Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHARLI
Aphone rings, piercing the cold night air, and everyone freezes.
Martin pivots toward the sound, then bends down and picks up my cell from the ground, and answers.
“Teague, what a surprise. Unfortunately, Charli’s too busy to come to the phone.
” He continues to listen, then he laughs and holds the phone out for the other men to hear. “He’s trying to negotiate. For her.”
I open my mouth and scream the name of the restaurant. Martin snaps his fingers, and the big guy clamps his massive paw over my mouth, cutting off the sound.
Opening the hatch, Martin sets the phone down. “No deal. But I’ll let you listen to her scream while I fuck her.” He walks over and jerks me from the bald guy’s arms, his eyes almost incandescent with excitement and triumph.
Slamming me down onto the bed of the car, on my stomach, he grips my pants and yanks them down.
Cold air washes over me, along with despair at what he intends to do.
I try to crawl farther inside, but he grabs my ankles and hauls me back, stepping between my legs.
Face pressed into the rough carpet, covering the trunk, I scramble to throw whatever I can find at him while I continue to scream for help.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Andros’ snarl cuts through the night and the fear engulfing me.
Sobbing, I turn my head and find his caramel-colored eyes, silently pleading for him to save me. His gaze moves down my half-naked body, and his gloved hands clench with fury. Red streaks across the whites of his eyes, and he bares those long, sharp incisors.
Martin laughs and unzips his pants, the sound like a gunshot behind me, galvanizing me into action. “Shoot him.” His hands come down on my thighs, squeezing roughly. “Don’t stop until he goes down. Then, you can shift and?—”
With him preoccupied giving orders, I frantically dig through the box in front of me, praying for anything I can use.
Stretching my fingers, I glide them over books, clothes, a first aid kit, and my old jewelry box.
Come on. Sweat blurs my vision. Gunshots ring out.
A man screams, but I don’t dare turn. My fingers skim a familiar object.
Desperate, I bite my lip and inch forward a tiny bit. There.
Martin grabs my hips. “Where do you think you’re going?”
My hand wraps around the handle. He pulls me closer and bends over my body.
I twist to the side, plant my knees, and rear up, driving the end of the screwdriver straight into his neck.
He stumbles back in shock, blood arcing from the wound, and I waste no time scooting into the vehicle.
Frantic, I grab the handle and tug the hatch down.
He lurches forward to stop it, but a body comes flying through the air, crashing into him, giving me time to get it closed. I lunge for the locks on the doors and slam my hand down.
They click, and I stare out the back window as Martin stands and pulls the screwdriver from his neck, then slams the hilt through the back window, shattering it.
“Think a fucking screwdriver can take out a wolf?” He laughs and grabs the handle of the hatch.
Yanking on my pants, I scramble into the driver’s seat and pull the spare key out of the console. Metal screeches loudly as he bends the frame of the car, trying to open the locked hatch. I shove the key into the ignition and turn. The car roars to life. Throwing it in reverse, I stomp on the gas.
Martin scrambles out of the way, but there’s a loud thud.
I look back to see the big bald guy clinging to the back window.
I don’t stop, ramming the car into the brick building behind me.
Blood spurts from the guy’s mouth, but terrified he’s a wolf too, I keep my foot on the gas, crushing him between my car and the wall until I see him slump forward, eyes staring sightlessly at me in my rearview mirror.
A dark grey wolf lands on the hood of my car.
I throw the car into drive, but before I can hit the gas, a blur takes him down.
Andros and the wolf roll across the parking lot.
Relief fills me. Andros is still here. The wolf latches onto his side and rips a chunk out of Andros, but it doesn’t stop him.
He clamps his hands down on the wolf’s large head and pulls.
The wolf yelps and rolls backward, twisting his body, until Andros releases him, then he scrambles away, nails clicking against the asphalt. In two seconds, he’s gone.
It’s then that I notice Martin, his fist wrapped around something in his hand, sneaking up on Andros.
“Behind you!” I scream, and he pivots, but he’s not fast enough.
Martin plunges the object into Andros’ neck and laughs.
“Sanctimonious bastard. Think you’re better than me.
I planned to give this to her, but this works out better.
Pretty soon, madness will drag you down, distorting the world around you, obliterating the very thing you prize most: your control.
” He steps toward me and laughs. “I only wish I could stick around to see it happen, but I have other plans.”
Andros’ gaze meets mine, and something flashes in the depths of his caramel-colored brown eyes as he pulls the needle from his neck.
Almost like resignation. I shake my head, silently telling him not to do whatever he’s thinking about doing, but his face hardens, and the warmth in his gaze disappears, leaving the cold red eyes I saw that day in the office.
With a roar, he blurs until he’s almost transparent and slams into Martin.
“Mine,” he snarls, sinking his teeth into Martin’s neck.
Blood drips down his neck as he flails against Andros.
I know I should look away, but I can’t. Fur ripples across Martin’s arms and claws pop out on his hands.
I hold my breath, waiting for the rest of him to shift, but nothing happens.
Instead, his movements become slower and weaker until, finally, they stop.
Andros drops the body to the pavement and staggers back a step.
