CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Isaiah hid a feral smile. It was amazing that he could want to smile when such stomach-roiling pain racked his blown-out knees, leaving him at honest risk of vomiting.

Sebastian’s brows flew together. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean she was there and now she’s not,” snapped Wattie.

Isaiah hadn’t noticed his mate slink away, but he had known she wasn’t dead—which was the only thing that had kept him from launching himself at Sebastian; the only thing preventing his cat from forcing the shift in pure rage. Instead, the animal paced and snarled and whipped his tail, his sanity anchored by their mate’s pulse, strong and even, skipping along their imprint bond—a bond that had snapped fully into place when Sebastian had put that gun to her head.

It was in that moment, when Isaiah had feared neither of them would make it, that he’d also realized he felt no surprise at the idea that she’d be taken from him somehow.

He’d known right then what had been blocking the bond and preventing it from fully forming: The expectation that he would lose her. His fear of it happening had been so all-encompassing that—scared to feel secure in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be stolen from him—he’d braced himself for it to happen. In doing so, he’d held back slightly from their mating without even realizing it. And he couldn’t be more infuriated with himself for it.

“She can’t have gone far,” clipped Sebastian, his gaze darting around.

Davide’s mouth thinned. “There’s no blood trail, so I don’t even know what direction she went in. Seriously, fucking black-foots are too weird to exist, they … Shit, the big guy Hale brought with him is gone as well.”

Not a surprise. A single bullet to the chest was never going to be enough to put down one of Alex’s kind. If the pack had known he was a wolverine, they would have taken more care to ensure that he was dead. Isaiah had been banking on them not knowing.

Sebastian pulled in a breath … and Isaiah saw it on his face; saw the wolf’s realization that everything had gone to shit and could only get worse from here. Resignation flitting over his features, Sebastian turned to his pack mate. “Wattie, just press—”

A blur of tawny fur sprung at Wattie, snatched the cell phone from his hand, and sprinted away.

The guy jerked in the chair. “Fuck!”

Everything that happened next seemed to move at hyper speed. Alex’s wolverine charged into the room with a roar. Bullets whizzed out of guns. People burst into the house from both the front and back. Isaiah awkwardly flung himself at Sebastian’s legs, knocking him down flat and sending such mind-numbing agony through his injured knees that his vision went black around the edges.

Only able to reach as high as the wolf’s stomach, Isaiah plowed his fist into his gut over and over just before a bunch of his pride came over in their animal form.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Isaiah surveyed the scene with grim satisfaction. Pallas cats were swarming the intruders. Literally. They wrapped their furry bodies around faces, arms, and legs; mercilessly tore strips of flesh from scalps and bone; made weapons fall from hands and clatter to the floor. And so the sounds of gunfire quickly stopped, rapidly replaced by curses, screams, growls, hisses, and snarls.

Feeling assured that the threats had been neutralized and the pack members were going nowhere, he caved to his cat’s demands that they call for their mate. “Quinley!” He could feel her pain and fatigue—both arrowed down their bond in sharp, hot pulses.

Right then, Vinnie crouched beside him, his brows lowering. “Jesus, Isaiah.” He turned to another of their pride mates. “Get Helena.”

“Don’t let them kill Sebastian,” Isaiah told him, his tone clipped. “That fucker is mine.”

“They wouldn’t dream of robbing you of that pleasure.”

Mollified, Isaiah nodded. Movement from his left caught his attention. He looked to see Quinley’s little cat padding over to him. Thank fuck. His inner animal sagged in relief, though a growl eased out of him when he saw the patches of blood matting her fur. Isaiah felt his back teeth lock as anger zipped through him at the sight.

“Her kind really is tough to take out,” Vinnie marveled, watching her approach.

Sniffing Isaiah, she carefully clambered onto his stomach, her light-green eyes tired.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft. He wanted to cuddle, nuzzle, and surround her protectively. But he didn’t dare even touch her until she’d been healed, not wanting to accidentally aggravate any of her wounds.

His cat glided up to writhe just beneath Isaiah’s skin, anxious to comfort her. He hated the scent of her pain; hated the fatigue dragging at her bones.

As a strange energy ever so slowly began to ease into his body, Isaiah glared at her. “No, do not use up any of your strength relieving my pain.” But it was too late; the energy gradually chipped away at the agony tearing through him.

The cat didn’t look one bit sorry. She met his gaze evenly, a Whatcha gonna do about it? challenge there.

