My heartbeat refuses to slow, hammering against my ribs as though it hasn't gotten the message that everything is fine now. Nicholas is safe.
My gaze finds its way back to Raymond now that I know Nicholas will be fine. I keep waiting for Raymond to lunge back to his feet. For this to be another trick. Another nightmare.
Then his brown eyes meet mine, and all the air whooshes out of my body.
He smiles. Small. Knowing.
Like this is just another move in his game.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Confrontations, Confessions, and Curveballs
Nick
I try to pry my eyes open. The light is too sharp. I blink it closed again. I feel drowsy and fatigued. But it doesn’t hurt. Anywhere. The lack of pain is worrying.
Am I dead? I hope everyone else survived. I hope Elliot got to punch that motherf—Wait, Elliot was there too. I can’t die without making sure he’s alright.
I snap my eyes open. The scene in front of me has to be fake because not even my wildest imagination could have conjured it. My brain is slow, but not enough to notice Meena chatting withSerenain the corner of the room. You know, myhumanLAPD partner who knows nothing about werewolves or Meena? It doesn’t compute. So, I don’t try.
I’m still leaning back against the hard wall, this time without chains. A few steps ahead, Matt stands beside a pile of dust and broken concrete, speaking into his phone. The previously dark and stuffy room now has an uneven sunroof, casting an angelic glow on everything.
I turn my head to find Bree slumped beside me, Cami kneeling in front of her. “Oh, good, you’re up.” She walks over to me. Bree turns to shoot me a tired smile.
Cami pokes and prods me, checking for injuries. Then sheshines a light into my eyes to check for a concussion. “I’m sorry to say, you’ll be spending some time in bed. Werewolf healing would fast-track your recovery, but I wouldn’t recommend moving around too much for at least a week.”
So not dead? “Do I even want to know what happened to the roof?”
“Oh, you—” She stiffens when a couple of people I recognize as Bureau agents walk towards a hunched-up silhouette on the opposite corner. When they haul him up, he growls. Ignoring it completely, they drag him towards the door.
When he passes us, I finally recognize him as Raymond Booth.They got him. Fuck, they finally got him. My body, which was apparently still on high alert, relaxes.They fucking got him.
I spot Elliot in my periphery, watching his monster walk away. My eyes inevitably turn to him. His expression is hard to read. Relaxed, smug, but I can see the fear lingering in his eyes. He doesn’t even have to look at me. It’s clear as day to me.
Anger bursts through me. This man made him look like that. I was going to kill this man. Maybe someday I will.
Before they take Raymond towards what I’m assuming is the door, he raises his head. Turning, he glances atmyElliot.
I’m going to snatch his eyes out. I’m going to make sure he never lays eyes—
A loud groan, and one of the men holding Raymond slumps down without a warning, his body violently shaking. While we make sense of what’s happening, Raymond kicks the other agent and dives towards Elliot.
Without processing, I find myself running towards them. I slam into Raymond before he can reach Elliot. I won’t let him hurt Elliot.Never again. Pain shoots through my body, and I notice blood oozing out of my abdomen. A sharp claw buried into me.
I don’t let it deter me. I punch him as hard as I can. It’s enough to push him away a couple of steps.
Herallies quickly, slamming me against a pillar, my head making the contact first.
Stars explode behind my eyes as the roar of blood rushing through my head drowns out everything else. “A hero, aren’t you? This is what heroes get,” he growls, following it up with a punch to my gut.
Blinding pain freezes me for a second. I shake it off. I’m definitely not dead. I drive my head into his with everything I have. The impact snaps his head back, and a raw, animalistic howl tears from his throat as he doubles over, clutching his nose.
Then I kick him while gathering enough energy to pop out my claws. My body must be really running low on reserves because they refuse to come out.
Not a problem for our friend Raymond here, though, he pounces at me again, claws out. I barely dodge the first swipe.
Then I hear a click that’s unfortunately becoming a familiar noise.
