Chapter 4 Maverick #2
He knew better than anyone that brawn wasn’t always the answer. It was about being smart, being one step ahead. And right now, as the sound of Zera’s soft attempts at comforting her frightened baby reached his ears, Maverick’s resolve hardened like steel.
“Mommy’s here.” Zera’s voice was laced with both love and panic. “It’s going to be okay.”
Maverick’s chest tightened in response, his wolfish heart feeling an unexpected twinge at the vulnerability in her tone.
Let’s make it okay, then.
With a silent prayer to whatever faen goddesses watched over wayward werewolves and stubborn pixies, Maverick slipped through the unlocked door, a testament to the druid’s arrogance that he hadn’t considered someone—or something—like Maverick.
The first fae guard with demon features didn’t even see him coming. A swift, precise takedown, and the demon slumped, unconscious before he hit the living room floor.
A cry from the kitchen jerked Maverick’s attention to the hallway. A growl ripped through his chest when the sweet scent of pixie blood flooded his senses. They were torturing innocents.
Maverick’s muscles coiled as he launched himself forward with a burst of raw power. His paws padded silently against the linoleum floor, leaving behind faint traces of moisture from the demon’s blood dripping from his claws.
He slid to a stop when he reached the kitchen as the druid snatched a little baby from Zera’s hands.
“No!” she screamed, reaching for her baby, who had a head of chestnut-brown waves, but it was no use. Her wrists were zip-tied together so tightly to cause circulation issues.
His eyes remained on the child in the murderous druid’s grasp, and his rage strangled all thoughts of stealth. All he saw was death.
“Give him back, you bastard!” Zera’s voice was raw with terror and fury as she strained against her bindings, her pixie magic flickering in and out from distress.
The druid’s cold laughter echoed through the kitchen, a chilling contrast to the baby’s wails.
“Ah, but this little one is our new leverage. My boss sent me to find you, the pixie with pixie dust, but to come back with you and the child? They’ll make billions, and it’ll be all thanks to me,” he crooned, eyes gleaming with malice.
Maverick counted a dozen other thugs in the darkened room, their weapons in holsters and their faen abilities relaxed or otherwise masked. They weren’t expecting anyone to barge in, much less a werewolf of his skill.
Two other women, both tied up beside Zera, exchanged a glance that spoke volumes of fear and resolve. It was obvious they were family. They wouldn’t give up without a fight.
Maverick’s pulse thundered in his ears, his instincts screaming for blood. He wouldn’t let the druid hurt the little boy. Not if he had anything to say about it.
“Please,” Zera cried, “take me, but leave my baby out of this!”
Ignoring her please, the druid turned his head, sniffing the air, sensing something amiss. “It appears we have an unwelcome guest,” he mused, tightening his grip on the child.
With no time to lose, Maverick sprang into action, teeth bared and claws extended, leaping onto the nearest fae thug. The guard went down with a gurgled scream, fear emanating from him like a pungent perfume.
“Get him!” the druid ordered, but his companions were already scattering, tripping over themselves to flee from the feral beast that tore through their ranks.
Maverick’s movements were a blur of black fur and fury, each connective strike fueled by the desperate cries of Zera and the little boy’s whimpering sobs. The room reeked of sweat, fear, and the coppery tang of spilled blood.
The thunder outside muffled their screams as, one by one, he devoured them or chased them out of the house and into the storm, leaving a path of destruction in his wake. Their various faen abilities were met with his own primal strength, and in that moment, he felt invincible.
“Stop him!” the druid roared, his hold on Cole unyielding. Zera screamed again, straining to get out of her restraints to save her son.
The druid waved his hand in an intricate pattern around the baby and magicked a crib of vines that enveloped the little one, sending the crib hovering high above the chase before turning on the werewolf.
Maverick bared his teeth in response, his wolf form making him even more menacing. Now that the baby was out of the way, he didn’t give the druid a chance and launched himself into the air.
He dove for the druid’s neck, his teeth and claws stretched out, ready to rip and tear.
The druid, sensing the danger, cast a protective shield around himself and the vine crib. Maverick slammed into the shield and rolled onto the floor with a snarl. He picked himself up, crouching to try again when the shield evaporated.
