Bear the Burden (Midnight Falls #25)

Chapter Five

As they pulled to the curb a few houses down from Wesley’s, Hyett struggled to keep his bear under control. It was raging inside of him, desperate to break free and maul whoever had hurt his mate.

This was the one time he didn’t want to keep a cool head. Hyett wanted to tear someone apart, but that wasn’t the way to go. They couldn’t storm in there blindly without knowing what they were up against. Wesley’s attacker could still be inside, or there could even be multiple assailants, which would make the situation even more dangerous for his mate.

But damn if Hyett didn’t want to crash through the door to get to Wesley. It made him glad he’d exchanged numbers with the guy earlier. Otherwise, Hyett wouldn’t have even known his mate was in trouble.

The four of them headed up the driveway in complete silence. All the lights were off, shrouding the interior in complete darkness.

Even the porchlight wasn’t on.

Cautiously, he and his dad stepped onto the porch as Killian and Ryker disappeared around the back of the house.

A foul odor filled his nostrils and made his gut churn. He glanced at his dad, who clearly smelled it too.

Why would a demon be at Wesley’s house?

Quinton must have sensed that Hyett was about to unravel because his dad swung open the front door, not even bothering to check through any windows first.

The air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and marijuana, causing Hyett to take in shallow breaths, which didn’t help with his heightened senses.

Despite the dark interior, Hyett could see just fine. It was a normal living room. The place hadn’t been tossed, something he’d expected after that chilling call from his mate.

What he hadn’t expected was an older man huddled on the floor, shivering like crazy even though it was muggy inside the house. Sweat had matted his dark hair to his head in a tangled mess. Blood trickled from his nose and dripped onto the floor.

Killian and Ryker entered the living room after searching the house, appearing like two giants in the narrow hallway.

“Didn’t see anyone prowling around.” Killian glanced at the trembling human who had started making strange noises in the back of his throat. “Do we know who he is and what’s wrong with him?” Hyett’s brother squatted with a look of compassion for the guy.

“I’m thinking he’s Wesley’s dad, but I know about as much as you do since we got here at the same time.” The floorboards under Hyett’s booted feet creaked and groaned as he walked around the living room trying to catch a strong enough whiff of his mate’s scent.

But the overpowering stench of weed, coupled with Jackson’s sickly-smelling sweat, was messing with his senses.

What was wrong with the human?

“I’ll call an ambulance for him.” Quinton pulled out his phone then started talking with emergency services.

Hyett gave up trying to find his mate by scent. Instead, he yanked the couch away from the wall, but his mate wasn’t behind it. “Check the rest of the house.”

“But we didn’t find anyone,” Ryker said.

“Check under beds, in closets, in crawl spaces. Hell, look under the bathroom sink,” Hyett snarled. “We don’t stop until we find my mate.”

As his brothers and dad searched the house, Hyett stood trying to think. Wesley had said he was at home. It had taken seventeen minutes to get there. What if his attacker had snatched him?

Hyett still couldn’t figure out why a demon had been here. He would have thought his mate was somehow mixed up with the preternatural, but you couldn’t fake the shocked reaction Wesley had had when Hyett had revealed he was a bear shifter. His mate had simply walked out into that field in a daze, no specific destination in mind.

Hyett had too many questions and jack shit for answers.

When he turned to go help with the search, something caught his eye. With his brows furrowed, Hyett walked over to the front door, which they’d left wide open when they’d barged in. Closing it, he discovered a closet behind it.

Inside were hanging coats and jackets and two rows of neatly lined shoes on the floor. To the right, the closet extended farther back. There was a stack of large plastic containers filled with what looked like Christmas decorations.

That’s when Hyett spotted an oddly angled shoe on top of the stack.

His heart raced with panic as he frantically tossed everything from the closet until he discovered his mate. Wesley must have climbed on top of the containers then slipped headfirst behind them to hide himself. “Found him!”

His father and brothers thundered into the room. Killian cursed as Quinton and Ryker snarled. Hyett heard an ambulance’s approach moments before the room was bathed in swirling lights.

“Don’t move him, son,” his dad advised. “You don’t know the extent of his injuries. Let the paramedics help him.”

Jaw clenched, Hyett sniffed deeply as he wiped away some stray tears with the back of his hand. “My mate is lying in a tangled mess on the floor of a closet, and you want me to just leave him like this?” he ground out.

He couldn’t even get a good look at Wesley’s face because he was too far back, but there was no mistaking the metallic smell of blood.

“Hyett, little bro, you have to move so the paramedics can get through the door. You’re blocking them.” Ryker tried to help him up, but something in Hyett’s mind snapped. He lunged to his feet and swung at his brother as pure impotent rage consumed him.

Ryker crashed into the wall behind him, creating a massive crater and causing drywall to crumble in a cascade of dust and debris. Framed pictures hit the floor as large cracks extended in every direction.

