The Helheim Wolf Pack Novellas: The Complete Collection Page 20

  “Good,” Hunter replied, ending the call. He stashed the device into one of his front pockets, then reached into the other duffel to pull out an underarm holster but stopped. The holster was too much of a neon sign that he was armed. Putting it back, he picked up his Glock, checked it was loaded, then shoved it into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. He bent down to put on his boots, where a knife went into the top of his right boot before he stood. Ben and Gia were talking softly, their heads close together. Seeing them like that made him want to roar with anger, to tear them apart, but he locked down those feelings because he wasn’t a goddamn animal. He was a male who had a fucking job to do.

  “Good to go?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Gia replied in that soft voice of hers. He wondered whether it was her natural tone and volume or whether she’d grown used to having to practically whisper around Mitchell. Maybe it was her therapist’s voice, although he was sure she would use something a little more commanding than that.

  He marched toward the door but stopped when someone started to pound on it. Throwing a caustic look over his shoulder at Ben, he snarled, “Did you fucking play us, Ben?”

  “How could I play you?” he asked sharply. “I didn’t know who you were fifteen minutes ago.”

  Dylan’s lips peeled back from his teeth. “Watch your fucking attitude.” He waited until Ben dropped his gaze like a good little wolf before opening the door. Jamming his body between the frame and the door, he barked, “What?” to the male standing in front of him. He looked a little harder and realized it was Leroy.

  “Mitchell wants to see you.”

  “Mitchell is cutting in on my fucking time here,” he snarled back, making sure his accent was back in place.

  Leroy dropped his gaze, then shrugged his shoulders in the universal body language equivalent of I’m just the messenger.

  “Fuck!”

  “He said to bring Gia with you.”

  “Wait here.” Slamming the door, he turned around. Gia’s expression was stricken, and Ben was working his jaw hard. “Gia, come on.” He focused on Ben, waiting for the male to meet his gaze. He motioned for him to stay quiet, then turned on the TV and pumped up the volume.

  In a low voice, he said into the male’s ear, “Take my rental to the fire trail at the back of the pack house. Wait for us there. I have a feeling shit is about to go down.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He began to nod but stopped. If this was it, he wanted his damn truck back. “There’s paperwork in the center console of the car. Take it back to the rental place on Elm and get my fucking truck back. Then meet us at the fire trail.”

  “Okay.”

  Dylan dropped the keys into his hand. “Take all our shit with you, too.” Then, turning to Gia, he said, “Let’s go before they break the fucking door down to get to you.” Terror lined her beautiful face, but there was nothing he could do to fix it this time around. He was going in blind. He had no idea what Mitchell wanted, and the fact that he didn’t fucking call to air his fucking concerns only made it more frustrating. Without another glance at Ben, he walked toward the door.

  Leaning in close to her ear, he whispered, “Be brave, Gia. I’m going to have to play my part again but know that I won’t let them take you again.”

  She nodded, but he smelled her tears. He could work with tears. Opening up the door, he roughly shoved Gia out in front of him then followed, slamming the door shut and throwing a filthy glare at Leroy.

  “I assume you’re driving us there,” he said in a bored voice. He didn’t have to act like he was pissed off. He fucking was pissed off.

  “Mitchell’s orders.” Leroy opened up the rear door for him and Gia, waiting for them to get in before slamming it shut. While the other male walked around to the driver’s side, Dylan said, “I fucking swear I’ll get you out of this.”

  “I know,” she whispered, but still, those tears continued to fall. Man, he felt fucking helpless. He inched a little closer until they were touching from thigh to shoulder, trying to lend her the strength she needed, if only for a brief second. As soon as Leroy got into the car, he distanced himself once more. Maintaining his cover was crucial.

  * * *

  They drove those fifteen minutes in utter silence, and it gave Dylan a lot of time to come up with some kind of plan. He had a gun and a knife on him. If his cover wasn’t blown, Mitchell would more than likely let him keep the weapons. If it was blown to fucking pieces, the alpha would have him searched and strip the mini arsenal from him. Dylan was fucking praying it was the former, but he was prepared for the latter too.

