Pack Possessed, page 10
part #4 of Thrown to the Wolves Series
Of all of them, Kaige’s match? Brutal is an understatement. It’s an all-out attempt to cave the other’s face in, a savage display that has blood flying, ribs breaking, and a sick thrill running through me despite my concern about how this is going to mess with all of their heads.
Clearly, I need therapy.
“Like a therapist wouldn’t commit you the second you opened your mouth,” she says with a snort and reluctantly, my lip twitches as a little of the guilt is shed from my shoulders.
Beside me, Leo commandeers my chips and is snacking away with delighted enthusiasm as he watches the carnage unfold before us. “Fuck, I didn’t know Kincaid had it in him.”
Following his line of sight, I witness the cold, stoic mask he’s wearing crack as something Damian’s opponent said slips through his defenses. Immediately afterward, in a series of precise movements, Damian breaks the guy’s wrist and drags him closer, whispering something in the man’s ear before releasing him, only to palm both sides of his head. A second later, there’s a sickening crack echoing across the clearing as he snaps the man’s neck. Two minutes and a whispered threat; that’s all it took for Damian to kill a man he’s known his entire life, and there isn’t a trace of remorse on his face.
Skimming down the line to where Hunter is dodging strikes with graceful precision, I bite the inside of my cheek. Acheron really does think that this is all a game, treating people’s lives as worthless despite his righteous claims of freeing his kind. He has his sights set on every step between him and the finish line, choosing the most wandering, convoluted path simply to enjoy the ride that much longer. I don’t have nearly the same amount of patience.
I’m getting pretty tired of taking every blow life throws my way, and think it’s past time to throw a few hits back.
Chapter 7
Hunter
“Don’t be stupid, Jake.”
He cut his hair for the occasion, and it’s throwing me off more than I like to admit. Jake’s always worn his hair long as a badge of pride, keeping it tied back despite everyone giving him shit for it over the years. So to see the man with a buzz cut is nearly as unnatural as this entire farce.
“You abandoned your pack.” The way that he says the words so calmly and matter-of-fact makes them hit ten times harder.
“It took longer than anticipated to get things worked out to bring Sabrina home. I never planned on being gone that long and you know it. Silas seems to have taken care of things well enough while I was gone, so why are you bitching?”
He scoffs, and the two of us continue our tense dance of circling each other, waiting for the other to throw the first punch. “I’m not talking about you ditching us for a month while you were courting her; any of us would have done the same in a heartbeat. You and I both know that you checked out decades ago, simply going through the motions since. The only reason you’re still in a position of power is because you were born into it, not because you deserve to be.”
Stopping cold in my tracks, I stare at the man that’s stood by my side for the better part of my life, wondering how he so flawlessly concealed his resentment all of this time.
“You knew, you just didn’t want to see it.”
This isn’t the time. I already feel like shit, I don’t need you making it worse.
“That’s exactly why I’m saying something.” Canting my head slightly, I attempt to keep up with both arguments, internal and external, and it’s already giving me a headache. “This isn’t something new that Ash put in his head, it’s something that was already reaching a boiling point and he simply kicked over the pot. He isn’t standing here because he wants our mate, and we both know it.”
“You think I want to be responsible for all of you?” Tossing my hands up, I scoff. “Look around you, Jake. Nobody wants to figure out how to feed over a hundred people in this dying, hopeless wasteland. You want the job, you can have it. Or hell, pick literally anyone else, I don’t give a shit. But don’t stand there and accuse me of abandoning you when I’ve spent decades trying to keep you all alive when I was fucking drowning. Yet every day I got my ass up, went to work, and did what needed to be done because people were counting on me. So please; tell me every way that I failed like I don’t already know.”
The slight narrowing of his eyes is the only indicator before his fist is swinging towards my temple, and I lean back automatically. My beta’s a behemoth of a man, and my only saving grace in a hand-to-hand fight if I don’t want to use my abilities is that it makes him slower. On the other hand, it means he really only needs to land one good hit to inflict some serious damage.