Bulky arms shackled Hyett from behind, locking his own arms at his sides. He tried to fight against the hold, but they were like bands of unrelenting steel. There was only one person who was capable of immobilizing him that swiftly and effectively.

“Reel your shit in,” his dad snarled close to Hyett’s ear.

“He was already disabled!” Hyett screamed, though the culprit wasn’t there to hear him. “You didn’t have to hurt him!”

Fire burned through his veins, leaving him feeling like scorched earth. Every muscle was taut and tense with only one outlet.

His bear was about to break free.

Quinton’s powerful arms tightened. “The medics refuse to step inside the house while you’re coming unglued. Wesley needs help, Hyett. What he doesn’t need is his mate suffering a mental breakdown.”

Breathing heavily, Hyett closed his eyes and blocked everything out then concentrated on slowing his heart rate.

On pushing back his bear.

On the almost imperceptible whimpers Wesley panted out.

His mate needed to get to the hospital. Hyett’s descension into madness could wait.

“I want to know who did this to him.” That person was the one who deserved his wrath.

“We’re going to find out, but right now, Wesley is our priority,” his dad replied.

Ryker yanked himself from the deep indentation before dusting off flecks of drywall.

“ I’m sorry, Ryker. You were only trying to help.” Hyett cursed himself for attacking his brother. They had gotten into plenty of fights in the past, but Hyett had never outright assaulted him.

This was why he had to be the coolheaded one. Because his unleashed fury burned too brightly when set free.

“There’s no need to apologize.” Ryker pulled Hyett from their dad’s tight hold and hugged him. “You needed a target, and I was the closest one.”

“You’re not a target.”

“At a time like this, I’ll be whatever you need, little brother.” Ryker gripped his shoulder.

Pulling away, Hyett crossed the room, his chest hurting like hell. Wesley was out of the closet and was wearing a C-collar on his neck. His right cheek, along with the skin right below his eye, held a nasty purple bruise. There was dried blood under his nose, and he was still wheezing.

The other paramedic was working on Wesley’s dad. Aside from a bleeding nose, there were no visible injuries on the human.

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Hyett was curious to know what was causing the sickly smell in Jackson’s sweat.

“Are you family?” The paramedic smelled like a cheetah shifter. Good. That would make it easier to talk to him without worrying about tiptoeing around any potential questions.

“He’s my mate’s dad,” Hyett admitted. Now that he had a chance to take a closer look, Jackson and Wesley didn’t really look alike. The only trait they shared was brown hair so dark it bordered on black.

Maybe they had the same silver-gray eyes, but since Jackson’s were squished closed, it was anybody’s guess.

Whereas Jackson appeared rugged and ridden hard, his son’s features were soft and radiant.

The cheetah glanced over his shoulder. “Is the guy my partner’s working on your mate?” he asked with a hint of suspicion. Did he think Hyett and his family had anything to do with this?

“We arrived after the fact.” Hyett fought to keep the growl out of his tone. “I have no idea what happened here.”

Now the son of a bitch held a disapproving look in his eyes. Weren’t emergency service workers supposed to be impartial?

Breathe. Do not slug the guy helping your father-in-law.

The cheetah turned his attention back to Wesley’s dad. “Visually, it looks like he has suffered trauma to his nose. Most likely a well-placed punch. He’s also experiencing withdrawal symptoms. The odor mingling with his sweat is heroine. Sadly, my partner and I have gone on too many of these calls over the past six months. It’s to the point I can call myself an expert with naming the drug a human has taken.”

Wesley’s dad was a junkie?

Now Hyett wondered if the extra pill his mate had taken had really been an accident.

He wanted to believe the best of Wesley, really, but with his mate’s mood swings and the fact the guy suffered with pain, he couldn’t honestly say.

Killian’s statement surfaced in his mind. Fate paired two people who needed each other. Wesley was definitely mixed up with something. For sure, the guy had secrets.

But just how broken was his mate? Would Hyett survive the battle wounds that were about to be carved in his heart?

* * * *

“You know they won’t have the money in a week.” Durzi scowled when the kitchen chair he currently sat in rocked with unevenness every time he shifted positions.

“I’m fully aware, Seth.”

Seth was a ridiculous name, but Durzi had needed a human cover when he discovered being around Morton had benefits. Plus, he didn’t want anyone to get wind that Durzi was in Midnight Falls. He had to keep his whereabouts hidden. So Seth it was, no matter how much he hated it.

Morton made a cappuccino with one of those fancy coffee machines sitting on his counter. “But I want them to try so I can recoup some of my money. Which do you think I’d rather have, a dead addict and his stupidly na?ve son or cold, hard cash?”

Then why in the fuck did you allow him to rack up such a high debt? Durzi was thousands of years old, yet he still couldn’t understand human logic and probably never would.

