Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The natural strength of an alpha permitted them to shield and protect their mates and children from harm, as well as to visit brutality upon those who deserved it.
Roman considered it both as he wrapped a hand around Axel’s jaw, gripping him by the chin while the other hand slid into his hair.
The satisfying crack of bone was lovely, but not as satisfying as the wet squelch of ripping flesh.
He watched as the bronze flesh split open, blood cascading down Axel’s chest as his limbs jerked and twitched with muscle spasms. The scent of copper filled the air, and Roman greeted it like an old friend as he gave another vicious yank, severing the spine so that the heavy body beneath crumpled to the ground.
Axel’s head was still warm as Roman lifted it until their eyes met through the shadows.
“Ugly motherfucker,” he muttered to no one in particular before he shifted his attention back to the yard. Several of the Kincaids were standing closer to the trees now; they were all so desperate to believe there might still be some saving their pack brother. “Here, guys. Catch.”
He had never been good at sports. Therefore, it pleased him far too much when Axel’s head arced through the air and landed in the hands that Talon stretched toward the sky.
A beat passed as the alphas in the yard all stared at their pack brother’s still and paling face, the bloody stump that jutted from his torn neck. Talon dropped it and stumbled back several steps. “What the fuck?” he rasped. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!”
“I’m gonna be sick,” Nash proclaimed right before bending at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees as he vomited into the grass. The wet retching noises brought a smile to Roman’s face.
“Puppy wouldn’t have done that.” Knox looked toward the forest again, but his eyes never settled on any spot. “Kane is in there somewhere. Get in there and find him!”
But nobody dared take the first step across the tree line, and Roman realized they were afraid.
Jagger told him just once that the boss’s status as a feral earned him far more fear and intimidation than his designation as an epsilon.
An epsilon’s violent tendencies could be controlled, and the boss worked hard to ensure alphas would be safe in his presence.
But a feral’s pheromones never quite felt the same after that first shift into bloodlust, and Roman wondered if that was why they were afraid of him.
That wasn’t a good enough reason. He would have to give them a better one.
Slate squared his shoulders and stepped toward the woods, his jaw set, his eyes narrowing the closer he drew to the trees. “Fucking pussies have to sneak attack us, huh? Well, I’m not afraid of you stupid fucking dogs. I’m gonna make you regret putting your hands on one of your alphas!”
Roman bit back a snort; he had no alphas, and he never would.
The only person in the world who mattered in his eyes was locked up in that house, and he would raze the entire thing to the ground in order to get Sidian back.
They couldn’t keep him away from his omega, and now that they had tried, he’d pay them back in kind.
He’d rip them to pieces one by one just because he could.
He eased back into the shadows as quietly as possible, leaving Axel’s decapitated corpse to bleed into the earth, waiting for the precise moment when Slate would notice it.
Because of course he did. The ricochet of anguish and loss through the bond drew him to the spot where his pack brother lay, the gaping wound at his neck almost black in the darkness. Slate moaned at the sight, reaching down to press a hand to Axel’s still, lifeless chest.
It was beneficial that the worthless scum seemed to care about each other.
Roman didn’t bother sneaking around. He charged him headlong and slammed into him, pinning Slate up against the tree at his back and wrapping his arms tight around him.
Just like he had Puppy, he pinned Slate’s arms to his sides, crushing him, squeezing him, the edges of his vision bleeding just like they had on that afternoon when Dax Kincaid’s father stepped into his home.
“You piece of shit!” Slate tried to struggle free and only slammed his head back into the trunk, stunning himself for just a moment.
Soft scurrying in the underbrush revealed Puppy coming to join him, her teeth bared and her eyes hard.
Without missing a beat, Roman swung Slate around, and Puppy jumped on his back, her slender arms winding tight around his throat as she dug her teeth into the side of his face.
That woke him up, and he caterwauled as she craned her neck back, his cheek tearing open and spilling a fountain of blood.
Roman admired how the wound exposed his teeth and squirming tongue.
Footsteps rushing through the grass had him dropping Slate, who was dragged to the ground by Puppy’s weight.
She dug her fingers into his eyes, and the wet pops that followed would remain in Roman’s dreams forever, he was certain.
Slate screeched and jerked and then went still, and Puppy dragged her fingers from his eye sockets with a satisfied huff.
“The remote’s not picking up a fucking signal!” Knox shouted as he broke through the trees, his head swinging from side to side as Roman and Puppy both darted out of sight in different directions. “There’s no way our bitch’s stupid dog got that collar off.”
Jett tripped over Slate’s leg and turned to see what had caught him, scrambling back on his ass with a shout of terror at the sight.
The other alphas hurried to reach him, all of them struck suddenly silent no doubt at the sight of what Puppy had done to their brother.
Though Roman was not sure what it was that had killed him, it was possible to reach the brain through the eyes.
Knox knelt on the forest floor and reached out to touch Slate’s undamaged cheek before he shot straight up, paler as he sucked in air through his teeth.
“Canvas the woods,” he snarled at the others, who all stared at him in disbelief.
“Dead or alive, I want them found. They killed two of our brothers. You shouldn’t need me to tell you to do what’s right! ”
Nash gagged, pressing a hand against the nearest tree. “What the fuck is happening?”