  When Leroy finally brought the car to a stop, he let them out, trailing behind them as they walked into the pack house.

  Mitchell greeted them in the sitting room, surrounded by at least twenty of his pack. Every single set of eyes was burning gold, and Gia whimpered.

  At her sound, Mitchell’s cold, dead eyes focused on her. “There’s my Gia. How are you, my love? Been treated well?”

  She said nothing.

  “What is the meaning of this? I have barely had twelve hours with the whore. I paid for forty-eight. Do you really want to be known as an alpha who can’t honor his word?”

  “Jesus, is that accent even real?” Mitchell asked, standing and prowling toward them. Gia slid in behind Dylan’s body, trying to make herself disappear.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Folding his arms over his chest, Dylan set his face into a scowl. “What’s going on?”

  He spun around when there was a surprised yelp. One of Mitchell’s wolves had Gia by the arm, restraining her. Anger bubbled and boiled within him, a new beast taking form under his skin. He had never felt this before—this need to protect. He realized he’d felt a whisper of it before when Casey was abducted, but this roaring need eclipsed that.

  Ten-fold.

  Shaking off the restraints of his human side, Dylan let his wolf out in his mind, giving it free rein.

  The male holding Gia loosened his grip when he saw it, but a quick bark of disapproval from Mitchell made him tighten his fingers once more.

  “Let her go,” he drawled in a low, calm voice—a voice that disguised his true desires to fucking decimate the other male. His gold eyes flashed as they landed on Mitchell over Dylan’s shoulder, looking for his next orders. When nothing happened, Dylan turned back to the alpha.

  Mitchell settled himself into one of the armchairs in the room, leaning back. Casual. Without a care in the world. “You know, Tanner did say something was up. Naturally, I wanted to investigate that, so I sent Ben in as his replacement.” His eyes flashed with his wolf. “It turned out I was right.”

  Dylan tightened his jaw but otherwise remained still.

  Crossing his legs at the knee, the alpha smiled like the cat that got the fucking canary. “As soon as my beta disappeared into your room, I knew something was up. There is no fucking Diego Antonio Pineda Villa and no fucking Mexican drug lord who’s a werewolf. So, tell me… who the fuck you are.”

  Shit. His cover was blown, but there was still a chance. The stupid cocky bastard hadn’t thought to disarm him, but just as he was about to reach for his Glock, it was yanked from the waistband of his pants.

  Fine. They wanted to do this the hard way? His darker side was more than willing to strap on his dance shoes.

  Peering over his shoulder at Gia, he let that anger fill him to revive him.

  “Don’t look at her,” Mitchell snarled. When Dylan refocused his attention on the alpha, he added, “Don’t fucking breathe near her. She’s mine.”

  Mine, his wolf snarled back.

  And now there was only one thing to do. Only one thing to get them out of this clusterfuck and that was by blood and brute strength.

  “I challenge you to a battle of dominance,” Dylan announced loudly, turning to look at every single one of Mitchell’s wolves. “Now.”

  He played his last strategy. If Mitchell refused, h
e’d be seen as weak. Any alpha who refused to fight for the control of his pack would be killed, and another, stronger male would be installed. If he agreed to fight, Dylan would have the advantage. He outweighed the bastard by a good fifty pounds, and he had a feeling the guy didn’t have the kind of skills Dylan had acquired over his career as Captain.

  Pain and misery were Dylan’s old friends.

  Torture and interrogation were his parents.

  And he had a fuck-ton of aggression to get out of his system.

  Behind him, Gia whimpered a little, and as much as he wanted to comfort her, he didn’t. He’d done that for Sara, and his distraction cost her her life. So, this time, he stayed focused.

  Mitchell watched him silently for a moment before rising from the chair. “Agreed.”

  Dylan had to work hard to keep the smile off his face. “We do this now. Outside.”

  Without waiting for the alpha to accept, he stalked from the room and out the front door. He stepped onto the gravel drive, surveying the landscape. The wind whipped at him as if mother nature was sending her own brand of cheering squad to help him along.