“What I think doesn’t matter,” he spits. “We don’t get to choose, or I sure as shit wouldn’t have picked being a beta. Especially not one to a piss-poor leader like yourself that clearly resented us.”
Dodging another swing, I focus my efforts on sidestepping and avoiding hits rather than countering despite the way he left himself open on his right side, and it was such an obvious mistake, it had to be intentional. Because even though I’m pissed at the sonofabitch for putting both of us in this position, I’m not giving him what he wants. We’ve sparred enough over the years that we know each other’s tells by heart and favored moves. And we both are well-aware that if it came down to it, honor be damned, I’ll use my abilities to win since it’s Sabrina on the line, as any mate worth his salt would.
Which means that he’s using this as an excuse for me to end his suffering because he can’t bring himself to do it on his own. By nature, betas are driven to do whatever needs done, to keep a pack running and cared for, but actually making decisions tends to make them sick in some fashion. Latching onto the knowledge that challenging me is for the good of the pack helps circumvent the side effects while ultimately accomplishing his goal; quitting his position the only way our kind is able to.
I don’t want to kill him.
“So don’t. Nobody’s forcing you to.”
A low growl escapes me as I avoid another swing. You do understand that if I back down, he wins by default, and the others are going to rip him to shreds on principle if Sabrina doesn’t get there first. He’s going to die either way, it’s only a matter if it’s by my hand, or someone else that’s going to drag it out for maximum agony. It’s... more merciful if I do it. It’s my job to take care of him, and I failed, so it’s on my head to handle this.
“No, it’s your job to ease his suffering, and to make the hard choices, even if they piss people off. The rules aren’t written in stone, idiot, and the old laws are considered ancient for a reason. Just because you think you only have a couple of options doesn’t mean that you actually do. Take a step back to look at things from a new perspective.”
He calls my feint and the next thing I know, searing agony flares in my left side as he cracks a rib. Biting the inside of my cheek, I breathe through the pain and jump back a fraction of a second before he launches a kick at my left kneecap.
“Some mate,” he taunts, cracking his neck from side to side and circling me. “You’ve yet to throw a single punch, Hunt. Makes me wonder if you’re actually happy to pass her off to someone else to deal with.”
“You want to go ahead and throw your life away, that’s on you, but don’t insult a girl you don’t even know. You want to hate me? Fine, hate me. You want to talk shit?” Splaying my arms wide, I stop avoiding him and stand my ground. “I’m right here. Go ahead, get it out of your system.”
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
I’m robbed of even mental speech as he buries a fist in my stomach, the air rushing from my lungs.
“You were supposed to keep us alive.” He draws his fist back, and it takes everything I have to stay rooted to the spot despite seeing it coming, my jaw exploding in pain a moment later. “This. Isn’t. Living!” Each word is punctuated by another hit and I take every one as my due. A warning rumble escapes him as he shoves me away from him. “Hit me!”
Spitting a mouthful of blood on the ground, I swipe the back of my hand over my mouth. “Oh, I plan to, but you said it yourself. This is my fault, right? So, this is what I deserve.” Straightening my spine, I hold his condemning gaze. “If you’re still miserable, then obviously I’m not suffering enough. If the one hundred and thirty-four people in Pack Varyn feel anything other than completely fulfilled in life, then certainly, I failed them.”
Taking a shallow breath, I shake my head incredulously with a humorless chuckle. “I was damned the moment I was born, given the ability to take on a fraction of other people’s pain. A fraction, Jake. And somewhere along the line, people decided that it was an alpha’s responsibility to take on everything, that our lives meant nothing. That in the grand scheme of things, one person’s life was a worthy sacrifice, that we could pin all of our problems on them to deal with so the rest of you could be free. But your problems don’t magically disappear because you don’t have to look at them anymore; I have to deal with them.”
Without giving him a moment to prepare himself, I draw back my fist and return the favor, cracking one of his ribs and possibly my knuckles at the same time. “I spent my entire life trying to take care of people that didn’t give a shit if I was drowning and miserable because it was my ‘job’. And still, it wasn’t enough.”
