Chapter 17 - Cade
I know I would rather take a barrage of their silver bullets than see her blood hit the ground.
The thought is so sudden, so absolute, it knocks me off center harder than the pain of my first shift.
I shift back, bones snapping as I rise onto two legs.
My wolf is howling, wild and fractured, claws raking and teeth snapping at the resolve I’ve spent decades building.
The hunter’s blade presses deeper into her throat, and even from here I can see the red beads trickling down her neck, staining her skin and the top of her sweater.
I can’t move. Not because I’m frozen, but because if I do, I’ll shift back fully, give in to my rage, and let my wolf take over, and if that happens, Mara will be dead before she even hits the ground.
The hunter holding her is huge; not as big as me, but his arms are dense with muscle, his gloved fist wound tightly in her hair.
He’s breathing hard, adrenaline written all over his features.
The other hunters have fanned out, forming a loose half-circle.
Some are aiming at my betas, some at the innocent folk just trying to take cover, huddled under overturned outdoor tables; the hunters are clearly trying to work out where the greatest threat is coming from.
They clearly think I’m the one who matters most right now.
But they’re wrong. Mara is the only one who matters.
She’s not making a sound. Her eyes are crystal clear and unblinking as she looks at me, but I see the way her lips move, counting her own breaths, trying to control herself.
There’s something else in her eyes, as if she’s trying to tell me something, like this is her last chance.
It could be. If I fuck this up, it will be.
My wolf wants to lunge. The man knows this is a standoff, and standoffs are for talking.
I circle, slow, keeping my hands up, because the last time I was in a negotiation like this, I left a bloodbath behind me.
But this is too important to give in to violence.
The hunter tracks me, turning with Mara’s body as his shield, so I get to see the raw fear in his eyes.
He’s a pro, but he’s rattled. Which begs the question, what did he expect, coming in here guns blazing?
He appears strangely out of his depth. But desperation makes idiots dangerous, and I can smell the panicked sweat rolling off him in waves now.
“Get back,” the hunter yells, and I’m glad Mara can’t see the way my hands are shaking from where she is. “I’ll do it, I swear to God, get back or I open her up right here!”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re not going to do shit, and you know it. The Order didn’t send you here to kill her. They want her back, don’t they?”
The hunter glances at his fellow men, and I see the fracture lines in his resolve start to grow.
“You don’t know shit about what I want,” he spits out.
“You think I’m bluffing?” he yells, and this time the blade nicks deeper.
Mara flinches, just barely, and a line of blood snakes down her collarbone.
I take another tiny step forward, the world narrowing to the shine of Mara’s hair in his fist, the tiny pulse beating in her neck, the blood coating her pale skin.
The realization drops in me like a depth charge: this isn’t some girl I thought I could get information out of; she’s not just a warm body in my bed, not even just an omega my wolf wanted to breed.
I want her because she is mine. A single word echoes, low and thunderous in my mind… mate.
I have no idea if she feels the same, and right now it doesn’t even matter. All that matters is protecting her. Off to my side, I hear some of the hunters talking.
“Aren’t they supposed to be at each other’s throats?” one hisses under his breath, loud enough for me to hear. “I thought you said they’d be fighting themselves and easy to kill.”
Another, further down the line, spits into the gutter, voice raw and angry. “What the fuck is this? They’re not even moving. You said the drug would—”
“Shut up and hold the line,” the hunter holding Mara snaps, but the damage is done. A flicker of uncertainty ripples through the entire unit.
They thought Mara would break us. That bringing her here, letting her loose in my territory, would make me weak.
Easier to kill, easier to pick off. Instead, all she’s done is remind me what I’m supposed to protect, what I’m willing to lose my life for.
It’s like her omega pheromones have actually settled my wolf, made him more determined, and made everything clearer.
I let the sound of the pack filter in, the snarl and growl of my wolves, the high, keening whines of the betas waiting for my signal.
I catch Grey across the square, eyes locked on me, his fist raised.
He’s got a dozen men ready to move, but he knows what I know: that if we rush, Mara’s dead.
I raise my hands higher, palms open. “Let her go, and I’ll let you make it out alive,” I say.