“Go!” Knox shouted, a command laced through his voice.
Roman flexed his knuckles as he eased through the trees, intent on not being caught before the time was right.
He watched where the others headed, ducking down as low as he could, off to the side and out of sight.
The advantage of being trained to kill was that he could stay calm when the situation demanded it; the remaining Kincaids were frantic with anxiety, scents tangy with the rich scent of fear.
If Knox were in a position of power, then Roman would remove him from it.
Cut the head off a chicken and watch its bloody corpse continue to run as if it could still escape.
Knox spun toward him at the last second just as Roman reached him, the two of them colliding in a pile of limbs and teeth and snarls.
Something sharp and plastic cracked Roman on the side of the head, and he felt the pain in the same way he knew the night was cold and his skin was soaked from rain.
He felt it and then discarded it, shaking it off before he slammed his fist into Knox Kincaid’s face.
His nose snapped, and he spat out a mouthful of blood. “Get the fuck off of me!”
The sound would call his brothers, but Roman didn’t care. He would kill them all. It was even almost kind of Knox to draw the others back to their location.
Sudden rustling movement in the trees preceded a surprised cry that degraded into a howling anguish that made Roman’s eyebrows twitch up in surprise. Knox’s face twisted with shock, and he made the mistake of trying to look to the source of his brother’s pain.
That day at the house, Roman had ripped open the throat of Sidian’s father like it was as natural to him as drawing in his next breath, as stretching a stiff muscle, as turning his face up toward the sun.
His memories of the afternoon were spotty at best, but he still remembered the give of tender flesh and the way blood had geysered from the wound, soaking him in crimson heat.
It would be the quickest, most efficient way to chase away the cold of the night air.
Knox swung his head back around just in time for Roman to grab a handful of his hair, yanking his head back and forcing his throat to arch. The pale skin stretched, the beautiful blue tracery of veins beneath the surface begging to be ripped open. His pulse beat beneath his jaw.
“Wait,” he rasped, kicking his feet, trying to drive his knees into Roman’s back where he sat straddling the other alpha. “Wait, wait, you don’t have to do this. You just want the omega, right? That’s your primary concern. You just want your omega back.”
One of his hands patted his pocket; Roman snagged it with his free hand and pinned it next to Knox’s head, leaning forward to brace his weight against the earth. “He’s my omega.”
“It was a mistake,” Knox said, trying to look at him, his lips parted with frantic breaths that plumed white in the cool air. “We didn’t know he belonged to someone.”
Roman almost wanted to laugh. “Do you think that makes a difference to me?”
The cries of pain fell silent, and the forest slipped into a stillness that told Roman that the living members of Pack Kincaid were terrified.
They knew another of their number was dead and that Knox was at least subdued, and that did not bode well for the remaining three.
Would they try to find Roman and Puppy, or would they sprint back to the house like the cowards they were?
Maybe they were afraid to move. Maybe they were afraid to reveal their locations hoping remaining quiet would throw Roman and Puppy off of their trails.
Knox gulped air, his hand opening and closing. “Kane, listen—”
“I don’t want to. I don’t like you.” Roman stared down into his eyes, and Knox’s mouth snapped shut, the scent of piss once again heavy in the air. “And I don’t think you benefit me by being alive.”
He lunged forward, his teeth finding Knox’s throat, pale and thin and vulnerable, sinking into the flesh while Knox loosed a scream that sent shivers down Roman’s spine.
Skin split beneath the grip of his mouth, and blood spilled across his tongue, the coppery sweetness overwhelming his senses.
There was nothing for a moment except the jets of blood and the wet gurgling that issued from Knox’s twitching mouth.
It was far, far more glorious than Roman remembered it being.
He dug his teeth in deep and gave his head a shake, feeling the flesh tear until it gave, a piece coming loose in his mouth. He spat it onto the grass, his eyes closing as blood coated his face. He was right; it was far hotter than the rain, and for a moment, he felt warm.
Knox jerked and spasmed on the earth beneath him, and Roman opened his eyes so he could watch the alpha die.
There was something about watching the life leave someone’s gaze, the moment their body went limp even as their limbs still gave the occasional spasm.
Blood still dribbled from the gaping wound in Knox’s throat, and Roman watched as rain pooled in the tear.
It looked like a wild animal had torn him apart, and in a way, one had.
After all, was Roman not an apex predator among their kind?
He sat back on his knees and tilted his head up toward the rain, allowing the chilly droplets to rinse his face as he cast his gaze around the forest. Three more.
He wasn’t sure who Puppy had killed, but in the end, he supposed it didn’t matter.
They were all the same. Useless for nothing more than sating his bloodlust and dying like the pathetic little men they were.
Roman rose to his feet, rolling his neck until it cracked. He heard the soft scurrying once again and turned to find Puppy had come to join him, her dress stained with fresh blood.
She glanced at Knox, then up at him, her eyes gleaming. Oh, she wanted more. So much more.
“Let’s go,” he said, tilting his head toward the trees. “Let’s get them, and then we’ll go back to the house to finish off Dax. How does that sound to you?”
Puppy whooped and flew off into the trees, and Roman gave chase with a delighted yell of his own.