He was beginning to think this was how the world would end, in a sea of red, when the wolf he was stalking tucked his tail between his hindquarters and ran. As the rest of them followed—those that could—Matt looked around to find Cale had disappeared. Gone to ground, no doubt, while Matt had been fighting for his life, and those of his pack. And now that Cale was safe, the rest of his pack was following him.
He turned to his own pack. They were still standing. Bloodied, battered, butalive. Something rushed up inside him, threatening to choke him, and it took him a moment to recognize it as relief. This wasn’t Cheyenne. There, he hadn’t been fast enough, strong enough. There, he’d failed them.
But here, they were still standing. His brave, ragtag, wonderful pack. They were bloodied and exhausted, and Karl looked to be struggling to stay on his feet, but they were unbowed. They were safe.Jessewas safe.
Pride and triumph swelled until it burst from him. He threw back his head and howled into the night, a sound of victory and joy. He didn’t even care that Cale was still alive. He’d been defeated in front of his pack. He wouldn’t return.
They started slowly back toward the house. Christian’s fur was stiff with blood, but most of it didn’t seem to be his. Close beside him, Dave was limping, his coat flecked with dark red spots, and he held his head high—he’d given a good accounting of himself. Jason was evidently hurting from a long slash in his side, yet he, too, was moving with assurance and pride. Bryce seemed to be unscathed, though Matt would be checking that later for himself.
Karl, for once in the middle of the pack rather than guarding them from the outside, was the worst hurt of them all. He was limping badly, and his breathing was short and uneven. The sooner they got back and Matt could have a look at his injuries, the happier he’d be.
As they approached the ridge marking the descent to the house, Matt took one final look around his pack in the moonlight. With a sudden fierceness, he wanted his mate. Wanted Jesse’s scent to fill his nostrils, to have Jesse beside him, for them to be running as one under the moon.
And he wanted his entire pack together. Tristan’s nose would undoubtedly be into everything they passed as he wriggled with delight at what he found, and Jesse’s coat would be shining silver, turning him into a legendary creature of ancient myth and magic. An impression which would last right up to the moment he opened his damn stubborn mouth and picked a fight with someone.
Matt was weary to the bone. He’d lost a lot of blood, and some of his wounds would need attention before he could sleep and let his healing start its work, but despite that, joy bubbled deep inside him. He’d known he couldn’t hold Jesse here, but Jesse hadchosento stay. Had chosenMatt…His breathing was unsteady for a different reason as he thought about it. About Jesse stayingwith him. About Jesse waiting for him right now.
Leading his pack up the ridge, he looked down the hill, toward his home and his mate. He was breathing heavily, his body aching from the fight—but when he saw it, everything stopped.
The back door. Torn wide open. Hanging from its hinges at a drunken angle.
His heart slammed once, hard.
Cale’s retreat hadn’t been surrender. He’d never needed to win the fight. Not when he’d already taken what he wanted.
Jesse.
Chapter Twenty-nine
MATT
A snarl burst from deep inside Matt as he raced down the field, clods flying beneath his paws. Muscles straining, he ran for his life. Ran for his mate, whose name was in every beat of his heart.
He tore through the kitchen, silent and swift, blood scent already thick in the air. The house was wrong.
He sidestepped the blood on the hallway floor, refusing to believe it was Jesse’s or Tristan’s. Instead, he followed the scent of intruders, heart hammering against his ribs.
The pack was close behind him as he reached the living room doorway, but his attention was focused on the defiant wolf who was snarling and snapping, daring any of the three big wolves who had him cornered to come a step closer. Tristan’s hackles were up, his teeth bared, and savage fury burned in his eyes.
When Matt saw what Tristan was protecting, he understood. Jesse lay limp on the floor behind him, his blood puddled on the floorboards.
Matt flung himself silently at the wolf closest to Tristan, ripping into him with lethal precision. The world narrowed to snarls and ragged growls, and blood hot in his mouth, until the wolf beneath him stilled.
He looked up. The intruders were gone, the room thick with blood and panic. Karl was with Tristan, turning his shoulder into the younger wolf’s space, letting Tristan’s snapping jaws meet fur instead of flesh, pushing him gently, persistently, back from Jesse’s side.
But Tristan wouldn’t yield, no longer able to tell friend from foe.
Matt surged forward, growling low. That broke through. Recognition flickered in Tristan’s eyes, and he dropped low, stomach brushing the floor, submitting.
Matt didn’t spare him another glance. He was at Jesse’s side in an instant, nudging at him, seeing the deep slice in his belly where it looked like he’d been torn half open. He gently bumped Jesse’s face, licking at him, making soft, desperate attempts to get him to wake.
Jesse’s eyes opened slowly, and he saw Matt. The look in his eyes broke Matt—so much relief, and love, and apology. And then his eyes closed again, his side scarcely moving with each shallow, uneven gasp.
Matt let out a desperate, high-pitched whine—instinctive, primal. He nosed under Jesse’s chin, lifting his head, willing him to stay awake.Stay here.
For one fleeting second, Jesse’s tongue flicked out, a weak lick against Matt’s muzzle. And then his head lolled back, slipping from Matt’s touch.
A low sobbing moan escaped Matt, for this was beyond bearing. He pointed his muzzle to the sky in a long, agonized cry of loss and fury.
