Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

Arrows apparently did what needed to be done and didn’t bother with the niceties.

Remi could deal with people like that—if he didn’t end up having to kill them. Right now, though, the question of what the fuck two Arrows were doing out in the middle of the Smokies could wait. A woman was dying and Remi would do everything in his power to attempt to save her. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t execute her if she proved a threat to his pack. It just meant he’d do it after she was healthy.

Reaching the spot where he’d parked his rugged all-wheel-drive vehicle after deciding to use the cover provided by the storm to come up here to spy on RainFire’s reclusive neighbors, he shifted into human form and hauled on his jeans. Once in the driver’s seat, he didn’t switch on the headlights. The jet-chopper he’d heard earlier in the night had disappeared, but it was possible it was simply circling above the heavy cloud layer, ready to drop down through any clear patches—and given the fact that the Arrows had headed away from the sound of the chopper, it was a good bet the two had company they wanted to avoid.

Normally he’d have let the two parties fight it out among themselves, keeping his fledgling pack out of it, but every part of him rebelled against such an unfair fight. The Arrows were wounded and on foot, with a tiny knapsack of what he assumed were supplies, while the other side had a jet-chopper and likely ground forces. There was also the fact that his leopard had never liked the scents left behind by the neighbors who owned this tract of land.

Sour sweat and cold metal had been the most prominent elements.

Another growl rumbling in his throat, he drove on. Even with the torrential rain, his night vision and knowledge of the terrain meant he was at no risk of a fatal crash. RainFire might not own this land—yet—but no alpha worth his salt wouldn’t be fully aware of every aspect of the landscape around his pack.

The odd rock scraped the undercarriage, a few branches hit his windows, and he definitely lost a side mirror as he maneuvered through the forested landscape, but the vehicle was whole when he reached the farthest point he could go. Getting out, he ran on bare feet to where he could scent the Arrows. That scent was dull, buried under the rain that pounded his bare upper body and plastered his jeans to his legs, but the wind was on his side this time and those two didn’t belong in this environment.

The leader of the Arrows was down on his knees, but he still held on to his gravely wounded partner, shielding her face from the elements by curving his body over hers. Even as Remi ran to him, Aden attempted to get up. Stubborn fucker. But will alone couldn’t overcome a body that had apparently been through the wars, and Aden was unconscious by the time Remi reached him, his body curled protectively over his partner’s.

Leopard and man both growled in approval.

Psy, especially combat-trained Psy, were meant to be heartless bastards who balanced every action on a cost-reward ratio. Remi had picked up that fact from a couple of Psy he’d worked with on an oil rig back when he was nineteen. The two had been cold enough, but according to them, they were sunshine and roses compared to their more dangerous brethren. In this situation, leaving his partner behind would’ve given Aden a better chance of survival, yet he hadn’t, was still protecting a fallen member of his squad.

Assassin or not, Remi decided Aden Kai had at least one redeeming feature.

Taking the woman first, after tugging her from Aden’s tight grip, Remi put her in the backseat, then went back for Aden. The bastard was heavier than he looked, and he woke as Remi was hauling him to his feet, a knife suddenly in his hand. “Stand down,” Remi growled, his claws slicing out of his fingers to prick at Aden’s side. “I have your squadmate in the truck.”

A nod, Aden managing to stay conscious as Remi helped him into the backseat with the other Arrow. As he started to drive down to the pack’s base, he saw Aden check the woman’s vitals. “How far?” the Arrow leader asked.

“Thirty minutes.” He was driving hell for leather.

“She won’t make it. Go faster.” An order from a man used to giving them.

Remi was a predatory changeling alpha—he didn’t take orders from anyone—but his cat didn’t snarl. He could forgive a man trying to protect someone who belonged to him. “Strap in,” he said, waiting only until Aden had put the safety belts around both himself and the other Arrow before he accelerated to a breakneck pace that would’ve equaled certain death for most people.

Remington Denier wasn’t most people. He wasn’t even most alphas; he’d spent five years of his life working on race cars before he decided he didn’t want to roam alone anymore, his hunger to set up a pack of his own a bone-deep pulse in his body. He’d set it up all right, but now he had to hold it together. Today, however, his days testing how cars handled on the track, combined with his night vision and heightened hand-eye coordination, kept them from going over cliffs or slamming into trees.

“Cat.” A faint sound from the back.

“What?”

“Zaira—internal bleeding. Gunshot wound. Abdomen.”

“Got it,” Remi said, knowing the pack’s healer would need every detail he could give him. “What else?”

“Small implants. Embedded in our brains,” Aden ground out between short, rough breaths. “We got them out, but there could be damage.”

Fuck, that did not sound good.

“Zaira’s laser seal needs to be broken, the internal repairs checked.”

“I’ll tell Finn,” Remi said, but when he asked Aden to explain further and received only silence in return, he realized the Arrow leader had lost his battle with consciousness. Just as well—at least Remi didn’t have to worry about revealing the location of RainFire’s central base. He’d taken his cue from the DarkRiver leopards and set up a public HQ, while ensuring the pack’s heart remained protected and off the grid.