Instinctively, I dodge his next two attacks, jumping a bit to make sure when I drive my fist into his cheek, it has some extra force behind it. “I’m never going to be enough because I’m not supposed to be. I’m here to take the edge off when things are so bad that you’re on the verge of self-destructing, not to fix all of your problems for you.” Locking my foot behind his ankle, I jerk, sending him sprawling on his back with my next hit. “You’re the ones that gave up, that would rather sit around bitching and moaning than actually do something to change your situation. I tried for years to get any of you to give a damn, to find a reason worth fighting back against Wilder so you could have better lives.”
Straddling his chest, I return the favor and punctuate each word with another hit. “Your. Life. Doesn’t. Mean. More. Than. Mine.” Panting, I look down at the bruised and bloodied face of someone I considered a friend, forced to realize that it was only the luck of the draw that put us in each other’s paths. We fell into our roles without question, not because we were made for them, but because we thought we had no other choice. “I hate to say it, but I can see why Ash snapped.”
Not letting him get another word in edgewise, I drive my fist into his temple, knocking him out cold. Rising to my feet, I start to walk away, only for a nameless face in the crowd to call out, “It’s a fight to the death!”
Facing his general direction, I use my shirt to wipe the blood from my face. “He's already dead inside. But hopefully this was the wakeup call he needed to light a fire under his ass.”
Another calls, “You can’t walk away or it picks up when he’s conscious.”
Heading to where Sabrina’s seated on the steps to the cabin holding her breath, I call over my shoulder, “Show me where it says that. If Jake wants to challenge me again, that’s on him, but it’ll end the same way it did today, and as many times as it has to before he gets the fucking point through his thick skull. Same goes for the rest of you.”
Meeting Sabrina’s hypnotically coral gaze, a rush of conviction chases away the ache from my body. “The way we’ve always done things hasn’t done our kind any favors, so it’s time we stop sitting around bitching and moaning and actually do something to change it.”
Chapter 8
Sabrina
Hissing in a sharp breath, Hunter grumbles, “Seriously, wait until we get inside, will ya?”
Ignoring his protests, I take a seat on Damian’s lap beside him on the top step of the porch, holding the ice pack to Hunter’s bruised face. “A swollen black eye takes some of the heat out of the way you’re glaring at everyone, so if anything, I’m saving your reputation, you big baby.”
Grumbling under his breath, he covers my hand, sliding it up an inch and keeping it trapped beneath his. “Not like they don’t already hate us anyway, I suppose.”
“I’m slapping ice on your face, not sucking you off in front of a crowd, calm down. What’s the big deal?”
His fingers flex on top of mine. “Seems like a dick move to rub it in their faces right now, is all.”
Damian wraps an arm around my waist, keeping me firmly in place as he rests his chin on my shoulder. “Do you have any idea what some of these guys would do to have you fussing over them?”
With saccharine sweetness dripping sarcastically from my voice, I offer, “Challenge you to a fight to the death?”
His quiet laughter against my back is followed by a soft kiss to my temple. “I know I’m a broken record, but it’s only because I understand what it’s like to be on the other side of things. When you have someone that means everything to you, it comes with living in constant fear of losing them.”
Nothing involving Nightmare-wolves can ever be simple, can it?
“Pain makes us feel alive,” she replies wistfully. “And it helps us appreciate what we have since we know how it feels to be hollow.”
Hunter snorts. “Laying it on a little thick there, D. If you’re kissing ass because you want something, pretty sure she’d prefer you ask her straight out.”
Slipping my hand out from beneath Hunter’s, I tuck it under my thigh to warm up and try not to laugh. “Don’t listen to him, Damian. Please, feel free to continue singing my praises as much as you’d like. Seriously, though, I thought you’d be a hell of a lot more upset after what you went through. What did that guy say to you, anyway?”
Leo and Adrian keep half an eye on Kaige’s fight, but shoot a quick glance at Damian, interested in the answer as well, but are attempting to be discreet about it. They both fail miserably, but while Ash is using this show to test the waters and gather information, it allows me the opportunity to do the same.
