Fic: This Is Not The House That Pain Built-Part 1

[beanside]

Misha had always hoped he’d die of some painless aneurysm in bed with Vicki. He’d held on to that hope despite being turned, despite the violence that came with lycanthrope society, despite the war between his territory and the neighboring pack of Horseriver, despite their last alpha dying bloody and Jensen ascending to alpha, despite the last six months siege that left them all starving. Because hell, he was the pack seer, and he would’ve seen his own death coming if it’d been near. He’d have known.

Apparently he overestimated his sight or underestimated their enemy.

“Am I boring you?” asked the bland-faced wolf that Misha had come to think of as Johann. His fingers skimmed lovingly over the tools on his butcher’s block. Light danced off their silver-plated surfaces. The ones that were slick with Misha’s blood had been removed by a cringing omega to be cleaned for another round, though the concern was more for the equipment than for contamination. “Or are you only passing out?”

Misha squinted at Johann with the eye that hadn’t swollen and crusted shut, and smiled even though it hurt. His voice sounded gummy and thick. “Bored. S’all right. Lot of guys can’t get it up.”

Johann clicked his tongue thoughtfully, then picked up the cheap bamboo chopsticks, modified to a keen edge. He took Misha’s hand like a manicurist, except Misha’s fingers had been broken until they were like china shards in a leather glove.

They were going to kill him. They would kill him just to twist the knife, and Misha hoped like hell Jensen knew it, too. But the worst thing was, they’d made Misha feel a little glad that they would kill him eventually, because dead would be better.

Vicki would be furious with him.

Would have been, Misha corrected himself.

“You set the wards on your territory,” Johann said. It was an old conversation between them. “What is the key?”

Misha thought of Vicki, the great pregnant swell of her belly, and the baby that had fluttered under his hand. Their miracle baby; loups had a hard time conceiving and a harder time coming to term, but Vicki had done both. A boy, his little shadowy ultrasound taped to the pack’s fridge, before the siege had stopped her from getting any prenatal care that didn’t come from their own medic. Only Vicki’s stubbornness, her power as the second in their pack and a steady flow of power from Misha and Jensen had kept the pregnancy going.

Maybe she had absorbed the fetus in the last few days, the killing stress of Misha getting kidnapped and (she would know) tortured. But maybe not. The hope not, that she wouldn’t lose everything when Johann finally realized that Misha wasn’t going to give him anything, was what kept him going.

And then, because he was dying, he thought of the person he hadn’t thought of since they left Wyoming. He thought of Jeremy, and their missed chance, and he was sorry for that, too. Maybe Vicki would go to him, and they’d raise the kid together. Misha liked that idea.

He’d rather be with them, though.

“I’m sorry,” he told them all: Jeremy, Vicki, his son, Jensen.

Johann leaned further in, sensing what men like him thought of as weakness. “Tell me.”

“Okay.” Misha took in a shuddering breath, then turned his head and spat blood onto Johann’s tools. “Go fuck yourself.”

Johann nearly strangled Misha in the time it took the rest of the pack to pull him off. In all the distraction, no one noticed that the sharps were still wedged beneath his nails. Misha wrenched them free and palmed them, still laughing when they threw him back in his cell and closed the door. He didn’t know that he’d ever stop laughing, that high crazy sound.

Not a bad way to die, but it slipped from him like water from a sieve.

Misha curled up into himself, as small and still as he could go around his little weapons. Breathing hurt. Existing hurt. He tried not to do either. He hummed like he would to the baby, though his throat was cracked and parched. He lost time.

The floor shook under him.

Misha lifted his head, trying vainly to see through the darkness. A millisecond later, a low rumble filled his ears. Too quiet to be explosives. For the first time in years, Misha thought of watching Jurassic Park with Jeremy, and the sound of the T-Rex’s footsteps rippling the puddles.

Another rumble, this one closer. This time he could feel it, and smell the scent of ozone as it hit. Alpha wolf. Not his alpha. Not the alpha of Horseriver, either. Misha had twin urges to snarl and to cringe on his belly.

A new smell came to him, sweet and copper like sucking on a penny. Blood, and not the too-familiar song of Misha’s own, but a stranger’s. Someone else was bleeding. It overwhelmed the power until Misha’s mouth watered with renewed hunger.

The door to his cell opened. Misha raised his head, clutching the bamboo sharps, waiting for someone to grab him by the scruff and haul him away. Instead, a body landed heavily beside him.

“Present for you,” his guard said shortly. “There are bets on which one of you will eat the other. My money’s on him.”

A gurgling wheeze came from the man on the floor. Another Loup. Not from their pack. Badly injured, from the way his power was fluctuating. Dying, maybe.

Misha scrabbled towards the door, but it slammed before he even got close.

The other man just laid there, his breathing loud and and uneven. He wasn’t a big guy, but if he did die, he’d be a good meal--

Fuck. Think like a human, he told himself, they can’t take that from you.

Yet, added the survival mechanism that kept ticking away even though dead would be better. Soon.

Misha licked his cracked lips and inched towards the other man to get a good sniff, staying on his belly. The man was the alpha he’d smelled, although Misha wasn’t sure that Horseriver knew how alpha. His new friend would be dead, otherwise.

There could be no healing him-- Misha couldn’t heal himself on the best day, let alone now, let alone anyone else. If the man was going to die, Misha didn’t want to see his eyes. Didn’t want to put a name on the man who will probably be his next meal, god help him, despite his urge to die human.

The other guy’s breathing quieted. Christ, was he already dead?

Misha looked over and met a pair of startlingly blue eyes, through a curtain of long brown hair. Watchful eyes. They reminded him of himself.

