Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kicks was on one of the larger buildings, nailing in a piece of roof. He'd been at it for hours, helping Dirkin do a few repairs around the place. I wasn't sure why the people who lived here couldn't do them, but it didn't feel like my place to intervene. Plus the distraction was keeping us from the fight that we'd had every day for the last three days we were here.
We were supposed to leave tomorrow morning. Kicks still insisted we should go back to the pack, while I was steadfast that I was leaving him somewhere along the way. Maybe the place we'd stopped on our way to California? A place he knew. It would be a compromise of sorts.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that the thumping noise jarred me. I glanced over to where Kicks was working with Dirkin, expecting to see a piece of debris they'd tossed off the roof. Instead, Kicks was slumped on the ground.
I ran over, finding arrows littered all over his body. How had they even pierced his skin? I'd seen bullets bounce off him. Was it what they were made of?
"What happened?" I yelled, not even sure where Dirkin was as I knelt beside Kicks, who was barely conscious. "Dirkin!" I screamed.
Kicks mumbled something, but I couldn't understand him.
I leaned closer. "What?"
His eyes opened a little wider. "Run."
For a split second I did nothing, shock stealing my movements. Finally I got to my feet, grabbing his arms so I could drag him away with me, no plan other than getting out of the open.
I hadn't made it a foot before a loop of rope fell over my head and was immediately tightened. I'd just grabbed on to that when it was followed by another, both leaving only the slightest slack for me to get air. There were rods attached to the ropes, the kind of things they'd use on wild animals.
My hands were at the ropes tightening around my neck, forcing me to my feet and pulling me away from Kicks.
I tried to look around, spotting Dirkin standing off to the side and two men I'd never seen before holding the rods. Groza was approaching in the distance.
"What did you do?" I yelled at Dirkin.
"What needs to be done to protect my people," he said. "They told me about you."
I couldn't fault him for wanting me dead. But Kicks?
"He was your friend. How could you do this to him?" I pointed to Kicks' body on the ground, so lifeless.
"He made his choice," Dirkin said. "If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself."
I already was. I should've left days ago, left the pack as soon as Zetti died, but in my heart, I hadn't wanted to. Now Kicks was going to die because of me.
Groza appeared near me, Duncan beside her, along with some of the goons I remembered from her pack.
"No one believed I'd be able to catch you, but look at you now."
"You better let me go." Death was going to appear any minute, and she'd kill them. I wasn't sure if it would be enough to save Kicks, though.
"Or what?" Groza said, laughing. "The only ally you have left is dead."
I couldn't get close enough to touch them, but that didn't matter. Death would come. She'd kill my enemies.
Yet here I was, caught, and she wasn't anywhere to be seen.
"Death," I said, hoping it would prompt her arrival. She needed to get here before Kicks bled out.
"Yeah, I'm not so sure that's going to work, considering you can't move right now and your dog is lying on the ground."
"Death!" I nearly screamed. They thought I was threatening them. I was, but not in the way they thought. Where the hell was she?
"How many times do you plan on yelling that?" Groza asked, laughing again. "No one is dying but you two. The packs are all against you. Nix is the one who told us you were going to California. He sent someone out and told old Dirkin here to keep you put any way he could."
Had Kicks told Nix where we were heading? Had someone in that pack heard our plans? If that were true, why hadn't Nix done this when he had us there? No. It had to have been spies in his pack—not that it mattered. We were caught, and I wasn't expecting Nix to swoop in and save us, not after the slightly chilly reception we'd received.
I turned my attention to Duncan, hoping some of the man I thought I'd known was still in there. "Duncan, please, don't do this."
"I know you've killed again. I'm sorry, but you need to be put down." His face was like stone as he stared at me.
Had I ever really known him? I didn't recognize this person at all. Even his choice of words, like I was a rabid dog.
"Fine, you hate me. I'm a threat. I get it. But how do you do this to Kicks? He's done nothing. He's one of you. He's a shifter."
"A shifter who made bad choices," Duncan said. "He declared his loyalties, and they weren't with us."
"Then kill me. Then there's no conflict and you can let him go," I said. I was as good as dead anyway. But if I could save Kicks somehow…
"It's too late. He won't be manageable once you're dead," Groza said. She signaled to her goons. "Throw him in the hole."
I barely kept myself from heaving. The hole had been freshly dug by Kicks and Dirkin on the pretense of being a new well. Dirkin had made Kicks dig his own grave. I turned, meeting the old man's eyes. He'd be the first I'd kill.
They grabbed Kicks' arm, spinning his body and dragging him over the compacted dirt, leaving a trail of his blood behind. He didn't move, didn't even moan. I stared at him, watching for the rising of his chest. Searching for a sign of life. They got him to the edge of the ditch and then kicked him in.
A scream pierced the air, but it was mine. Kicks' only sound had been a thump when he hit the bottom.
Groza turned to me. "First I'm going to let you watch your mate die. And then, once he's dead, I'm going to burn you alive in the ditch."
Why not kill me now? Why bother with this? Was there a reason, or did she simply relish the torture? Either could be true, and I wouldn't put the question to her.
"Throw her in. Try not to break her neck as you do, but if it happens, that's all right too," she said.
"No! She has to be burned," Dirkin yelled. "It's the only way to get rid of the demons."
They steered me closer to the hole. I would've jumped in to get Kicks. That was when I realized…I loved Kicks. There was no doubt in my mind. It was as clear as a switch being flipped.
