
“Asher didn't take it well,” he continued, swallowing painfully as he pushed those dreadful thoughts back down. “He abandoned the pack, swearing vengeance and promising to kill me. We kept tabs on him for a while to make sure he wasn't going to try anything, but eventually, we lost him. Nobody's heard from him in years.” He paused, gesturing to himself weakly. “Until now.”
Elena nodded solemnly. “Wow, that's...” she murmured softly, biting her lip as she considered what he'd said, then shook her head weakly. “The wolf I saw in my vision. You think that's him?”
Ryder grimaced and nodded. “From what you described, it definitely sounds like it,” he confirmed, lowering his gaze. “It makes sense. I caught his scent shortly before I came home. He must have picked up on mine, too. And now, we've got a pack of feral rogues on our asses, with him likely leading them, attacking innocent people all over town. Because of me.” He stared down at the floor despondently, clenching his fists tightly. “I failed you, Elena. All of you. Everyone. This is all my fault.”
Soft fingertips touched lightly beneath his jawbone, nudging upward and forcing him to meet her piercing green eyes. “No, it isn't,” Elena said firmly. “I wasn't there. I don't know what happened. But I know you, and I know the pack. You're all good people. If they stuck by you, there's a reason for it. I've seen the victims of these rogues. That's not your fault, no matter what happened in the past. It's theirs.” Her thumbs brushed across his cheekbones as she cupped his face gently, gazing at him with a reassuring smile.
Despite himself, he smiled back at her, his heart fluttering at her touch. Something about the way she said those words hit him in a way that similar sentiments from others never had. She struck a chord within him that rang true, making him want to believe it. He wanted to let go of the burden of guilt he had carried all this time and let himself fall into her warm arms, accepting the affection and forgiveness she offered. He didn’t quite believe her—but he wanted to. For a moment, he leaned into her touch, his forehead pressing gently against hers. Her lips were parted slightly in expectation, barely an inch or two from his own, tempting him to give in to desire.
“Elena,” he murmured, “I'm sorry. We can't.”
“Why not?” she asked quietly, looking up at him through her lashes. “Last night, when you were barely conscious, you called me your mate. That's true, isn't it? I know it is. That’s why we’ve always had this… Whatever this is. So why can't we do this? What are you afraid of?”
Her words washed over him, and he froze, struggling to breathe normally. Had he really said that? Gods, he was even more of a mess than he'd realized.
“I—” he stammered, backing away hastily. “Elena, I—”
“Stop making excuses. Please,” Elena begged him softly, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes that pierced right through to his battered heart, twisting it agonizingly. “Talk to me. Let me in. What are you so afraid of?”
She leaned closer, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing gently. Her proximity made his skin tingle where she touched him, sending goosebumps rippling over the surface. His throat constricted and tightened as his breath caught in his lungs.
“Look, I...” He took a deep breath to compose his thoughts, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “For one thing, you're Tolliver's little sister. He'd rip my balls off and feed them to me for breakfast if he knew I’d touched you,” he tried to joke, chuckling weakly. “Plus, I'm no good for you, kid. Especially not right now. My life is dangerous, and I can’t let myself put anything above the mission. Asher wants revenge on me for getting his mate killed. The rogue that attacked you targeted you because of me. If they know how much you really mean to me—”
“How much do I really mean to you?” Elena pressed, staring at him intently, ignoring his other concerns.
He averted his eyes, unable to bear her scrutiny, and pulled away. “Look, you're beautiful, and last night was incredible,” he acknowledged, licking his dry lips nervously, “but I can't get involved with you. When I'm around you, I get reckless, and I make mistakes. Terrible mistakes.” He gestured vaguely to his own body, covered in healing wounds and scars. “This mess you're in right now is all my fault. Rogues could be waiting at our doorstep right this second. I put us in danger. I don't want you getting hurt.”
“Well, if we might die at any moment,” she mused, “you might as well kiss me again. Not like it's going to make a difference, right?”
A low chuckle escaped him despite his best efforts. Her eyes glinted mischievously in the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains, and at that moment, he couldn't argue with her reasoning. Instead, he surrendered to her will and reached out to cup her face, tilting her chin and leaning in until her lips met his in a tender kiss. His fingers threaded through her silky hair, stroking and twirling the delicate strands, and she lifted her arms to loop around his neck, pulling him closer.
Despite the pain in his bones, the fear in his chest, and the uncertainty that waited for them both in the darkness surrounding them, that kiss filled him with warmth. It spread out from the center of his being and melted everything around it, driving back the shadows that haunted him. He knew it couldn't last, but for a brief moment in time, he allowed himself to forget everything except her.