Vinnie let out a soft snicker. “She could no more ignore your pain than you could ignore hers. You know that.”

Helena materialized at their side, wincing. “Oh, hell.”

“Heal Quinley’s cat first,” Isaiah told her.

Kneeling beside him, Helena rested a hand over the little black-foot.

Isaiah felt a faint echo of healing energy sizzle through his mate; felt her pain lessen and lessen until finally it disappeared. Helena gave him the same aid, and he felt his injuries right themselves.

“Thank you,” Isaiah said to the healer, gathering his mate into his arms as he sat upright. “Alex took a bullet to the chest, just in case you didn’t know.”

“I’ll see to him,” said Helena. “If someone can convince him to shift back, that is—he’s presently having way too much fun mauling the wolf over there.”

“Typical of Alex’s wolverine,” muttered Vinnie, standing. He and Helena then melted away.

Isaiah nuzzled his mate, who gave his jaw a quick lick. “You had them idiots running around chasing their asses, didn’t you?” He was proud of her even as he wanted to shake her for not simply remaining out of sight. “Let me look at you.”

Even as he intellectually knew she was healed, he needed to see for himself that her wounds were all gone. He carefully checked, skating his fingers through her fur; earning himself the occasional yowl of complaint when he accidentally plucked at the matted strands.

“Sorry,” he said, cuddling her close. “I’m done now.”

His own cat—still in full-on protective mode—wanted to take her upstairs, lick the blood from her coat, and tuck her away someplace safe and comfortable so she could rest. A place where no one else would know where she was.

Isaiah was certainly behind the cleaning-and-cosseting-her plan. He wouldn’t even mind hiding her away from the world. But there was something he needed to do first.

He gently bumped her nose with his own. “You stay here,” he began, a deadly intent creeping into his voice, “while I go murder the living fuck out of the bastard who tried to take you from me.”

He rose to his feet and carefully set her down on the upturned sofa. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He purposefully strode over to where Sebastian lay, flailing and crying out.

The wolf was still covered head to toe in pallas cats, all of whom were delighting in introducing him to a new level of pain. The scent of his blood was sharp in the air.

“Back up,” Isaiah barked out.

The cats reluctantly did so, though they didn’t retreat completely. They kept the wolf’s limbs pinned to the floor with their weight.

Sebastian stared up at him, his gaze glazed over with pain, anger, and powerlessness. He looked … pitiful. A mess.

Claw marks crisscrossed over his face, many of which sliced through his lips, eyelids, nose, and eyebrows. Strips had been torn from his scalp. His clothes were ripped enough that Isaiah could see the many puncture wounds and rake marks littering his body.

Isaiah towered over him, both he and his cat admittedly liking the sight of all those injuries. The wolf deserved every single one of them—not only for what he’d done since targeting the pride but all the crimes he’d committed before then.

“You should never have come here.” Isaiah sliced out his claws. “Which I suppose you’ve already figured out by now.”

Sebastian gifted him a sneer. “What kind of dominant male shifter needs their pride mates to hold down another before they’ll strike? Let us fight one-to-one.”

“I would. If you were worth it. But you’re not. I don’t duel with those I don’t respect. I just kill them.”

The wolf’s attention cut to the side as Quinley’s cat flounced over, twitching her tail.

Isaiah silently sighed. Well, of course she hadn’t stayed put.

He had to battle the instinct to bare his teeth at her. Like his feline, he didn’t want her near this fucker. But while his cat hissed to chase her away, Isaiah didn’t. He respected that, all things considered, she’d want to watch Sebastian die. Isaiah wouldn’t have hung back either.

The wolf glared at her, loathing and scorn rippling over his face. In return, she regarded him with an aloof, clinical detachment. The pallas cats around them, however, rumbled warning growls at him, protective of her.

“You were brought down by what you consider weak, Vercetti,” Isaiah taunted. “Almost poetic, really.”

Sebastian’s hateful gaze cut back to him. “At least tell me if Tommaso is dead before you kill me.”

It would be a decent thing to do, but … “No.” Isaiah bent down and stabbed his claws right into the asshole’s throat. He didn’t remove them as Sebastian spluttered and choked. He kept his claws buried deep, staring the wolf right in the eye until the glimmer of life there dimmed out.