With a sigh, Misha threw his earlier plan out the window. This guy might have a mate, or someone who would want to know what happened to him. “H--” he choked on his dry throat, tried again. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

The other man wiped the blood away from his mouth with the back of his fist. In a sad comment on their state of affairs, Misha had to fight to not lick it off.

“They gone?” the guy asked.

“Yeah. For now.”

“Good.” The man pushed thick hair off his face, and grinned at Misha like he’d won the lotto and wasn’t in some shithole of a prison. “Then let’s get you the fuck out of here, Collins.”

*********
Two days ago...

“I don’t need another Alpha trying to take my land, Vicki,” Jensen said, doing his best to keep his voice low and soft. Comforting. He was never very good at comforting. “I can handle this.”

“No, you can’t.” Vicki sat on his desk, gripping the edge like she wanted to grab Jensen’s heart instead. “If y-- we could handle them, Misha would be here.”

Jensen didn’t miss her stutter. The only reason Jensen didn’t wince was that he’d thought worse himself, when everyone else was sleeping. It beat the starch out of his argument. “I know. I’m sorry. But we can’t just hand the territory over to them or to anybody else.”

“I didn’t suggest that. If I lose him...” Vicki’s voice didn’t waver or crack, which only made it worse when she put her hand over her belly and said, “I can’t do this, Jensen. I can’t. But Jeff would help us. I know it. He’s a good man.”

Plenty of people thought Page was a good man, Jensen wanted to snarl, and look where that got us. It was habit to hold the sharp edges of his tongue, hunching so he couldn’t use his body to intimidate her. “I don’t know how my wolf would react to another pack’s Alpha,” he said instead. “I’ve only ever been around Page or the Horseriver alpha, and both were threats. It might just... strike out.”

She didn’t need to know that his wolf hadn’t stirred in months, stillborn in his body. Later, maybe, he would tell her. Maybe then.

An Alpha who can’t hold his own pack doesn’t deserve to be Alpha, Page’s ghost whispered in Jensen’s ear. Jensen ignored him, though it made the scars on his fingers itch.

Vicki turned her face away from him and let out a hitching sigh. It’s not like he couldn’t see the calculating glance she gave him. Then again, it wasn’t like she couldn’t smell the fear in his scent. Deep down, he was kind of proud of her and her craftiness.

Or maybe he was just seeing manipulation where it didn’t exist. Too many years with Page. He had to react like she wasn’t lying; he valued her too much to risk losing her to his stupid paranoia.

It didn’t keep him from startling when she gasped and grabbed at her belly.

“Vicki?” Jensen said sharply, moving to her side and laying a hand on her back. “You okay?” The leather of his gloves pulled against her sweat soaked shirt.

She breathed for a moment, then slowly pulled herself back upright. “I promise you, on my wolf, they’re good people. I’ll do anything you want if you just-- I’ll beg,” she offered, starting to awkwardly lower herself to her knees.

Jensen grabbed her by the forearms, trying to pull her back up. They’d been under siege here for months, with only warm Ensure and canned food, and Jensen’s share had mostly ended in Vicki’s rations; he didn’t have the body weight to leverage her back up. Even trying made black spots swarm in the corners of his vision, so he stopped.

“I can feel the baby slipping away,” Vicki said. “I can’t hold it together for much longer without Misha here to help me.”

“I can give you power--”

“You’re not the father, Jen. There’s only so much you can do with power.” The first tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She hadn’t cried for Misha, but she was crying now. “Please.”

Jensen closed his eyes. She could have punched him in the balls and hurt less, and she knew it. His stomach roiled and it was only partially from the worry. “Make the call,” Jensen said hoarsely. “God help us.”

Vicki blinked at him, as if not quite believing, and then pushed herself up.

The phones had been sporadic since the beginning, almost minutes after Page died; Horseriver cut the landlines right away, and they tried to block cell service with their wards. Eventually they’d realized that Jensen was repairing the wires with duct tape, because they pulled the wires from their side entirely out. At first Jensen had expended energy to keep their cells working, but there was no one to call and, in the last few weeks, no electricity for a charger. They had a generator, but dwindling gasoline.

Vicki had turned her phone off with a little battery left, enough for one or two calls. Jensen had noticed but he’d thought it was to let she and Misha call their mysterious ex-boyfriend to say goodbye before Horseriver broke their wards and came in howling for blood.

He should have known better to think she was that sentimental. No, she’d been planning this call to the Cavalry. He was too tired to be angry, seeing the rawness of hope on her face as she dialed. Then she cursed. “Answering machine. C’mon, Jeff, goddamn it--!” Scrubbing a hand across her face, she sighed and talked to the recording. “Hey, Jeff. It’s Vicki. Um, I’m due any day, and we’re having issues with the pack next to us. Um.”

Jensen raised his hand, resting it on the nape of her neck, offering silent support.

“They took Mish. I don’t know where you are, or if you can help, but if you get this, I need you. Please. My Alpha gave permission for you to come, if it helps any. Please. I’m going to lose this baby if I don’t get him back, I know I am. I’m barely hanging on as it is. Please, Jeff.”

Jensen could hear the shrill feedback that suddenly built in the speaker. Shit, the block was back up. There would be no way to get a call back. Vicki dropped the phone with a clatter and slumped against the table.

Jensen swallowed, sliding his arm around her. It was rare he touched any of them, rare he could tolerate the contact. They didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. He smelled...off somehow. Always had. His skin was painful to the touch, muscles knotted tight under his fingers when he tried to rub out the ache. It had been that way since he turned. Heat, ice, lotions, yoga, even pills... there would be no relief.

