* * * *

  Blood, pain, death—they accompanied Nathan as he chased after Marcus. Normally, Nathan’s smaller size gave him the advantage of speed, but this time was different. Marcus was in a state of rage that Nathan had never seen before. Understandable, of course, but he didn’t like being left behind.

  For all that Nathan would normally rather solve things without the killing, his peaceloving instincts were gone now. Too much, he knew. Too much violence, with Marcus almost dying on him, the guards dead, Maarten shot—too much. Peace wasn’t going to fix it, only more death would.

  Marcus had told him once, long ago, that sometimes all certain shifters understood was physical force. There was no reasoning, no talking it out.

  Bullets whizzed past him and Nathan tried not to cringe. If the bullets were coated with the same shit that had sent Maarten into convulsions, they were twice as deadly as regular bullets. His paws slid on a patch of leaves and he almost fell, but his desperation to catch up to his mate kept him upright and running.

  Marcus was something incredible, beautiful, a sleek, white-furred avenger. It sounded silly in Nathan’s head, but it was true. Marcus would not fail. Doubts that had plagued Nathan for days, since the challenge with Drake, were eradicated by his fierce loyalty to his mate. There would be no weakness on Nathan’s part, no cause for Marcus to be hurt from his lack of confidence in Marcus.

  Marcus leapt, and Nathan had never seen such beauty as sunlight landed on him. Nathan sprinted harder, pumping his legs, using his wiry body to his advantage. Running side by side was out. They’d be too big of a target, but he would stay as close at heel as possible and not put either of them at any greater risk.

  “Bullets stopped.”

  Nathan heard Marcus’ voice in his head and only then noticed the lack of gunfire. He started to reply when movement to his left caught his attention. “Marcus!” Nathan yipped a warning at the same time. He darted to the right and skidded to a stop as the biggest brown wolf he’d ever seen barrelled towards him.

  Nathan wasn’t staying still to let the fucker nail him. Marcus wouldn’t let it happen, either. A fourth wolf appeared, leaping out from Nathan’s right. This wolf was pale yellow, a dingy colour. Power radiated off him, and Nathan stumbled back under it.

  Marcus growled and attacked without posturing or feinting. His power was as great as the yellow wolf’s. Nathan thought he knew who it was, wondered how he’d found out they were hunting for ways to dethrone him. Dirk was a cowardly, murderous fuck, and Nathan was certain he was the yellow wolf. The brown was likely one of his guards.

  “Agreed,” Marcus thought. “Stay safe. Kill him.”

  “There could be more than just Brown here and Dirk,” Nathan warned as he squared off against the big brown wolf. The fucker’s teeth were twice the length of his, but Nathan wasn’t intimidated. He had to block out the sounds of Marcus and Dirk fighting, because he would need every trick he had to kill his opponent.

  And he trusted Marcus not to die on him.

  Nathan took a half-step back then lunged the second Brown moved forward. He met the bigger wolf with a vicious bite, twisting his smaller frame in such a way that he bypassed Brown and still got to tear into the wolf’s shoulder. Blood fuelled the animal instincts in him and Nathan gave way to them, blocking out all thoughts of mercy and men.

  He didn’t let Brown turn around before he was biting the wolf again, this time close to his hip. Brown yelped and jerked away from him. Nathan didn’t stop, didn’t give him a chance to recover. Fear was a foreign emotion as he went after Brown, biting and tearing, visions of the dead guards fuelling him. Every bite, every rend of flesh and bone, was for them. Nathan had never considered himself vicious, but today he was.

  The brown wolf whimpered and fell over onto his side. Nathan was on him, ripping at his chest as he fought to avoid the wolf’s paws and teeth. He was knocked off once, but he rammed against the soft belly, and there was his victory. Nathan tore into the flesh, through skin and fat and muscle to the entrails underneath.

  An unearthly sound filled his ears. Gurgling, wet, slick suctioning as he tossed his head, pulling out what he held in his mouth. Blood and gore was slung everywhere, and the wolf’s legs kicked, twitched then stilled.