Only then did Isaiah withdraw his claws and straighten. His cat sniffed down in disdain at the dead shifter whose demise had been long overdue. He’d died too easily, really, but at least he’d suffered some before he did.

Quinley’s cat moved forward and sniffed at him, as if wanting to ensure he was dead. Their pride mates, no longer needed to restrain the wolf, backed off.

Isaiah wiped his bloody claws on his jeans. “Pretty sure I told you to wait over there, little cat.”

She looked up at him and did a long, slow blink. Then yawned.

“Minx.” Isaiah glanced around to see that things were presently calmer. Pallas cats no longer crawled over the other two Vercetti Pack members. Both were as dead as Sebastian. Alex was now back in his human form and seemingly healed.

Isaiah sheathed his claws just as Quinley’s cat scrambled up his body and settled on his shoulder. “Quick question: Are you going to shift back any time soon?”

She only stared at him.

“I’d like to cuddle your human half too,” he explained.

The staring continued.

A sigh eased out of Isaiah. “Which is my problem, not yours. Right. Gotcha.” His feline would have snorted if he could have.

Isaiah suspected that the female cat wouldn’t want to shift back until the corpses were gone and the house was empty of visitors. He could feel through their bond that she was still a little on edge from adrenaline.

Vinnie crossed to them. “We need Sebastian’s phone so we can deactivate the explosives. Then we’ll take them down.” He cast a quick look at the black-foot. “Think you can convince her to pass it over, Isaiah?”

“Sure. First, though, are the others still at the mines?”

“I presume so. I haven’t heard from Tate yet, and he always calls me after any kind of battle so I know he’s safe and well. He’s gonna be furious when he realizes that Sebastian not only came for your mate but managed to fool you all the way he did.”

Oh, for certain. “And Joaquin? How is he?”

“Alive. Helena got to him in time to save him. Which means the Vercetti bastards in here caused no casualties. Let’s hope our pride mates in the mines can claim the same about the pack members there.”

It was another half hour before Tate called. Isaiah had to assume he’d spoken to either Vinnie or some other pride mates beforehand, because the Alpha’s first words to him were: “I heard there was all kinds of action we missed while in the mines.” He did not sound happy about it.

Lying flat on his back in bed, Isaiah met his mate’s eyes. They were filled with wariness, her body stiff as a board as she awaited news of her relatives’ fate.

He used his grip on her ass to draw her closer to his side. The house was now free of explosives, corpses, and pride mates. But the first level was still a wreck after being ransacked, so he and Quinley had retreated upstairs.

It hadn’t been easy to get her cat to subside. A few people had stopped by, including his parents. Quinley’s cat had stared at them the entire time, ready to lash out in his defense if they stepped a foot wrong. It had been cute as hell.

Once Quinley had finally resurfaced, they’d showered, pulled on sweats, and—in her case—snacked on some candy she’d stashed in her nightstand. Honestly, she had snacks hidden away in every room.

“I’m sure that goes both ways,” he said to Tate, the call on speakerphone. “Raya and Lori?”

“They’re fine, albeit pissed that they were kidnapped. They’re now on their way home.”

Quinley melted into his side as a mound of air seemed to gust out of her in relief.

Isaiah curled his arm tighter around her and dropped a kiss on her head. “Since you don’t sound murderous, I’m assuming no lives were lost on our side.”

“None,” Tate confirmed. “Many of us came away with injuries, but no one was on death’s door. The pack put up one hell of a fight, but they all met their end.”

Tension trickled out of Isaiah’s system. “So it’s over.”

“It’s over. But I’m pretty damn pissed at myself right now.” Tate exhaled a rough breath. “I should have been prepared for Sebastian to pull something. I should have left guards with Quinley just to be on the safe side.”

Isaiah stifled a smile at how his mate stilled in annoyance, her nails pricking his chest. “I’d pass on an apology from you to her, but then she’d growl at me again.”

“Growl at you?”

“I’ve already received a stern lecture for feeling bad that I hadn’t guessed what Sebastian had planned.”

“Well, we should have guessed.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh, my God. Dominant males and their god complexes. I can’t take it.”

Isaiah chuckled, rubbing her hip. His cat sniffed, not understanding her issue, feeling that both his and Tate’s feelings were only to be expected.

“Thank you, Tate, for helping to save Raya and Lori,” she said.

“No thanks necessary,” Tate told her. “Just so you know, I recommended that they inform their Alphas of the kidnapping—I wouldn’t expect them to keep such a secret—so I imagine I’ll hear from the Alpha pair at some point tonight to complain.”

