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A single set of footsteps came the feline’s way. She stilled as a familiar scent drifted to her … Bitter apples, thick smoked wood, and black pepper.
“It’s all right, little cat,” a voice assured her from behind—a voice she knew well. “I’ll get you out of there.”
Panicked once more, she hissed and spat and writhed like a rabid animal. The cage jerked and rattled and almost toppled over. Deep inside her, Bree once more tried and failed to shift.
“Not gonna hurt you,” he promised. “Just want to—”
A roar split the air. A roar she recognized. Alex.
The male behind her cursed. “I’ll see you again soon, little cat. Oh, and stay away from my fucking cousin.” Then he was gone.
In the distance, heavy footsteps galloped along the forest floor; their beat almost as fast as that of her heart. Alex’s wolverine was coming. He’d—
A soft whimper snatched her attention. The cat froze as she heard a body awkwardly shuffle along the ground toward her. And then a feminine hand came into view. But it didn’t reach for the cage. It closed around the butt of the gun.
The cat’s heart skipped a beat. The polar didn’t fire at the cat. She kept the gun pointed straight ahead of her. Pointed in the direction from where the wolverine was heading.
The cat hissed at the polar in warning, but the female kept the gun aimed into the woods. The galloping footsteps were louder now. The feline could also hear voices and other sets of footsteps. The wolverine wasn’t alone. But he was in the lead. He would be the first to be shot.
The cat battered at the cage again. It rocked. Jangled. Jerked. Shook—
It tipped over. The cat righted herself just as a wolverine came into view. She couldn’t warn him. Couldn’t help him.
Gunshots rang through the air. One, two, three, four, five, six. Bullets thudded into the wolverine, making his steps falter and slow, but still he barreled into the polar. The cat could only see the rear of his body as he savaged the female, wrenching bone-curdling screams out of her. Then the screams died off, and her heartbeat stuttered to a halt.
His chest heaving, the wolverine limped over to the cage. Bones cracked and popped as he shifted shape. Lying on his side, Alex stared at her, his eyes alight with both pain and relief. “You’re okay,” he rasped, fumbling with the lock on the door. He pried it open and then rolled onto his back with a grunt.
Smelling his blood and pain, the cat padded out of the cage and licked at his face. Bree tried bashing her way to the surface, wanting to touch and reassure him, but she still couldn’t force the shift.
“I’m all right,” he told her.
Their Alpha and several pride members came crashing out of the trees and ran toward them.
The Alpha cursed. “Let’s get him to Bree’s house fast. Someone call Helena and ask her to meet us there.”
Sitting on the recliner in the reading nook, Elle shook her head at Alex. “I have no idea how anyone can so easily survive six lethal bullet wounds.”
No, neither did Bree. It seemed insane that he was casually sprawled on the armchair with her on his lap.
Crossing the living area, Valentina scoffed at Elle. “He is wolverine. Bullets cannot keep us down. This you know.” She handed a bowl to Alex. “Eat. It will give you energy boost.”
Bree frowned at the bowl. “I have chicken noodle soup?”
James snickered. “It’s amazing what a wolverine will find in kitchen cupboards. It’s almost like magic.” The humor in his gaze dimmed when it landed on Alex. Like her, James had been wincing and flinching when Helena dug the bullets out of Alex—a delicate process that Bree had watched while trapped in her feline’s form.
Alex, on the other hand, hadn’t once groaned or even cursed beneath his breath. He’d sat stoic throughout the entire process. He’d also lost a hell of a lot of blood, which had made her cat frantic.
Bree had finally shifted twenty minutes ago. Dressed in shorts and a tee, she’d calmly answered Vinnie’s questions about what happened in the woods. Inside, she was seething.
Who wouldn’t be? Her cat had been drugged, caged, and kidnapped from her own backyard. Bree hadn’t been able to help her escape the cage, due to those goddamn drugs. Worse, she could no longer deny that Paxton was alive and local. And the idiot whose lap she was now sitting on had jumped in front of bullets merely to avenge her and then he’d almost bled to death. Everything just seemed like one giant mess.
Her feline was just as irate. Having a bunch of people in her living room wasn’t easing the pacing cat’s nerves. Especially since they were all wound up tight. Their fury was a palpable thing that ruffled her fur. And hearing the number of voices outside didn’t help.
