CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Trick groaned. The god-awful ringing in his ears just wouldn’t stop.

He tried opening his eyes, but it didn’t happen. The scents only aggravated his pounding headache. Blood, gas, oil, and burned rubber. He could taste blood, and he realized he’d bitten his tongue. Even with adrenaline pumping through him, he started to feel the ache of several injuries. What the hell had—

Images flashed before him, and his eyes snapped open. A black car hitting the passenger side. His neck snapping sideways. The SUV tipping. His head smacking into the window as they rolled and tumbled down, down, down.

Apparently the SUV had righted itself when it finally stopped rolling. Trick glanced out the broken window. They were in a vast, dry pit among high mounds of sand and rubble. As he saw the tall, stairlike sloped walls, he cursed. The fuckers had sent them crashing to the bottom of a goddamn quarry.

Unmanned machinery was nearby, including bulldozers, cranes, tractors, and pumps to remove pooling water. It was no doubt thanks to those pumps that the bed of the quarry was dry.

Trick winced as he tried to move. The seat belt had snapped taut in front of him and fuck his chest hurt. He was pretty sure that at least one rib was fractured, if not broken. Others were badly bruised. “Knew we should have gone for the model with the side airbags,” he muttered.

Clawing open the belt, he took a deep painful breath. His neck hurt like a bitch from the way it had snapped from side to side as they’d rolled. He’d definitely cut his head on the window, because he could feel the burning slice of pain and smell his blood.

He had a concussion for sure, but he couldn’t let that matter. His injuries probably would have been a damn sight worse if he’d been human. Shifters were hard to hurt. Half the bruises would be gone within the hour, but that didn’t mean Morelli wouldn’t pay for every single one of them.

Someone moaned behind him while another cursed.

Trick tried to glance over his shoulder, but pain shot through his neck and he swore. “Any of you dead?”

Beside him, Ryan grunted.

“Feels like it,” rasped Dominic. “What the hell just happened?”

“It was a trap,” said Trey, voice strained with pain. “Morelli lured us out here, and then he or one of his friends crashed into us.”

Eyes narrowed, Ryan peered out the window. “Said ‘friends’ are outside in their wolf forms, pacing on the wide stairs. I count eleven. Don’t know if that includes Morelli—I’ve never seen him in his wolf form.”

“His pack was a lot bigger,” said Dominic. “Either it split after they abandoned their territory or the others are nearby.”

“I think it’s the first,” said Trey. “His pack was made up of lone shifters and people whose Alphas and pack mates he destroyed. I doubt many of them would have felt a burning need to stick by his side—especially when he’s made an enemy of us and, by extension, our allies. These wolves here are likely his only loyal followers.”

“Why haven’t they just pounced on us already?” asked Dominic.

“They’re playing with us,” said Trick, carefully brushing shards of glass from his hair. “They want us to see that we’re no safer outside than we are in here. Doesn’t matter either way. We’ve got to get out.” Smoke hissed out from under the slightly raised hood. That couldn’t be good. “Anyone have their phone handy? I dropped mine somewhere.”

Ryan grunted, unzipped his jacket pocket, dug out his cell, and pressed what Trick knew was the panic button. It would send an alert and their GPS coordinates to each of their pack mates. “The cavalry should arrive soon.”

Carefully twisting in his seat, Trick got a good look at each of his pack mates. Bruised, bleeding, and rumpled, they didn’t look any better than he did. But they were alive, and the need to hurt practically shone from their eyes. “Ready to get out there?”

“Raring to get out there,” Dominic ground out.

As his wolf raked at him, wanting his attention, Trick pressed his fingers to his aching temple. There was something . . . something he needed to do. Someone who—

Frankie. Trick gripped the edge of his seat. “I need to get to Frankie.” He told them about their phone call. “If she’s right and the person in that cabin killed her parents, she’s in danger.”

“We’ll get to her,” Trey assured him in a “Keep the fuck calm” voice, “but we have to get out of this shit first. She has Roni and Marcus; they’ll protect her.”

They’d better, Trick thought. He checked on her through their bond. Fear was a living thing inside her. The drive to get to her pounded through him, but he couldn’t answer it because of that damn bastard out there.

