Keeping low, I roll up the pants and unholster the small revolver strapped to his ankle. He mounts to his knees. I bite my lip, words evading me in the moment of terror. Every muscle in my body is trembling.
“Stay down,” he orders. And then he stands.
Bullets whizz by, another colliding with the strap of his vest. But Axe doesn’t falter—he puts down the shooter in half a second, followed by his partner. Solmuk seizes the moment to make a mad dash. Falling to my side, he reaches around the corner of the register counter but immediately retracts his weapon. “Shit,” he curses. “I’m out.”
A sudden jolt of adrenaline rattles through me, propelling me to my knees. Slowing my exhales, I ready my aim. Time grinds to a halt as I narrow in on my moving target: the client’s last guard, slowly approaching, gun pointed straight at Axe. He knows Solmuk’s clip is empty. He thinks there’s only one man standing in his way.
“Put it down, Skornokovy,” the client barks. “You’re done.”
“We can talk about lowering weapons if you let these two leave,” he counters.
The brawny male chuckles. His black eyes twinkle with amusement. “How about a new deal? Your pretty little girlfriend leaves with me, and in exchange I don’t bury the next bullet in her skull.”
Hitting its mark, the threat provokes the wolf beneath Axe’s skin. The next second, he flings himself over the counter. The client pulls the trigger as he’s tackled, diverting the bullet straight through the computer on the far end of the counter. Axe makes quick work of disarming him, landing a nasty punch on the jaw. He hollers from the impact, giving the Alpha the perfect opportunity to wrap his massive hands around the man’s throat.
As the last gunman scoops his weapon off the ground and raises his arm, my finger finds the trigger. Pulse throbbing in myears, I curl it around the lever. The silver bullet passes straight through the male’s bicep. Wailing in pain, his gun clatters to the floor. I put another two bullets through his thigh to pin him down.
Just as Axe is about to crush the man’s trachea, there’s movement from a body across the room. Two bullets remain lodged in his sternum—one in his face even—but he isn’t finished yet. He fires off a shot that nails Axe in the lower neck.
No—
He flops over with a jarring thud.
Solmuk curses under his breath. The Alpha doesn’t move. Just as the recovering guard comes to his knees, my barrel pans over. I execute him with a shot to the forehead, eyes rolling back with a cold slump.
Several feet away, another struggle ensues. Gasping and coughing, the client squirms beneath Axe, the weight of the Alpha anchoring him. Solmuk rushes over and kicks his gun away. With two bullets left in the chamber, I make my approach, holding my pistol steady.
Solmuk reaches into the pocket of the associate whose leg is bleeding profusely and pulls out his wallet. He frowns, tucking it in his pants for safekeeping. “Who the hell are you?”
In the distance, I hear sirens approaching, ringing as loudly as the aftershock of blazing gunfire. My heart sinks at the sight of Axe’s blood pouring out and pooling on the man beneath him. Discarding my gun, I wrap both arms around Axe’s torso, attempting to pull him. But it’s no use.
I snap at Solmuk. “Can I get a little help here?”
The male beneath Axe grins, his clipped Mongassi accent deeply revolting. “You smell like paradise.”
Panting heavily, we roll Axe onto his back to assess his wounds. The distraction allows the client to jolt and yank the back of my neck. Fangs brush against my chin.
Not today, you piece of shit.
Thinking quickly, I slip the silver ring from my finger and jam the metal into his eye. As soon as he howls in pain, he’s abruptly torn away from me. Hot liquid spurts onto my face as his neck is violently shredded. Writhing and gargling on the floor, the client clamps a hand over his throat, stunned as Axe looms over him, growling. Bloodied claws gouge the male’s eyes, sinking deep into the sockets.
He yanks his thumbs out of his skull. And then, for a final time, Axe collapses.
Throwing off my coat, I scramble to his side, folding up my jacket to make a compression. The wound on his neck has a clean exit. But there’s a silver bullet that’s still wedged deep into his upper shoulder, where it meets his collarbone.
“No one touches you,” he grunts. “No one.”
The blaring of sirens intensifies.
“Help is coming,” I whisper. One of my teardrops leaks onto his cheek.
Solmuk scrambles to his feet and races to the phone on the shattered glass counter. “We should get a hold of the pack healer before the ambulance tries to haul him to the hospital.”
Axe coughs, bringing my hand to his pocket where his cell is stored.
When enforcers finally burst through the side door, I’ve ended the call. The mayor of Tukkon jumps onto the scene, frantically throwing his arms around his nephew. Axe just has to hang on for a few minutes.
His blood—it’s everywhere. I hold my hand steady on his oozing collarbone, pleading with him to fight his fading consciousness. He is paling rapidly. “Let me see those eyes, Axe. Keep those eyes open for me.”