They pushed me closer, and I held on to one of the poles attached to my neck, hoping to make it to the bottom in one piece. I fell in, and the nooses tightened for a moment, stealing all my air. Then they were released, pulled off and upward.
The well had been dug so deep it was darker down here. I knelt by Kicks' body, tears streaming down my face. I felt his head, trying to see if he'd taken a hit there. I didn't feel anything, but maybe it was too soon?
I grabbed his wrist, feeling for his pulse. It was there but thready. The first time I learned of shifters was when Buddie had been shot. He hadn't healed until he shifted. Was this the same? Did Kicks need to shift?
I needed him to wake, to ask how to help him. I needed him to live. He wasn't allowed to die. He didn't even know I loved him. All I'd done was push him away, and now he was dying and I wasn't sure if there was anything I could do.
I put my arm under his head, cradling him, kissing his cheek and then his forehead.
"Kicks, please, please don't leave me. Please." When he didn't answer, I looked upward. "Death! Please, I know you can hear me. Please, I'll do anything. I'll do whatever you want."
I waited, hoping she'd finally show, but nothing happened. I called her again, and then again. I cradled Kicks' body as close as I could, trying to give him warmth from my own.
"Death, please, please come."
Nothing. No answer as I lay there, feeling his blood seeping onto me.
"Kicks?" I laid my hand on his cheek. "Kicks? I need you to talk to me. You have to hang on. I'm going to get us out of here."
His breathing quickened slightly, and I felt him stirring.
"I'm here," he said, his voice weak and soft.
I shifted, moving to get into action. He was back with me. We'd figure this out. "What do I do? Should I pull the arrows out?"
"Yes. Out."
I knelt by his side, feeling around for each protrusion in the dark as best I could. As soon as I laid hands on the first one, I tried to feel for the angle it went in, and then tried to pull it straight out. He grunted softly as more blood gushed out behind it.
"Should I keep going?" If I did, would he bleed out? He'd bleed out if I did nothing, too.
"Yes."
"Okay." My hands were trembling. I was terrified I would kill him. I hung on to the memory of how Buddie bounced back when I'd taken the bullet out of him. It would be just like that.
I felt around for the next arrow, knowing there were four of them. I again found the angle, trying to pull it out while doing the least damage I could. Another surge of blood followed, and I dipped my head, ready to vomit. I breathed deeply until I settled again.
"Good?" I asked as soon as I could speak.
"Keep going."
I did the next two without asking him, just trying to get it over with. As soon as I got the last one out, I waited for him to shift, the way Buddie had, so he could heal.
He didn't.
I cupped his cheek. "Kicks, they're out. You need to shift."
"I'm trying," he said, sounding no better than he had.
Trying? Did that mean he couldn't? I was afraid to ask. I didn't want to worry him, or make him think I doubted he could. He was weak, was all. It was going to take a little longer, but he'd do it. He'd be okay. He'd get us out of this ditch and he'd be okay.
But as the minutes kept adding up, he kept lying there. He still didn't shift, and he sure didn't seem like he was getting better.
"Kicks?" I said. My voice cracked.
"I'm trying. I'm going to just rest for a few and then I'll try again."
I waited, letting him rest, hating that he had to. Buddie had shifted the second I got the bullet out of him. This was wrong. I arranged myself, trying to use my body as a pillow between Kicks and the cold, hard ground.
I ran my hand through his dark hair, giving him whatever comfort I could.
"Piper, we need to talk," he said an hour later.
"No. Not now. You're too weak. You need to rest until you can shift. Then we'll talk after we get out of here."
"Piper, I'm not going to heal. I thought it was just the arrows, but I think they had poison on them."
His words slammed into my brain, making me acknowledge how he'd been looking weaker and weaker by the hour.
"I don't know why you're saying that, but it's not true," I replied. "You just have to eat and rest and you're going to get better." No. He was not dying. This was Kicks. He was too tough to die. He was a shifter and an alpha. He'd heal.
"You have to listen to me. I'm dying. They threw me in here to die, with you witnessing. She's using me to torture you first, and then they'll kill you. But you still have a chance."
"You do too. Don't talk like that. Don't give up. It wasn't poison. It was just too much at once, and you'll come around."
"Listen to me. I don't have the strength to fight with you, and this is important," he said, his voice too soft for my liking.
"What?" I said, afraid if I argued, he'd waste precious energy on it.
"They'll come down to get me after I die. When an alpha dies, there are certain parameters that must be fulfilled within a certain time period or you're courting catastrophe. Dirkin is too superstitious to let them burn my body with you."
But they could kill him? I stayed silent, not wanting to make this worse.
"They'll have someone come and try to collect my body from above," he said. "You need to stop them from doing it so they have to come down with a ladder. It's your only hope. You need to be strong and take your chance escaping as soon as that happens. Even if I'm still breathing, you need to do it, because I'm as good as dead."
"Death is going to come," I said. I didn't know why she wasn't here yet, but she'd come. She wouldn't let me die, and hopefully it would be in time to save him.
"But she hasn't," he said.
"She will."
He flailed a hand, trying to reach for mine. I grabbed it and held it firmly to my chest, hating how cold his normally warm skin was.
"If she does, don't bargain for me. I can't live knowing what it cost you. I'd rather die."
If somehow she showed before he was dead, I'd give her anything, so I didn't speak.
"Promise me," he said, as if he could read my thoughts.
I still didn't speak.
"Promise," he said louder.
"Fine. I promise," I said, only to avoid drawing attention to us, afraid they'd shoot him again.
He settled down a bit, and I wrapped my arms around his torso, willing my strength into him.