Trick hissed out a breath. “Fuck. I’m going to enjoy killing this motherfucker and his sorry excuse for a pack.” He used his sleeve to wipe at the blood dripping down his face and then shoved open the dented door, leaving bloody fingerprints. Glass tinkled as it dropped from his lap to the ground.

The others slid out of the SUV too, but Trick kept his eyes on the wolves glaring at them from the wide, rising steps. The air was bone-dry and smelled of rock and dirt.

A gray wolf let out a low howl, as if calling for his Alpha. Morelli appeared at the top of the quarry moments later, a wide grin on his face. Descending the steps, he clapped. “Damn, I wasn’t sure if you’d survive.” He said it with admiration, like they’d crashed for the thrill. “That’s one hell of a drop.” He stopped halfway down the wall and petted the head of the closest wolf.

“Hiding behind your pack, Morelli?” taunted Trey. “Is that what Alphas do now?”

Dominic snickered. “You’re forgetting, Trey—this guy’s no Alpha.”

Trey’s lips pursed. “Valid point.”

Morelli’s face tightened, but then he smiled. “Must we really resort to insults?”

“No,” said Trey. “You could fight me, Alpha to supposed Alpha.”

Trick’s wolf growled, not liking that idea. He wanted to be the one to end the bastard.

“Prove to me and your wolves here that you’re what you claim to be,” continued Trey. “Prove to them that you’re worth following. Prove to them that you’re worth dying for. Because they will die if they come at us. Come on, show them that you’re willing to protect them from that and let’s settle this, one to one.”

Morelli’s smile hardened at the edges. “But that would be depriving them of the luxury of killing the people who burned down their homes.”

“You blamed it on us?” Ryan grunted. “We thought you might.”

“It was a good idea,” said Trick. “Burn the buildings down, pin it on us, and then propose to the others that you all lay low and come up with a plan. Well, it’s not like you could tell them you wanted to hide. I’m curious, though, have you told them all that you work with an extremist?”

Morelli froze, and his wolves became edgy and restless. Trick knew why. The animals wouldn’t understand the words, but the people within them would. The human emotions would bleed out onto the wolves, making them agitated and confused.

“Drake had plenty to say before he died,” Trick told him.

Morelli snorted. “And I’ll bet he found delight in talking bullshit to you—it was really the only way to fuck with you at that point.”

“He was telling the truth,” said Trey. “You know it. We know it. By working with an extremist, you’ve betrayed your kind. You deserve to die for that alone.”

“Such bravery from someone who’s outnumbered, weakened by injury, and has no chance of a rescue.” Morelli sighed, pulled out a cigar, and lit it. “I gotta hand it to you, Trey, you really do have balls. I honestly do like you. It saddens me that you have to die tonight. We could have been allies.”

“We would never have been allies.”

“But if you’d just agreed to give it a shot, you wouldn’t be about to die, your territory wouldn’t soon be invaded, and your other pack mates wouldn’t be given the option of joining me or dying.” Morelli shrugged. “You only have yourself to blame. But while your death will sadden me, I really am looking forward to taking over that territory of yours.”

A growl rumbled out of Trick. “We won’t be the ones who die here tonight,” he warned as he and his pack mates shed their clothes, ready to shift. Sure, they were outnumbered and injured. But they were also filled with the need for vengeance. For Trick and his wolf, this fight was personal. And now that the motherfucker effectively stood between Trick and his mate when she needed him, there wasn’t a chance in hell that Morelli would survive this fight.

Morelli took another drag on his cigar and then sat on the step, settling to watch the show. Wolves sat on either side of him like sentries. “Can’t say I agree with you on that one, Trick. It really was nice knowing you all.” He signaled the waiting wolves, and then they were scrabbling down the walls.

Trick shifted. With his pack mates around him, the wolf charged at the other pack, paws thudding into the dirt. Colliding, the packs brutally slashed at each other.

There was growling, snarling, and yelping as they battled. Claws scored deep. Teeth bit hard. Blood sprayed and splattered. Dust and dirt clouded the air, causing eyes to itch and nostrils to tingle.

Adrenaline pumped through Trick’s wolf, helping him ignore the injuries from the crash. He raged as one enemy clawed at his flank while another attacked from the front. The wolf fought them both—lashed out with his big paws, snapped his powerful jaws, slammed his large body into theirs.