The demons who’d remained circled from behind the druid, flinging fireballs at him, but Maverick was too fast and dodged them all. Spells of imprisonment flung toward Maverick from every direction, trying to contain him, but they bounced off him as if they were merely the wind.
What made an alpha wasn’t his ability to overthrow the previous leader of the pack, but his blood.
Yes, alphas could rule without being part of the bloodline of alphas but not in the Lunar Brotherhood.
It was what set him apart, but it was also what made him want to rid himself of all things that reminded him of the pack life. He would never live that life again.
“Stand strong!” the druid cried as more demons deserted him in a puff of black smoke. “His defenses are weakening!”
Maverick chuffed. That was what the druid thought. He could do this all night. A vampire zipped across the room to the back door, but Maverick plunged his claws into his back before he could escape.
“Traitors!” the druid bellowed, his hands flinging out more spells—each one missing Maverick by an inch.
Maverick dispatched the last of the minions with a swift, crunching blow to the throat, leaving only the druid standing in the blood-splattered kitchen. His piercing eyes locked on his foe, prepared for the final confrontation.
The baby wailed from his prison crib, the druid standing between them.
“Shh, shh, Cole, baby, Mommy’s here,” Zera cooed, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks. She still struggled with everything she had to free herself. A maternal persistence that triggered his own primal nature to protect.
Maverick smacked his lips and squared his shoulders, facing the druid head-on. The druid grabbed Zera and yanked her in front of himself as a shield.
“Any step closer, and I’ll use this dagger.” The glint of a blade pressed against Zera’s throat brought Maverick to a halt.
Get your slimy druid hands off her, Maverick’s wolf snarled.
But the druid couldn’t hear his thoughts, only the menacing tone of his growl. The druid’s gaze hardened on him, daring him to make a move.
Zera’s panicked eyes locked on his werewolf form. Fear washed over her, and he didn’t think she recognized him. This would take a human touch if he was going to save her.
He exhaled, his werewolf letting out one last growl before melting into his human form, the black fur that blanketed his body retreating until he was towering over the druid. He was strong, but Maverick was stronger.
“Zera… It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said, his voice a guttural promise of protection.
Shock flickered across her face for a second until recognition struck her. “Save Cole,” she whispered, and he could sense that she handed over every bit of her trust to him in that moment.
He gave her a firm nod, focusing on the druid.
“You think you can save her? Or the child? It’s all over now.” The druid sneered, lowering the blade a fraction in response. He was trying to save face, posturing as if he still had some control over the situation.
Maverick didn’t give him any more time to gloat, though. Instead, he grabbed his pulse shackler from the harness strapped to his chest and pulled the trigger, aiming for the narrow bit of forehead exposed from behind Zera. The weapon was powerful but could be used only once, so he couldn’t miss.
The women screamed as blue-white light surged from the gun and hit its target with precision. The druid stumbled back, pushing Zera forward and into Maverick’s arms.
Another cry wailed, and the crib fell toward the floor as the druid’s magic vanished.
Maverick’s heart quickened with fear, but he didn’t let that deter him.
Maverick reached out and grabbed the falling crib inches from the floor.
The baby inside was crying, its face red and teary-eyed.
After setting the crib down, he ripped off the zip ties around Zera’s wrists before she stumbled to the floor next to the crib.
“Cole!” she gasped, scooping him up.
“Are you both okay?” Maverick asked, checking both of them for any sign of external damage.
She nodded, holding her boy close and placing endless kisses on his chubby cheeks.
Relief flooded him as he watched the two reunited. The boy turned his head, his gaze landing on Maverick, and he stopped crying.
Maverick’s chest constricted at the pair of innocent lavender eyes that focused on him, stirring the alpha blood within him.
The instinct to nurture and protect kicked in with a force he could feel almost physically.
It was an irrational part of being a werewolf that he couldn’t free himself from even if he wanted to.
The muffled protests of the two other women still bound and gagged drew Maverick’s attention, and he shook off the wolf instincts to focus on what he did best—cleaning up other people’s messes.
“Who the fae is this guy?” One of the women, whose lavender eyes matched Zera’s and who had hair cropped close to her scalp, asked once her gag was removed. Great. Another pixie.
She nodded toward the druid, whose body lay frozen on the kitchen floor. The pulse shackler kept him in an immobile state, but it wouldn’t last for long.