Chapter 53

Fifty-Three

IZZY

“ S tay with me,” I hiss at Ashton as I move through the trees towards the party.

For once, he doesn’t argue.

The two of us stealthily weave between trunks of trees until we’re at the very edge of the forest, hidden behind foliage.

For a long moment, I don’t understand what I’m seeing. Then everything comes into focus, accompanied by bone-chilling terror.

The largest house—the one that had the buffet on its front lawn—has been reduced to nothing but rubble and flames. The sight of it causes my heart to clench. How many people were in that house when it…exploded? Were my mates? Desiree? Their families? Oh god.

I force myself to look away, to focus my attention on the shifters.

“My god,” Ashton breathes in horror, his hand tightening around my upper arm.

I don’t know when he grabbed me, but I don’t have the heart or strength to push him away.

Dozens of shifters have been corralled to the center of the street where six masked gunmen surround them. All of them are tall, broad, and bedecked from head to toe in black.

“Hunters?” I whisper, making sure to keep my voice soft so the word doesn’t carry.

Ashton doesn’t answer, keeping his attention fixed on the gruesome sight below us.

Once again, my thoughts begin to spiral, panic digging its jagged claws deep into me.

Where are the twins? Reid? Christian? Desiree? What about Mimi and Emilia? Are they here somewhere? And where are my foster parents and my…my birth parents?

Terror compresses my chest, and my breath comes out in shallow spurts of air.

“Hey.” Ashton grabs my face between his two hands and spins me so I have no choice but to face him. His brown eyes glimmer with emotion. “You need to calm the fuck down, you hear me? You are no help to anybody if you’re passed out from a panic attack. So take a deep breath, pull on your big-girl panties, and help me figure out what to do. Unless you don’t think you can, then you can go wait in the car.”

His dogmatic words should irritate the shit out of me, but they don’t. The exact opposite, in fact. I’m suddenly more determined than ever to prove the fucker wrong.

Which was his intention in the first place.

Goddammit.

“I’m calm.” I slap his hands away and then refocus on the shifters. “Why aren’t they fighting back?”

There are a few dozen wolf shifters and only six gunmen. It should be an easy battle.

Ashton, his mouth pressed in a firm line, jerks his chin towards another group I didn’t notice earlier. There’s only one gunman that I can see, and he’s surrounding…

My breath hitches, and horror trickles into my veins like a poison.

“The children,” I whisper, anger rushing to the forefront of my mind and taking hold.

My body shakes with the force of my fury. The gunmen are holding the children hostage.

“They’re monsters.”

Ashton opens his mouth to respond but snaps it shut when one of the masked men gracefully jumps onto the longest picnic table. He holds his assault rifle loosely in his grip as he surveys the gathered wolves.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the hottest new game show around!” He has a deep accent, though I can’t pinpoint where it’s from. “Who should we have as our first contestant?” He taps a gloved finger to his chin before pointing at the shifters below him. “Eeny. Meeny. Miny. Mo. You! Come on up and win a prize!”

Two of the other men surge forward and drag an unfamiliar shifter by his arms towards the picnic table. He looks to only be a few years older than me with bright-red hair. He almost resembles Dec from my school.

Could this be…?

Does Dec have a brother?

My pulse races.

“Ashton…” I whisper, but I don’t know what I want to say to him, what I want to ask him.

“I know,” he responds.

The man is thrown unceremoniously onto the picnic table at the leader’s feet.

“Please don’t hurt me,” the man sobs. “Please.”

“Get up,” the leader says calmly.

“God, that’s Sam,” Ashton says in horror.

Sam.

I turn the name over and over in my head.

Sam.

“Please,” Sam cries again.

Without preamble, the leader kicks Sam in the stomach, causing the other man to cry out in pain. Someone screams from the crowd, and I think I hear Dec yell something, but the roaring between my ears muffles all of their voices.

The gunmen all hoot and laugh. All…except for one. He stands near the back of the crowd, holding his gun loosely, as if he’s unfamiliar with using the weapon. He twists his head away.

