There are a multitude of ways this can go, and not one involves Withers setting Rowan down gently. Grayson has the fuckhead suitably distracted, their previous grotesque flirting having devolved into a magical dick measuring contest.
Jay wishes he could watch his mate use his new skills to win the battle of wits, but he has to shift all of his skills into something more immediate. He needs to figure out how he can use the shimmering platform of air Grayson has created as a springboard—something strong enough to launch him high enough, fast enough, to catch Rowan when Withers inevitably lets him fall.
“So what now? There are three of us and only one of you,” Grayson taunts, and Jay knows that this is it. The moment when Withers cuts his losses and takes Rowan off the board.
“Right you are; maybe I should even the odds a bit more?”
Before Jay can truly process it, Rowan is over the edge of the platform and falling.
At the same time, there’s a flash in his periphery from a snake of light attached to Grayson’s hand that follows him over, taking Grayson with it.
It’s not slow motion at all for Jay as his mates’ lives flash before his eyes, an involuntary roar of fear echoing in his ears.
The energy he’d kept in reserve to make the vertical jump upward to save Rowan from a deadly fall is transformed into horizontal momentum. Throwing himself toward the edge, he slides along the rough stone of the rampart on his belly, grabbing for the second rope of fire and light as it extends upward from Grayson’s other hand.
Jay does not hesitate to grab it, groaning as he’s dragged forward, scrabbling until he can sink his claws into the granite surface and get his feet wedged against the low stone wall.
It’s pure agony.
The downward momentum of more than four hundred pounds is pulling at his wounded shoulder, and the fire of Grayson’s magical tether sears through his body in waves from where it’s wrapped around his forearm. Heart pounding, Jay feels a claw tear away—and yet it’s nothing compared to the heart-wrenching fear.
Withers takes a single step toward them, anticipation etched into his features. Intent on pushing Jay off or getting a closer look at the fear on Jay’s face.
He gets no closer than a single step before Finn covers the distance in seconds, taking Withers to the ground. With a single vicious swipe, Withers’s peach polo is split from neck to navel,leaving a deep gash in his opponent’s skin before Finn goes for his eyes.
In all the years he’s known Finn, Jay has never seen his wolf like this—fangs bared, alpha eyes glowing red, and a low, protective growl that raises the hair on the back of his neck.
As Finn brings his hand down to tear open Withers’s throat, a heavy wave of air throws his mate off his chest and backward, slamming him into the low wall. There’s a loud crack as his head is flung against the stone, leaving a smear of blood on its surface as he slumps to the side.
“Finn!” Jay shouts, but his mate is out cold, his blood bright red as it drips down his forehead.
“Oh, this is delectable,” Withers crows, flinging his head back and his arms to the sky. “Look at all this suffering. One down and three to go.”
The pressure on his arm suddenly lessens as Grayson uses air to support some of their weight. His relief is brief as he watches Rowan painfully climb up the fiery tether until he can wrap his arms around Grayson’s neck.
“I can’t lift us both, Rowan.” Grayson’s voice carries upward on the wind. “It’s too hard, but if you can get to Jay, I can teleport up the rest of the way. Can you do that?”
There’s a second where Jay thinks Rowan is going to shake his head, but he nods and starts to climb, wincing as he grabs onto the fiery tether with already blistered hands.
He’s proud of his mate, as Jay knows full well the burning agony he’s feeling. It’s one thing to persist through the pain, but another entirely to endure it all over again after you’d had respite.
“Come on, you can do it,” Jay murmurs, knowing Rowan can’t hear him over Withers cackling and the wind.
The words are as much for himself as for his struggling mate—a mantra to keep him focused as the strain of Rowan’s climb sends sharp twinges through his shoulder.
Grayson maintains the fiery magic tether, its heat thrumming between them, unwavering until Rowan’s hands finally clamp around Jay’s wrist.
Relief floods him as the fiery pressure dissipates and a warm presence appears at his side. Together, he and Grayson haul Rowan up onto the patio.
Jay doesn’t waste a second. The instant Rowan is safe, his focus snaps to Withers, who has finally ceased his incessant monologue on Jay’s suffering to get a closer look at his handiwork.
Looming over Finn, he has a hand pressed to the top of his mate’s unconscious head, and fury surges through Jay’s veins.
Despite the residual agony, he clears the short space between them, grasping the magic user by the hair and hauling him backward, dragging him away.
Flinging off Jay’s hand, Withers pushes him back with a wall of air.
“Who do you think you are? Keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll remove them.”