She pulled away after a moment, wiping her face as the other two pack members came into the room. Tracy looked at the phone on the floor, relief written in her eyes. “Sorry, I heard something fall.” Sam crossed to Vicki and ran a hand down her back, offering comfort.

“It’s okay. The phone just went out again.” He considered the options. “We’ll give your friends until tomorrow at dawn to show. After that, I’m going in and getting your husband.”

Vicki’s head came up, and those dark eyes peered at him. “We’re going. Sam and Tracy will be fine holding down the fort.”

“Misha will kill me if I let you go-”

“Let me?” Vicki snarled. “You don’t let me do anything, Jensen Ross. Either we both go, or neither of us go.”

Jensen held up his hand, gesturing towards her belly. “Vick. You’re pregnant-”

She looked down at her stomach in mock surprise. “Really? Oh, my god, I hadn’t noticed, what with all the morning sickness and swollen legs. No shit. I’ll wear the kevlar vest, but I’m going. Period. You will have to chain me to keep me here, Jensen.”

For a long moment, he considered it. Maybe he was just being a chauvinist, but he firmly believed that a pregnant woman should be taking it easy, not running into a firefight. She was right though. He needed her if they were going to have any chance. “Fine. You wear the kevlar, and you promise to stay behind me, and follow my orders. If I tell you to run, you get the hell out of there.”

Vicki nodded. “Terms accepted. We’d better get ready.”

Jensen reached into the cabinet, and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “You make a list of the standard weapons we have in the house. I’ll look through the barn and see what can be adapted. Tracy, check our medical supplies, and let me know if there’s anything we need that I can rig. Sam, I need you to check the perimeter. Don’t cross, don’t get too close. Just observe. Make a note of anything out of place.”

Sam nodded and grabbed the pair of binoculars off their hook by the door. “Got it.”

As he headed out to the barn, he wasn’t sure which prospect terrified him more, the pack showing, or not.

**********

They weren’t far away when the call came in. With the news of Misha and Vicki’s former Alpha’s death, Jeff had been trying to contact them, to check in. When he’d been unable to reach them, the pack had headed for Texas. He’d set the pack up in Galveston, and planned to take Jeremy and Kane for a parley with the new Alpha, to see if they could make a new arrangement.

He’d been planning to leave the next morning, driving the van and dragging a refrigerated UHAUL of food as a peace offering.

Jeremy had gotten the message first. He’d tossed the phone to Jeff with a succinct, “I quit,” and headed out the door. By the time Jeff had listened to the voice mail, Jeremy was unhitching Jeff’s motorcycle from the RV.

He’d tried to talk sense into Jer. Had told him they’d go together, that they’d get Misha out. Jeremy just shook his head, wheeling the motorcycle towards the driveway. “Catch up,” he suggested.

Jeff shook his head, and let a tendril of his power slide along the connection that Jeremy had to him, brushed his power against the receptors there until they shorted out completely. The effect was about the same as sticking a taser against a human’s body. Jeremy crumpled, and Jeff caught him, hoisting him onto the hood of the car as he called for Kane and the rest of the pack.

They’d split up, a strong contingent of fighters heading out that afternoon, and driving through the night, taking turns napping in the back of the RV or the van, until they arrived in the early hours before dawn.

There was a thick shield around the area that Jeff remembered from the maps as being the homestead, locking them out. Strong good work, that shield. Jeff called Vicki’s number four times and got nothing. Instead, spurred by the tears in Vicki’s voice, they’d gone to look at the area that Misha was being held in.

Once they were in proximity to Misha, Jeremy had been able to listen in on the thoughts of people with less shielding. Angry as Jeremy was, an icy reckless fury held under his skin like a hand of poker, he could’ve torn through someone shielded like a tank and not noticed he was damaging himself; Jeff rode shotgun in Jeremy’s mind, ready to yank the leash if Jeremy tried pushing himself into a stroke, and so he felt it in stereo when Jeremy touched the wolf who had tortured Misha. Jeff saw the man’s memory of Misha (gaunt, nearly every bone in his body broken) and felt Jeremy’s agony as well as his own.

Killing the torturer with a paralyzing and painful stroke hadn’t done Jeremy any favors, but Jeff hadn’t stopped him. They both felt that, too. It was worth it.

As the torturer’s mind petered away into darkness, Jeremy looked Jeff in the eyes. Speaking aloud wasn’t Jeremy’s custom, but Jeff guessed Jeremy didn’t want Jeff any deeper in his head. “If you hadn’t stopped me--”

“You’d be dead.”

“I could’ve saved his hands.” Jeremy’s voice cracked on the last word. He turned his face away, showing throat to do it. At least they weren’t so far gone that Jeremy was treating him like an enemy. “I want to be on the team that goes in.”

Jeff sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We need our psychic on the field if we’re going to get them out. You’re the only one who can coordinate it all.”

A muscle jumped in Jeremy’s jaw. He’d wrapped his arms around himself, scrubbing at his arms like he was cold. Rocking. He looked like he had when they first rescued him, trying to comfort himself. It hurt Jeff’s heart.

Jeff reached out, knowing he might get bitten for his trouble, and gripped Jeremy’s nape. Jeremy twitched back to his body, then leaned back into Jeff’s hand. His grief and his rage were a keening song in Jeff’s head.

Using his grip as a lever, Jeff pulled Jeremy into his arms. I know, he sent back, I know.

He had been planning to go in himself, shoving his power low so that they wouldn’t suspect that he was Alpha. He’d been giving his last orders when Kane had tapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a bad idea, boss,” Kane had said softly, cobalt eyes narrowed like he was expecting a fight. “There’s one of us who literally has trained for this moment, and it ain’t you.”

