Pack Ruin (The Splintered Bond #3)

35. Bad Odds

35

Bad Odds

FLOR

I n one breath, Luke’s soul was humming, that silent music that had always started up when he touched me, but inside my innermost being.

In the next, the waves of passion turned to fear. “Grigor,” I gasped.

Luke was frozen above me, a smear of my blood still on his lower lip. “Someone’s hurting him,” he snarled, throwing himself off me and grabbing his clothing from the dresser. “At least I think so. He’s shut down the link between us.”

Glen opened the door, his face nearly white. “Not to me,” he said, gritting his teeth. Blood trickled from his nose. “I can’t—” He fell into my arms, and I staggered under his weight until Luke was there, rolling him onto the bed.

My Northern mate was shivering, almost like he was having a seizure. “Can I give him some of my strength?” I wondered aloud. I knew it was possible.

Luke and Glen both snapped, “No!” at the same moment.

Glen’s eyes were bloodshot, but he stopped shaking long enough to glare at me. “I’ve got this. Just need a minute. You get dressed. Find… weapons.”

“Hold on, brother. Hold on,” Luke muttered as he finished dressing. I wasn’t sure who he was talking to, Glen or Grigor.

I grabbed clean clothing from the drawer, knotting one of Del’s shirts at my waist, and pulling up two pairs of his boxers, tight-fitting ones this time. Luke was ahead of me in the kitchen, grabbing the knives. There were only three, not much bigger than paring knives, but at least they were all sharp.

Luke made me take one, keeping the other two for him and Glen. I tried to think, to plan. Three small knives weren’t enough to go charging into danger with. He had better weapons. “Maybe you should shift, and fight as a wolf?”

“There’s no time,” Luke admitted. “I’m slow. Not much practice.”

“Got it.” I thought about taking the broom from the closet, but it would be too noticeable, and would slow me down if I needed to run.

Glen appeared in the doorway again, holding onto both sides of the doorframe, like he couldn’t stay upright without help. He’d wiped the blood away, though, and looked less pale.

“Is Grigor doing better?”

“I don’t know. He found some way to cut me off.”

Luke growled, “So that’s a no. For a mass murderer, he sure likes to play the martyr.”

Silently, I agreed. “Glen, can you shift? We’re short on blades.”

He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. “I’m not sure I can spare the energy.” He grunted like he’d been punched in the gut, and we all swiveled in the direction of the Pack House. “Feel that?”

“Yeah,” I replied once I could breathe again. Grigor was taking some hits, and even though it seemed like Glen was getting the worst of it, we could all feel him in the weird-ass bonds he’d made with the guys. “Silver lining, at least now we know where he is.”

“What’s the plan?” Glen asked, staring hazily in our direction.

I looked at Luke, who was also staring. At me.

“Wait, y’all are the hotshot Alpha Heirs. Why’re you looking at me?”

Glen scoffed. “You’re the one who kept safe for years in this compound. You’re the one who saved us all the last time we were this fucked.”

“We weren’t this fucked. We had Enforcers then,” I argued. “Or you did. The Mountain troops?—”

I felt my first mate then, in our bond. Brand was already waiting there, a bright pulse of power. Reassurance. “Glen, let Brand in.” When he blinked in confusion, I waved at his chest, and mine. “I think he’s sending some Mountain mojo our way.”

I wished he could come in person. I missed him, and I had a bad feeling about how this day was going to end. The three of us against the Council Enforcers and the remains of the Southern pack? Those were shitty odds.Of course, I’d never had any other kind.

My mind started spinning. Planning. In a few seconds, I had a rough plan for finding Grigor and getting us all out. It was gonna be ugly, even if it worked.

It would have to do.

“How—” Glen had been propped up against a wall, but he let out a low whistle, standing on his own. “Brand. He just… How’d he do that?”

“I mean, magic is the short answer,” I half-joked, motioning for them both to follow me to the back door. None of us had shoes on. That was good. If the guys needed to shift, they could. I’d lived most of my life without shoes, and could run, climb, and fight better without them anyway.

“Here’s what we do. We can’t stick too close together; we’ll be too noticeable. It’s not full daylight, but not dark enough to use shadows to hide. I’ll go first, and head for the back door of the kitchens. No, the dumpsters off to the side. The smell will cover ours. If Grigor’s been caught somehow”—I hesitated, as we all wondered who could have got the best of the boogeyman—“then I’ll need to cause a distraction, while you two get him free.”

“Why you?” Luke’s eyes blazed.

“Because I run the fastest, and I know where to hide.” He nodded curtly, opening the door. “I just wish I had a better knife—” I looked down to see the backpack Glen had ditched the night before.“My knife!” I grabbed it out of the backpack and sniffed the blade. It smelled of ozone and darkness.

Grigor. Now this was a solid courting gift. After I rescued him, I’d have to figure out a way to thank him properly.

