38. Ryan

Isprinted forward, every muscle tensed, a growl building in my throat. My eyes were fixed on Tristan, whose hand was now clasped around Tucker's neck, his fingers digging into flesh. Tucker's face was twisted in pain, his body writhing, his legs kicking as he struggled to break free.

"Come any closer, and I'll snap his neck."

I stopped, my breath caught in my throat, my body aching to move but frozen by Tristan's threat. Would he do it? I didn't know enough about him to judge, and that meant I had to play on the side of caution.

"Let me go!" Tucker yelled as he fought to get free from Tristan's grip.

"Tucker," I called. "Tucker, look at me."

The boy stilled and brought his eyes to mine. There was frustration there, frustration and anger. He wasn't scared. Good.

"It's going to be alright, Tucker."

"Of course it is, Ryan," Tucker replied, ignoring Tristan now and still staring straight at me. "I'm going to kick Tristan's ass. I just need a minute to get out of—"

"Oh, my fucking Goddess, Tucker. Aren't you delightful?" Tristan laughed. "You have your sister's sass. Unfortunately, it ain't gonna help you here."

The wind shifted, and I caught the scent of Shya's fear, sharp and acrid. She burst through the trees, her eyes wide, her body trembling. She was on the verge of Shifting, her control fraying at the edges.

"You fucker! Let my brother go!"

"Uh-uh. You know I don't like you using that language, Shya. Tone it down."

Shya growled, and for a moment, I thought she was going to Shift. Her body hunched over, and her eyes flashed. Then she took a deep breath and straightened.

"That's a good girl," Tristan said.

"Fuck you!"

Tristan grinned at her. "That was the idea, yes. But you had to keep turning me down, didn't you. Never mind. We'll get there soon enough."

"Let go of Tucker," Shya insisted.

"I don't think so. He's the only thing stopping Ryan from attacking me. How about this? Shya, you come with me, and when we're far enough away, I'll let the boy go."

Tucker's face turned a shade redder, his eyes bulging, as he tried to twist around and kick Tristan. "Don't even think about it, Shya!" Tucker yelled.

Tristan shook the boy like a badly behaved puppy, then tightened his grip. I could see the flash of pain on Tucker's face.

Shya took a step forward. "Let him go, Tristan. You don't need him," she said, her voice tinged with desperation.

I didn't like how this was playing out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mason slip through the trees, tracking around behind Tristan.

Tristan backed away, dragging Tucker with him. "Come on, sweetheart. Just you and me. Let's make a trade."

"Shya, don't!" Tucker screamed, his voice breaking. "Run! Get out of here!"

But Shya was already moving, following Tristan, her eyes never leaving her brother.

I watched, feeling helpless, as Tristan let Shya inch closer to him and Tucker. She stopped about a foot from them both.

"I'm here. I'll go with you. Just let Tucker go," Shya tried again to bargain with him, but I knew he'd never go for it. Instead, I saw his lips move but couldn't make out what he was saying to Shya. Whatever he said, it made her stiffen.

Then, with a swift laugh, Tristan tucked Tucker under his arm like some damn football and bolted into the forest.

I glanced at where I knew Mason was, but he was too far away to intercept them. "Fuck!" I snarled, sprinting after Tristan and Tucker, Shya and Mason with me.

I motioned with my hands for Mason to flank left. Shya went right and hounded after Tristan, driving him onward.

The forest was a blur as we ran, my wolf close to the surface, urging me faster. Every snapped twig, every rustle of leaves amplified a thousand times in my head. What was Tristan's plan? Would he hurt Tucker to get at Michael and Camille? Would he try to grab Shya if we gave him the chance? The questions gnawed at me as we pushed through the underbrush.

We burst out of the forest, and there he was—Tristan, standing at the edge of a cliff, Tucker squirming in his grasp, his feet dangling over the abyss.

Tristan looked at each of us in turn and grinned. "This ain't the end, you know." His voice was strong and confident. This was not a man who had run out of options.

"Tristan. You drop my brother, and I'll—"

"You'll what, Shya? Nothing. The only thing in store for you is to be my mate. That I promise you. You'll get to watch from my bed while I undo all the damage your fucking parents have done to the werewolves pretending that we are less than we are. You'll see me reset the balance of power so humans know where they really stand."

Mason growled and stalked toward him. Shya motioned with her hand, and Mason stopped.

Tristan ignored my brother; just continued to stare at Shya with a knowing look in his eyes. "This is just the beginning, darlin'."

Then he let go, dropping Tucker off the cliff.

I sprang forward, but too late. Tucker disappeared off the edge, and Tristan jumped after him.

"No!" Shya collapsed, her knees buckling. Mason rushed to her, nuzzling against her as she sobbed. I sprinted to the cliff's edge, peering down, my heart in my throat.

There. A rocky ledge about twenty feet down, sprinkled with weeds … and amidst them was Tucker, unconscious but breathing.

"Tucker's alive," I called as I scanned around for Tristan. Thirty feet below the ledge ran the Coldbrook River. Further east, it weaved into our territory and, along with the Westfall and the Whispering Willow rivers, made up the three rivers that our Pack name came from. An animal trail snaked alongside the flowing waters of the Coldbrook, and Tristan was sprinting flat out along it.

Dammit.

Shya scrambled over to the edge, her scent a bloom of relief as she caught sight of Tucker.

"Thank the Goddess," she whispered.

This was far from over. But for now, Tucker was alive, and that had to be enough.

I turned back to Mason, my voice tinged with a mixture of relief and a promise of the reckoning that was to come. "We need to get Tucker. And then we need to end this."

Mason looked up, his eyes meeting mine. In that moment, I saw it—the same fierce determination that fueled me—and I knew he was going to kill Tristan.