Reese hit the alpha from behind, his full weight driving the hyena to the floor. Bones cracked under the impact. The alpha tried to twist around, tried to get his jaws into position, but Reese’s teeth were already at his throat.
The hyena’s struggles weakened with the loss of blood. His eyes, wild with rage, found Reese’s. There was recognition, understanding that this was the end. That he’d pushed too far, threatened the wrong shifter’s mate.
Reese’s jaws tightened. The struggles finally stopped. The light faded from the hyena’s eyes. Reese held on for several more seconds, making sure the kill was complete, before releasing him.
The warehouse was silent except for the sound of four predators breathing. At least twelve hyenas dead. Maybe more. Reese’s bear didn’t care about the exact count. All that mattered was the threat was eliminated.
Grayson shifted back to human form. “That’s all of them. The ones who ran the fights, the ones who came after Sonny. They won’t be a problem anymore.”
Somehow Reese doubted that. There was always someone willing to take over.
Reese shifted, the bullet wounds on the mend. A few more hours in his animal form and he would be fully healed.. His body ached from the fight, muscles protesting, but the satisfaction burning through him made the discomfort irrelevant.
His mate was safe from the hyenas he’d worked for. Anyone else who came after Sonny would meet the same fate.
Reese looked around the warehouse one final time, thankful for the absence of dogs. They’d lost their prize fighters and clearly hadn’t replaced Hercules and Delilah yet.
They left through the main entrance, four naked men walking through the industrial district. The night air was cool against Reese’s skin, raising goosebumps across his arms and legs.
The walk back felt longer than the approach had been. Adrenaline was fading, leaving exhaustion in its wake. His steps were steady but slower than usual, his focus narrowing to the simple act of moving forward.
Streetlights cast orange pools across the cracked pavement. Trash crunched under bare feet, the sharp edges of pebbles biting into skin. The air smelled like exhaust and rotting garbage, scents that Reese couldn’t wait to get away from.
His thoughts had already turned toward home, toward Sonny waiting with the dogs. His mate would be worried, probably pacing the living room, checking the windows every few minutes.
The truck appeared ahead, exactly where they’d left it. Grayson pulled spare clothes from a storage compartment in the bed, tossing items to each of them. Reese pulled on jeans and a shirt, his movements stiff.
The drive back was silent. Grayson navigated through empty streets, heading toward the residential area where safety and home waited. Reese stared out the window, watching the town pass by. Lights in windows showed families settling in for the night, completely unaware of the violence that had just occurred blocks away.
Grayson pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The house was lit up, every window glowing. Ryan appeared on the porch before they’d even exited the truck, his expression shifting from worry to relief when he saw them all intact.
Reese headed for the door, his body moving on autopilot. His mind was already inside, already reaching for his mate.
Sonny stood in the entryway, his hazel eyes scanning Reese from head to toe, taking in the blood stains, exhaustion probably evident in every line of his body. His mate fell into his arms. Reese held his bunny close, as Sonny murmured that he was thankful Reese had made it back alive.
Chapter Ten
Weeks passed, and now it was time for Hercules to get his ribs taken care of. The waiting room at Crimson Hollow Veterinary Clinic was empty, making it easier to pace uninterrupted.. Anything to keep his brain occupied while Hercules was somewhere in the back having his ribs reset.
Sonny’s feet carried him from one end of the waiting room to the other for what had to be the hundredth time. Maybe two hundredth. He’d lost count somewhere around the forty-minute mark. His sneakers—Reese had taken him shopping last week—squeaked against the linoleum with each turn. The sound was annoying, but he couldn’t make himself stop moving.
Delilah whined from her position on the floor near Reese’s chair. The sound was thin and worried, tracking Sonny’s movements. She’d been making that noise since they’d taken Hercules into the surgical suite, a continuous loop of distress that made Sonny’s bunny want to bolt.
“He’s fine,” he said to her, his voice a little too high. “Dr. Sullivan is really good at this. Ryan said he’s done hundreds of these surgeries. Hercules is going to wake up and his ribs will be fixed and he’ll be able to breathe properly for the first time in weeks.”
Delilah whined again, as if unconvinced. Her tail stayed tucked against her body, her injured leg finally healed. The infection had completely cleared. But her anxiety about Hercules being separated from her was making every muscle in her body go taut.
Sonny knew exactly how she felt.
He turned at the wall and started another lap, this time worrying the hem of his shirt. The fabric was soft, one of the new shirts Reese had insisted on buying. It fit Sonny’s frame instead of hanging like a tent, the material a dark green that Reese had said matched his eyes. Sonny had rolled said eyes at the comment but secretly loved his mate noticed those kind of things.
Reese sat in one of the plastic chairs near the window, his large frame making the furniture look like it belonged in a dollhouse. His ice-blue eyes tracked Sonny’s pacing, but he didn’t comment, didn’t tell Sonny to sit down and relax. His mate seemed to understand that sitting still right now was impossible, that Sonny needed to move or his bunny would go nuts.
“What if something goes wrong?” Sonny asked. His voice bounced off the walls, too loud in the quiet room. “What if his ribs are worse than the x-rays showed? What if he doesn’t wake up from the anesthesia? What if—”
“He’ll be fine.” Reese’s voice was reassuring. Not dismissive of Sonny’s fears but firm in his conviction. “Dr. Sullivan knows what he’s doing. Ryan’s in there assisting. Hercules is strong. He’s survived this long. He’ll survive the surgery.”
Sonny just wished he believed that. He wanted to trust the dog who’d been mistreated would make it through one more ordeal. But his brain kept conjuring worst-case scenarios, each one more terrible than the last. Hercules not waking up. Hercules waking up in pain. Hercules waking up and something vital being damaged beyond repair.