Like how Morton was wealthy enough to afford a luxurious home but would rather live in a low-rent piece of crap. Durzi had lost count on how many times he’d battled with the disgusting plunger or unloaded wet dishes from the dishwasher because the ancient model needed to be replaced.

If he hadn’t been in hiding from Whichello, he would’ve sucked out Morton’s soul and been on his merry way.

The only reason he stuck around was the fact Morton was one of those extremely rare humans who could naturally signal-jam a preternatural being’s whereabouts.

Thankfully, Morton was oblivious of his special gift and the fact “Seth” was a demon. The less he knew, the better.

Still, Morton’s power came in mighty handy when you were running from a particularly nasty demon who loved to come up with creative ways to torture poor, unsuspecting victims.

Like Durzi.

Whichello acted as if cheating at cards or sleeping with his most cherished consort were bad things. It wasn’t as if the demon didn’t have plenty more to choose from, and what did he expect from a soul-sucking demon? Honesty and integrity?

It was a pain in the ass sticking to Morton’s side. Durzi had to not only ensure nothing happened to his rotund signal jammer, but he had to always stay within range as well.

Which meant he couldn’t stray too far from the obnoxious human.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if Morton knew how to have fun, but the guy was as exciting as dripping water, and his condescending tone made Durzi want to pick his bones clean. Morton had no idea how many times he’d come close to ending up as nothing more than an empty husk of a human.

“Although I’m pretty pissed at you, Seth.” Morton took a sip of his drink, his voice pulling Durzi from his thoughts. “How can Wesley hustle when you beat the shit out of him?”

“I gave him a love tap,” he said dismissively. If he’d actually kicked the human’s ass the way he’d really wanted to, Wesley would’ve ended up in traction and on life support. He’d popped the twink in the gut with the back of his hand. Big whoop.

It was pretty convenient Morton didn’t mention the fact he’d smacked Wesley across the face or choked him. But sure, blame the demon.

Morton narrowed his muddy-brown eyes. “ I’ll give you a signal when I want someone roughed up.”

You already give me the only signal I need. Morton could shove the rest of them up his ass. Taking out his frustrations on humans was the only thing that brightened Durzi’s miserable days.

Well, he also liked smoking blunts. They didn’t get him high, but he liked the putrid taste and the way the smoke smelled.

“I run things around here, not you,” Morton continued with a sneer. “Never forget you can be replaced.”

He would really love to see the human try. The only reason Morton wasn’t tied up in a basement with a feeding tube was because Durzi would be stuck in there with him.

Morton should consider himself lucky Durzi loved his freedom and knocking humans around.

“Have someone sit on Jackson and his son. I want to know the moment they’re released from the hospital.”

The things I put up with in order not to die a horrific death. “How do you even know they’re in the hospital?”

“Because you beat the shit out of Wesley, moron,” Morton snarled.

It was a goddamn love tap!

“And before you ask why I want them watched, a good businessman always keeps an eye on his money. The sooner they’re released, the sooner they can…” Morton stopped talking and just stood there.

Was the human suffering a stroke or something?

“I just had a brilliant idea.” The guy smirked.

Durzi doubted it. For someone who ran a successful drug operation, the guy was pretty dimwitted.

And a good businessman wouldn’t have allowed Jackson to… Why bother finishing that thought? It felt redundant at this point.

“Your plan?” Durzi startled slightly when the chair unevenly rocked.

“Why kill them?” Morton mused. He sipped his cappuccino loudly, pinky out.

“Maybe because you implied they were going to die and I backed the threat with promised burial services.”

“This is why you are no longer allowed to make a move or even threaten anyone without my signal.”

Keep it up and we’ll be stuck together in a basement, asshole.

“Change of plans.” Morton set his cup on the counter. “Until their debt is paid, they’ll work for me, for free of course. Who doesn’t love free help?”

Brilliant, he was not. “And how are they going to pay their bills and survive without paying jobs?”

He better not say they’ll live here. Morton snored loud enough to wake the creatures in Hell. Durzi didn’t want any more annoying roommates. Getting to ogle Wesley’s sexy ass every day wouldn’t be worth putting up with Jackson.

“Must you always poke holes in my plans?” Morton huffed. “Fine, they’ll get a weekly pay. The two will just have to work for me a lot longer.”

The obvious problem was so glaring that Morton should have gone blind. The guy was about to entrust drugs to a drug addict. That was like asking Durzi to babysit a soul.

“Do you want Bailey to watch father and son?” he asked dryly. The conversation had started to annoy him as soon as it started, and he wanted it to end already.

The guy rolled his eyes as if Durzi exhausted him. The feeling is mutual, you boring dimwit .

“Since he works at the hospital, then yes. Have Bailey keep an eye on them,” Morton said in a deliberate tone.

As soon as the man was no longer of use, Durzi was going to take great pleasure in feasting on the bastard’s soul.

Though he often wondered if Morton even had a soul.

Highly unlikely.