Wildblood

Chapter 19

19

Kai

It took longer than it should’ve for his eyes to adjust. The murk in the strange room was like a thick blanket over his sight, dulling his night vision. Gradually, the shadows warped into shapes he could make out.

It wasn’t good enough. He should’ve been able to see everything .

Frustrated, Kai ignored the paltry input. He’d spent so much time with humans that their way of understanding the world was rubbing off on him. He’d almost forgotten—he didn’t need his eyes.

His preferred senses kicked in like an old habit.

Inhaling, Kai let the room wash over him. The scent of salt and sweat invaded him, and the pulse he’d heard from the hall now thundered in his ears like a war drum. His hand flew to the wall, and after a second of groping, he found the switch. The lightbulb overhead whined, buzzed, then sputtered to life, the dull glow chasing away the otherworldly darkness.

A sharp gasp from the corner of the room guided Kai’s attention. Even though he knew exactly what he’d find, it didn’t make the discovery any less nauseating.

Bony arms encircled bruised, dirty knees. Short, cropped hair that would’ve blazed like fire clung to hollow cheeks. The strands were caked in grease, dulled to the color of grimy copper. A face that was more freckles than skin topped a scrawny neck and torso. Eyes like a rainy day, wide with an animal terror Kai knew all too well.

There, huddled on the floor where the two walls met, was a fucking child.

Well, not exactly a child .

She looked to be in her mid-teens but was clearly underfed, her collarbones jutting out like dislocated joints. A tattered shirt and flannel pajama pants that’d ridden up and scrunched around her thighs were all that kept her warmer than a corpse.

“Fuck.”

The forgery was a person.

Kai’s hand dropped to his side. He was welded to the ground, completely and utterly frozen. Fury roiled under his skin. He needed to stay nimble; reinforcements could arrive at any moment.

And yet, he couldn’t move.

What the fuck was he supposed to do? Throw a shell-shocked teenager over his shoulder and haul her out of the building kicking and screaming? He may have been an asshole, but he wasn’t a complete monster.

Kai swallowed down the sick. Lifting both hands in an awkward gesture of docility, he fought the grimace that tried its damn best to twist his lips.

“Hey…” he started, his voice raw. What the hell was he supposed to say? I’m here to get you out ? Technically true; still dishonest.

The girl just stared at him, paralyzed. He couldn’t blame her. The stench of her fear was stronger than the B.O. wafting off her keepers.

“Are you hurt?” he tried instead.

At that, she blinked, some of the tension bleeding from her expression. Her mouth quirked downward; she probably realized Kai wasn’t who she initially thought. Her head twitched side to side, as though she’d forgotten how to move, but the meaning was clear. No .

“Okay.” Kai exhaled, lowering his arms. “It’s time to leave.”

That, at least, wasn’t misleading.

The girl sat up straighter—guarded but interested. She didn’t have to speak for Kai to understand. Body language was his common tongue.

He gingerly approached, watching for signs of panic. When she didn’t try to flee, he crouched several paces away, then plopped onto his butt. She’d be more comfortable if they were at eye level and if he wasn’t poised to spring at her like a wildcat. He didn’t have time to dither, but taking a minute now was better than trying to drag a flailing kid out of a dungeon.

“What’s your name?” he asked, annoyed that it came out sounding more like a gruff demand than an earnest question. He’d spent the last half hour beating the brains out of a bunch of muscled blow-up dolls with guns; there was a marshmallow’s chance in hell he could wrangle his tone into anything that resembled soothing .

The girl’s mouth opened, but she quickly clamped it shut. Her eyes widened and darted past his shoulder, dread ensnaring every line on her face.

Kai’s gaze narrowed. Had a shadow spooked her? If someone was out there, he would’ve?—

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, rotating as the faint patter of footfalls pierced his awareness.

His eyes momentarily shifted back to the girl. How had she sensed intruders before him?

Kai vaulted to his feet and spun toward the door. No point in slamming it shut—too much noise. Instead, he shuffled back a few steps, blocking the girl from sight. Whatever was headed their way would probably attack him, turning him into the forgery’s personal shield. He thought he’d be picking up some cursed object, but this changed everything. While Sergei expected the prize to stay intact regardless of its sentience, Kai wasn’t about to let a kid become some trigger-happy thug’s pin cushion.

“Someone’s coming.”

Kai suppressed a shiver. Her voice sounded like air—like the wind straining to speak.

“I know,” he groused in reply, ignoring the crawling sensation under his skin.

Focus , he commanded his stupid, scattered brain. He’d never had to defend a goddamn child before. A child he was expected to deliver to the mob like some illicit duffle bag.