Jeff shook his head, the memory of the fighting ring they’d pulled Kane out of two years ago sharp in his mind. “No. I’m not asking you to go through that.”

“I’m not askin’ either. I’m going in. Now, unless you plan to knock my ass out, too, let’s get this ball rolling.” Kane handed over his gun and most of his blades. He left one obvious one in his boot and the small push dagger that was hidden in his hair. It was strictly for show. Like any of them, Kane’s best weapons were a part of him. “Tell Jer to keep an ear on me, keep me updated.”

Jeremy overheard his name and nodded. “Got it. You remember what I showed you he looks like?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll protect your boy.”

Kane had pulled the hair tie out, and headed towards the far side of the property. By the time he reappeared, he had slid in the dirt, giving him a much less reputable look. The guards closed on him as he crossed the property line, weaving and looking for all the world like a man who had gotten lost.

The sentry grabbed him by the arms, dragging him towards the house. Kane put just enough pressure to make it seem like he didn’t want to go, straining towards the big cow trough of water in the front yard like he was parched. The sentry let fly with a backhand, and Kane cringed, hand resting on his cheek like he was shocked, just utterly shocked by the casual violence.

Knowing what he did of Kane, Jeff doubted there was any level of violence that could shock him. He’d been the Huntsville, Alabama pack’s meal ticket for too long. God only knew how many wolves had died in those cage fights. But not Kane. He’d been champion, able to take more punishment than Jeff had thought possible. When Jeff’d killed the pack’s Alpha and second, he’d thought that he was going down to the cages to put the skinny, fucked up wolf down. He couldn’t possibly survive after the beating he’d taken that night. Kane’s face had been so misshapen and mangled that Jeremy, with his wolf’s tolerance for carnage, had turned away.

Instead of the broken mess Jeff’d expected, Kane had met him at the door with an improvised shank in hand.

With his power undampened by his former Alpha, Jeff was surprised to find that Kane was an Alpha in his own right. “Who the hell are you,” Kane had gritted, blood still burbling out of his mouth when he spoke.

Jeff had taken the sharpened shank out of his hand, and laid a hand on Kane’s nape. With no healer nearby, he simply offered Kane power, and felt an immediate reciprocal energy. “Your alpha,” he said simply, the words an offer and promise all in one.

It hadn’t taken long at all for Kane to become his third, to take on the duty of protecting the rest of the pack. Even if it meant that several Southern states were closed to them, he didn’t regret a thing.

Jeremy tensed. “Shit. The sentries at the border are reporting that two members of the other pack--the Alpha and Vicki have been sighted heading towards the house. They’re probably a good twenty minutes out.”

“Can we intercept?”

Jeremy considered for a long moment. “I could--” He bit his lip and shook his head. “No. Not before they cross the line.”

“Okay. What are their orders?” Jeff asked. If there was even a chance of Vicki being injured, he would bring everything he was down on these assholes right now. Misha would expect no less from him.

Jeremy cocked his head, eyes taking a far away look. “The Alpha has told them to follow, but to let them get to the house unchallenged. He has people inside who will deal with them then.”

“Good. Once they’re in the house, Kane will be able to help them, and we’ll take care of the rest.” Jeff nodded towards a small rise shielded by some foliage. “Alona, get Oscar set up over there, watch his back.”

She nodded, holstering her handgun and heading towards Oscar with a ground eating lope. How he had ended up with a pack where the women outnumbered the men 2 to 1, he wasn’t sure. Wasn’t complaining, either. He’d brought half the pack with him, left his second lieutenant, in charge of the remainder with orders to stay put in Galveston. He expected them to arrive by nightfall. Ever wasn’t one to let orders get in the way of saving the stupid men from themselves. Hell, most of the pack didn’t let orders get in the way.

Not that his pack were out-of-control harpies. They knew when an order was an order, and they knew when they could work around it. And if any of them heard him so much as think that they were harpies, he would be so screwed. He still got chewed out on a regular basis for calling them ‘my girls,’ which was apparently demeaning towards the fairer gender.

“Christian just got thrown in the room with Misha. He’s says that the pack are incompetent tools, but that Mish is messed up pretty bad,” Jeremy reported. There was hardly a tremor in his voice. “Vicki and the Alpha are about a minute out from the house.”

“Good. Have Jared bring the van as close to the wards as he can without breaking them. And tell Chad to get his equipment ready.”

Bless Jeremy for being able to keep all the logistics straight. If Jeff had been the one who had to talk to people in his mind, he’s pretty sure he’d end up exploding someone’s head like Scanners.

“Vicki and the Alpha are entering the house,” Jeremy said softly.

“Okay. Move in and eliminate anyone who gets in your way. Oscar, cover us. Alona, you’ve got left flank, I’ve got right. Let’s go. Watch for Vicki.” With a last glance at his pack, Jeff ripped through the wards and launched the attack.

********

In the two decades since he’d been bitten, Kane had learned one undeniable truth: there was no one else in the world quite like Jeff. He’d spent the first year of his time in the pack waiting for the catch, waiting for the strings that had to be attached to the kindness. It had hit him not long after he was promoted to Third in the pack that it wasn’t coming. Respect was the leash that Morgan used to hold them, stronger than steel. Kindness. Love.

It was the reason that he was in this shithole of a dungeon, protecting someone he’d never laid eyes on. Because Jeff loved Misha and Vicki.

All right, and because Jeremy did.

The first slash of power shattered the wards on territory and on this particular cell. Kane was up in a heartbeat, heading for the door.