  Nathan spat out the guts. He would not think of what he’d just done. Ever. Marcus and Dirk were still fighting, both frothing, furious, deadly. As much as Nathan wanted to intervene, he couldn’t without dishonouring Marcus. The challenge hadn’t been issued in the manner it was supposed to have been, but it had still been done, and Marcus was honouring his part of it. All he could do was wait, watch, believe.

  A howl came from the direction of the Hummer. Keegan. It was a mournful sound, and Nathan was glad he’d given the brown wolf a violent death. The howl grew closer as Keegan approached. He’d pulled himself together enough to resume his job.

  Keegan ran right past him and slammed into Dirk. Marcus snarled at Keegan, blood dripping from Marcus’ muzzle as he went after the captain of his guards. Nathan understood, he did—Marcus had to fight with honour, and Keegan was almost insane with rage. Marcus was his priority.

  Nathan ran and hit Keegan just as Dirk lunged at him. Nathan’s impact caused Keegan’s feet to leave the ground as Nathan took him down. Dirk turned and raced towards Marcus.

  Keegan kicked and snapped, but Nathan wouldn’t get off him, and he could growl and bitch better than Keegan. The guard whined and went still, pain and loss in his eyes.

  I know, Keegan, gods help me, help us all, I know. Nathan would fall apart later, but right now, Marcus needed him strong. He growled and barked at Keegan, reminding him who was boss. Marcus, yes, but Nathan would have been called the Alpha bitch had he been female. No one dared say such a thing to him, at least not to his face, but the position was the same. Keegan was ranked well beneath him in power.

  Keegan finally averted his eyes. Tears leaked from them steadily. Nathan licked him twice, offering comfort, but he could spare no more than that. The sounds of the battle behind them were escalating, and Nathan turned to see Dirk flick a glance past Marcus. Three wolves! Nathan sent the image to Marcus at the same time he barked at Keegan. A second later, Nathan was mid-air, soaring over Marcus and narrowly missing a gutting by Dirk. He landed, Keegan beside him shortly thereafter. They faced the growling trio, and Nathan didn’t hesitate to attack.

  Covered in blood and other stuff he wouldn’t think about, he knew he was a horrid sight. He counted on it. He’d all but rolled in the remains of the brown wolf, at least that was what he wanted the others to think.

  Beside him, Keegan was wild, tearing and biting. Nathan gave way to the rage, using it instead of letting it blind him. He wanted the fighting over, the bad guys dead and his mate safe. Nothing else was an acceptable possibility.

  * * * *

  There were no thoughts in Marcus’ head other than to kill. Nathan was safe, alive, unbeatable. Whether he knew it or not, there was a power in Nathan that matched Marcus’ own. Keegan was there, too. Now that Marcus didn’t have to fight him, too, he focused on Dirk.

  Marcus recognised the alpha. It was like meeting like, to an extent, although he didn’t play cowards’ games like Dirk did. He wouldn’t murder guards just for the fun of it.

  Dirk bared his teeth, panting, trying not to show his exhaustion, but Marcus could scent it. For all that Dirk was about his age, the shifter was out of shape when it came to physical combat. Not unexpected when he’d rather pick off people with bullets and poison.

  Marcus kept silent, except for a rumbling growl that began in his chest. He didn’t expend any energy on theatrics. The moment Dirk glanced to see who had yelped and died behind them, Marcus made his move. He hit Dirk head on, the shock of their skulls slamming together making his vision dim and an odd, bitter scent fill his nostrils.

  Dirk went down hard, but he kicked and clawed and snapped. Marcus caught one leg in his maw and crunched the bones with a snap of his jaws.

  Dirk howled and managed to bite his ear. Marcus felt the cartilage tear and it pissed him off more than it hurt. He let go of the broken leg and slapped Dirk with his paw. Marcus did it again, and wished he and Dirk were men, not wolves, so he could beat him with fists.

  He’d never been filled with so much hate, so much rage, not even when he’d been abducted and tortured. His guards had been slaughtered for no reason. They’d have stayed back for the challenge of Alpha Anax to Alpha Anax.

  But Dirk wasn’t honourable, and so he’d murdered innocents. Marcus bit at him, catching Dirk’s cheek. He clamped down and shook his head, rattling Dirk good. Dirk got a paw under Marcus and raked over the freshly healed scars on his belly. A fissure of fear and remembered agony flitted through him, but Marcus didn’t let it gain traction. This was a battle he would not lose.

