Lynx (Wild Wolves MC Book 1), page 28
My heart bangs so hard against my ribs I’m surprised I can’t see it moving.
Luke glances back at me over his shoulder. “Remember what I said,” he murmurs so quietly I have to strain to hear. “It’ll be okay, Morgan.”
“Stop fucking whispering,” the guy with the gun snaps, and Luke faces them again as the other guy unlocks the cage door while the third trains his gun on him.
They immediately fasten a collar around his neck and drag him out.
I listen to them walk away, the guards barking orders at him.
For the last few hours there’s been a background hum of voices. I know people have been arriving at wherever we are, but I’ve pushed the reason to the back of my mind. Two minutes later a massive cheer goes up.
I feel sick.
When a feral roar cuts through the night, I can’t tell whether it’s Luke or not, and I shrink back against the bars.
He’s fighting right now.
Possibly for his life for all I know.
And that’s going to be me soon.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared as I am right now.
There’s no moon tonight, but my eyesight is better than I’m used to it being at night. I stare out into the darkness, willing Lynx to melt out of the trees and save me.
Nothing happens.
Nobody comes.
I’m forced to sit there and listen to the cheers of a crowd baying for blood and the roars of rage and pain as those fighting give it to them.
It seems both hours and only minutes until a mixture of cheers and boos fill the air and then fade away to nothing. I realise with a jolt that the fight’s over.
I wait for Luke to come back.
I wait.
And wait.
But when I hear the voices of the guards returning, I strain to hear Luke, to smell the scent I know I’ll recognise anywhere now, but enough of his scent lingers around me and I’m not skilled enough to tell old from new.
When they eventually come into view, the three guards are on their own.
“Where is he?” I growl, lurching towards the bars without thinking.
“Get the fuck back, unless you want me to end you now.” There’s suddenly a gun thrust in my face and I rear back instinctively.
“Where is he?” I repeat, managing to get the words out without snarling, but it’s taking every bit of control I can muster not to roar in their faces.
The one with the gun smirks. “Dead.”
No.
He can’t be.
The others laugh, and I barely register the door being opened and someone fastening a collar around my neck.
Dead.
Killed for some arseholes’ entertainment.
Rage bubbles up inside me, hot and fierce, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. There’s a tug behind my ribs, a warmth in the pit of my stomach, and I know it’s the urge to shift.
I want to.
I want it so badly, my body trembles with the need to give in, but I can’t. It’s like an invisible barrier stopping me, holding me back, and it hurts.
The cuffs, a voice whispers in the back of my mind, and I whimper because it sounds an awful lot like Luke.
“We’ll take the cuffs off when you get in the ring,” guard one says, like he can tell what I’m thinking. “If you try and shift before we tell you to, you’ll get this.” He presses something in his hand and fire races through my veins for one, two, three agonising seconds as my body goes rigid.
It stops so suddenly, I fall forwards.
They fucking laugh as they haul me upright.
I never thought I’d want to kill another human being.
But I want to now.
I want to rip all of them to shreds with my bare fucking hands.
Should I be frightened by how easily that thought comes to me, how natural it feels? Maybe. But I’m not.
They drag me past vans parked haphazardly at the back of what I can now tell is a large clearing. I glance over my shoulder, noting the dirt road heading in the opposite direction and the escape it offers.
Not for me though.
Hope of a rescue dies with each step I take towards the growing noise ahead. I hold my head high, though, refusing to let them see how fucking scared I am. I reach for that rage again, cling to it with everything I have as the noise builds and builds.
We clear the last few vehicles and I see what has to be the ring itself.
See the people surrounding it.
And the person waiting for me inside it.
No.
I falter, almost stumbling over my own feet as he spots me and grins.
I am so fucked.
23
LYNX
I hear the noise of the crowd first.
Faint but unmistakeable.
And from the noise level as we get closer, there’s already a fight in progress.
I’m shifting back before the others notice I’ve stopped. “Fuck.”
They’re quick to follow suit.
“Doesn’t mean it’s him,” Beth whispers, handing out clothes. She hesitates, then puts a hand on my arm. “They’ll probably save him till last.”
Because he’s the main event.
Fists clenched, eyes closed, I take a fucking minute to let the rage simmer to something that won’t have me tearing through the woods to get to them.
We can’t go in there without a plan.
We can’t afford to make any mistakes, because I don’t know what they’ll do to him if we’re discovered. It’s the only thing that keeps me stationary.
“Here.” Beth presses my clothes and boots against my chest.
Grey approaches as we finish dressing. He barely makes a sound as he crosses the forest floor. I’d be impressed if I didn’t know what he uses that stealth for. “Now what?”
Everyone looks to me.
“Cal’s contact said this was organised last minute, so hopefully security won’t be as tight as it usually is.” I meet Grey’s eyes. “But I think we have to assume that Fox will have his hunter buddies there and possibly some FBs, considering Birch was the one to hand him over.”
“Do you know that for sure?” Grey asks, raising his hands when I snarl at him. “I’m only asking so that I know what I can report later. You know I’m going to have to give them something.”