The door opened in his face a moment later. Kane smelled blood. A slim outline stood in the door, with a liberal coating across the face and arms. There was another smell too, that he couldn’t place--

The outline (the woman) snarled, fangs extending in a heartbeat, her wolf rising to change dark eyes to a glowing hazel. She stepped forward, already in a killing mood, and Kane felt his own wolf rising. He wouldn’t underestimate her. Too many good wolves died for not wanting to fight a woman. He hadn’t been one of them.

Then, amazingly, Misha whispered a hoarse word. “Vick?”

Kane backed up, closer to Misha. “Is that your mate?” he asked sharply.

She snarled again, deeper, not liking him near the wounded man. It decided Kane. He pushed his wolf down and let his knees buckle, assuming a pose of submission. “I’m Jeff’s third, Kane. I’m here to help you get him out.”

For a moment, he thought she’d rip out his throat anyway, too far gone in a killing rage. Then Misha made an abortive motion for her, a hurt noise, and Vicki turned towards him. From the side, Kane could see her pregnant belly curving the bulletproof vest, the way her hands shook on the gun she carried.

“Not that I don’t think it’s a shitty idea to move him, but I think we need to get him the fuck out of here,” a skinny male wolf muttered from the door. Kane hadn’t even seen him come in, which said he was too weak to trouble the wolf... or that he was stronger than Kane himself.

The Alpha, Christian realized. That skinny, haunted looking boy was Alpha. Something was off in his scent, a smell Kane almost recognized. Then Kane dismissed the thought; let the healers work it out. He ducked his head in fairly passable submission. “Alpha. I’m Third of Morgan’s pack. May I help you move him? Our healer is just past the battlefield.”

Another slash of power rocked the walls of the cell. Vicki, who had been crouched beside Misha to stroke his cheek, pulled herself upright. “Yes. Kane, you said? Please help me get him up.”

Kane moved to her, aware of the way the Alpha’s eyes tracked him. Kane lifted Misha gently, cradling him close, trying to keep all his disjointed bones in line.

To his credit, Misha bit his lip and didn’t cry out. His power fanned out past Kane, an itchy ghost feeling that Kane would never get used to. Misha’s eyes widened. “Jeremy’s here,” he said, his mouth curling in an impossible smile.

Vicki touched Misha’s face again, stroking along the curve of one swollen eye. “Then we’d better not keep him waiting.”

Kane moved Misha to the door, lowering his head in deference to the Alpha as he passed.

It was patently obvious that the Alpha didn’t like Kane holding his wolf. It was also obvious that there wasn’t any other way unless one of them wanted to give up their guns.

That apparently didn’t bear thinking about.

Jeff had asked a lot of hard things of Kane in the last few years. With the expansion of the pack from six of them, then to ten, and now standing over twenty strong, Kane spent a lot of time wrapped up in interpersonal dramas for which he had no point of reference.

Still, one of the hardest things he’d ever done was to turn his back on this unknown alpha, to trust that someone who cared for a member of their pack wouldn’t take the advantage to put a strong wolf down--to remove the competition.

The kind of alpha who went into an enemy territory with one pregnant wolf as backup to rescue a beta seer was not going to shoot Kane in the back while he was holding Misha. Probably.

Fortunately, it seemed like the Alpha was more focused on removing an enemy than a potential ally. They moved back through the house, Vicki and the Alpha flanking him, watching front and back for any problems.

It was Vicki who saw the glittering knife. Kane saw her react. The knife flew towards Misha, fast and true, the blade dull brown with tarnish.

Silver.

Fuck. Misha couldn’t handle silver in his system with everything else. He was barely holding on as it was.

Right. This was going to suck.

Kane spun, taking the blade in his shoulder instead of Misha’s throat.

Vicki’s gun barked twice, and then a third time. Kane gritted his teeth, feeling the silver burn through his blood. He was strong. It wouldn’t kill him. It would hurt like a sonofabitch until his power could overwhelm the toxins, but a shoulder wound wouldn’t kill him.

The Alpha put a hand out to steady him. “Do you want me to take him?” he asked.

“I’ve got him.” Kane breathed deeply, closing his eyes to force his focus away from the burn, to compartmentalize his pain. Silver burns were harder--too immediate, too sharp to ignore. It would get worse before it got better. First, the area of injury burned. Then, the sliver caught in the bloodstream, and before you knew it, every inch of your body was on fire. For a weaker wolf, it might be fatal.

“Are you sure?”

“Just get this fucking thing out of me,” he growled. His wolf washed through him, whining in pain.

The Alpha quirked one eyebrow, and Kane bit his tongue. Then the Alpha carefully wrapped his gloved hand around the hilt and pulled.

Silver bit in harder, and Kane couldn’t hold back the whine. “Barbed,” he hissed. “Just yank it.” He could feel his wolf bleeding through his control, trying to shift, to force the silver out of flesh. The bright colors muted as his other half looked through his eyes. Kane knew his eyes would have changed, blue bleeding almost into white.

In most packs, it would have been the thing that damned him--proof that he wasn’t a full blooded wolf. Somewhere in the heritage of the wolf that bit him had been good old canus lupus familiarus, the common dog. Probably husky or malamute.

The pain in his shoulder increased for a moment, ripping a snarl from his lips. He felt his fangs slide into place, and fought his instinct to lash out. The pain eased and he felt the blade slide out easily.

The other Alpha had cut the skin and flesh around the silver with a steel knife, letting him ease the barbs out. As Kane nodded his thanks, he felt the familiar pressure in his head that told him Jeremy was checking in.