One attacker toppled over. The wolf pounced and tore into his throat, letting blood gush into his mouth. He didn’t take time to enjoy the victory. He whirled and lunged at his other opponent with a snarl.

The enemies were strong. Sneaky. Agile. But they hadn’t been trained to fight. Lacked the stamina and speed that the wolf and his pack mates had. Still they fought, determined. The Phoenix wolves showed no mercy. Never hesitated.

The scents of fear and rage fed the wolf’s bloodlust. As he took down yet another enemy, a heavy weight barreled into the wolf’s side, sending him crashing into a stone slab. His vision blurred. The world tilted.

His opponent was on him in a flash. The wolf swiped out his paw, clawing at his attacker’s muzzle, sinking his claws deep. Warm blood spurted. The enemy jerked back with a yelp. Taking advantage, the wolf quickly righted himself. They both pounced.

The wolf hurt. Claws and teeth ripped through skin, tore muscle, and scraped bone. His opponent was brutal. He fought just as brutally. Each yelp of pain and spray of blood from his enemy spurred the wolf on. Paws repeatedly attempted to grab the wolf’s neck and wrestle him to the ground. The wolf fought every attempt.

It was hard not to be distracted by his mate’s fear—and his fear for her. But he had to shelve it, just as he shelved his pain. His focus needed to be on the enemy in front of him, who tore yet another strip out of the wolf’s side.

With a snarl of rage, the wolf lunged. He wrestled the enemy to the ground and used a rear paw to slice open his belly while he bit down on his throat. Under him the body went lax and the heart thudded to a stop.

Triumph flooded the wolf. He leaped to his feet in time to watch his Alpha pin an enemy flat on its back and clamp his jaws around a throat he quickly he tore out. The wolf growled his approval.

He took a moment to look around. Through the dust clouds, he saw the savaged bodies sprawled on the ground, throats torn out, bellies slashed open. None belonged to his pack mates. They—

He heard a familiar yelp. Turned to see his pack mate, “Ryan,” being savagely raked by two enemies. One of the scents wrenched a snarl out of him. Morelli.

Laughing hysterically, Cruz said, “I fired at your feet on purpose, in case you’re wondering. I didn’t miss.”

Frankie’s wolf bared her teeth. “Then why bother shooting at all?”

“Once I kill you, it’s over. I’m enjoying your fear. There’s power in causing such fear in another person.”

“Christopher wouldn’t have wanted this,” Lydia said, shaking her head sadly.

“But he’ll forgive it,” said Cruz. “He loved me, like I loved him.”

Frankie snickered, an angry flush marking her cheeks. “You can stop with this bullshit about how much you loved Christopher. You killed him, and then you framed him for my mother’s murder.”

His eyes hardened. “I wouldn’t have had to if Caroline had just left like she was supposed to,” he snapped, defensive. “She didn’t care that she was making him live a lie. Didn’t care that he wouldn’t have been happy with her in the long run.” He shook his head madly. “She fooled him into thinking they were true mates. But I knew that wasn’t true. I told her that. I tried to reason with her, tried to make her see that she didn’t belong here, just like her parents and her brother did. She said I was crazy and that Christopher would never be mine. Before I even thought about it, I’d pulled out the gun.”

As Frankie looked down the barrel of this gun, muscles tight with fear, she had a pretty good idea of how Caroline had felt.

“Oh, she changed her tune then,” he went on with a chuckle. “Promised she’d leave and take you with her if I’d just put the gun down. I believed her. I was going to lower it. But then she dived at me with that damn knife, knocking the gun out of my hand. The next thing I knew, I was stabbing her in the chest with her own knife. But she was making too much noise, so I had to shut the bitch up.”

Frankie’s chest went tight as she pictured it—her mother bleeding, struggling, gasping for breath, scared out of her mind as big hands squeezed her throat. Frankie wanted to kill this motherfucker so bad. “Why kill him? Why?”

“He must have felt her pain through their bond, because he barged inside. She was dead by then, and he was weaving all over the place—the breaking of the mating bond hit him so hard, he could barely walk, let alone think straight. I talked to him, told him that her death was for the best, but it was like he couldn’t even see me. He just kept sobbing her name, begging her to wake up. He thought he could save her. Pulled the knife out of her chest and tried CP fucking R.”

And in doing so, thought Frankie, he’d gotten Caroline’s blood all over him.

