Max took off after them with a snarl, ignoring the gunfire erupting in the entryway of the clinic and the burning stench of the hunters’ poison as it hung in the air. He stayed low to the ground as he moved, his feet churning as he closed the distance between him and Lana. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gage’s team come in through the windows. One of them went down immediately, but Max didn’t see who it was.
Ahead of him, Boyd backed through the swinging doors of the OR, Lana firmly in his grasp. The hunter must have caught sight of Max coming his way because he turned and fired a few rounds in his direction. Lana shoved her shoulder into the man’s chest, throwing off his aim, and the bullets hit the floor in front of Max, shattering violently and spreading more of the poisonous mist, but he kept moving, ignoring the sting of the stuff against his skin and in his nose.
He was moving at full speed when he hit the swinging double doors, slamming through them. He dived to the floor and rolled, expecting a shower of poison bullets to come his way, but nothing happened.
Max came up, his weapon ready, but Boyd and Lana were nowhere in sight. The room was dark except for the light over Zane’s bed and those blinking on the monitors around him. Not that Max needed lights. His nose told him everything he needed to know.
Lana was on the other side of Zane’s bed. Max had learned in New Orleans that hunters used a spray to mask their scent, so although he couldn’t smell Boyd, he knew the asshole was with her.
He discovered he was right when Boyd popped up behind Zane’s bed, a squirming Lana grasped in his arms. The hunter had his weapon to the side of her head and a hand clasped over her mouth. Blood oozed between the man’s fingers, where Max’s soul mate must have bitten him.
Boyd ignored that, grinning at Max with a sick smile. Shit, Max thought. Boyd was going to kill Lana right in front of him, then take him out after forcing him to watch the woman he loved die.
Max charged, his fangs and claws coming out. Boyd’s eyes widened as Max crossed the distance between them in the space of two heartbeats. Max wondered how many times—if ever—the hunter had faced down an alpha. Judging by his reaction, the answer was probably never.
Cursing, Boyd swung his weapon on Max. Lana shoved her elbow in the man’s ribs as he fired the MP5 submachine gun, knocking his aim off a little, but Max was too close for it to make a difference.
He felt the initial sting as the small 9mm rounds from the MP5 hit him as he leaped across the bed in the center of the room and Zane’s comatose form. One hit him in the left side of the rib cage, one to the right of the sternum, and another in his right shoulder. He ignored the immediate bloom of burning pain that followed, knowing what it was and also knowing there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
Boyd tried to adjust his aim when he realized the first few shots that hit Max weren’t going to stop him, but by then, Max had cleared Zane’s bed and slammed into both Lana and the hunter. Max hated running into her so hard, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to get Boyd away from her. He accomplished that, sending Lana tumbling as he landed on Boyd and rode him to the ground.
The hunter tried to twist the barrel of his weapon around and get it pointed at Max’s head, but Max wasn’t going to let that happen. The pain of the poison coursing through his chest was already becoming unbearable, and his body was starting to shake. He didn’t have much time to end this.
Max reached out and grabbed Boyd’s right forearm, clamping down as hard as he could, then twisting so the man would drop his weapon. There was a snapping sound, then a roar of pain as the hunter’s arm broke. Boyd punched Max in the face with his free hand, trying to push Max off him.
Max ignored everything—the fire roaring through his chest, the tremors breaking out all over his body, even the asshole punching him in the face—and focused on what he needed to do to make sure Boyd never hurt anyone he loved ever again.
Grabbing Boyd by the hair, Max yanked his head to the side, then darted forward and sank his fangs into the hunter’s neck. He’d never done anything like that before, but he didn’t question the need now.
When Boyd was dead, Max pushed away from him, rolling onto the floor as his body started to convulse uncontrollably.
Lana was at his side in a heartbeat, screaming and crying as she pulled his upper body into her lap. She put her face close to his, and while he could see her mouth moving, he couldn’t hear what she was saying. All he could hear was the thrum of his rapidly weakening heartbeat.
But he didn’t need to hear what she was saying, because her face said it all.
“I love you, too,” he tried to say, but nothing came out.
Max opened his mouth to try again, but the pain was suddenly too much, and his whole body began to spasm.
Lana’s eyes went wide with terror, and at that moment, all Max could think was that he wished she didn’t have to see this.
* * *
Lana had known everything was going to crap when Boyd grabbed her and dragged her away from the doors. Then Max and the other SWAT alphas were swinging into the outer hallway, bullets flying everywhere, and for a moment, she allowed herself to believe this was all going to work out okay.
Then Max had smashed through the OR doors and Boyd had shot him.
From that moment forward, time had slowed to a crawl as Max had leaped over Zane’s unconscious form and slammed into her and the hunter. They’d all gone down in a heap, and by the time she’d scrambled up, it had only been to see Max ripping Boyd’s throat out.
Lana had barely reached his side before the poison-induced convulsions hit, twisting Max’s body so savagely she thought he might break his own spine. She’d seen where he’d been hit, and she knew it was bad. Trey had said it just the day before.
What happens the next time we tangle with the hunters and they put a poison bullet through a werewolf’s chest? He or she won’t live more than a couple minutes—if that.
Tears streaming down her face, she pulled Max into her lap and shouted for help even though she heard occasional shooting and fighting still going on outside the OR. But she couldn’t sit there and watch Max die. There had to be something she could do.
“I love you, damn it,” she told him. “Don’t you dare leave me!”
She pressed her hand to the wound in the center of his chest, hopelessly trying to stop the bleeding even as her palm stung from the poison pumping out of him along with his blood.
