Finding Chrissten: Legacy, Book 5 (25 page)

Chrissten took a deep breath and shoved all other thoughts aside. It was time to get a divorce.

She grabbed the knob on the door and turned.

Hank worked his way around down the street and around to the back of the building, keeping to the shadows. He moved quickly and silently, a deadly predator on the hunt. He avoided the few people on the streets, skirting a drug dealer making a sale and several women out trolling the streets for some action.

Every cell in his body was focused on the task at hand—free Chrissten and kill Brian and his pack. They couldn’t afford to leave even one of them alive or Chrissten and Bethany would always be at risk.

He didn’t feel sorry for the males. They’d made their choice when they’d participated in the abduction and abuse of innocent females. Hank couldn’t understand a man who would hurt a woman. It was wrong on every level. A male protected and looked after his family, his mate and those who were weaker.

His breathing was low and even as he made his way behind the wooden building. It was much like the one they’d held Chrissten in before—an older structure that had been turned into several apartments years ago but had fallen into disrepair.

He automatically filtered the sounds of the city out of his brain. He ignored the buzz of the power lines, the rumble of the traffic, the white noise that was constant. He honed his preternatural hearing until all he could hear was the building in front of him. Everything else faded away.

There were several people moving around inside. Voices.

Hank set down his bag and began to gear up. He tucked two silver-coated knives into his belt along with a 9mm semi-automatic pistol. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. Then he kicked off his sneakers. If he had to shift he wanted to be able to do it on the fly.

He wished he had a machete so he could behead the fuckers. He could always use his claws to rip out their hearts. That worked as well as silver bullets. Werewolves were quick healers, but they weren’t immortal and needed a healthy heart to survive.

He thought long and hard about taking his rifle, but it wouldn’t be of much use in this situation. This was going to be up close and personal. He stored his gear bag behind a pile of garbage and walked gingerly to the back door, avoiding the worst of the debris that littered the ground. He was wearing only his jeans and his weapons when he opened the door and stepped into the gloomy back porch.

Raised male voices reached his ears. They were up the stairs and to the right. They were arguing about something and he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was about—Chrissten.

He pushed her out of his mind, hardened his heart and pulled a familiar layer of ice around him. He had a mission to accomplish.

Hopefully their argument would distract them from his arrival. No matter how quiet he was they should be able to hear him. Or at least smell him. They were, after all, pureblooded werewolves.

He pulled his gun and started up the stairs, keeping to the sides of the treads where they were less likely to squeak.

Chapter Sixteen

Hank’s hands were rock steady, his breathing slow and controlled. He knew the others were close behind him, maybe minutes away, but he couldn’t wait. He had no idea what condition Chrissten was in or if she was even still alive.

No, she had to be alive. If Brian wanted to kill her he could have easily done so, but he’d kidnapped her instead. That meant he had plans for her.

Hank couldn’t think about what those plans might be or he’d go mad.

There was no way to simply take a sneak and peek, which is what he would do if these men were human. But they weren’t. He couldn’t sneak up on them the way he could humans, not with their preternatural senses.

He held his gun in his right hand. He had to make every shot count and he had to hit a werewolf at least a half-dozen times if he hoped the silver in the bullets would incapacitate his enemy and eventually kill him. He could probably take down one, maybe two with his gun, if he was extremely lucky. Then it would be the knives and hand-to-hand combat. Finally, he would shift and fight as a wolf. Whatever it took to rescue Chrissten.

“Why should we wait?” A male voice protested. Hank stilled, barely breathing as he listened to the ongoing conversation.

“Because I said so.” Hank recognized Brian’s voice. He wanted to kill the fucker so badly he could taste it. He’d hurt Chrissten and he would pay for that with his life.

“You had her for months,” another male protested. Hank didn’t like where this conversation was going. Some of the men were trying to psych themselves up to challenge the alpha of their small pack.

“She’s mine.” Brian’s reply brought a low growl up from deep in Hank’s chest, and he was forced to swallow it back. Restraint. He needed to keep his emotions in check and maintain control over himself.

He eased around the corner and took a quick glance at the room. It used to be the kitchen and probably a dining room. But the wall separating the two had been taken down, making one enormous area. A lower bank of cabinets ran along the wall with the sink. The upper ones were missing. The refrigerator and stove were gone, leaving only an empty space. A pile of debris was mounded in the far corner of the room as though someone had tried to clear away the main area.

A rickety table was situated in the center of the room. There were several empty pizza boxes and some empty beer cans scattered on and around it. Two men sat at the table. Hank recognized the largest one as Brian.

Four more ranged around the room, leaning against walls and counters. Damek had said there were six of them. That meant they were all here.

But where was Chrissten? Out of the corner of his eyes he caught movement. The knob of a closet door, probably to an old pantry cupboard, twisted ever so slightly.

Shit
. He took a deep breath and scented her immediately. It was Chrissten and she was going to try to escape. He couldn’t let her step out into the fighting. She might get hit by a bullet or used as a hostage by one of the wolves.

There was no time to wait. No time to plan his attack.

He swung into action. His gun tracked around the room as he fired. Silver bullets struck several of the males. One went down, but the rest reacted with speed and cunning, rolling to the floor and diving out of sight. The table was tipped up and used as a temporary blind so they could move.

His clip emptied, he tossed the gun aside, drew his knives and attacked.