“Then he seemed to snap out of it. He twisted and grabbed the gun I’d dropped on the floor. I knew he’d shoot me. He wasn’t thinking straight, you see. I came up behind him and gripped the hand holding the gun. I tried wrestling it from him. He might have overpowered me if he wasn’t weak and disoriented from the breaking of the bond.

“He wasn’t supposed to die. You hear me? He wasn’t. I just twisted his hand so that he was pointing the gun at his own temple. I did it to get his attention. To make him stop, think, and listen. To make him realize that he didn’t want to hurt me. But he kept on struggling and . . . it just went off. And then he was dead.”

Lydia whimpered, and Frankie risked a quick glance at her. The female’s body was trembling, and her breathing was quick and shallow. God, they needed to get out of there. Frankie’s muscles twitched with the need to act—to fight, run, hide, lunge, anything.

An ominous groan of wood made her stomach churn. The cabin shuddered, and dust sifted down through the cracks in the wooden beams of the ceiling, hitting her face and creeping down her collar. She couldn’t even bat at it. If she moved her hands, he’d fire.

The building was becoming more and more unstable by the minute. Every now and then she’d hear something twist, crack, or splinter. It was going to collapse, and then they’d all be trapped down there—that was, if they weren’t immediately killed by the impact.

There were other noises too. She could hear people outside—running around, shouting, and hopefully doing fucking something. Wanting to keep Cruz distracted, she said, “And you were heartbroken by Christopher’s death. So damn heartbroken that you confessed to the crimes. Oh no, wait, you blamed it all on him.” She ignored his growl. “Why didn’t you kill me too?”

“I would have,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were there at first. But then I turned and found you standing in the doorway. I wasn’t sure how much you’d seen, so I told you that your daddy killed her and himself and that I was here to get help. But then you ran, and I knew you’d seen something. People crashed inside—they’d heard the gunshot. I didn’t have time to go after you.” He tilted his head. “I don’t know why you never said my name and told people what you saw. Maybe your little mind just wanted to block it out. Maybe you didn’t know which of the triplets I was.”

Maybe she’d been experiencing the same choking, incapacitating, logic-stealing fear that was riding her now. It wasn’t just fear for herself and Lydia, it was fear for Trick. Frankie took a deep, controlled breath. God, she needed to think, plan, and—

Frankie heard the scrape of wood and a muffled curse. Someone was trying to clear the mess blocking the door, she thought. Hope briefly sparked in her belly . . . until she realized that Cruz had heard it too.

He roared. “If anyone tries to come in here to save these bitches, I’ll shoot their fucking faces off!”

Silence.

More dust slipped through the cracks in the ceiling and poured down on them. Squinting, he coughed, putting a fist to his mouth, lowering his hand for just a moment. It was the opening Frankie needed. She leaped at him and reached for the gun.

Flattening his ears, the wolf sprang at “Morelli.” With a renewed vigor, he slashed and bit as he fought. By now blood matted his fur, just as dirt muddied it. His rake wounds burned. His ravaged ear stung. His ribs—still sore from the crash—hurt with each heave of his chest.

Pain and blood loss were slowing him down. He didn’t care. His opponent would die. He would howl in agony. He would—

Something thudded into the wolf’s stomach. No. His mate’s stomach. An echo of her pain rippled through him. The wolf’s heart jumped. Panicked, he froze. His opponent took advantage and slammed into him. The wolf crashed to the ground, vulnerable, and—

Howls rang through the air, and then a number of wolves were running down the sloped walls. Not his pack mates, the wolf quickly realized. Their allies.

His enemy fled, taking him by surprise. The wolf jumped to his feet and pursued him, who scrambled over piles of rubble, kicking up dust. The wolf sneezed and growled, eyes itchy with the dust. He didn’t let it stop him.

He kept chasing his opponent. Wove through the construction cones. Ducked under the ropes. Leaped over wooden pallets. Hopped over wires. Almost crashed into scaffolding.

Pebbles and gravel dug into his paws. He ignored the pain and the wooziness. Kept running and running. His enemy slipped on a loose piece of shale, lost his footing. That was all the wolf needed. He lunged, maneuvered the other wolf onto his back, and—

Jaws clamped around the wolf’s leg and heaved him aside, allowing his opponent to leap to his feet and race away. Growling, the wolf spun and tackled the interferer onto his back. He delivered the killing bite, tasted blood. Dark satisfaction would have filled the wolf, but panic for his mate was still riding him.

