It didn’t take long for the blood loss and aconite poisoning to do their job, and Caius let the lifeless body slump to the ground. He glanced back, but Quinn had already found his own way in. Likely to find the breaker or another way to cause chaos.
The door was unlocked, and he let himself inside, flexing his hand until claws appeared and using the enhanced strength to twist the handle. That should slow down anyone trying to get in or out.
He turned and found five of Kostas’ pack in the living room. Three were on their feet, finally noticing something was wrong. He adjusted his dagger and readied himself, but they all froze, their eyes widening with recognition.
“Where is he?” Caius demanded, not bothering to clarify who. He’d take either Kostas or Max right then.
Movement behind him made him spin and raise his dagger against an attack that wasn’t there. At least not physically. A wall of water slammed into him. The force was enough that he skidded across the living room. Hands grabbed his arms, and he twisted the dagger around, feeling it sink into flesh even as the water coalesced around his head to drown him.
Like hell he was dying here. He wasn’t going to let his uncle get away with this, and he sure as hell wasn’t abandoning Max.
The water heated quickly, and he knew if he didn’t drown, he’d die of shock from severe burns soon. He forced his eyes open despite theburning pain and yanked his dagger free. There was a shadow of a figure in front of him, and he prayed it was the mage as he followed through with the momentum and threw the dagger.
Water surged in front of her and hardened to ice, but not fast enough. The dagger sliced through without slowing until it came to a stop in her chest.
The bubble around Caius’ head exploded outward, and he gasped for air, turning to the wolf still gripping his left arm. He didn’t bother pulling his other dagger free. Instead, he twisted enough to slam his head into the other man’s face, then punched him in the throat when he stumbled back.
“Kostas!” he yelled, kicking the man’s knee and hearing it snap before turning to the others.
Two were still sitting with shocked expressions, the third who’d stood lifting his hands up in surrender.
Caius hesitated as he got a decent look at them. They were young. Far too young to be caught up in this. He didn’t recall any of them from before he left for the Marines over twenty years ago, but he doubted they would have even been born then.
None of them made a move to attack, and he was grateful for it; he hated killing kids.
“Where?” he snarled, but he didn’t need a response. He caught his uncle’s scent and spun around, moving to the other side of the room as he listened to the deliberately slow footsteps echoing down the hall.
He glanced at the mage where she’d fallen to the floor. Her eyes were unfocused, but she was still breathing, her chest spasming with short, sharp gasps. She clutched at the knife with one hand, where barely any blood was soaking her shirt. If she managed to use her magic to keep herself alive, they could use her to find those in the Order responsible for this, but he turned his attention to his uncle as he stepped into the room.
If he’d been younger, the blatantly disappointed look might have chastised him. Now it only pissed him off. “You took a member of my pack.”
“He’s mine now. You should have protected him better.”
Caius startled as the words punched through his chest, not only because they were true, but because they were an echo of what Kostas said to his father when his mother died. “Fucking bastard,” he hissed.
With a quick, fluid motion, he pulled the second dagger free and hurled it at Kostas. He didn’t expect it to find its mark; he only needed the few seconds of distraction. The sharp hiss as the blade at least cut flesh was satisfying enough.
His shirt ripped in his haste to toss it aside, and he kicked his pants away as he shifted. It’d been a year since he’d last let his wolf free. A year since the injury that resulted in his medical discharge. The silver-blue veins of aconite poisoning were bad enough in his human form, limiting his arm’s range of motion. He had no idea how badly it would hamper his movements as a wolf, but the added speed, agility, and strength would surely make up for it.
The world readjusted as he landed on four paws, and he breathed deep. The three younger wolves were still petrified behind him, their fear turning the air sour. He knew that fear wasn’t because of him. They were likely terrified of the punishment Kostas was sure to deal out for them not dying with the others.
The dagger clattered to the floor, and Caius focused on the wound where it had sunk into his uncle’s arm. He had to fight back the instinct to attack there. Blood meant weakness, but the aconite could poison him just as easily if he came in contact with the wound.
Instead, he focused on Kostas’ leg, launching himself across the room as his uncle began to shift, but it was immediately apparent how slow Kostas was. Slow enough that Caius clamped onto Kostas’ thigh, his teeth sinking into the mostly human flesh. Blood filled his mouth and he snarled, shaking his head to rend muscle and do as much damage as possible before he let go. He jumped back as flesh turned to fur and Kostas finished his shift with a howl.
Already, his left foreleg ached, a mild burn flooding his senses as the aconite still in his body stabilized, but there was no searing pain. No hissing of his blood as the poison activated. The doctors had promised they’d rendered the remnants inert, but there’d always been a lingering fear ofwhat if.
He may not have had much to live for a year ago, but he never reached the point of actively seeking death.
Kostas shook himself and growled as he limped around Caius.
He snarled as he moved to keep Kostas in his sight, letting his uncle’s blood drip from his teeth. The sour tang of fear spiked from thethree watching, and he distantly wondered if this was their first time seeing a true fight between alphas. One that could only end in death.
Kostas stumbled and Caius hunched, ready to pounce on the moment of weakness, but his battle instincts from two decades in the Marines urged him not to. Those instincts proved to be right as Kostas bared his teeth and leapt, driving Caius to the ground despite his efforts to dodge.
They rolled, claws and teeth ripping fur and flesh. Teeth sank into his bad shoulder. His claws raked across Kostas’ belly. Blood spilled hot from their wounds before they broke apart.
Then he heard the distant report of a rifle firing, right before something exploded.
