When He's an Alpha (The Olympus Pride 2)

“I would have let you all be if you’d only returned the favor.”

“And we’d have let you be if you weren’t a twisted asshole who sells people.”

Tate slowly peered around the corner. And there was Havana, facing Gideon and another male. She also had a gun aimed at her fucking head. Tate’s cat rushed for the surface in panic, trying to force the shift. Tate breathed through it, holding himself very still as he fought to keep his cat contained.

Dread seemed to sink into every bone in Tate’s body, but this wasn’t the time for him to rush in. If Gideon realized that she had backup so close, he could shoot her out of spite. Tate couldn’t risk that. But, fuck, it was hard to just stand there and do nothing.

“How did you find me?” Gideon asked her.

“We had a long talk with Enrique and Gavin,” she replied. “Two very brainwashed people, I must say.”

She looked as cool and composed as she sounded. Tate knew it wasn’t forced. He felt no panic from her. Only impatience and a sense of battle-readiness. He wondered if, sensing Tate’s rage and dread through their bond, she’d guessed that he was nearby.

“Are all your ‘kin’ that way?” she asked Gideon.

“I didn’t brainwash them. Didn’t need to. Their hate for shifters was already there. I just … nurtured it a little. Now come on, you and I are going on a little walk. You’re my ticket to getting away from here safely.”

“I’m not going—”

Gideon shot her in the shoulder, and red-hot pain blasted down the mating bond. If Luke hadn’t right then grabbed onto him, Tate would have charged at that motherfucker—common sense be damned. His cat raged and snarled and just about lost his mind.

“You won’t help your mate if you rush over there,” Luke quietly hissed into his ear. “Right now, Gideon needs her as a hostage. He won’t kill her. But he might if he realizes he’s cornered.”

Tate gritted his teeth, reminding himself that his brother was right; that he himself had had the same thought only moments ago. But it was hard to be rational when Havana was injured and in pain. This was his mate. His other half. His better half. And hadn’t she taken enough fucking bullets lately?

Tate held up a hand. “I’m fine,” he ground out, his voice low. “You can let go.”

Once his brother released him, Tate poked his head around the corner. Fury blasted through him at the sight of the blood staining the sleeve of her long-sleeved tee.

“There’s no way you’ll get out of here safely, Gideon,” she said, a note of pain in her voice—a pain that pulsed down their bond. “You know that, right?”

“What I know is that you seem to matter very much to the Olympus Alpha male,” said Gideon. “I’m guessing that your claiming bite is from him, because I can smell him on you. That must make you his Alpha female. Which means not one of those damn pallas cats will do anything to risk your life.”

The male at Gideon’s side cleared his throat. “Sir? There’s a bearcat by the stairs chewing on a shoe.”

Looking further along the corridor, Tate saw Aspen’s bearcat sitting there, looking adorable and harmless and utterly indifferent to all that was happening around her.

“Can’t say I give a shit, Earl,” said Gideon, keeping his gaze on Havana. “Before we leave, I don’t suppose there’s a chance you didn’t free my assets, is there, Miss Ramos?”

Furious, Havana felt her lips thin. “The word you’re looking for is ‘people,’ not assets,” she said, putting pressure on her aching wound, not a real fan of blood loss. Her devil was pacing, worried and enraged. Only the knowledge that their mate had to be close and quite simply needed an opening kept them from panicking. “As for whether I freed them, why don’t you go check?”

“Um, sir, the bearcat’s now hitting a mean looking snake with that shoe,” said Earl.

Gideon’s brows snapped together. “What?” He tracked his friend’s gaze.

Havana acted fast, whipping up her arm and knocking the gun out of his hand. Several things then happened at once.

The bearcat crashed into Gideon, knocking him down.

The mamba rocketed at Earl and sank her fangs into his throat with a vicious hiss.

Tate and Luke raced around the corner and along the corridor … just as Gideon grabbed the gun that had fallen to the floor. He fired at Havana, the fucker. But the bearcat chose that moment to throw herself at Havana and knock her down, taking the bullet with a pained growl.

The son of a bitch might have shot at Havana again if Tate hadn’t then kicked the gun out of his hand and sent it skidding along the floor to Luke, who promptly picked it up.

Relief flooded Havana at the sight of her mate, alive and uninjured. She pressed hard against the bearcat’s wound, unbelievably grateful that it wasn’t fatal. “Bailey, take out my cell phone and call Sam.”