He backed off the corpse, breaths sawing in and out of his heaving chest. He glanced around, searching for “Morelli.” Most of the other enemies had been taken down. He shook his fur, ridding himself of dust and dirt.

A sudden rumble filled the air, followed by the heavy scent of exhaust. The wolf whirled, narrowed his eyes. His opponent, back in his human form, was inside a truck. The engine revved. Something beeped. And then the truck charged him.

The wolf ran with the truck hot on his heels. He made a sharp turn. Tires screeched as the truck tried to follow. “Morelli” made the turn, but it slowed him down.

The wolf repeated the pattern. Ran. Sharply turned. Evaded and slowed the truck. On the third run, the truck didn’t turn fast enough. It clipped a crane. The large piece of equipment shook. Wobbled. Then toppled on top of the truck.

Trick leaped to the surface, wincing as every injury on his body blazed with agony. He hobbled to the truck, dragged a dazed Morelli out of the driver’s seat, and tossed him on the ground. The other shifters gathered around Morelli, some still in their wolf forms. All were breathing hard and covered in bites, rake marks, and blood. And all were glaring at the bastard with hatred and lethal intent in their eyes.

“I wanted to be the one to kill you,” Trick told him. He’d dreamed of it, fantasized about it, planned just how much pain he’d exact on Morelli. But right then, vengeance didn’t seem so important. Not when the pull to be with Frankie was so much more powerful.

“Is that so?” Morelli didn’t try to rise. He shot nervous glances at the growling wolves, eyes hard, chest heaving.

“Yeah. I wanted to take my time with you, make you suffer long and hard. But I don’t have the time for that, and there’s no fucking way I’ll give you a swift execution. Tonight, three of my pack mates and several of my allies could have died. Our mates would probably have died along with us. You would have killed other members of my pack—including the pups—and then stolen our territory. So I’d say all these wolves here have the right to make you bleed.” As one, the wolves leaped at him.

Trick turned his back as Morelli screamed and gargled while the wolves growled and snarled. He had something much more important on his mind. “I gotta get out of here,” he told Trey, who was currently being healed by Ally. “Frankie’s been shot.”

“Shot?”echoed Trey.

Not giving a shit that he’d be leaving them an SUV short, Trick hiked up the rough, sloped walls. Each step he took hurt like a bitch, pulling on his rake wounds and sending pain blazing up and down his fractured leg.

“Wait!” Ally called out. He didn’t stop, but—uninjured—she easily caught up to him and put a hand on his arm, sending healing energy trickling through him as she spoke. “Taryn should be with her by now, Trick.”

“Taryn?”

“Yes. She called us after she got Ryan’s alert—our territory was closer to your location, so she asked us to go to you. She wanted to get to Frankie. Apparently Cam called Taryn to tell her that Cruz was keeping Frankie and Lydia trapped in the basement of her old cabin. If she’s been shot, Taryn will heal her.”

Reaching the top of the incline, Trick made a beeline for the nearest vehicle. “She’s hurt and she’s scared. Taryn hasn’t healed her, which means Cruz still has her at what I’m assuming is fucking gunpoint, considering she’s been shot.” Trick spit on the ground, grimacing at the tastes of sand and blood. At least his pain had lessened. “I need a phone so I can call Taryn.”

Just as Ally handed him her phone, the others joined them.

“If Frankie’s been shot, we’re all going,” declared Trey, chucking Trick’s clothes at him—it was only then that Trick realized he was naked.

Quickly, he dragged on his shirt and jeans, and then everyone packed themselves into the two SUVs. The badly injured went in one SUV with Ally to be healed; the rest of them hopped into the other.

Riding shotgun while Zander drove like a madman, Trick used Ally’s cell to phone Taryn. He put the phone to his ear and waited. And waited. He frowned. “She’s not answering.”

“Try Cam,” Trey advised.

He dialed the wolf’s number and then waited, fists clenched. When Cam answered, Trick immediately asked, “Cam, what’s going on? Where’s Frankie?”

