Chapter 21 - Bryan
Luna’s magic settles over us like a second skin, and the world goes quiet.
Dylan and Connor flank me, and I can feel Caleb’s nervous presence at my back, but the forest around us has become muted and distant. Colors seem duller. Sounds seem farther away. It’s like moving through a dream, except the weight of the pounding of my heart reminds me this is very, very real.
“Twenty minutes,” Luna whispered before we left.
Her face was pale with the effort of casting such a powerful concealment spell, and Ruby stood beside her with one hand on her arm to help channel the magic.
“Maybe less if something disrupts my concentration. Get in, get Skylar, get out. Don’t waste time. ”
I don’t intend to waste a single second.
The compound rises out of the mountainside like a scar on the landscape.
Rusted chain-link fencing surrounds the perimeter, topped with razor wire that glints in the moonlight.
Guard towers are erected at each corner, though only two of them appear to be manned tonight.
The thermal imaging showed twenty wolves on patrol, but most of them must be focused on the front gate now, where Nic and the main pack are staging their distraction.
Right on cue, the sound of howling erupts from the western side of the compound. Shouts follow, then snarls, then the unmistakable sounds of wolves engaging in combat. The guards in the towers spin toward the commotion, their attention fixed on the fighting at the main entrance.
Perfect.
“Now,” I order, and we move.
The service entrance is exactly where Caleb said it would be.
It’s a rusted metal door set into the eastern wall, half-hidden by overgrown brush and years of neglect.
I reach it first and test the handle. Locked, but the mechanism is old and corroded.
One hard yank, and it gives way with a screech of protesting metal.
I freeze and wait for any sound of alarm. None comes. The noise from the front gate has covered our breach, just as we hoped.
“Inside,” I command, and the others follow me through.
The tunnel beyond is dark and smells like mold and diesel fuel.
Water drips somewhere in the distance, and the sound ricochets off walls that haven’t seen maintenance in years, from the looks of them.
Caleb comes up beside me and points left at the first junction, just like Dina described to Skylar.
I commit the route to memory as we move.
Left, straight through the maintenance corridor, down two flights of stairs, then right toward the holding cells.
The maintenance corridor stretches ahead of us, lined with rusted pipes and exposed electrical wiring.
Some of the overhead fixtures still work, while others have burned out, leaving patches of darkness that could hide anything.
I keep my senses as alert as I can manage despite Luna’s spell muffling everything as I strain to detect any sign of movement ahead.
We encounter our first guard at the bottom of the second stairwell.
He’s young, barely out of his teens, with a patchy beard and nervous eyes that go wide when he sees us emerge from the shadows.
He doesn’t even have time to call out before Dylan is on him.
One hand over his mouth, one arm around his throat, and thirty seconds later, the kid slumps unconscious to the floor.
“Alive?” I ask.
Dylan nods. “He’ll wake up with a headache, but he’ll wake up.”
Good. I’m not here to slaughter Rafe’s entire pack. I’m here to get Skylar and get out. Anyone who doesn’t get in my way gets to keep breathing. Anyone who does... Well, that’s their choice to make.
We move farther into the compound, keeping our footsteps barely audible against the concrete.
The second guard is stationed at a junction point, leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone like he’s got nothing better to do.
Connor takes him down from behind before he even knows we’re there.
The third one—a burly wolf with a scar across his nose—puts up more of a fight.
He manages to land a punch that splits Connor’s lip before Dylan gets him in a chokehold and squeezes until he goes limp.
The fourth guard spots us from the end of a corridor and opens his mouth to shout.
I’m on him before the sound can leave his throat, and I clamp my hand over his mouth as I drag him into the shadows.
He struggles, but I’ve got fifty pounds of muscle on him and ten years of Black Ops training. He doesn’t stand a chance.
“The cells,” I growl against his ear. “Where are they?”
He tries to bite my palm, so I squeeze harder until I feel his jaw creak under my fingers.
“Last door on the right,” he gasps when I ease up enough for him to speak. “Two prisoners. The healer and some other woman.”
I knock him out with a blow to the temple and let his body slide to the floor.
The last door on the right, twenty feet away.
I can smell her now—honeysuckle and herbs mixed with blood and fear and something chemical that makes my wolf snarl with rage.
They drugged her. They hurt her. Everything in me wants to tear through that door and kill anyone who stands between my mate and me.
Stay focused. We’re almost there.
Dylan reaches the door first and tests the handle. Locked. He looks at me, and I nod. One powerful kick from his boot, and the door crashes inward with a bang.
The room beyond is small and lit by a single, barely working bulb overhead.
Two cells occupy most of the space, separated by iron bars that look older than the compound itself.
In the left cell is a woman I don’t recognize who struggles to her feet with her wrists still half-bound with fraying rope.
She’s thin and bruised, with dark circles under her eyes and a silver collar around her throat that’s left angry red marks on her skin.
In the right cell, Skylar is against the bars.
Her copper hair is matted and dirty, and her face is pale beneath a constellation of bruises.
Blood coats her wrists where she’s been working at her bonds, and a silver collar identical to the other woman’s burns against the skin of her neck.
She’s lost weight in just two days, and her cheekbones stand out more sharply than I remember.
Her clothes are torn and filthy, and there’s a dark bruise along her jaw that looks like someone’s handprint.
But she’s alive. She’s alive, and she’s looking at me like I’m the answer to every prayer she’s ever whispered.
“Bryan.” My name comes out as a sob, and she reaches through the bars toward me with bloody fingers.
I cross the room in three strides and grab her hand through the iron.
Her fingers are ice-cold and slick with blood, and she’s trembling so hard I can feel it in my own bones.