I passed Glen the paring knife Luke had given me. “Okay, I’ll go first, then you, then Luke. We’ll circle around a bit and approach the Pack House from the west. The sun’ll be in the eyes of anyone looking that way, and we’ll be downwind. Stay quiet.”

I went up on my tiptoes to Glen, who leaned over, giving me a quick, soft kiss. Then Luke did the same. I scowled at them both. I hadn’t even wanted mates, mostly because I hadn’t wanted to be hurt. But now I realized I should’ve been more afraid of this. That they might be injured, and I would care so damned much.

“Don’t get hurt. You’re all my mates now.”

All except Grigor.

We got lucky, staying clear of the Council forces. A few of the Southern males were running in small groups, and I would have sworn some of them saw us. One even pointed to Luke, but then they ran off.

I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. I guessed we’d find out.

When we got close to the eastern edge of the training ring—the only exposed area we’d need to cross to get to the dumpsters—I slowed down. It felt too easy.

There was a lot of yelling and the sounds of engines at the front of the Pack House, though, like something had their attention. Maybe my luck had changed.

I waited a minute as Luke and Glen caught up, stopping behind separate trees only a few dozen feet away. Me first, Luke mouthed in my direction. I shook my head. This was the most dangerous part of this run, and even if he was much stronger than he’d been, he was still recovering.

Not waiting for him to silently argue, I darted out into the open, hoping to skirt the edge of the dusty, flat space, and duck behind the edge of the main building. But a wolf appeared out of nowhere, running on my left about thirty yards away, and I was forced to change my course.

Shit. Another wolf joined him, and then another. From the way they were coming together, as a hunting pack, they’d been following me for a while. I ran faster, but was forced to zigzag, and then, when four more wolves stepped out from behind the dumpster, I turned and ran to the center of the ring.

A man stood there, waiting. Where the fuck had he come from? My mouth went dry as I felt his gaze rake me—an odd, clinical look, like he wanted to take me apart, piece by piece, tendon by tendon, and see what made me tick. He wore all black, and was medium build with brown hair. In one hand, he held a small silver blade. I could smell it from here.

“You,” he called, lifting a hand. The wolves formed a circle around me, ten of them altogether.

At first, anyway. Before I could take a breath to answer, ten more shifters, dressed in black—Enforcers, judging by their size and demeanor—had formed a circle behind them. My brain buzzed with panic, but I gripped my steak knife firmly in my hand, and tried to do what Del had taught me.

I scanned the area. There were no trees to climb. No storm drains or sewers to escape into. Nowhere to hide. I couldn’t run. I definitely couldn’t fight this many shifters.

Time to talk shit. I grinned cockily. “Yeah, me, asshole. You know how hard it’s been trying to get you alone… Torran?”

It was a lucky guess, though Del would have smacked me upside the head for even thinking that. He didn’t believe in luck. “Observation, preparation, and premeditation, girlie. Don’t ever think that luck will save you. Only training will.”

He hadn’t been wrong. I wasn’t certain I’d trained hard enough for this showdown. I was surrounded, and the way the other wolves and shifters kept glancing at the man, then at me, waiting for his signal, made it pretty obvious who was the head honcho. It had to be Torran.

The only thing that confused me was, if this guy was the big baddie, where was Grigor? There wasn’t anyone else at Southern with more power than Torran, or so I’d been told repeatedly. Even if he looked like a slightly undernourished, shorter-than-usual plain shifter, I could sense a swirl of dominance around him that was a thousand times scarier when paired with the absolutely batshit crazy gleam in his eyes as he looked me over.

I couldn’t sense or hear Grigor in my head, even when I called out now. Had the Council Enforcers all ganged up on him somehow, or taken him by surprise with some sort of silver trap?

The small silver knife flashed as Torran began cleaning under his nails with it. It had to hurt like fire, but he didn’t flinch, just tilted his head and made a weird little humming sound. “So you’re the one we’ve heard so much about. Why would you be trying to find me, Florida?”

I had very fucking little to say that would impress this guy. I was closed in by dozens of enemy shifters. It was time to play my only card. “I mean, I kinda wanted to meet the fucker who’s been killing off my shifters. If you don’t get a grip, psycho, there won’t be anyone left for me to lead.”

The training ring was silent. “Your shifters? Lead? What could you mean by that? I am the interim Alpha, little girl. You are… well, not no one. But no one significant.”

“Sticks and stones, crazypants.” I shrugged. “I meant this pack is mine. I’m the most dominant shifter, and you’re about to find that out. I challenge you, Torran of Eastern, for leadership of Southern.” I raised my steak knife. “Fight me.”

I’d only half expected him to agree to fight me. I knew what I looked like: skinny, armed with a steak knife, and looking like five foot nothing of Southern trash. But I hadn’t expected him to put his knife into a small case, drop it in his pocket, and walk away without a single word.

Well, to me at least. I heard him give an order before he passed through the first ring of wolves. “Don’t kill her. I want to play, and our Alpha Mate would like to meet her. Bring her to the cell.”