“She’s still trapped in the basement with Lydia,” Cam said, distress in every word. “We can’t get inside. Cruz rigged the front and back porches; both collapsed and blocked the doors. The explosions weakened the cabin, and I don’t think it’ll stay standing for much longer. Marcus tried to get inside, but Cruz lost his shit and threatened to shoot Lydia and Frankie if we try. Then . . . I don’t know what happened. We heard a gunshot.”

“He shot Frankie in the stomach,” Trick managed to grit out. Her pain pulsed down their bond, and his wolf raged inside him.

“Oh Jesus. Trick, we can’t get in there.” There was muttering in the background, and then another voice came on the phone.

“Trick, it’s Marcus. Man, I’m so fucking sorry. Cruz paid some juveniles to distract us; they didn’t know why he did it, they thought he just wanted to yank our chains, but—” He swore. “God, Trick, I really am so fucking sorry.”

He didn’t blame Marcus, he didn’t, but he also didn’t have any words of reassurance to give him while panic and anger were clawing at him. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon. Do whatever you have to do, Marcus, but get in there and get her out.”

Crouched on the floor beside Frankie, Lydia pressed her hands on the wound on Frankie’s stomach and let out a sob. “Oh God, Frankie, I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” said Cruz. “That was the whole point of me shooting the bitch.” He smiled down at Frankie. “I’ve heard that a gut shot hurts like holy hell.”

It did. The pain was unlike anything Frankie had ever felt in her life—it was as if something molten had exploded in her stomach. She didn’t know whether Lydia’s efforts were paying off or not, but warm blood had soaked her shirt and dripped onto the concrete below.

The wound throbbed with every breath until it was like one giant, aching pulse. Tears filled her eyes, and her lips trembled. Deep inside her, her wolf panicked.

Above them wood creaked and moaned. It sounded like frames were scraping against each other. The walls were becoming weaker and weaker. She heard a hissing sound. A broken pipe? She wasn’t sure.

Morbid glee dancing in his eyes, Cruz taunted, “That bullet tore through your stomach, which means all the acid and bile is loose.”

Bastard. She winced as Lydia’s hands pressed harder on her wound, and he seemed to absolutely relish the sound of Frankie’s pain. Her wolf sneered, wanting out, wanting the taste of his blood in her mouth.

“Cruz?” a voice called out. “Cruz?”

It was Clara. The glee cleared from his eyes, and for a single moment he looked lost and sad. But then his cheeks flushed and he shook his head. “You’re not here!” he bellowed.

“Son, please come out here,” Clara begged, sounding heartbroken. “Come on, everything will be fine.”

The hand holding the gun twitched. “No, it won’t! Nothing’s been fine for a long time!”

“Cruz, we can fix whatever is wrong. We can. Just come out. Please.”

He shook his head again. “It can’t be fixed! You can’t bring Christopher back! No one can!”

“Let the girls go, Cruz. They haven’t done anything to hurt you.” She paused. “Let me come in and talk to you.”

With a roar Cruz fired at the ceiling. “No one comes in here!” He fired again and again and again. Debris rained down on them, stinging Frankie’s eyes and pounding at her skin—

A loud crack split the air.

The basement window shattered.

Cruz roared again as his body jerked forward like he’d been shoved.

Frankie could only stare at him, completely stunned. Eyes wide in disbelief, he dropped to his knees. He blinked rapidly, let out an animalistic grunt. And then he slumped forward. That was when she noticed the blood blooming on the back of his T-shirt, and she understood he’d been shot.

Marcus appeared at the window and elbowed the rest of the broken glass away. “Come on, we have to get you out now.”

Frankie hissed as Lydia carefully pulled her to her feet. Wooziness slammed into her head, making her knees buckle.

Lydia bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Frankie, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said through gritted teeth. Lie. The room was spinning, and her head felt . . . fuzzy. “Get to the window.” She blinked rapidly, trying to focus on Marcus, trying to fight the darkness heading her way. She would not pass out. Not when they were so close to freedom. Not when the cabin was still creaking, and bits of debris were still falling.

Reaching the window, Lydia made a sound of frustration. “Marcus, there’s nothing for us to stand on. You’ll have to pull us up.” He hung over and reached out with both hands. Lydia gestured for Frankie to go first, but she shook her head.

“Not leaving you,” mumbled Frankie. “We go together. The window’s wide enough for us both to fit through.”

“She’s right,” said Marcus. “Now move.”