  Marcus dropped down on top of the wolf and butted their heads together again. It wasn’t as hard of a hit, but it stunned Dirk. No mercy, no opportunity to submit. Marcus knocked Dirk’s chin up and bit his throat, chomping down and killing him quicker than Marcus had planned, but in the end, he had no excuse to draw it out. Dirk would be just as dead.

  The body beneath his bucked weakly as blood poured out from the neck wound. Marcus shook Dirk roughly then released him. He stayed on the body until the shuddering ceased and the gurgling stopped. Nathan grabbed him at the nape.

  “Marcus, the compound is under attack!” Nathan was human again, and covered in gore. “Keegan came to tell us. We have to go.”

  Marcus got up and Nathan shifted again. Keegan must have done the same. Only mates could talk to each other clearly in shifted form, so Keegan and Nathan both had to be human to communicate.

  Now they were wolves, running behind Marcus. Marcus wished he’d asked about Aidan, but Nathan let him know Keegan hadn’t heard anything about them. Since Keegan’s phone was back at the Hummer, Marcus had no way of trying to call Zane or anyone.

  The smell hit him hard, before he cleared the trees. The wind was blowing towards him, carrying the scent of death on it. Unlike the smell of it behind him, this got to him. These were his people, his guards, men and women who had sworn to protect him and the pack— and they’d been cut down with bullets for no reason other than to hurt him.

  “No, because Dirk was a twisted, evil fucker. He is the reason, not you, not us, not them. He did this. Him.”

  Nathan knew him so well, knew he was going to blame himself. It didn’t matter who was at fault, every pack member was Marcus’ responsibility. When it came down to it, if he’d been smarter, he’d have figured out who was stalking them. Had he really thought someone newly made as a shifter would have such skills?

  “Stop it, Marcus. There was no way to know, and it made sense. We still don’t know where Piper is, or if he has a chip on his shoulder.”

  “We don’t know, but I will find out.” Marcus shifted as the bodies came into view. He

  waited for Nathan and Keegan to join him. When they shifted, he told Keegan, “Call Zane,

  check on them. Call Ryder, back at the compound, get a hold of him some way. I want him to

  get on the PA system and announce the death of Dirk and his…whatever they were.” Marcus

  would not call them guards, not when they had in some way contributed to the slaughter

  before him.

  He took Nathan’s hand and turned his head to look at him. “Thank you, for doing this

  with me.”

  It was a sign of Nathan’s own mourning that he didn’t snipe. “I will always be with

  you.” They began to walk, saying silent goodbyes to each guard. It was the hardest thing

  Marcus had ever done, the most painful.

  When they reached Bon, he couldn’t stop tears from escaping. Nathan sobbed quietly

  beside him. The young shifter had been funny and smart, a treasure to have as a guard. He

  had grown up in front of Marcus, going from an awkward kid who was more elbows and

  knees to a strong, fine man.

  Marcus squatted and brushed Bon’s eyes closed, keeping his hand there for a moment.

  “I’m so sorry, Bon.”

  There were eight guards altogether who were dead there by the trees. Marcus thought

  there were eight, but—“Nathan!”

  Nathan, who was still beside him, scrubbed at his eyes. “What? I can’t see any more of

  this, Marcus. It’s—”

  Marcus dropped to his knees, bringing Nathan right along with him. “Her chest

  moved.” Sissy was covered in blood, but Marcus put his head to her chest, and there, he

  heard it, the faint but steady beat of her heart.

  “Keegan! Get over here!” he yelled. Keegan would need to stay with Sissy until they

  could get her medical care. Marcus searched her body and found the wound at her side. She

  didn’t appear to be bleeding a great deal, which could mean either the wound wasn’t bad, or

  the bullet was lodged in such a way as to prevent loss of blood. Now that he was watching,

  he saw her chest rise and fall in gentle, steady waves. He thought, if she got care soon, Sissy

  would be okay.

  There was loss, great, soul-tearing loss, but with that flutter of a heartbeat, Marcus

  found some hope.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marcus was alive, and Nathan too. Dirk had come there, brought a team of murdering bastards with him, all because he’d somehow found out Marcus was unhappy about him ruling South America. Marcus had been damned right, because Dirk hadn’t had an honourable bone in his body.