The wolves circled closer, and I knew I was in for a world of hurt. Good thing I’d learned how to take a beating and get back up every time. But I needed some advantage. A weapon these wolves wouldn’t be ready for.

I dropped to the ground, grabbing a handful of dust, and using my other arm to cover my eyes as I burst into crocodile tears. “Please… don’t hurt me. Please. I didn’t mean to…” I had to dance around telling an actual lie, since they’d smell that. But I managed to make it sound like I was planning to come quietly. In fact, by the time I’d blubbered a bit more, half of the wolves had turned their backs. Only the main one, a big gray wolf that reminded me of Glen’s, came within striking distance.

So he was the first to die.

I shocked myself with the speed I moved. I jumped up from my crouched position just as the wolf was rising over me, and flung my handful of dust into his eyes. It wasn’t as effective as powdered cinnamon and ghost peppers, but it did the trick long enough. He wobbled mid-air, and I leaped upward, grabbing his neck. Pulling him down and to the side, I drew the steak knife in a long, bloody arc through his fur, and across his neck.

Blood sprayed me, but I was already gone, moving to the next wolf, who was staring at his fallen companion in shock. That only lasted a heartbeat.

Then the battle really began. In seconds, I was caught in the middle of a ball of raging wolves, my steak knife no match for the sheer number of claws and teeth that tore at my skin. Pain bloomed all over, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as when I’d been whipped as a girl. My wolf simmered under the surface, longing to sink her teeth into these beasts. But she was still trapped inside.

The attacks became more vicious, the teeth biting deeper, tearing jagged swaths of my skin. But somehow, I was healing almost as fast as they bit into me.

I heard shouts, and knew Luke and Glen were fighting the shifters in human form, trying to get to me. I stabbed and spun, doing impossible somersaults over the heads of the wolves, never losing my balance, landing perfectly in position to stab and weave. My knife sliced through fur, muscle, and tendons, leaving wolves unable to stand and fight. All I had to do was think of a move, and it happened. I was a good fighter, sure, but this was… something else.

Was it Brand, or Grigor, feeding me power? Or was this what had happened when I fought Van Blackside, all those months ago, and I was just aware of myself now? I didn’t have time to figure it out, and I didn’t care. It was working.

But the wolves kept coming. There had to be more than thirty of them already, and I could hear the guys fighting just as hard. For a second, the leading wolves fell back, a few whimpering, stumbling over the dead bodies I’d left behind, and the healing ones, who were still out for this fight anyway.

There was no way I could take them all on. Even with my new speed and my healing, I couldn’t fight this many.

I glanced over the wall of fur to see Glen and Luke, back-to-back. Glen was in a half-shifted form, like I’d seen Brand once, back at Northern. He stood on two half-transformed wolf legs, his clothing almost gone. His arms were furred, and his clawed hands soaked with blood. His hair was a mane of fur, standing out like a gold and gray halo around a face that was bloody and bore a long snout.Luke was still human, and held both paring knives, spinning them faster than my eyes could track.

Not that I should have let myself be distracted. The wolves around me were regrouping, working as a pack. Two of them moved in front of me, harassing me with concerted, consistent attacks. The rest massed behind me, and I knew they were about to fall on me like a tidal wave of pain.

Was this it? Was this where I died?

I kept fighting, trying to work my way closer to Luke and Glen, whirling with the steak knife, wishing I had brought the broom handle now. It was far more effective for this kind of fight.

One of the wolves leaped for me, and I rolled underneath him and had my exit from the circle. I raced to fight with the guys, taking one human-shaped shifter off guard as I vaulted over him, doing a somersault before I landed next to Luke.

That somersault was a mistake. Sure, it had caught most of the enemy by surprise. But the enemy had surprises, too. Suddenly, they all fell back, leaving the three of us standing next to one another, panting, the shifters massing on the side opposite the Pack House. Were they leaving us a way to retreat?

Absolute panic flew through our bonds as Glen suddenly whispered, “Fuck. Get down!”

Then there was a loud shout, a word that made no sense. “Fire!”

In that instant, I felt a blaze of fire move through my gut, entering from the front and exiting at my spine. My legs went numb almost instantly. Pain sheared from the place, and I looked down, confused. My shirt was already too blood-soaked to see what had happened.

“Not her!” someone yelled.

And then another voice. “Fire!”

Luke screamed and began to shudder next to me, like he was having a seizure. Glen was doing the same thing, but he managed to fling himself toward me, crushing me to the earth underneath him. At the last second, I managed to angle my steak knife so it wouldn’t go through his stomach.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. And as Glen continued to shudder on top of me, I knew what was happening, though I could hardly believe it.

Del had taught me about all sorts of weapons, but there was one I’d never touched. I’d never even seen one, except on television or in pictures. It was considered the least honorable weapon a shifter could use, and even if he owned one, not even Callaway had broken that taboo and used it.

But these shifters had done the unthinkable. They’d brought guns into the compound. Into the fight.

Into my pack.