***********

If Vicki hadn’t spent six years with Jeremy in her back pocket, she would probably have thought Kane was going into shock. His head tilted sharply, eyes going unfocused. She wondered if Jeremy was contacting him because of the knife wound, or if he didn’t want to talk to one of them. That he didn’t want them dead didn’t mean that he wanted them back. It just meant that Jeff had dragged Jeremy along.

Which made total sense. You wouldn’t leave one of your best battlefield assets on the sidelines.

Another contraction pressed in on her. She bit her lip, using power to force it away, like she’d been doing for the last four hours.

This time, the contraction fought back. The pain pushed her power out of the way, and dug its claws into her back. Her muscles bore down without permission, down, like the baby would come shooting out onto the floor. Panic spiked through her-- she would save Misha, only to watch their son bleed out on the floor at her feet.

Something deep in her gave, and warmth spilled down her legs to splatter onto the floor like rain. Her mouth opened in helpless pants as she looked down, knowing she would scream when she saw blood, but nothing but clear liquid met her eyes.

The pressure hit again, and it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t her abdomen this time. This time, it was that furred pressure in her mind. She knew its touch.

*Vicki? You okay?* Jeremy was there--in her head, his psychic scent wrapping around her like a familiar blanket.

A half laugh, half sob escaped from her before she could stop it. Jensen looked at her sharply. “It’s Jeremy,” she said, tapping her temple. “Just checking in.”

Jensen nodded, and turned away to watch the perimeter, not noticing the puddle that she was standing in. “Okay, lets move.”

Kane followed Jensen, but he noticed the puddle. “Ma’am?” he asked sharply.

“Shh. I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here,” Vicki said softly. Kane nodded, but a moment later, Jeremy’s presence in her mind spiked sharply.

*I’m coming. Stay put,* came the command.

Under the words, she could feel Jeremy’s heart beat speed up, feel his fear. She glared at Kane, who shrugged. “I shushed,” he said unapologetically. With the blood soaking his shirt and matting in his hair, she couldn’t really argue.

She followed Jensen, gun trained on the area behind them. Every so often, someone would come into view, and the guns would bark.

The play on words struck her as absurdly funny.

“Hold on tight,” Kane said, coming to her side. “Alpha, wait, please.”

Jensen opened his mouth to ask why, but in the next moment, the house shook, and the windows they had been about to walk past all shattered. Heat roared in, bringing with it the crackle of distant gunfire. Belatedly, Jensen tried to cover Vicki with his arm, stopped, then turned on Kane. “What was that?” he asked.

“It was an oil tank next to the shed,” Kane said.

“Your alpha put down explosives.” To anyone else, Jensen might have sounded coldly courteous. Vicki had heard that tone after Page died, when Jensen had killed two wolves with his bare hands. She’d heard it after Tricia died. Jeff was going to have Jensen come down on him like a brick wall, assuming they survived. “That would’ve been nice to know.”

“We didn’t. That was Jeff. Jeremy’s heading this way, and he needed a good distraction.” Kane looked over Vicki’s shoulder. “Because he’s an idiot who’s trying to get himself killed.”

The world tilted, strong arms sweeping her up. Vicki fought, elbowing and kicking, but it wasn’t until she reached for her knife that Jeremy growled in her ear, “It’s me.”

Jeremy.

His scent washed over her, first time in years, strong and sweaty and perfect. She could smell the blood on him, the blood of the people who had hurt her mate. She wanted to roll him under her, smear the blood between them, share their kills.

She could feel his pulse and body heat rising, his power shifting to match hers and Misha’s. That was new. She craned her head around to look at him-- he looked exhausted, and there was a thin river of blood trickling from one ear down his grimy neck. But he didn’t seem to be matching rhythms with them on purpose.

Then it hit her, where she’d heard of something like this before. Jeremy’s body was preparing for a mating tie.

With her--with them. She wanted to howl her triumph. She wanted to apologize, because if it was just his fear, their blood, the situation... he’d break her heart again.

The gunfire quieted. In the aftermath, a familiar voice rang out in a howl.

“We’re all clear,” Jeremy announced.

Jensen spun, caught off guard, hackles rising as he saw Jeremy’s arms wrapped around her. Jeremy moved like a shadow when he wanted to, and he obviously had wanted to. Even so, Jensen should have heard Jeremy coming. It had been a long and bloody day; Jensen was smeared with gore, including from two of their pack’s wolves who had joined Horseriver at the 11th hour, but he shouldn’t be that distracted.

“All clear?” Jensen asked, voice dropping into a near-growl. “Says who?”

“My alpha,” Kane said, moving to place himself between Jeremy and Jensen. That was good, since unless things had changed big time, Jeremy had no political ability.

Misha took that moment as a good time to vomit blood on the floor, splattering onto Kane’s cowboy boots. Vicki shuddered and extended her already-strapped power, trying to hold Misha together.

Jensen’s face tightened in sympathetic agony even as Jeremy made a soft pained noise.

“Chad’s pulling into the drive,” Kane said. “Misha needs him, now. Dickwave later.”

If she wasn’t half convinced that Jensen was going to go for Jeremy’s throat, Vicki would have laughed at the scandalized look on his face. Jeremy was wolf-born, and protocol meant next to nothing to him. If he couldn’t taste, touch, smell or see it, he had to fight to understand it, and every second running psychic interference made him less likely (less able) to try.

Vicki reached out and put her hand on Jeremy’s nape, a possessive reminder to Jensen that this wolf was hers.

Vicki had seen alphas on the killing edge. Most of them wouldn’t have been able to stop themselves from lashing out, even with a pregnant packmate between them and the offending party. Most of them weren’t as stubborn as Jensen. She saw Jensen force himself down, and that it cost him to do so.