  At least Marcus had survived fighting him. Ryder felt relief at that, but he couldn’t imagine what they must be feeling. He’d heard that Sissy and Bon were among the dead, and he wanted to scream at the unfairness of life. Marcus was counting on him to get the news out that Dirk was dead, though, with the hopes it would cause a ceasefire.

  If it didn’t, Ryder hoped the guards that had just left to go hunting would end the cease-fire in a different way. Regardless of the outcome, he knew whoever was shooting at the compound was dead.

  Ryder turned and scowled at Maarten. “You aren’t supposed to be getting up.” “Fuck that.” Maarten stood, wobbled, and Ryder was right there, helping him stay upright. “Thank you. I’ve had enough of that bed. Would you kindly get me some clothes, or would you prefer I remain naked when I follow you out of here?”

  “I’d prefer you stay in bed,” Ryder muttered, but he knew there was no point in arguing. “Sit, at least, before you fall. I’ll have someone bring you something to wear.”

  They’d been taken to a small interior room used for storage. Other shifters were in larger rooms, filling three of them. Ryder and Maarten had needed somewhere more private in case there were decisions to be made that no one else needed to hear. They had to settle for the small room beside one of the ones filled with residents. The guards could only be stretched so far.

  Ryder opened the door and spoke to Bowie, who in turn sent someone after sweats and a shirt for Maarten. Shania appeared as if by magic, coming out of the room beside theirs and glaring. “Did I just hear you ask for clothes for Maarten? Is he up? He’d better not be up.”

  “Hello, Shania,” Maarten called out from behind him—not nearly as far behind Ryder as he should have been. Ryder sighed and Maarten shuffled up to lean against him. “Did you come to admire my body?”

  Shania rolled her eyes. “Save the joking for another time.”

  “I wasn’t joking,” Maarten informed her. “You take my clothes, and don’t give me so much as one of those awful gowns. What am I supposed to think?”

  “That you are supposed to stay in bed.” Shania gestured. “Let me in so I can check him over.”

  “Bowie, where’s that portable PA? Shouldn’t I have had it already?” Ryder asked.

  Bowie looked down the hall. “Casey said he thought it was in the outbuilding by the utility room door. He was the last one in charge of inventorying those buildings, so I let him go after it.”

  “Outside?” Ryder clarified.

  “Sir, it’s just a few steps—” Bowie began.

  Ryder cut him off with a sharp gesture. He didn’t want to send someone to check on Casey when they were so shorthanded. “As soon as whoever gets back with Maarten’s clothes, you and I will be taking a walk.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bowie gulped but didn’t say anything else. A guard with hair slipping out from her braids came running down the hall.

  “Clothes, sir,” she said as she handed him the wadded-up sweats and shirt.

  “Thank you, Tabitha.” Ryder was glad he remembered her name. He was a jittery nervous mess on the inside, but trying not to let that show. “I’ll be right back, Bowie.”

  Ryder really hoped Casey hadn’t been shot or hurt. He didn’t like the guy at all, but Casey had already lost his position with the guards, and he’d lost Maarten, too. Ryder had calmed down enough to not blame Casey or Maarten for having sex. He’d been wanting to go prowling himself before he’d met Maarten. It didn’t mean he’d ever be buddies with Casey, though.

  “Maarten, here are your clothes.” Ryder set them on the bed. “I’m going with Bowie to see why Casey hasn’t returned. Shania, please help him dress if he needs it.”

  Maarten grabbed his hand. “Don’t go. In the movies, what happens when the guy goes to investigate someone missing? He gets killed.”

  It might have sounded silly, but Maarten’s fear was very real, flowing into Ryder. “This isn’t a movie, sweetheart,” Ryder assured him. “We are going to look out the utility door peephole. I’m hoping Casey is just taking shelter in the outbuilding, or that he didn’t leave this one yet. Someone could have stopped him and asked for help. The guards were still finding stragglers.” Rounding up all the shifters was easier said than done.

  “I want to go,” Maarten began, but Shania threatened to give him a sedative if he argued.