Chrissten was just about to throw open the door when gunfire erupted in the other room. She automatically ducked down, making herself small as the world outside exploded. She heard several males grunt and the sweet, metallic scent of blood reached her. She eased the door open a crack. Blood tracked down the walls in several places. Howls of anger filled the air. Two of the males shifted. Another had extended his claws and was digging a bullet out of his injured flesh.

Her senses were overloaded with sensation, but layering all of it was a scent she’d come to know so well. Hank. He’d come for her.

She ripped open the door in time to see him toss aside his gun, draw two wicked knives and attack Brian. She glanced around hoping to see the others and was horrified when she realized he was alone.

Then there was no time left to think or wonder. William saw her standing in the doorway and sprang toward her, partially shifting on the fly. She dove to the floor and rolled away, ignoring the loud protests of her already injured body. William hit the wall with a solid thud, but not before his claws ripped down her arm. She hissed with pain. But anger shut out most of the agony spiking through her.

She needed a weapon and she was running out of time.

Another werewolf came toward her, his tongue all but hanging out. It was no trouble for her to tell what he was thinking. He was hoping to get a taste of her while Brian was busy fighting Hank.

A red haze obscured her vision. No way was she allowing these creatures to take anything more from her. She wouldn’t call them men. They were animals in the worst sense of the word.

Her gaze tracked around the floor as she continued to move, staying low while trying to keep out of range of William and the other werewolf stalking her. One of the males lay still on the floor, his body riddled with bullet holes. The two others, still in their wolf form, watched Brian and Hank fight. She couldn’t watch. Brian was a pureblooded wolf while Hank was a half-breed. He wouldn’t stand a chance. Not unless he had help.

Her fingers closed over a table leg that had snapped off. The broken-off end was extremely sharp, much like a spear. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

She kept it by her side as the unknown werewolf loomed over her. His lank brown hair reached below his shoulders and lust filled his dark eyes. He licked his lips and reached for his zipper. “Time for some fun.”

She tightened her hold on the wood, knowing she’d get only one shot at this. He opened his snap and then reached for her. Chrissten scooted back to the wall and scrambled to her feet, ignoring the steady trickle of blood that tracked down her arm.

The male pounced. As he did, she brought up the wood, holding it in two hands and thrust it forward. It penetrated his chest, piercing his heart.

He tried to reach for his wolf and fangs dropped down from his gums. His claws raked at her as he fell to the floor. She released her grip on the table leg, dropped to the floor and crawled away as fast as she could. Her breath was coming so hard her chest hurt. Sweat beaded on her forehead. A low, pained whimper filled her ears. It took her a moment to realize the sound was coming from her.

She bit her lower lip to stop it. Her hands were shaking. They were also covered in blood, hers and that of the male she’d just killed. With her back in a corner, she swiped her good arm over her eyes to clear away the combination of sweat and tears.

Two down. Four to go.

Her gaze fell in the center of the small room. Growls and snarls ricocheted off the walls as Hank and Brian circled one another with the two wolves looking on. Hank was bleeding from both his arms and legs. He still had his knives in hand, but she didn’t know how much help they’d actually be. Brian was several inches taller and had at least thirty pounds on Hank.

He was going to die and it was her fault.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Time slowed and their gazes met. She could see no regret in his eyes, only determination.
Go
. He mouthed the word and then ducked low as Brian took another swipe at him. It missed his head but hit his shoulder, drawing blood. Then Hank whirled as one of the wolves lunged at him, jabbing one of his knives into his attacker’s side before dancing out of reach.

He was willing to give his life for hers.

Chrissten was stunned. She knew he felt something for her, cared for her. But never in her life could she imagine anyone other than her brothers being willing to give their life for her.

He couldn’t win and he knew it. He could run and he might make it. But he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the kind of male Hank was.

Chrissten pushed to her feet. William was on the prowl, stalking toward her.

If Hank was going to die she was going to die with him. Her heart swelled and she threw back her head and howled, letting Hank know she wouldn’t abandon him.

Claws ripped from her fingertips and her jaw elongated, revealing wicked sharp teeth. There was no way she could fully change without her clothing impeding her.

This would have to do.

Brian turned to her when she howled and Hank used that distraction to send one of his knives home, stabbing Brian in the chest. Brian gasped and fell to his knees.

Chrissten didn’t know if the injury would kill him or not and didn’t care. Every molecule in her body was focused on protecting Hank. William immediately turned to Brian when he went down. The distraction was exactly what she’d needed, and Chrissten attacked.

A sudden howl made the fine hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stand on end. It wasn’t a cry of victory from Brian or one of the other males. It was an anguished sound and it was female.

Brian’s attention was splintered for a split second and Hank took advantage. He exploded into action, driving his silver-coated dagger deep into the bastard’s heart. With their leader down the others might panic, giving Chrissten a better chance to escape.

He swiped at his eyes and staggered back several feet as Brian fell to his knees, silver dagger embedded in his chest. There was no sense of triumph in killing Chrissten’s mate, not like he’d thought there would be. Only the knowledge that he’d done what needed doing.

He stayed on his feet, but it wasn’t easy. Every muscle in his body quivered and he grew weaker with each passing second. He was leaking like a goddamn sieve and knew he wouldn’t last much longer. His only regret was he wished he’d told Chrissten that he loved her. He inhaled deeply, pulling in a much needed lungful of air. He pulled his control around him. He could do this. Had to finish it.

Hank swiped at the sweat and blood dripping down his face to clear his vision and searched the room for Chrissten. He had to find her. When he did, his heart almost stopped. She was in midair, flying straight toward a big bastard. The werewolf was ready for her, claws extended.