Her belly cramped, muscles trying to tear around the hard knot of her womb, and she didn’t see anything for a while.
**********
Until the ragged little group emerged from Horseriver’s den, Jeff hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. All of them were walking wounded, Vicki and Misha carried out, but they were alive. Alive meant that they was some chance.

Jeff exhaled, relaxing by a hair, and approached. As he did, he got his first look at Page’s replacement. He wasn’t impressed. Vicki and Misha looked starved; the alpha didn’t, except for those box-cutter cheekbones. Young, thin and humorless mouth, set jaw. He wasn’t touching Misha or Vicki, even though they were hurt and needing comfort; he was wearing gloves, or at least their remains, like the blood might mess up his manicure.

He’d brought a pregnant wolf into a firefight.

His snap judgment wasn’t really fair, but this alpha’s refusal to let Vicki call for help might have gotten Misha and Vicki killed. Might still get them killed. Jeff didn’t have room left for fairness. When Misha and Vicki were stable, Jeff was going to have a talk with their alpha. A long one. If that talk ended with Jeff taking Vicki and Misha back and going home, well, so be it. He could be the bad guy.

Maybe Jeff’s anger showed, because the alpha tensed up. There might have been a whole stand-off, except Jeremy didn’t even pause in his mission of carrying Vicki to the van to be treated. Bless Jeremy and his obliviousness, whether it was intentional or not.

The alpha startled as Jeremy moved past him, but didn’t try to stop him or Kane. After a moment, his mouth gave a rueful twist that Jeff could sympathize with, even reluctantly, and he followed. Jeff fell in a step beside him.

“Alpha?” the kid said. His voice was gray, somehow.

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Jeff is better.”

Discomfort flitted through the kid’s scent. Page had been big on protocol and politics, and he’d probably trained this kid the same way. It pleased Jeff, in a childish way, to kick that out from under him.

The alpha recovered. “Jensen. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re not the only one who loves Misha and Vic.” And if Jensen thought that was the end of what Jeff had to say about it, he was sadly mistaken.

Jensen nodded jerkily and bit off, “Excuse me.”

They had reached the van. Through the open door, Jeff saw Misha and Vicki settled onto the inflatable mattress. Jeremy had curled up as small as he could get against the back of the driver’s seat, out of the way of Chad. Chad was checking vitals, a syringe between his teeth. He looked worried, and the fear in Jeff’s belly doubled.

Jensen stepped on the running board, ready to crawl into the back of the van. Without breaking stride, Chad growled around the syringe, “Out.”

Half in the door, Jensen said, “I can--”

Chad pulled the syringe out and began unwrapping its plastic sheath. “I don’t know your power and you’ll fuck me up. Get us past your wards if you wanna help.”

Jensen wavered; his gaze latched on Misha’s ashen face. Then he nodded jerkily and backed out of the van, closing the door behind him. He didn’t look at Jeff. “Take the passenger seat, Alpha. I’ll stand on the running board.”

Right. Jeff doubted that Jensen had much practice hanging onto the side of moving vans, and Jeff didn’t want to have to explain to Misha how his alpha ended up smeared across a half mile of bad road.

Besides, the kid’s hands were starting to shake. Adrenaline, Jeff guessed; maybe he’d never been surrounded by gunfire before. What a goddamn clusterfuck.

“Just get in, Jensen,” Jeff said.

Jensen darted a look at Jeff’s face, needled by the use of his name (first or last?), then exhaled and got in. At least the kid knew how to pick his battles. As soon as he was inside, Jensen started watching Misha and Vicki in the rearview mirror like his attention could keep them breathing.

Kane was squished between driver and passenger seat, holding pressure on his shoulder with Jared’s shirt. Blood leaked between his fingers. Jared, in the driver’s seat, looked unusually grim.

Jeff climbed on the running board, reaching through the open window to hold onto the headrest of the passenger seat. “We’re good, Jared.”

They drove. It was a drive that Jeff would have nightmares about, later. The road was uneven. Once, after a axle-grinding pothole, Jeff heard Misha cry out. He tried to turn, to see if he could help, and wasn’t braced for the next jarring bump.

His foot slipped off the running board. In the heartbeat where he was falling, Jeff saw broken bones and lost minutes that Misha couldn’t afford and--

And then Jensen grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back up onto the running board.

Jeff felt several things at once: the sick pain of his bad knee clipping the van door; Jensen’s bare palm burned like dry ice; Jeff’s wolf surged up in him and bit a chunk out of his heart. It all hurt, but Jeff was suddenly and painfully hard.

Whatever it was, Jensen got a taste of it, too. His eyes met Jeff, wide like the feeling had jolted several years off him. His eyes were green, Jeff realized, green like summer. There was a spatter of freckles against the ashen pallor of his face.

Jeff wanted to grab Jensen by the scruff of his neck and bite his shocked mouth. Jensen was staring at him, less deer in the headlights and more cat with prey, and they were going to collide. It was inevitable. It had been inevitable even before Jensen touched him.

Whether they would murder each other was the real question.

Wrenching his hand back, Jensen turned his face away from Jeff. His body was still a curved invitation as far as Jeff’s wolf was concerned, but Jeff wasn’t all wolf. It would be simpler if he were, maybe, but wolf instincts had to share space with human thought, and Jeff thought this was the wrong time. Later, when Misha wasn’t dying. Later.

His eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, Jensen touched his bare palm with a gloved thumb. Jeff’s skin prickled, feeling an echo in his own body. Fuck.

He’d always heard mating described as feeling like you opened your skin and sewed another person in. He could feel Jensen’s power, feel it inside him. It ached, and he could feel his wolf writhing under the surface. Too close to the surface for comfort. The red of the van dulled to a gray/brown color that owed more to the wolf than him. If Jensen had looked back, he might have seen the glowing eyes and the canines sliding down.

