“They want the baby. Hell, Jessa, the baby, Oscar, and Ellen, too. Jessa’s in labor—they’re vul
nerable.” Mal shook his head, his stomach turning to lead. “If Cyrus is as obsessed with breeding the pack as Ellen says he is…”
“Jessa’s like a magic decoder ring,” Anders finished. “Shit. Drive man. Drive.”
Mal shut the world out. His wolf wanted blood, and Mal wasn’t going to hold him back. As soon as the SUV slammed to a stop, he jumped out. “Big guns. Lots of silver,” he yelled at Gentry. “Be ready.”
He started running, shifting as he went. His wolf sped up, flying across the ground. Anders and Dante were close behind, feeling the need to hunt.
His wolf scented Olivia immediately, drawing her in as he tore across the ground. There was no time to waste—
A gun shot—muffled but distinct—echoed in the trees. Then another.
He almost stumbled, his heart coming to an abrupt halt. It wasn’t Olivia. He’d know if it were. She was strong and alive and full of fight. She needed him, and he wasn’t going to let her down. His wolf focused on fury. His vision faded to red, the thud of his heart pulsing heavily in his ears, his nose sorting through the earth and must of the forest. Focus, not fear, would keep him moving—and strong.
The scent of the Others forced a shudder down his spine.
One Other in particular. Byron the butcher. His wolf snapped his jaws, craving the fight. Not yet, not yet. He slowed, exchanged a look with Anders and Dante, and headed through the ravine. They moved on silent feet, alert and ready. His wolf did his best to sneak up, find an angle, look for a weakness—but all he could think about was getting to Olivia.
Blood, so much blood. His nostrils burned from the metallic tang in the air.
Byron liked to make his victims bleed.
His wolf tensed, ready to spring, but Mal reined him in again. A quick glance told him Byron wasn’t alone.
He didn’t recognize them—two nameless Other drones doing Cyrus’s bidding.
Olivia. Naked. Shivering. Her hair gripped tight by one of the men. Mal’s wolf would take great pleasure in removing that hand.
Anders nudged his haunch, forcing Mal to focus.
Byron held a gun in his hand. And, fuck, Brown lay on the ground in a pool of blood. Tess lay beside him.
“She said they were coming,” the one holding Olivia said.
“Of course she did. Let go of her before you damage her.” Byron smiled at Olivia. “What else can she say?”
“That you’re going to die.” She spoke slowly, clearly. She was beautiful and fierce, staring Byron down. Pride rolled over him. This was his mate. Why hadn’t he recognized what she was capable of instead of trying to shelter her?
Byron’s eyes narrowed. “Are you going to kill me, little wolf?”
It took everything Mal had not to charge. The fucking smirk on Byron’s face was all too familiar. Every time he’d filleted his back, he’d looked like that—smug, taunting, and fearless.
“You have a gun,” Olivia argued. “Hardly a fair fight.”
“Hardly a fair fight?” Byron laughed, tossing the gun onto the ground. “Now it is? You like to fight, little wolf?”
Olivia scowled at him. “I can fight.”
Byron sighed. “I’d enjoy your fight. If Cyrus didn’t want you for himself, I’d take you. Again and again.” He leaned forward, stroking her cheek, then her collarbone. “But an Alpha has certain rights.” His gaze fell to her breasts, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Mal saw red. His wolf’s control was gone. He leaped through the air, closing the distance between him and Byron in a matter of steps. He saw the surprise in Byron’s eyes, then the anticipation. As much as he wanted to go for the bastard’s jugular, he needed Olivia safe.
But she had other ideas. She shifted, chasing the dumbass that had tried to hold her captive.
His wolf was amused. Olivia could handle things. He needed to let her.
The wolf cared about one thing: killing Byron. There were no silver blades or collars to weaken him this time. He couldn’t wait to show the son of a bitch a thing or two about karma. He stepped back, wanting him to shift. Byron nodded, the condescending smile on his face adding fire to Mal’s already blazing rage.