The hunter laughs, a high, broken sound. “You must think I’m fucking stupid. You’ll tear us apart the second she’s loose.”
“Probably,” I admit, and take another step. The world goes very still. I can hear Mara breathing, shallow and sharp, and the catch in her throat when the hunter’s blade presses in a little deeper. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms, and force myself not to lose it. Not yet.
“Why’d you come?” I ask, almost conversational. “You know you’re not walking out of here. You’re not going to get promoted for this.”
The guy’s eyes dart, desperate, but he’s still got his orders. “They want her back,” he says, “and I don’t care what you think she is; she doesn’t belong with you freaks. She’s property of the Order. She’s a fucking experiment.”
I see Mara’s mouth twist, not in fear, but in pure, unfiltered rage. For a second, it almost makes me smile.
He starts to drag Mara backward, but she surprises all of us by twisting against his hold, slamming her heel down on the top of his foot. He howls, and the blade slices deeper into her skin, but she doesn’t scream; she’s fighting. She spins, raking her nails across his face.
“Now,” I bark, and the world explodes.
Grey and the betas surge from cover. Two wolves go for the hunters on the left, scattering them and forcing the shooters to track fast or get their throats torn out.
I launch myself forward, partially shifted, and close the distance to Mara and her captor in four bounds.
The hunter tries to readjust the knife, but he’s slower now, and Mara is fighting with everything she’s got, twisting in his arms. The moment his grip slips, I grab his arm and snap it at the elbow. The knife clatters to the pavement.
The man screams; it’s high-pitched and desperate, but that’s nothing compared to the sound that comes out of me.
I haul him off Mara and break his neck with a twist, the pop echoing across the square.
The body drops, limp as a sack of flour, and for a second, Mara just stands there, swaying, blood bubbling down her neck.
The rest of the square is a blur of gunfire, the roars of my betas, screams from the hunters as Grey’s team tears into them.
I don’t even watch it. All I see is the way Mara’s knees start to buckle, the way she tries to keep her hand pressed to the wound, but it’s already too late, blood pulsing between her fingers.
I catch her before she hits the ground, scooping her up and cradling her against my chest.
She’s lighter than I expect, limp with shock or blood loss, and I’m hit with the realization that she’s not a shifter. She’s not built to survive a wound like this. Human flesh is so fucking fragile, so breakable that even the faintest slip and she’ll be gone before I can get her help.
“You’re gonna be fine, Mara, do you hear me?” I say. It’s a lie; the cut is deep, and there’s too much blood, soaking my shirt and dripping down my arms. I press hard, trying to stanch the flow. “Don’t close your eyes. Goddamn it, look at me.”
She blinks, her gaze unfocused, mouth moving but no sound coming out.
I haul her up, one arm tight around her, the other hand clamped on her neck. I run, vaulting over bodies and debris, straight for the clinic across the street. The glass doors are locked and dark, but swing open as I run up the steps, and Sandy, the nurse, sees me coming.
Inside, it’s dim, and people have obviously been hiding in the back. “Help,” I shout, voice thundering. “She’s bleeding out, goddamn it, help.”
Sandy takes one look at me and calls for the others.
“She’s not a shifter. She’s not healing,” I say to no one in particular as I lay Mara out on the nearest gurney, hands locked on her neck, terrified to let go.
Her blood is everywhere; I can taste it in the air, can smell the panic and the way her body is already winding down, shutting off.
The connection between us feels stronger despite the fact that it’s fading; it’s as if my wolf is trying to hold on to her, but she’s slipping through my fingers.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, not even realizing I’m shaking her, like that’ll keep her soul from slipping out, until Sandy stops me.
The doors slam open, and Travis, the pack doctor, barrels in, still pulling a glove onto his left hand.
He takes one look at Mara and goes dead calm, pushing me aside and barking a string of orders at Sandy.
I hover at her feet, useless, nails digging into my palms as Travis packs the wound and shoves a blood pressure cuff around her arm, the Velcro scraping the skin, then another on her other arm, and starts calling out numbers that mean nothing to me but seem to make Sandy move even faster.
They cut off her sweater, leaving threads and blood stuck to her skin, and Mara doesn’t even flinch.