The relief that crashes through me nearly takes my legs out from under me, so I brace my free hand against the bars to keep myself upright.
Two days of fear and rage and desperate hope come flooding out all at once, and I have to close my eyes for a second just to keep from falling apart.
“I’ve got you,” I manage with my voice rough. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
“I knew you’d come.” Tears streak down her face and cut tracks through the dirt on her cheeks. “I knew it. Even when Rafe said you wouldn’t, even when he told me you’d already moved on, I knew you’d find me.”
I rest my forehead against the bars because it’s as close to her as I can get with the iron still between us. “I will always come for you, Skylar. Always. Do you understand? There is nowhere they could take you that I wouldn’t follow.”
Connor appears at my shoulder with a set of lockpicks he brought with him. “Move back and let me get this open.”
I release Skylar’s hand reluctantly, and she steps away from the bars while Connor works on the lock.
The seconds stretch into an eternity as he manipulates the picks and curses under his breath when the mechanism sticks.
Dylan keeps watch at the door with his body coiled and ready for trouble while Caleb hovers near the other woman’s cell and reassures the frightened woman.
Finally, after what feels like hours but is probably only thirty seconds, the cell door swings open with a groan of rusted hinges.
I’m through it before it finishes moving.
Skylar crashes into me, and I catch her against my chest and wrap my arms around her so tightly I’m afraid I might break something. She buries her face in my neck and clings to me with her entire body shaking from sobs she’s probably been holding back for days.
I breathe her in—blood and fear and underneath it all, that honeysuckle scent that means home. My wolf settles for the first time since she was taken, finally at peace now that our mate is back in our arms, where she belongs.
“The collar,” she gasps against my skin. “I can’t reach my wolf. They put silver on me, and I can’t—”
“I know. I’ll get it off.” I pull back just enough to examine the collar around her throat.
It’s a thick band of silver locked at the back with some kind of mechanism I don’t recognize.
The skin beneath it is red and blistered from days of constant contact, and the sight of it makes something dark and violent stir in my chest.
I reach for the clasp, and the moment my fingers touch the metal, pain sears through my hands like I’ve grabbed a hot iron. I jerk back with a hiss and stare at my palms. The skin is already reddening where I made contact.
“It’s warded,” Skylar says miserably. “I heard the guards talking about it. Only Rafe can remove it, or someone with magic strong enough to break the enchantment.”
Dylan is already working on the other woman’s cell with a second set of picks, but he looks up long enough to reply, “Luna can break it when we get back to Silvercreek.”
I nod and force myself to think past the rage clouding my vision. Luna can fix this. We just have to get Skylar home first.
I take her face in my hands and tilt it up so I can look at her.
The bruises are worse up close—a dark purple mark along her jaw, another one high on her cheekbone, and a split in her lower lip that’s only half-healed.
Someone hit her. Someone put their hands on my mate and hurt her, and I am going to find them and make them regret every second of their miserable existence.
“Can you walk?” I manage to ask.
“I can walk.” Skylar’s voice is stronger now. Steadier. “But Bryan, listen to me. There’s something you need to know.”
“Tell me while we move.” I take her hand and pull her toward the door, where Connor and Dylan are helping the other woman to her feet.
“It can’t wait.” Skylar digs in her heels and forces me to stop. Her eyes are huge and frightened, but not for herself. “Rafe has explosives planted throughout Silvercreek. He’s going to blow up the town. He said it’s happening in a few hours, maybe less. We have to warn Nic.”
The words take a moment to penetrate. Explosives. Silvercreek. The school.
Skylar squeezes my hand hard enough to hurt, getting my attention. “Bryan, there are children in that school. Fern is at the medical center. We have to get back before—”
“We will.” I pull her close and press a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for just a moment. “We’ll warn them. But first, we have to get out of here. Can you do that? Can you stay with me until we’re clear?”
She presses her lips into a thin line and gives one curt nod. “I can do that.”
“Good.” I turn to the others. “Change of plans. We move fast, and we don’t stop for anything. Nic needs to know about those explosives before Rafe can detonate them.”
“What about the guards between us and the exit?” Connor asks as he wipes blood from his split lip.
“Anyone who gets in our way goes down. No more playing nice.”
Dylan grins. “Finally.”
We move out in formation—me in front with Skylar tucked against my side, Dylan and Connor flanking us, and Caleb bringing up the rear with the wounded prisoner leaning heavily on his arm.
The route back through the tunnels feels longer than it did coming in.
Every shadow is a potential threat, and every distant sound could signal that someone has discovered we’re here.
We’re halfway to the service entrance when the first shout goes up behind us.
“They know we’re here,” Caleb reports. “Someone must have found the guards.”
“Then we run. Everyone stay together. Don’t stop until we hit the tree line.”
We burst through the service door and into the cold mountain night. The sounds of fighting from the front gate have intensified. Nic’s distraction is holding, but it won’t hold forever. We need to disappear into the forest before Rafe’s wolves can cut us off.
Skylar stumbles on the uneven ground, and I catch her before she can fall. Without breaking stride, I sweep her up into my arms and keep running. She wraps her arms around my neck and holds on tight with her breath warm against my throat.
“I can run,” she protests.
“I know you can.” I duck under a low branch and keep moving. “But I just got you back, and I’m not letting go yet.”
She doesn’t argue after that. Instead, she tucks her head against my shoulder and lets me carry her through the darkness, trusting me to get us both to safety.
The trees swallow us whole, and behind us, the compound erupts into pandemonium. Shouts and howls fill the night as Rafe’s wolves realize their prisoners are gone. But we’re already deep into the forest with Luna’s fading magic still clinging to us, and the darkness has become our ally.