Instantly she could see. Not as well as she could if she were outside, but she could see to find the cushioned socks she wore with the thin sneakers that folded easily into her pack. The jacket she pulled around her arms as quickly as possible, zipping it up to her neck.

Her weapon had been pushed into the side pocket, still loaded and locked in readiness to fire. There were pain pills at the bottom of the pack, but she left them in place. She still hurt, but the pain wasn’t slicing ribbons tearing into her ability to think. And she could walk, if not gracefully, at least not with the staggering weakness that the pain caused.

Seconds later she was slipping from the mouth of the cave just as the first enraged roar of a tiger screamed through the night, followed quickly by the second.

The night lit up like fireworks exploding too low to the ground. Automatic weapons shattered the peaceful quiet, lighting up the entrance to the cave with rapid flashes of light that had Chelsea rushing to get closer.

There was plenty of cover to stay behind, she assured herself, but she was not letting Cullen and Graeme have all the fun by themselves. Now dammit, that was just uncalled for.

At that thought, the violence that exploded through the night shook the ground with the thunder of powerful Runners suddenly shooting out of nowhere, along with the explosions of automatic weapons discharging enough ammunition to supply a small war. Which was what it sounded like was going on. The night had erupted into a war, and they were leaving her out of it.

Dammit.

Cullen glimpsed Ranger and Arthur running for the outcropping of boulders and rock opposite the canyon entrance when the cartel soldiers swept in from the night, Graeme’s wife, Cat, leading the fray with the roar of a Bengal that should have done her mate proud.

Ranger tossed his spent rifle to the dust, scampering away and leaving Arthur to rush after him, his aging body unable to keep up though he gave it a valiant effort.

Graeme was in the thick of the Breed soldiers who spilled from the heli-jet. Twelve hard-eyed, savage beasts intent on nothing but success. Their intent and Graeme’s Primal were at odds, though, and as usual, Graeme ended the fight with a victorious feline scream that echoed through the night.

It might have taken him longer than usual, and Cullen was pretty certain he took at least one bullet.

He’d glimpsed Chelsea, still limping but safe, covered by several of Samara Cerves’s soldiers as she stepped from the mouth of the canyon. Safe. Thank God, his mate was safe. Though she was at present searching for him.

He had a little matter to take care of first.

He moved lazily through the night, following the scent of panic and fear, a snarl pulling at his lips. And as he expected, he faced Ranger first. Obstinate, his eyes filled with hatred, he tried to jump from the dark in a surprise attack.

His arm went around Cullen’s neck, trying to twist him from his feet as he stood still, patient, until the other man dropped to the ground, his legs folding under him. Turning, Cullen stared down at him. The blood he’d scented on Ranger was a bright, vivid splash at his right shoulder and across his left side.

He could live through the wounds, Cullen knew, but he still had another wound to contend with.

“I loved her,” Ranger suddenly screamed. “She was mine first. Mine. You don’t deserve to be happy, you let her die.”

“I didn’t let her die,” Cullen stated simply, the Primal bite to his voice and his more savage appearance causing Ranger to flinch. “I simply refused to mate a woman I didn’t love, and one who sought only to use me to live. Lauren came to peace with that before she died, and I believed you had.”

Ranger shook his head, sobbing. “I won’t forget that you let her die. I won’t. You and that bitch . . .”

Breaking his neck was a simple matter.

Cullen did it without emotion, without remorse, though he had no doubt that when he saw it through Chelsea’s eyes, he’d know remorse. He’d know remorse, but he’d also know his mate would be forever safe from the man’s unreasonable hatred.

As he stepped back from the body, his gaze lifted. Arthur stepped from behind one of the larger outcroppings of rock, the thin light of a half moon gleaming on the barrel of the weapon he held in both hands.

“Look at you!” Awe and terror mixed with the hatred and psychotic impulses raging through his former father-in-law. “You’re a monster.”

Cullen growled, a low, savage sound that widened Arthur’s eyes and had him trembling.

“You’re the monster,” he assured the other man. “I’m your executioner.”

As the gun fired, Cullen flowed to the side and launched himself at the older man. The bullet flew by harmlessly. Before it struck the rock Cullen had stood next to, the other man dropped to his knees, his gaze sightless now, the deep gouge across his neck severing life before his knees hit the dirt.

Cullen swung around in the crouch he landed in, watching dispassionately as the broken, lifeless form fell to the ground on its side, blood seeping slowly into the dirt beneath it. Then he raised his gaze and met the compassionate, loving eyes of his mate.

Her weapon lowered to her side and a heavy sigh whispered past her lips as she stared at the two men, their bodies still in death, their threat forever silenced.

“They would have ensured we were never safe,” she told him without regret, though the sweet scent of her compassion flowed over him, wiping the taint of death from his senses. “Maybe they’re at peace now.”

He didn’t really care if they were or not. They were no longer a threat.

Tags: Lora Leigh Breeds Paranormal
Source: readsnovelonline.net