  There was a section of barely-growing grass and gravel to the left of the house, and Dylan chose that to be the location of this final battle. Because there was one thing he absolutely knew—Mitchell would be hauled off in a body bag after he was done with him and gravel did a bang-up job of soaking up blood.

  The other wolves filed out before Mitchell did, forming a kind of protective ‘V’ around their soon-to-be-dead alpha. Gia was forced to walk by her alpha’s side, a show of power even before they’d started.

  Dylan chewed the side of his cheek until he tasted blood. He was going to fucking bury the male.

  As they formed a two-man-deep circle around him, Mitchell made Gia take a front-row position. She looked at Dylan with wide eyes, terror making her already pale skin lose even more color. The energy around them vibrated with bloodlust, the sensation prickling his skin. Dragging a deep breath of cold air into his lungs, he idly thought that it would probably snow soon.

  The alpha stepped free of the ring of his wolves, his expression smug.

  He thought he could win this thing? Fine, let the ignorant fuck have his fantasies because Dylan was hell-bent on ending this and doing it today.

  The Helheim and Alfheim wolves would be sweeping through here in less than fourteen hours, and any loyalist stragglers will be taken care of then.

  “No interference,” he growled as Mitchell set foot into the sporadic crunchy grass and gravel arena Dylan had decided on. “No outside help. No fucking calling for Mommy when shit goes south for you.” He walked up to the alpha and put them nose to nose. “And it will go south.”

  “You talk a big game, but if I go down, you should know that my wolves will only ever be loyal to me.”

  Dylan smirked and let his malevolence leak out a little. “I have no problem putting them down, too.” Retreating a few steps back, he readied himself. He had never participated in a dominance battle before. In his pack, things were usually much more civilized with voting and support for a leader. But he wasn’t in his pack. Maine was a lawless state when it came to werewolves, and as such, he had to play by their lack of rules.

  Lowering his center of gravity, he waited and watched Mitchell. He was an inexperienced wolf as far as he could tell, but he wouldn’t put it past him to fight dirty. Well, that was good because Dylan was in the fucking mood to fight dirty too. Really fucking dirty—and bloody.

  His wolf was all-in too, bringing with it the kind of focus he craved. It was the focus that would guarantee survival, one that would hone down his instincts until all he had left were kill or be killed.

  Mitchell charged at him with an inarticulate cry on his lips. The savage wind snatched up the roar and took it away. Dylan braced himself as the other male’s body slammed into his. Mitchell had wanted to knock them over, to take the battle to the ground, but groundwork meant Mitchell had submission on his mind. Dylan stayed on his feet, using his arms and Mitchell’s own velocity to shove him onto the gravel.

  The guy was up a moment later, his eyes gleaming with ferocious gold. He came at Dylan again, this time with his fists raised. He ducked the first jab but was left gasping for air when Mitchell’s other fist slammed into his gut. He stayed upright, despite the pain winging through him.

  He’d let the male have that one shot.

  Just this once.

  They traded punches for at least an hour, Mitchell landing fewer than he received. Given their strength and stamina, this was going to be a long, drawn-out battle. When Mitchell clocked Dylan in the jaw, he tasted blood. Spitting it out onto the gravel, he wiped a hand over the back of his mouth and glared at Mitchell. The other male was sucking in O2 like it was in short supply, blood running down the side of his face from a cut to his eyebrow.

  Fury blazed in Mitchell’s eyes as he stared at Dylan. The bastard was a lot more tenacious than Dylan had given him credit for. The guy began to circle him, and he moved too, unwilling to give the alpha his back. When they’d made half a revolution, Mitchell said, “Now.”

  Gia screamed, and the sound of it made his blood run cold. He turned just in time to see Leroy running the tip of a knife down Gia’s face. Blood welled quickly, running down her face, and the knife continued its trip lower right to the corner of her mouth.

  Rage like Dylan had never known bubbled up inside him—a caustic blend of revenge and fucking insanity gnawing at him.