Her eyes flutter, rolling back, and my wolf throws itself at the walls of my chest, howling in terror.
“Her pressure’s bottoming,” Travis says, voice flat as steel, “she needs blood, now. She needs surgery, and she won’t even make it to the table if we don’t get a transfusion going.”
“Take mine,” I say, knowing damn well if we have any human blood here, it won’t be enough, “She’s my mate, and my blood will work.”
Normally, the fact I’ve just declared a woman is my mate would be met with some kind of reaction in this town, but the fact that Sandy and Travis simply nod and get to work tells me how serious this is.
I roll up my sleeve and let Sandy do what she needs to do; in the distance, I’m vaguely aware of Grey’s voice and some others, maybe Sara arriving at the clinic, but my focus is entirely on Mara as Travis preps her for emergency surgery.
***
I pace the hallway outside the operating room while Grey tries to get me to sit down, but the second I stop moving, I know I’ll shatter into a thousand pieces.
In the chair across from me, Sara sits hunched, arms locked around herself, face streaked with tears she’s trying and failing to hide.
The clinic is surprisingly calm considering the chaos outside on the square.
Every time the door swings open, I brace myself for Travis to come out and tell me she’s gone; my wolf hesitates between feeling our connection fade and holding on to it so tightly I can barely breathe. I catch myself gripping the edge of the counter so hard the laminate cracks under my fingers.
Grey hovers, then finally says, “You’ve done everything you could, Cade.”
I glare at him, and he has the sense to look away. “Not enough,” I say. “I should have been there. I should have killed them all before they got her.” My hands won’t stop shaking. The adrenaline is gone, replaced by a cold, hollow ache that starts in my chest and radiates out to my fingertips.
Time collapses. I can’t feel the minutes passing, just a slow, unspooling anxiety that knots my gut tighter with every step I take. I want to claw the door off its hinges, but all I can do is wait.
When Travis finally emerges, he’s streaked with blood, scrubs soaked through, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. I don’t breathe until he speaks.
“She’s alive,” he says, and it takes me a second to process the words.
“The wound was deep, and she lost almost half her volume, but”—his eyes flicker up to me, sharp and curious—“her body’s responding to the transfusion better than anything I’ve ever seen.
She’s healing almost like a shifter would.
Not quite as fast, but it’s…significant. ”
I lurch forward. “Can I see her?”
Travis nods. “She’s coming around. But she’ll be weak for a while. Keep her calm, Cade, or I’ll sedate you both.”
I push past him into the small recovery room. Mara’s on her side in the bed, eyes open, lashes dark with sweat. There’s a thick bandage around her throat, stained pink. Her skin is paper pale, lips gray, but when she sees me, her whole body tenses like she wants to get up and run.
I go to her, drop to my knees at the bedside. My voice is gone; I have to swallow twice before I can speak. “You’re okay,” I say, which is a lie, but I want it to be true. “Travis says you’re healing. It’s remarkable because…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence. “It doesn’t matter why.”
She opens her mouth to try to talk, but winces, and I know she needs to stay quiet for now.
I shake my head and try to keep my voice steady, but it cracks anyway.
“Don’t talk, not now. Just listen. You can hate me if you want.
You can walk out of here and never see me again.
But I’m not going to pretend this is anything other than what it is.
You need to know that you’re it for me, Mara.
Not because you’re an omega, not because some gene or magic says we have to be together.
It’s because I want you. I want you even if you hate me for it.
” Her eyes are wet now, but she doesn’t cry.
She just stares at our hands, like she can’t believe they belong to us.
The silence stretches, and I feel the panic rise in my chest. “You don’t have to feel the same,” I say, and it comes out as a whisper. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. Not the life you pictured. But I had to say it. Don’t talk; we can figure out what you want later. You just need to get better.”
I watch as something flickers across her eyes, but she doesn’t argue. She lets her eyes fall closed as I sit beside her, listening to the machines' methodical beeps, knowing with absolute certainty that the hunters got everything wrong about Mara and her omega nature.
She wasn’t a weapon; the thought that she could weaken my wolf is almost laughable because all she did was make me fight harder.