“I overheard Birch talking about meeting up with Fox,” Flint offers. “So yeah, we’re pretty fucking sure.”
Jet walks over to stand beside Flint, gaze landing on Grey. “I wouldn’t be too focused on a report, if I was you. If Birch is there, you’re about to go up against shifters with nothing to protect yourself. You think they’re gonna let you go running back to the council to report them?”
I don’t miss the way Grey pales. Can’t deny it’s not a little satisfying.
Jet huffs. “Bet you didn’t think of that when you were making your show of good faith.”
“You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier?”
“And why would we do that?” Jet rolls his eyes and turns away, muttering, “Not my fault you didn’t think this through.”
“Fuck.” Grey takes his gun out and checks it before sliding it back into its holster.
He smells of fear, and I don’t blame him. A bullet won’t stop a shifter for long unless it’s a head or heart shot. Kinda difficult to do that when they’re barrelling towards you faster than a human. Maybe he’ll decide to sit this out after all.
Instead of backing out, though, he squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, and looks me dead in the eye. “You got a plan?”
Kinda. Not that I’m gonna say that.
It’s looser than I’d like.
Something tells me this won’t be like the other fight rings we’ve infiltrated. I doubt it’ll be as easy as taking out a guard and sneaking in the back way. I think we have to assume they’ll be expecting us, or at the very least be better prepared for it.
“We split up.” I raise a hand at the hissed protests from Beth and Jet. “Morgan could be anywhere. In the cages or . . .” I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing the words out. “Already in the fucking ring.” The crowd roars louder and it takes monumental effort to stay where I am. “There’s six of us. If we split into two groups, we can check the cages and the fight ring simultaneously.”
Beth’s eyes narrow as she studies me. “You’re going for the fight ring, aren’t you?”
“Yep. If Morgan’s there, we’re going to have to fight to free him. It’ll get messy.”
“We can handle that,” she says fiercely, Flint, Mal, and Jet backing her up.
“I know, but he’s mine,” I growl. “I need to see for myself. I’ll be fucking useless anywhere else.”
Her expression softens with understanding. “Who’s going with you?” They all look at me, every one of them prepared to go in there and fight for me. For Morgan. I fucking wish I didn’t have to risk them like this, but I’ve never been prouder to have them as my pack.
It’s an easy decision in the end.
If I can keep Beth and Jet away from the ring itself, I will. They might have no choice in the end, but it’s worth a fucking shot. I’m also not leaving Grey with Jet. I need him in one piece if we get out of this, and I don’t trust Jet not to let him die if the opportunity arises.
“Grey and Flint with me.” I inject a little alpha power in my words, letting them know it’s not up for discussion. “The plan’s simple. Find Morgan. Don’t get caught. Don’t die.”
Jet snorts. “Is that all?”
I grin at him, feral and fierce. “Nothing you can’t handle.” He grins back, a gleam in his eyes that promises pain for anyone he comes across. If he wasn’t on my side, I’d be fucking terrified.
“And if he’s not here?” Beth asks, voice quiet, like it’s the last thing she wants to ask.
But it’s a possibility, however much I fucking pray it’s not true. “If he’s not here, we rescue who we can.”
One by one, I pull them in close, needing their scents to ground me before we do this.
Grey gives me a wry smile. “No hug for me?”
I roll my eyes. “Not this time.” But it’s the oddest fucking thing. He’s a hunter, I should hate him. I do hate him . . . or maybe I hate what he stands for. Grey’s here, ready to head into a fight he’s not equipped for, and for that I can grudgingly admit he’s gained a little respect. “The don’t die goes for you too.”
His eyes widen slightly, and he gives me a small nod.
I’m about to give the order to go in when Jet fishes something out of the front pocket of one of the rucksacks.
He stalks over to Grey and thrusts his hand out. “Here.”
Grey covers his surprise quickly and takes the blade carefully from Jet’s outstretched palm. He runs his thumb along the edge. “Silver-coated?”
“Can’t have you getting killed by fucking FBs.” Jet scowls. “I’m not taking the blame from the hunter council because of your idiocy.”
“Of course,” Grey answers quickly, and I catch the smile he tries to hide. It’s his own funeral. But I do feel better now that he has that knife. Jet’s right, we’d get the fucking blame even though Grey insisted on joining us.
More crowd noise, this time boos mixed in with the cheers, meaning a fight just ended. My heart sinks to my stomach, every bone in my body telling me we just ran out of time.
I catch Beth’s eye and nod. “Go.”
MORGAN
“Surprised?” Evan Fox twirls a wicked-looking knife in one hand as I’m thrown to the floor of the fight ring. In reality, it’s just a rough roped-off circle in the middle of the clearing. There are more people than I was expecting, those at the back standing on whatever they’ve brought with them to get a better view.
Fox glares at me, expecting an answer, but fuck him. I’m too busy trying to block out the noise, to rein in the super senses threatening to overwhelm me.
“Take his cuffs off,” he orders, and I’m grabbed again, hands yanking me up as someone unlocks the silver-coated handcuffs burning my wrists.