The leader lowers himself until he’s at eye level with the sobbing shifter. “I’ll ask you nicely one more time. Get. The. Fuck. Up.”

Sam holds his stomach as he rocks back and forth.

“We have our first loser of the night.” The leader chuckles, lifts his gun, and shoots Sam directly in the forehead.

Blood and brain splatter across the wooden table, shades of deepest red and palest pink. My stomach twists, and I place my hand over my mouth, desperate to hold in the vomit that threatens to make an appearance.

He killed Sam…

Just like that.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Screams echo through the crowd of shifters, and two large men stand up, fur sprouting on their arms. But then the man closest to the children cocks his gun and aims it at a crying little girl’s face. Both men immediately fall back down, anger, regret, and grief painted across their faces.

“My god. This is bad. This is really, really bad.” Terror squeezes my heart in an impenetrable vise. “We need to do something.”

“What do you suppose we do?”

The question doesn’t come out clipped or even sarcastic. For the first time in his life, Ashton genuinely wants my opinion. And though he tries to hide it, I can hear his fear—hear it in the way his breath hitches and the way his voice shakes. The muscles in his shoulders tremble as he grips the branch of the nearest tree, almost as if he needs it to keep himself upright.

I take a moment to push my fear away, to look at this the way I always used to do in the fighting ring. Only, instead of one opponent, I have multiple. And they have guns. And hostages. And they’ve already killed somebody.

Okay, think, Izzy, think.

Our best bet will be to get the shifters to fight back. If they work together, they’ll be unstoppable. The gunmen won’t stand a chance against so many wolves. However, no one will fight with the children’s lives on the line. So…

“If we can get the children to safety, the others will be able to fight back.”

Ashton turns to stare at me in disbelief. In his gaze, I can see everything he doesn’t say out loud.

It’s a suicide mission.

We’re just two teenagers.

We won’t stand a chance against a speeding bullet.

But, like me, he seems to realize that this is the only option at play. Neither of us are willing to tuck our tails and run, not with so many lives on the line. Not with our—god help me— pack on the line.

Determination tightens Ashton’s jaw and darkens his eyes until they’re nearly obsidian. “All right. What do you suppose we do?”

“We…” My voice trails off, and I suck in a sharp breath as the scene before us changes.

A girl has been tossed onto the picnic table—a somewhat familiar girl with light-brown hair and large doe eyes.

Lacey, Christian’s ex-girlfriend.

And then Christian himself appears, his arms held between two masked gunmen, his features distorted in rage and fear. His wild eyes flicker from face to face, and I know he’s searching for me and his brother.

“No,” I breathe in horror as they throw Christian down at the leader’s feet.

He slowly pushes himself onto his knees, his back hunched, anger etched across every line of his perfect face.

Fear for him momentarily glues my feet to the ground. I can barely breathe around the spike in my heart. But then fury paves its way through me, bolstering my resolve, and I take a threatening step forward. I’ll kill them all with my bare hands if I have to. This place will be a bloodbath by the time I’m done with them. I’ll do whatever it takes to free Christian and?—

Ashton’s hand on my arm stops me, though he doesn’t pull his gaze away from his older brother.

Some of my adrenaline dissipates.

Going down there right now would be suicide. Not only for me, but for my mates, who I have no doubt will throw themselves into the line of fire trying to protect me.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I can’t remember a time I felt so goddamn useless .

Focus on the plan, Izzy. Free the children, and you’ll give the shifters a fighting chance. You’ll give Christian a fighting chance.

Steel trickles down my spine.

I can do this.

I have to do this.

“Christian?” Ashton’s uncharacteristically soft exclamation, rife with horror, pulls my attention to his face.

His eyes are wide, and he parts his lips, though not a sound comes out.

No. No. No.

Holding my breath, I follow the direction of Ashton’s gaze, already knowing what I’m going to see.

Christian is on his knees, staring defiantly at the leader’s masked face.

And a gun is pointed directly at his forehead.