Damian’s grip tightens, his arm becoming an immovable band around my waist. Debating the matter for a moment, he ultimately sighs and angrily confesses, “Ash warned him that should he succeed and take my place, he’ll expect nothing short of perfection from here on out.”
My inner demon settles in my chest, her sudden flash of anger giving me instant heartburn. Scrubbing the heel of my hand over my heart with a scowl, I reluctantly question, “Dare I ask why?”
Gently biting my shoulder, Damian appeases some of his own ragged emotions before finishing with a disgusted scoff. “Because apparently ‘everyone knows the quickest way to hurt a king is through his queen’. And once he realized that he'd end up sharing a mate with Wilder, death was a more appealing choice. It was a last-ditch plea for help from someone that was more afraid of walking away from that fight alive than he was of losing. So, I gave him the only gift I was able to; a swift death."
Leo scrubs a hand down his face, turning his entire furious attention on me. “And we’ve been giving you shit about staying here.” A low, deadly growl rises from him that has Adrian subtly putting another step between the two of them. “We should rethink our pl-”
Dramatically clearing his throat, Damian cuts him off, shooting a pointed look at Adrian. Leo scowls, changing gears. “We should rethink where you guys are going to live. Even if you do exactly what he wants and free the demons, if Wilder is this hellbent on trying to win you over after all of this time, I don’t see him letting you walk away afterward. As much as it kills me-” bowing his head, he scratches the back of his neck, refusing to look at me “- this place isn’t safe for you. You should leave; the sooner the better.”
Adrian remains far too disinterested in the conversation, attempting to be casual when any normal person would be wanting to gossip about it. For all of Aurelia’s claims about me being a wild card, as far as I’m concerned, Adrian is the real one. He’s Ash’s right hand, yet everything he’s done thus far has led me to believe that he loathes the position, is determined to prove that he’s smarter than everyone gives him credit for. And based on what happened with Annika, he was willing to risk it all even knowing how dangerous Ash is, because at his core, he’s self-serving.
Now that we know his motives, Acheron Wilder is predictable. Adrian Ronen? He has his hand in just as many pots as the monster pulling his strings, yet no one but the man himself knows what he actually wants. And while everyone else is willing to brush off a rankless wolf as a kiss-ass lackey to a supervillain, I keep circling around to the fact that he’s continuously popping up in my life, only to go back to flying under the radar.
The most dangerous things are the ones that hide in plain sight until they become so commonplace, you forget that they even exist.
Screams draw me out of my contemplation, pulling my eye to where Kaige has his opponent face down and is straddling his hips. With one hand pinning the guy’s crossed wrists over the back of his neck, his other hand is busy carving away at the exposed expanse of his back. Bloody rivulets stream down to the mud-caked ground, yet no matter how the poor bastard bucks and thrashes, Kaige is relentless. I get a brief flash of his eyes, and I’m more than a little surprised to see a sliver of orange still visible, even if his counterpart is primarily running the show.
Kaige, Hunter, and Reid are the ones that I worry about the most. They’re the ones that have been completely at odds with their inner demons, the ones that have fought harder than any of them to remain separate entities. But Kaige is making it abundantly clear that all of my worrying was for nothing.
He’s just as much of a psychopath as his demon is.
The clearing seems to hold a collective breath, making Kaige’s whispered words audible from here with little effort. “Your death at my hand is a mercy, because Sabrina?” He flicks the knife with a flourish as he finishes carving the last line into his victim’s back. “She’s the thing Nightmares wish they were made of.”
With zero hesitation, he releases the guy’s wrists to grip his hair and lift his head, brings his knife to the poor bastard’s throat, and slits it open with one slash. Even then, Kaige holds his position until the last bit of fight has left the man beneath him, ensuring he’s actually dead before rising to his feet. If our time with the lycans has taught us anything, it’s that when you’re facing death’s doorstep and have nothing to lose, you have no reason to hold back. And after their experience with Ash, I can’t fault him for triple checking that there isn’t a heartbeat or spec of life left before he finally lets go.