Chad saw it, he knew that much. He leaned forward, slapping at the window switch. “Alpha, I’m going to need help with setting Misha’s hands. And I need you to call Adrianne and have my surgery stuff ready.”

The wolf faded at the scent of blood and ammonia. Normally he’d be all over the blood, but not when it was Misha’s. Now it whined, curling away from the scent.

Jeff pulled out the cell. “Can anyone in the house key your wards? A couple of my wolves are outside the boundary near the house with supplies.”

“No, only Misha, Vicki and I,” Jensen said. “We’re almost to the boundary. Tell them to get ready. When we get there, I’ll drop them.”

“You could drop them now,” Jeff suggested, with not-really-suggesting pleasantness he saved for other alphas. “Save time.”

Jensen still didn’t look at him. “There could be some of Horseriver left.”

“Even if there is, which I doubt, you killed their alpha and most of the top rank is dead. The survivors won’t try to hit you, they’d get slaughtered.”

“Wouldn’t matter if they take us with them.”

“It’s true,” Vicki croaked from the back of the van. “They’re like a goddamn cult. Creepy bastards.”

Jeff stared at the side of Jensen’s face. “I thought this was a land dispute.”

The answering laugh from Jensen sounded caustic enough to strip paint. “Is that what you thought.”

It was probably good that Jensen hadn’t been riding the running board, because Jeff might’ve shoved him off. Before Jeff could tell Jensen what he thought in greater anatomical detail, Jensen added, “We’re here,” and dropped the wards. “I need to call my people, so they won’t shoot yours.”

Jensen had won their argument just by dragging his heels long enough. Jeff might’ve felt less irritated if the little bastard bothered to look smug.

Kane wordlessly pulled his cell from his pocket. Jensen took it. His sweatshirt (unnecessary in the Texas autumn) rode up as he moved, revealing the pale inside of his wrist. Between the shields of glove and sweatshirt, Jensen’s knobby wrist-bone protruded.

Jeff reminded his wolf that if he tried to wrap Jensen in a fuzzy blanket and feed him soup, he’d probably lose an arm. It didn’t help with the urge.

Instead he called Adrianne and Smith, knowing that even with the rush of wind, they’d hear his orders. Might even follow them.

“Alpha, what do your people look like?” Jensen asked.

“Smith is in her forties, purple and blue hair this week. Cut short and probably spiked. Adrianne is...” Jeff cracked a smile despite himself. “Blonde, curvy, beautiful. A sweet little steamroller in sweats.”

Even with blood up to his wrists, Chad snorted. “That’s a really good description. Alpha, does your place have power or clean water?”

“Horseriver cut the power a couple of months ago,” Jensen said. “The water stopped up about three weeks ago. We have a river on our property plus a case of water purifying tabs, or we’d be dead by now. Vicki used the last bit of charge on the cell to call you. They’d been blocking us, like a Faraday cage, but Sam found one of the ward stones they used to do it and shattered it. It gave us enough space to get one call out.”

The words were sparse, not particularly descriptive, but Jeff could see the last few months of desperation: dwindling supplies, no way out, no help coming.

Jared’s face brightened. “I’ll take a look and see what I can do to fix it. I’m the pack handyman.”

“Pack miracle worker,” Kane muttered. I don’t know how you kept the old RV running for as long as you did.”

Jared shrugged slightly, a pleased smile touching his lips. Jared was just one of those people who was wired to keep the peace and make other people happy. It was an awesome thing to have in the pack.

Jensen returned his attention to the cell, talking to his pack quietly, staying on the phone until they verified that Jeff’s pack had arrived and no one else. A few minutes later, the wards went back up.

The driveway for the house was slightly less bumpy than the road, enough that Chad was able to get a large bore IVs into Misha.

Even from where he was riding, Jeff could hear Misha’s bones grinding together when Chad put the tourniquet on. Jared turned a particularly lovely shade of green. Poor kid didn’t have the stomach for this.

Then again, maybe it was Jared’s heart that was the problem; Jared had joined the pack just before Misha and Vicki had left. Vicki had been the one to challenge Jared’s alpha for he and Chad. She’d known that Jeff would have hesitated before killing a woman, even an alpha, even a cruel bitch. No leaving a threat like that alive to come after them later.

The van slowed to a stop in front of a sprawling ranch house that was the pack’s homestead. Parked beside the house was their RV.

Jared was out of the driver’s seat in a heartbeat, coming around to offer Chad his help. Jeff followed, standing anxiously to one side until Jeremy climbed out with Vicki wrapped in his arms. When Jensen reached for her, Jeremy’s lip curled back to show teeth.

Jeff moved forward to intervene, not liking the thrumming tension in Jensen’s body. Then Jeff smelled the scent of Jeremy’s power, and realized abruptly that he wasn’t the only one with a newly forged mating tie today. Fuck, he wasn’t sure how to convince Jeremy to stand down, with Vicki hurt--

“Stop,” Vicki firmly said, knotting her fingers in Jeremy’s hair and tugging. To Jeff’s surprise, Jeremy ducked his head and muttered an apology.

Jensen drew back a step, relaxing as he apparently scented what Jeff had. He even managed a thin smile for Vicki.

Chad slid out of the van, making motions at them all to back off. “I need a clean sheet, and I need Vicki settled in a chair about five feet from the table we’re using for surgery. Alpha, can you go in and make sure we’ll have a clear pathway into the kitchen? Ask Adrianne to make up about three gallons of Wolfsure.”

Jensen went.
Part2