Lydia slung Frankie’s arm around her neck, and then they each grabbed one of his hands. At Marcus’s direction they tried to “walk” up the wall with the tips of their shoes. The whole time, darkness beckoned to Frankie. It just hurt so fucking bad.

Finallytheir heads slid out the damn window. Frankie would have laughed in relief if Marcus hadn’t planted a chaste “Thank fucking God you’re okay and Trick won’t have to kill me” kiss on her mouth. Behind him Roni chuckled.

Cam appeared and literally hauled Lydia out the rest of the way. Marcus moved more carefully, mindful of Frankie’s wound and—

A hand locked on her ankle and yanked hard. She slipped, face grazing the wall, but she didn’t hit the floor. Marcus grabbed at her hands, and she latched on tight. Her fingers heated and stung from how tight his grip was, but she held on to him desperately.

Glancing down, she saw that Cruz had somehow crawled her way, and his long arm had stretched out just enough to reach her. She kicked at the hand seizing her ankle until, with a curse, he let go. Elation filled her—

The cabin again shuddered, creaking louder than before, and the ceiling above her cracked. Marcus’s eyes widened with realization. He tried pulling her up, but it was too late. Just as she let go of his hands and hit the concrete mere inches away from Cruz, someone yanked Marcus out of the way.

Frankie curled into a protective ball on the floor, shielding her head, as the world seemed to fall on top of her. Pain slammed into her arms, shoulders, legs, hands, feet—even the head she tried to protect.

Every part of her seemed to hurt, but that wasn’t what made her want to scream. She couldn’t move. Not even an inch. She was stuck. Trapped. In the dark. Her breath stuttered out of her just as her heart began racing like a wild horse. Panic choked her, squeezing her chest so tight she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. Her wolf let loose a primal howl.

Frankie told herself to calm down, but she couldn’t. Her breaths kept coming faster and faster. Her heart kept beating like crazy. Lights flashed before her eyes as her head swam. Then her body flushed and heat rushed to her head. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“Frankie!”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of Trick’s voice. She clung to it, using it as an anchor to calm herself.

“Frankie, talk to me!”

“Trick?” Her voice was weak and raspy, but she felt his relief down their bond.

More wood groaned and shuddered. That was when she realized that the whole building hadn’t collapsed yet, only the ceiling.

“Get out of the way, Marcus. She’ll be crushed if I don’t get her out!”

“We’ll get her out,” insisted Marcus.

“Baby, I need to hear your voice again so I can work out exactly where you are.”

“You’ll find me under a mound of debris,” she quipped, using humor to keep the panic at bay. “Cruz is only a few inches away, but I can’t see or hear him.”

“Okay, I think she’s directly beneath the window,” Trick said, voice muted. “It’s going to be hard not to stand on her. Be careful and try sliding to the side.”

“Got it,” Marcus agreed.

“Frankie, we’re coming in. Don’t move. Stay still.”

She did as he asked, listening as they slid through the window, hearing the debris rattle as their feet hit the floor. “You were hurt,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Frankie. Ally healed me. Let’s just worry about you.”

The weight on top of her jangled and shook and cracked. She waited and waited, silently praying that they’d find her. Soon a shaft of light shone through a small gap in the boards, and her heart leaped. Moments later a plank of wood was slid aside, and then Trick’s face was staring down at her.

Relief flashed in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. “Christ.” He blew out a breath. “Don’t move.”

“Hurry.” Because the wooden walls were creaking and splintering again. He and Marcus swiftly cleared the rest of the weight from her body, and then Trick snatched her up. A sob slipped out of her, and she tucked her face into his chest.

“Shh, baby, I got you. You’re okay.” He kissed her head. “We have to go. Look up and reach for Trey.”

She fisted his shirt. “No, you can’t stay here. You have to come. You’ll get crushed.”

“I’ll be right behind you, baby, I swear it. Now reach for Trey.”

Not wanting to waste time arguing, she did as he asked. The Alpha carefully pulled her the rest of the way out. The fresh air hit her face, and a tremor ran through her body. Lying on the ground, she greedily inhaled, gasping in huge gulps of air. Every gasp made the wound on her stomach throb and burn, but she couldn’t quite stop.