  Mitchell laughed, thinking he had gained the upper hand. All he’d managed to do was shove Dylan’s dark side into a place that had never been explored before. Usually, he used his anger like the weapon it was, but he kept it leashed with an ounce of civility. But once the alpha had brought Gia—his female—into the fray, Dylan had let that leash go, let it slip through his bloody fingers, then he smiled as he embraced the carnage that would reign.

  The alpha’s laugh cut off with a grunt as Dylan tackled him back into the ground. Straddling his waist, Dylan took his frustrations out with his fists, his knuckles splitting, their blood mingling as he beat the alpha to a bloody pulp. Mitchell tried to shove him off, pushing and pulling at Dylan’s shoulders to dislodge him. But it wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t let go of the jugular now.

  He was vaguely aware of the cheers and chants that had been for Mitchell’s benefit die away, leaving only the wind to whoop its triumph in Dylan’s favor.

  Mitchell’s limp hands dropped away from Dylan’s shoulders as the fight—and his life—drained from his body. He wasn’t so sure he wanted it to end now, though. He wasn’t sure Mitchell was even dead, so to make sure he was, Dylan pulled the knife from his boot and slammed it into the former alpha’s chest cavity. Skin, muscle, and eventually bone gave way to steel, the hilt coming to rest against his ribcage. One final breath escaped Mitchell’s mouth before it too went slack.

  Dylan’s breath was rushing out of his body just as quickly, and he licked his lips, tasting blood. He looked around at Gia, expecting to find disgust or fear, but that was not what he saw. As she held a hand against her raw, bloody skin, he saw her smile. Her wolf was sitting boldly in her eyes, and he knew that this was what she needed. She needed to know that Mitchell couldn’t hurt any more females. She needed to know that Dylan would go to the ends of the fucking earth for her, then he’d go a little further.

  Movement at the corner of his eye made him turn his head. Ben was running toward them. He must’ve felt the moment his alpha had died. Good. The bastard needed to be here for what was going to happen next.

  Lumbering to his feet, he took one last look at the damage he’d inflicted, then he scanned the crowd. Every single wolf dropped their gazes when he met their eyes, his dominance over them all well established.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gia’s breath left her in a steady stream, her eyes darting around to the faces of her pack who circled Dylan and the broken body of their former alpha. She had felt the tether of his
control evaporate into the ether as soon as the light had died from his eyes, causing her to shiver visibly.

  “Your alpha is dead,” Dylan announced loudly, his face savage. Seeing him like that called to her wolf, and she figured it was a biological response to the dominant male who had already sworn he would protect her. “You all have a choice… join him in death or welcome the new alpha. Serve him without question.” He eyed them all, waiting until their gazes dropped.

  When his eyes fixed on her, she met his stare, uncowed by him. It had nothing to do with dominance now. Gia could feel his wolf staring at her, the knowledge that they were equal in his eyes changed everything.

  Mate, her wolf whispered, stunning her. The thought of belonging to another male should have been abhorrent to her, but she knew—and her wolf knew—that Dylan was not her keeper. If anything, she had the power in this relationship. All she had to do was accept him, to accept him as her mate and as the male she wanted to dedicate her life to.

  Dylan’s gaze shifted between green and red, the man jostling for position, trying to decipher the look in her eyes. When she nodded ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth lifted into a barely-there smile.

  As the last of her pack bared their throat to Dylan, he pushed his shoulders back and sought someone out of the crowd.

  “Ben,” Dylan boomed, causing the beta to stumble away from the circle. “You will be alpha of the Maine territory known as the Rogue Wolves. All those who wish to stay will pledge their allegiance to you now. All those who don’t wish to remain, who still believe in Mitchell’s brand of leadership, will die right here, right now. No other pack will take you… I’ll make sure of that. They will know what you condoned with your silence.”

  The extreme ultimatum was harsh, but it made sense—at least to her. How could a pack become stable if there were some among them who wanted it to run in a different way?

  Dylan nodded to Ben, passing the reins to him. Ben caught her gaze for a heartbeat, a smile forming on his face. She nodded, tears welling in her eyes to see him stand there so proudly.