He waited for the newcomers to freak out the moment they stumbled upon the mess Kai left behind. The wound in his abdomen ached, the sting worsening as inflammation kicked in, and his body writhed to push out the foreign object. But as the footsteps drew closer, his apprehension dissolved into confusion. The intruders were smaller than he anticipated, their gait light but careful. When they passed the first body, they paused, but he detected no sign of alarm—no frantic yelling or running amok to investigate. By the time they rendezvoused with the second deadbeat sprawled on the hallway floor, Kai’s heart leapt into his throat.

He was so, so fucked.

Straightening from his defensive stance, his shoulders slumped in defeat, but his mind was reeling. He swiveled away from the hall, dropped into a squat, and looked the girl in the eye. “Get ready to go.”

Then, the interlopers stepped through the door, their shadows stretching into the room until they melded with his own.

“Kai?”

Miya’s voice cut him like a serrated knife. He turned on one knee, meeting her bewildered gaze with a grim stare. Her eyes drifted past him to the girl in the corner, and bewilderment morphed into horror.

“Caelan?” Miya ventured, recognition flooding her features.

The teen’s head jerked up, and she peered back at Miya, her heart slamming with such force that Kai thought her ribs might crack. She’d responded to the call.

Kai’s jaw clenched so hard he nearly gave himself a migraine; the name Miya had spoken was a hammer to his temple.

Caelan.

The missing teen. The case Miya took from the man who smelled like rotting wood. Kai and Miya were meant to be searching for different things, but they’d been on the same trail all along.

Caelan Carver was the fucking forgery.

“I knew I smelled feral dogshit,” Ama snarled from beside Miya.

He’d been ignoring the white wolf, the onslaught of new information cudgeling him from all sides. He kept his focus on the girl—Caelan.

“Can you stand?” he asked, but she was distracted, her gaze wandering between the three strangers.

“Hey.” He snapped his fingers. “Focus.”

Her pupils dilated, then drifted to his face.

“Can you stand?” Kai asked again and received a curt nod.

“What are you doing here?” Miya’s voice was shaky, her shadow growing bigger behind him.

He wanted to tell her. To put the whole mission on hold and explain. But that would’ve been a stupid decision. He could only hope they’d get a chance to hash it out later.

Kai extended both hands to Caelan, palms up. She hesitated at first, her frantic stare bouncing between the offer and the door. Still as stone, he waited for her to make up her mind even as he counted the seconds in his head. He knew better than to reveal his impatience; it would only demolish any hope of building rapport. He’d been Caelan once upon a time—bruised, bloodied, scared, and distrustful. Her guarded, appraising eyes were a mirror he’d unexpectedly collided with, his child self staring back like a long-neglected friend. That kid Alice found in the woods desperately needed a gentle hand.

Miya seemed to understand his predicament—her compassion transcending his pea-brained grasp—and she hit pause on her pending verbal assault. Finally, Caelan placed two emaciated hands over Kai’s. They were so small, delicate as a bird’s spine. He was afraid to close his fingers around them. He did nonetheless, and after a gentle squeeze, he rose from his squat and helped the girl to her feet. Then, he turned to Miya.

“This is slowing me down.” His voice was steely, uncompromising.

Hurt flashed across Miya’s face, carving him out and leaving him empty. The white wolf seethed like an overdue volcano, radiating contempt as she reached for Miya’s hand.

An indiscernible twinge wrung through Kai’s chest—a feeling he couldn’t identify. He thought it was jealousy, seeing Ama’s fingers woven with his girl’s, until he glared at the white wolf and realized he felt nothing.

The feeling wasn’t for her. It was for himself. Ama was there to comfort Miya because he’d fucked up.

Kai wasn’t jealous. He was ashamed.

He released Caelan and clasped Miya by the shoulders. Her eyes flew to his, and he withered, yearning for her faith in him more than anything in his life. “You can rip my dick off later, but I’m running out of time.”

Her brow knitted as she pursed her lips, then nodded tersely. Before either of them could speak, a man’s voice hollered from outside.

“Company,” Ama growled, her attention on the door. “They must’ve sent backup when the guards stationed here didn’t respond.”

Miya curled her fingers around Kai’s wrist, and he reluctantly let her go. He smiled tiredly. “Is that my hoodie?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice so soft it almost didn’t carry. “It’s warm.”

Fuck, he wanted to die. Guilt gnawed at his insides, and he exhaled forcefully. “Can I borrow it?” He tipped his head toward the shriveling teen. “She’s shaking like a chihuahua.”