I grip the steering wheel and inch my foot toward the gas pedal, wondering if I’m going to have to flee again.
Andros falls to his knees, his gaze locked with mine, and I watch the red recede until all that’s left is warm caramel-colored brown.
His hand reaches out, and I don’t think twice.
I shift the car into park and get out, my arms wrapping around his body right before he falls the rest of the way to the ground.
Andros’ buttoned-down shirt and sharp, pressed slacks are ripped to shreds and covered in blood, but somehow the man still exudes sophistication. His chest rattles when he breathes in, sounding like death.
I sweep his thick, burnished brown hair back from his face. “Please, don’t die. Macklin and Teague need you.”
He lifts a gloved hand and runs it down the line of my cheek. “Charli.” He exhales. “They’re lucky to have you as a mate.” His lashes, dark and silky, fall against the sharp lines of his pale face.
“You can’t be sweet to me now,” I whisper to him.
The back door of the restaurant opens, music blaring, and Vic steps out with trash bags clutched in his hands. His eyes widen when he sees the carnage in his parking lot and me on my knees holding Andros.
“I’ll get the healer,” he shouts, dropping the bags and rushing back inside.
“Andros, hang on. Help is coming,” I tell him, my tears falling on his cheeks. “Damn it. You still owe me an apology.”
The briefest of smiles graces his stern lips, but his eyes remain shut.
I hear a familiar buzzing sound and pat the pockets of his pants. Pulling out his phone, I see Teague’s name and start crying harder.
“Teague,” I sob. “I?—”
“Charli. Fuck me,” his voice breaks, and I hear him take a deep, shuddering breath. “Hearing your screams. I…I thought I lost you.”
I hear him tell someone in the background it’s me.
“Teague!” I shout, a hair away from falling apart.
“I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone.
“Andros…is dying. Tell me…to do,” I blubber, gripping the vampire in my arms tighter. “Saved me.”
Teague sucks in a sharp breath. “Hold on. I’ve got someone here who can help.”
A cool voice comes on the line. “Charli, my name is Ronan. I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on with Andros.”
“A wolf took a chunk out of him.” I eye the holes in his shirt.
“He’s been shot. At least a couple of times.
” My voice trembles with the evidence of how hard he fought.
“Martin plunged a needle into his neck. Told him it would make him mad.” I press a hand to his chest. “He’s barely breathing. And he won’t wake up.”
I can tell by his sharp inhale this isn’t good. “Do you believe she’s his mate?”
My mouth drops open, but I know he’s asking Teague not me. I stare down at the man who scares the hell out of me, even if he did save my life tonight, and shake my head in denial.
“Charli,” Ronan says, coming back on the line, his voice dark and soothing at the same time. “The drug Martin injected into Andros likely won’t drive him mad, but it will kill him.”
I close my eyes. He saved me, now he’s dying. Tears fall swiftly down my cheeks.
“Still with me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Normally, I’d tell you to think long and hard about this decision, but he only has minutes. If you’re his mate, your blood will save him. But it’s going to tie you together. Forever.”
“Forever is a long time,” I whisper, stroking my fingers through his hair. I can’t fathom what that means. Not like they can. “Let me speak to Macklin.”
There’s some shuffling.
“Charli, you don’t have to do this,” Macklin’s deep voice assures me. “Andros would be the first one to understand. I promise. You can let him go.” He clears his throat as if all the words he can’t say are stuck in his throat.
“Will Teague hate me? Will you?” I ask, needing to know.
“Never,” he adamantly states, and my chest eases.
“Will he hate me?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Maybe.”
I sniff. “He saved me. If I don’t save him, I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” I watch a woman walk slowly toward me, curly auburn hair in a bun, medical bag in her hand. “How much?”
His voice is muffled, but he comes back a second later. “At least a mouthful.”
“Charli, I’m MacKenzie. I’m a healer,” the woman says softly, slowly approaching us both. She peers down at Andros. “I think he’s gone. Can I check?”
“Do you have a knife or something sharp?”
She hesitates, and I hand her the phone. “Macklin can explain, but I need to hurry. Knife?”
MacKenzie opens her bag and hands me a scalpel, then takes the phone.
I bite my lip and slash my palm, the razor-sharp edge slicing deep with little effort.
Ignoring the searing pain that follows, I clench my fist and hold it up to Andros’ mouth until it fills with my blood, then I rub his throat, hoping it will help him ingest it.
My other hand slides through his hair over and over.
He swallows and I move my bloody hand to his chest. Afraid to hope, I wait for the smallest movement to tell me it worked.
His chest rises and falls. Once. I hold my breath. It does it again. And again, slowly picking up rhythm. I close my eyes in relief. When I open them, he’s staring at me.
His tongue darts out and licks the last trace of my blood from his lips. “What did you do?”
I open my mouth to tell him, but the words never form.
Understanding dawns, but it’s quickly replaced by despair and a simmering anger.
“Why couldn’t you let me die?” His voice is raw, as if I took away his one chance to leave this world behind, and it strikes a familiar chord.
True despair. I’d asked my mother the same question over and over after I’d woken up.