The relief is immediate. I hadn’t realised the effect they had on me until it’s not there anymore. Everything becomes clearer, sharper. I sit back on my heels and look around. Hungry faces line the edges of the circle, eager for blood. I’ve never been a fan of violence, always firmly in the run away camp. But these people have come to watch me bleed, maybe die, and there’s a part of me that wants to invite them in the ring to try it themselves if they’re so fucking eager.
“If you’re thinking you can escape,” Fox croons, “that it’s only rope and a few humans between you and freedom . . .” He pulls something from his pocket and grins.
“Arrghhh.” It’s half roar, half scream as the shock collar lights me up. My vision blurs, teeth grinding together as pain, hot and sharp, explodes through me. Something tugs deep in my belly. I know what it is, but I can’t.
“And I’m not the only one with ones of these.”
I lift my head to see him pointing to the side. The two hunters who came with him to the compound stand there, arms folded, watching. I can’t see Birch anywhere, though, not that it matters. As I slowly push myself to my feet, I notice the blood already mixed with the dirt and grass on the ground. Smell it, too.
Luke.
I didn’t see or sense any other shifters as they marched me to the ring, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t here. Maybe they take them elsewhere after they’ve fought. He can’t be dead. He just fucking can’t.
“Where is he?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t let Fox know that I give a shit. “Where’s Luke?”
Fox tilts his head, as though he has to think to remember who I mean. Then he shrugs. “He lost. You won’t be seeing him again.” Laughter ripples through the crowd, crawling under my skin.
I turn and snarl at them. A telltale tingle starts in my jaw, surprising me enough to gain some control.
“Shall we?” Fox throws his blade from hand to hand, that stupid fucking smile on his face. He’s got more knives strapped to his thighs and body. I’d bet my life they’re all coated with silver.
I’ve got nothing.
I hold out my hands. “Hardly a fair fight.”
Fox laughs, some of the crowd joining in. “You’ve got your own weapons.” He cocks his head again, gaze travelling over me slow and predatory. It makes my skin crawl. “You can’t shift, can you?”
I don’t react. Refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right.
“New shifters struggle the first few times.” He comes closer, voice dropping to barely more than a whisper. “Might have to give you a little incentive.” He gestures a hand behind him at the blood-hungry crowd. “Got to give them what they paid for.” He darts forward, fast and smooth, slicing the knife over my forearm.
It burns.
Oh god, it fucking burns like liquid fire on my skin. What the fuck?
“Aconite.” Fox laughs. “Stings like a bitch, right?”
I want to wipe the smug expression of his stupid fucking face. No wonder Callum was in so much pain after Fox threw that dagger at him. This is a scratch in comparison, but it’s all I can focus on.
“We didn’t have any on hand to dose you before the fight,” he sneers. “So this will have to do.”
I don’t understand. “Dose me?”
He nods towards the cut on my arm. “In case you think about escaping. That’ll need an antidote in about an hour. We usually inject it.” His eyes gleam as he watches the blood drip from my arm to the ground. “Think I like this way more.”
The crowd’s getting restless.
I’m trying to block them out, but my focus is wavering. They’re not happy with the lack of fighting, and there’s even a few boos laced in amongst the quiet chatter.
Fox raises an eyebrow. “Better give them what they want, unless you want to end up like your friend.” He draws a finger across his throat.
I lunge for him, a red haze colouring my vision. That same tug pulls at me from deep inside and I fucking know what it is, but it’s like I can’t take that final step and shift.
Fox laughs as he dances back out of the way. Cheers ring out around us as he slices me with that fucking blade again. I snarl, shocked when there’s a wild, feral edge to it.
“Shift,” he hisses. “The collar’s designed to accommodate your other form.” He gestures to the crowd and grins. “They want to see it.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about them.” I lunge for him again, but he’s too quick on his feet. Too used to fighting like this, while I’m fucking clueless. I’ve never been in a fight, like, ever. I don’t even know how to throw a punch.
“Shift,” he says again, darting forwards, and I’m too slow to get out of the way. He cuts my T-shirt open, the edge of the blade leaving a shallow wound from my chest to my stomach.
Jesus fuck, it’s like acid being poured into my skin.
I stumble backwards, wiping at the blood and desperately trying to get the aconite out of me, but it doesn’t help.
And it hurts so bad.
My body’s on fire everywhere Fox cut me. My jaw throbs, and I try . . . I fucking try to pull on that thread, to yank my wolf to the surface, but nothing fucking happens. It’s like I’m missing the last part of the puzzle, and I don’t fucking know what it is.
I want Lynx.
I want him to hold me in his arms and tell me what the fuck I’m doing wrong.
I want him so much, the ache in my chest expands, barrelling outwards, consuming everything in its wake until it’s all I can fucking feel.
Lynx, help me.
I throw my head back and roar.
LYNX
The sound of a wolf in need echoes around the forest, pulling us up short.
Morgan.
I know it’s him. Every fibre of my being sings with the knowledge, but the raw desperation takes me out at the knees.
Grey catches me, grunting under the weight of a six-foot-four shifter. Flint hurries to help him before we both end up on the ground, and between them, they hold me upright long enough for me to pull myself together.
