The sight gives me chills. The helicopters roar overhead. The black one flies over the road, switching on a spotlight that glides over the terrain. More shots ring out as the assassins return fire.
The sound sends me scurrying. I throw myself to the ground, scrambling behind a boulder. Should I climb up or down? My palms skid on the rough rock. My nails are so broken, chipped and splintered, they resemble pink claws. If I’m attacked, I can make like a bear and scratch someone, if I’m not shot first.
I tuck myself into a hiding place and peek out. Down in the road, a parachute has landed. A shirtless, kilted figure strides into the light of the SUV’s. It’s Canyon. “Yeehaw,” he shouts. “The bad bears have arrived.”
Bullets spurt and Canyon rolls and rushes at the line of SUVs. Halfway there, his shout turns into a roar. His skinny body morphs into a shaggy shape, still charging. Guns crack over and over. The werebear that is Canyon disappears beyond the SUV’s headlights, and I can’t see the rest. There's roaring and shooting and random shouts. I grip Darius's cell phone tight and dart from my hiding place. If I get higher, maybe I can see what’s going on. There might be assassins hunting me, but I feel a lot safer with a bunch of werebears around.
There's a whine like an angry hornet and bullets strike the rocks around me.
I scream and throw myself down the hill. The assassins have found me, and I don't know what else to do.
Roars blast the bushes around me.
“Teddy,” I whimper.
And then he's here. Scooping me up, covering me with his body. “I got you, babygirl,” he murmurs.
My ears are ringing, but the bullets have stopped. I press my face into his shoulder, clutching him tight.
“It’s okay. It’s over.” He holds me, carrying me back down the hill. The sounds of battle have died away.
A few bears mill around in the road. The tattered remains of a kilt decorate the blacktop in front of one of the SUVs.
The two choppers have landed, the white one next to the SUVs, the black one further up the road.
As we pass the white one, Bern slides out of the pilot seat with his headset still in place. “The Black Wolf pack is on its way with Axel. They can handle clean up.”
“Good,” Teddy growls. “Any drones?”
“Not this time,” Bern says.
Teddy sets me on a boulder beside the road and starts patting me down. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I murmur. My heart aches at the sight of him. So beautiful. So strong and capable. So…not mine. It makes me want to weep all over again.
He brushes gravel from my knees and fusses over the abrasions on my hands while I sit, drinking in the sight of him. “Lana, I’m so sorry. I fucked up, babygirl. I don’t want to lose you. I was so wrong.”
My heart stutters.
“Please forgive me. Losing you would be the biggest mistake of my life. I never should have even considered a mindwipe. I know I hurt you, but I swear I will never do it again. Not ever."
My lips tremble. “You did hurt me.”
“I got scared. I was afraid I’d endangered the mountain and my kind, and I completely lost sight of what I know.” He holds my gaze. “That you’re good. You’re kind. You’d never intentionally hurt us. And most of all–that I can’t live without you.”
My breath leaves my chest in a whoosh.
“Y-you can’t?”
He shakes his head, his grey eyes full of mourning. “Not even for an hour, babygirl.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “I can’t live an hour without you, either,” I declare.
Teddy holds me so tight, I can’t breathe, and I absorb all his passion. His strength. His caring.
“Did we get them all?” Canyon steps out from behind an SUV, buck naked. I avert my eyes.
“Put some clothes on,” Teddy barks. Canyon turns and marches back where he came from with a snicker.
“All good over here,” Hutch calls from somewhere on our left. “Teddy, you’re going to want to see this.”
Teddy lets out a sound that’s less an angry growl and more a frustrated rumble. He scoops me up and carries me in the direction of Hutch’s voice. It’s as if he’s unwilling to be away from me for more than a second.
There's a furry bulk lying beside the road. A shirtless Hutch is kneeling next to it. The teen must not have taken bear form or figured out a way to keep his kilt intact, because he’s wearing it.
“Oh no,” I gasp. “Is that–?”
“Darius,” Teddy confirms. I whimper, pressing a hand over my mouth. “He said he’d create a diversion. They must have shot him multiple times.” I can’t bring myself to ask if he’s dead.
The bear’s body shrinks, the fur disappearing until a tall Viking lays splayed out on the ground.