Miya wordlessly slipped out of the baggy sweatshirt and pressed it to his chest. It smelled like her, and for a stupefying moment, he dreaded it would be the last thing he’d have of her.

And there it was—that crippling, bone-deep fear of abandonment rearing its ugly head. He didn’t often think about what he carried, but sometimes it grew legs and leapt free from the pits. It took all of him to shove those inconvenient emotions back where he liked them: out of sight.

“I’ll see you at home?” Miya’s question severed him from his spiraling.

He pinched the hoodie under his arm. “Yeah. Expect a houseguest.”

She sucked in an apprehensive breath, then nodded. “Okay.”

Ama reached for her hand again. “We need to go. Now. ”

“I’ve got the girl,” said Kai. “You two get out of here.”

“I’ve got Miya,” Ama volunteered, finally acknowledging him as more than a piece of shit.

Miya shot her a waspy look. “I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Not the time,” Ama rebuked, tugging her away from the door.

Overbearing as always. Miya was tired of being mothered by a woman who was supposed to be her friend—her equal. Ama’s overprotectiveness would bite her in the ass, but Kai wasn’t about to tell her that out of the goodness of his heart. Not like she’d listen, anyway.

Clanking footfalls pummeled the floor as two thugs rushed toward them. Kai yanked his sweatshirt on and flung the hood up over his head, concealing his face from the incoming goons. As Ama pulled Miya away, he stepped out in front of them, blocking their faces from view. He heard Ama kick in the bars on the window at the end of the hall, then smash through the glass. One of the two attackers skidded to a halt, then reached behind his back. Kai charged, slamming shoulder-first into the man about to draw his weapon. They crashed into the wall, and Kai knocked the assailant’s head into the bricks. His companion flinched at the crunch that followed, staggering back to gather his bearings.

He was too slow.

Whirling, Kai drove a forearm into his throat and pinned him to the opposite wall, the claustrophobic corridor working to his advantage. His fist connected with the man’s jaw, snapping it out of place. The thug would’ve screamed, but the concussion got him first, and he crumpled to the floor.

Kai glanced toward the window to see Ama hop through after Miya, her hair like an arctic wind. Unwilling to linger, he stalked back to Caelan’s prison cell to find her huddled in the corner, trembling like a mouse. He peeled off his hoodie. “Put this on,” he ordered, extending it toward her.

Her eyes meandered to his outstretched arm, and she shuffled away like she was made of brittle shale.

Kai didn’t have time to coddle her. “Listen, you don’t have to trust me, but unless you want to stay here, I’m your only shot at getting out in one piece.”

She was weak and disoriented. Even if she managed to shamble out of the warehouse, she wouldn’t get far before collapsing. Dehydration was a bitch. Her captors would catch up, and it would be over. Besides, Kai had a debt to pay, and Miya had her own stake in this girl. What they’d do with her was a problem for later, but Kai refused to hand a kidnapped kid over to the fucking mob.

Caelan balled up her fists and stared at the proffered hoodie. She wanted to take it, but she hesitated. “Where will you take me?” she asked in that same wispy voice.

“My place. You’ll have food and a warm place to sleep.” His apartment was the most sensible choice for the time being. Until Kai figured out why Pyotr wanted her, she couldn’t go back to her family. None of them would be safe.

She struggled to swallow, her mouth parched. “Why would I go to some random guy’s digs?”

“Do you want to stay here?” he challenged, annoyance creeping into his tone. He sighed heavily. “You won’t be alone with me. One of the women who stormed in here lives with me, and she’s been trying to find you.”

Wariness thawing, Caelan pawed at the hoodie, pushed her arms through the sleeves, then pulled the garment over her head. It was massive on her, the hem nearly reaching her knees. Her pajama pants stopped at her ankles, a pair of worn flip flops her only footwear. Kai was increasingly aware of her waifish stature; the poor kid’s knobby limbs barely held her upright, and he towered over her by a whole foot. No wonder she was scared.

“Come on,” he nudged, gently cupping her arm. Her knees wobbled as she took her first steps, her arm tense in his hold. Progress was slow, but the building was quiet, and he detected no sign of trouble outside.

One painful shuffle at a time, they inched closer to the warehouse doors. Caelan choked back a gasp when they reached the bodies littering the floor—evidence of Kai’s own brutal streak. He worried she’d try to book it, but with every set of splayed limbs they passed, her heart grew steadier.

When they found themselves under the broken bulb outside, Caelan’s gaze drifted to the unconscious man by the dumpster—the first of Kai’s victims that night. She lingered there a moment as though savoring the bedlam, then carefully stepped over the shattered glass.