Quinley’s nose wrinkled. “Sorry in advance if they’re assholes.”

“There’s no need for you to apologize on their behalf. And don’t go worrying that they’ll start trouble—they know better. And they don’t really have the grounds to do so anyway, since we saved their pride mates’ lives.” He paused. “I hear your cat gave Sebastian, Davide, and their pack mate a hard time.”

Quinley sniffed. “It was insulting that they thought I’d be an easy mark. But I’m glad they weren’t prepared for the struggle my cat put up.”

“They weren’t prepared to be discovered in the mines either. There was no strategy in how they fought back; no escape plan. They flapped when they realized we were there.”

“Arrogance,” she drawled.

“Yes. And because of that arrogance, the Vercetti Pack is now officially a thing of the past.”

That they were, and Quinley couldn’t be more glad of it. There was no longer a target on her mate’s back. Things could go back to normal. And they could start the new year on a much better note, all the Vercetti bullshit firmly in the past.

The same relief she felt had rooted itself firmly in Isaiah—she could feel it. Like a pleasant hum in her bones. That they were now fully bonded delighted both her and her cat.

It had been a shock when the connection abruptly snapped into place earlier. Despite that there had been a gun to her cat’s head and that two weapons were aimed at him, sheer joy had coursed through her.

Content to just snuggle into her mate as he smoothed his hand up and down her side, she mostly stayed quiet as he and Tate passed on details of what they’d each missed earlier.

Once the conversation was over, Isaiah placed his phone on the nightstand and then looked at Quinley. “Feel better now, baby?”

“I’m so relieved that Raya and Lori are okay. I told myself they would be, but …” A shaky breath left her. “I’ll call Raya in a little while just to check in.”

Rolling into her, Isaiah pressed a kiss to her forehead. “She won’t be mad at you.”

Quinley felt her brow furrow. “What?”

“You’re worried she’ll be upset with you because she and Lori got dragged into our mess,” he correctly sensed. “Don’t. Neither of them will be angry with you, only with the Vercetti Pack. Though they might be annoyed with themselves for getting caught.”

“That’s possible.” Raya hated when anyone managed to take her off-guard, and Lori got all pissy whenever she wasn’t able to save Raya from any kind of upset.

“Then stop worrying.”

“I have stopped.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Totally true. Quinley’s lips thinned. “I’m not going to get away with much now that you can sense my emotions so strongly, am I?”

“Nope.” Isaiah looped her hair around her ear. “I didn’t realize I was blocking the bond,” he said, a note of apology in his tone.

She frowned. “Of course you hadn’t realized. You would have done something about it if you had. So don’t dare say you’re sorry as if you did it on purpose.”

He grunted. “You’re in a bossy mood tonight. My cat finds it cute.”

She felt one brow shoot up. “Cute?”

“Yeah. Considering how the day went, he should still be seething. But he’s so content that we’re finally all-the-way mated that he’s reasonably chill.”

She felt her lips tip up. “My cat is the same.” The feline was pressing close to be near him. “She’s also feeling pretty pleased with herself after tormenting the pack earlier.”

“I can’t say I like that she didn’t just stay hidden to protect herself, but I am nonetheless proud of you both.”

That pride streamed down their bond … but another emotion joined it, making her lips tighten. “Stop feeling guilty for not being here to protect me.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

She bit his arm.

His brows flicked together. “Ow, what was that for?”

“I can’t tell you just how done I am with you taking on blame that doesn’t belong to you.” It was honestly maddening.

“No need to bring your teeth into it.”

Her cat twitched her tail, amused. “Oh hush, you like when I bite you.”

His lips curving, he cuddled her closer. “You know, for such a small person—”

“Hey!” she griped. There was no need to bring height into it.

“—you pack a punch.”

“What, physically? When have I ever punched you?”

He chuckled beneath his breath. “I mean the impact you have. You’re everything I need all bundled into the prettiest package. I never stood a chance. Fell for you so easily it’s almost embarrassing.”

Her heart went ahead and melted. “Is that your way of saying you love me?”

“Yeah, I love you,” he readily admitted, his voice warm and soft. “Which is good, because you love me too.”

She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt a little. “I do.” More than she’d thought possible. “And I’ll never stop.”

“Never, ever?”

“Never, ever.”

“Neither will I, baby. Neither will I.”