“Breathe slow or you’ll pass out.” With Marcus at his side, Trick scooped her up and moved her far away from the cabin to where the others waited anxiously. “Taryn—”

A roar split the air as wood came crashing down—snapping, splitting, cracking, and thudding. The cabin literally caved in on itself, sending debris and dust everywhere.

“Well, fuck,” muttered Marcus.

“Lay her down, Trick. I’ll heal her.” Taryn smiled at Frankie when he rested her on the grass. “Good to have you back. We were losing our minds out here, thinking we might not get to you in time. Did the bullet go straight through?” she asked Trick.

He nodded, having already checked. Taking Frankie’s hand, Trick slid up her T-shirt enough to see her bullet wound. He needed to watch as it closed, needed to see that she’d be okay. Impatiently he waited as his Alpha female healed her—all the while conscious that if his mate had been human, she might have been dead by now.

The moment she was fully healed, Trick cradled her on his lap. Shit, her heart was beating too fast and her breathing was now too damn shallow. He rocked her. “Breathe with me, Frankie.” She looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy. Her face was pale and clammy and made him want to punch something. His wolf paced, still edgy with panic.

“Who shot Cruz?” asked Frankie.

“Josh,” said Marcus, hovering. “He’s a crack shot.”

Trick recalled Cesar telling them that the Alpha kept a rifle as a keepsake. He made a mental note to thank Josh. Right then his only concern was his mate.

He smelled a familiar scent just before his mother crouched beside them. Her soft smile was all for Frankie as she held out a glass of water. “Here, baby girl, drink this.”

Trick took the glass and lifted Frankie just enough for her to sip at the drink. That was when Uma lightly smacked his head. He flinched. “Ow. What the fuck?”

“Don’t curse at me,” reprimanded Uma, her voice shaky. “My heart almost burst right out of my chest when you went through that window. I know you had to get to your mate, I understand you couldn’t leave her in there, and I’m glad that you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t just put me through hell.”

Completely stunned that she’d break down that way in public, Trick glanced at his father, who was standing beside her. Michael gave Trick a look that said “See, she loves you.”

Trick simply told her, “I’m okay.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not a sobbing wreck.”

Michael offered Frankie an affectionate smile. “Glad to see you’re all right.”

Uma took the glass back from Trick and stood, almost bumping Trey as she backed up. She lightly touched his arm. “Sorry, Trey.”

His Alpha blinked, clearly surprised that he hadn’t gotten his usual scowl. His brow creased as he said, “Um . . . no problem.”

People gathered around, checking on Frankie, gently petting her. When they finally cleared, Trick looked down at his mate and noticed that her eyelids were drooping. “Let’s get you home.”

“You got me out,” she whispered.

He frowned. “Of course I did. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he added, kissing a spot on her forehead that was free of dust and blood.

“You shouldn’t have come in after me. You could have been killed.”

He spoke against her mouth. “Frankie, you have to know there isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for you. Get that through your head.”

Her eyes suddenly filled. “Cruz killed them. He killed my parents. He was Christopher’s lover for a while.”

Trick’s brows lifted. “I would never have guessed.”

“Cruz believed my mother tricked Christopher into thinking they were mates. It was like the Rio situation magnified by a thousand.” Nose tingling, she sniffled. “I’m so fucking angry at Cruz, but a part of me is also relieved.”

“Because now you know the truth.”

“Yeah. And now I know that I really wasn’t holding back from you or the bond. I just hadn’t accepted my past because it would have meant accepting that my father was guilty. I so badly wanted it to have all been some big mistake.” That inner turmoil had felt like an elastic band around her chest for so long. “Now that I know it was, I can make my peace with everything. So you’d better brace yourself.” And the elastic band snapped.

“Brace for—?” A sharp impact slammed into Trick’s head and chest. His world briefly shook and dimmed, but there was no pain. And suddenly it was like she was inside him. Their bond had clicked fully into place, and a relieved breath shuddered out of his wolf. “About fucking time.”

She chuckled weakly. “Yeah, it is.” Her wolf pushed against her skin to rub up against him, soaking up his warmth.

“Home. We’re going home.” Keeping her in his arms, Trick stood just as Josh approached them. “I heard what you did. I’m in your debt.”

“You’re my brother’s pack mate—there’s no debt.” Josh cast the wrecked cabin a look. “I think it’s safe to say that Cruz didn’t survive that. If he did, he’s all yours.”