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Elle clenched her fists. “Dad, you’ve got to let me get to her.”
“Don’t worry about her; I told Gerard to call Helena,” Vinnie assured his daughter, referring to one of the pride’s healers. “She’ll take care of the cat’s wounds.”
The wolverine’s beady eyes narrowed, flitting from person to person. Blood stained his dark snout, paws, and the cream fur around his face. Most of the wolverine’s dense coat was a dark brown, but there was a single stripe of cream fur on his flanks that also tinted the top of his bushy tail.
Vinnie spared a glance at the whimpering male trapped beneath the animal. His butchered, broken body was quivering with pain and terror. If the blood he was coughing up was anything to go by, he had some internal bleeding. Nope, he wasn’t going to survive those wounds. Vinnie needed to question him fast. But getting the wolverine to release him … no, that wasn’t going to be easy at all.
Mateo took a step toward the pallas cat, and the wolverine roared.
“Step back, Mateo,” Vinnie snapped.
“He has to know I’d never harm her,” said the other male cat.
“All that beast knows right now is that she’s hurt and vulnerable—he won’t want you touching her, and you’d be a damn fool to test him.” Vinnie had met several wolverines in his time, but none so fiercely hardcore as Alex’s beast. It was straight up forty pounds of nightmarish ferocity and unmatched ultra-aggression that no creature with any sense would dare anger.
Seriously, it might be no more than two and a half feet tall, but the wolverine was a killing machine that would fuck you up like a boss, and not much provocation was required. He’d then go on about his day, no more affected by a confrontation than he would be by a droning fly.
But this situation here … this was different. Someone under the beast’s protection had been harmed. He would not be content to walk away and leave the kill to Vinnie; he wasn’t going to allow anyone to finish when he’d started. And while Vinnie had no issue with the wolverine mauling the living shit out of the fox, it was always a little disturbing to watch the animal eat its victims.
“Don’t kill the fox yet,” he told the wolverine, trusting Alex to convey the meaning of the words to his beast. “We need to question him first. We need to know who he is and what he wanted with Bree.”
The beast, well, it threw back its broad head and roared. Yeah, it had received the message. And it apparently didn’t like the thought of releasing its new toy.
The creaking of door hinges reached Vinnie’s ears, and then fast footsteps headed his way.
“Helena is here,” said Luke.
The wolverine’s eyes slammed on the newcomer as she sidled up to Vinnie.
“She’s here to heal Bree,” Vinnie told him, knowing the animal would recognize her as their healer. “You need to let her close, and you need to back off so we can question the fox. Or don’t you want to know if there are more threats to Bree out there?”
The beast stared at him, its gaze unblinking.
“You can guard the cat while Helena heals her, if you want. But not if you’re all the way over there. So, would you prefer to stomp on the fox or watch over Bree’s cat?”
An annoyed chuff escaped its snout and fogged the air. The wolverine’s gaze darted from the cat to the fox and back again. Finally, it slowly stepped off the fox—but not before spitefully raking its claws down his shredded back one last time.
Luke winced. “Ooh, that had to hurt.” The prospect of that seemed to delight him.
Licking its bloody muzzle, the wolverine padded over to the unconscious cat and stood over her like a sentry. He eyed Helena closely as she approached, baring his teeth at her in warning. But he made no move to stop her as she bent over and touched the cat, sending healing energy into her small body.
Tate squatted beside the fox and took a good look at him. “He’s alive, but I doubt he’ll be that way for much longer.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Vinnie crossed to his eldest son. “Flip the fucker over.”
Tate did so, and he wasn’t careful about it. The fox let out a gut-wrenching scream that eventually faded into a pitiful whimper.
Tate pushed his fingers into a deep injury on the fox’s side, earning himself a weak snarl. “That looks real sore. I can make it worse, or you can just answer our questions.”
“What did you want with Bree?” Vinnie asked the fox.
The male looked up at him, his torn-up face creased in blinding agony. But there was a defiant glint in those eyes that said, “I’m dying anyway so do your worst.”
