Finding Chrissten: Legacy, Book 5 (26 page)

Hank yelled her name as the remaining werewolves made to attack him, sleek and deadly in their wolf forms.

She was going to die and he wasn’t going to be able to stop it.

The hell he wasn’t.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he leapt, launching himself through the air. He was going to make it. He extended his arms. Muscles protesting. Limbs aching.

He managed to snag her at the last second. He wrapped his arms around her and they fell to the floor. He did his best to cushion her fall and then rolled, covering her with his much larger body. Sharp claws sliced his back, shredding skin and exposing tissue and muscle.

He had to move, had to get Chrissten to safety. He started to move, yanking her with him, and the world around him exploded.

Chrissten shoved at the large body covering hers. One moment she’d been in midair, poised to attack William head-on. The next she was on the ground, the wind knocked out of her lungs. She tried to breathe and began to panic when she couldn’t.

Yells and screams filled the air and she shoved at the male on top of her. She had to get free. She managed to get her torso free and sucked much needed air into her lungs.

What was happening? Where was Hank?

The male still covering most of her body groaned. Her heart almost stopped. She recognized that groan.

Hank
.

One part of her brain was dimly aware the others had finally arrived and were locked in combat with the three remaining werewolves. Isaiah and Joshua attacked William while the rest of them took on the others. Her father was here too, fighting side by side with Quinn.

But she was only vaguely aware of this, the bulk of her attention focused totally on Hank. She managed to get out from beneath him and cried out when she got a good look at him. His clothing and his skin were both ripped to shreds. There didn’t seem to be a part of him that wasn’t damaged. Blood covered his limbs and his face was leached of all color.

His back seemed to have taken the worst of it. And his breathing was ragged. She heard a gurgling sound and terror filled her. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t.

Chrissten yanked her top over her head and used it to try to staunch the worst of the flow. It didn’t work and was quickly soaked in blood and sweat. “Don’t you die on me,” she ordered.

His eyelids fluttered and opened. He tried to speak but couldn’t. He licked his lips and tried again. “Run.”

She could barely make out the single word but it filled her with unspeakable anguish. Even now, as his life’s blood was leaking onto the stained linoleum, his concern was for her.

“No. I’m not running. You have to protect me.” She’d use anything she could think of, even his bone-deep sense of responsibility, to keep him alive and with her.

His gaze sharpened, going from dazed to intense in a heartbeat. Hank pushed himself into a seated position, arm muscles straining under the weight of his torso and blood dripping down his back and chest. She didn’t know how he managed considering the state of his body.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Protecting you.”

He would too. She’d known it in her heart, but seeing it in action was something else all together. She became aware of the silence at the same time he did. They both looked over their shoulders to the bloodbath beyond.

Six bodies were strewn across the floor. There was the one Hank had shot to death with silver bullets and the one she’d killed with the broken table leg. Brian lay on the floor with Hank’s dagger stuck in his chest. William’s neck was twisted at an impossible angle and the two remaining wolves had silver-coated daggers protruding from their sides and necks. All six were dead. It was done.

The Haven pack surrounded them, chests heaving, muscles flexing. Several of them had serious cuts and bruises but nothing life-threatening. The only one in danger of dying was Hank.

Quinn was by her side in the blink of an eye. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She hissed in pain when he accidentally hit the slashes on her arms and he backed away.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” He said the words over and over. He brushed her hair away from her face, touching her scalp, her neck, her back, anywhere he could reach without hurting her. She knew he had to reassure himself she was alive. And she needed it too.

Chrissten suddenly felt nauseous and turned away, praying she wouldn’t disgrace herself by vomiting on the floor. The adrenaline dump that had allowed her to function was about to run out and she was going to crash. Hard. She’d lost a lot of blood as well. Her head, which had stopped aching during the fight, was now pounding again, reminding her she probably had a concussion.

“Chrissten? We’ve got to get you out of here. You’ll be okay.” Her brother tried to move her but she resisted.

“Hank.” He’d slumped back onto the floor and his breathing was even more labored than it had been. She was worried one of the lethal claws that had struck him had punctured a lung.

Quinn helped her to her feet. She was thankful, as she was none to steady.

“The others will get Hank.”

“No.” She pulled away, needing him to understand. She had to take care of Hank. He was her responsibility. He was hers.

Isaiah strode over and helped Hank to his feet. “We’ll take care of him, Chrissten, but we have to get out of here. We don’t know if anyone in the neighborhood called the cops. We haven’t exactly been quiet.”

Hank leaned heavily on the other male and she knew he was close to collapse. Only Isaiah’s strength was holding him upright. She wished they’d carry him but knew Hank’s stubborn male pride wouldn’t allow it.

When Isaiah started to lead Hank away, she followed, not willing to let him out of her sight. The quicker they got back to Haven the faster his injuries would be seen to.

“The bodies?” It sickened her to ask, but they couldn’t just leave them here.

“Don’t worry.” It was Joshua Striker who spoke. She didn’t know him well, but he was Isaiah’s brother so she trusted him. “We’ll take care of them.” He nodded his head toward Donovan Brody and he inclined his head in agreement.

She started to turn away but caught a flash of something out of the far corner of her eye. Like some demon rising from the dead, Brian suddenly surged upright, yanked the dagger out of his chest and attacked.

Her father yelled her name, but she wasn’t his target. Hank was.

Chrissten jerked away from her brother, finding the strength from somewhere to lunge forward. Her hands made contact and she managed to shove Brian away from Isaiah and Hank. She had to kill him. Had to finish this.

Before she could strike again, Hank was beside her. He plunged his claw-tipped hand into the gash on Brian’s chest. When he yanked it out, he had Brian’s heart clenched tight in his fist. This time when Brian fell he didn’t get up.

Blood spurted everywhere, covering both her and Hank. She stared at him in growing horror. He dropped the heart on the floor and stepped on it, all the while keeping his fierce gaze locked on her face. Then he swayed and collapsed. If not for Isaiah’s quick reflexes he would have hit the floor. The alpha scooped Hank into his arms and started issuing orders. “Finish this and burn it to the ground. Where the hell is Damek? We could have used him here.”

His voice seemed to fade away. Chrissten blinked, trying to see through the haze of blood. It had all happened so fast no one else had been able to react.

She could hear Quinn talking to her, hear her father’s voice in the background and knew they were both worried about her. But she didn’t have enough energy to reassure them. She had to get to Hank. Was he even alive?

Was the nightmare finally over or was it just beginning?

Chapter Seventeen

Voices surrounded Hank. They drifted in and out of his consciousness while he floated blissfully in a sea of black. He heard her voice. Chrissten. He didn’t like the fact she sounded worried. Upset.

He stirred and tried to open his eyes, but it was as though they’d been glued shut. He tried to speak, but managed only a grunt.

Gentle hands stroked his face. He felt the brush of soft hair against his skin. He sucked in a breath and caught her scent in his nostrils before drifting off again.

It was the sound of voices that once again pulled him out of unconsciousness. He remained totally still, keeping his breathing even so he wouldn’t alert anyone to the fact he was awake.

“You need to rest.” He tried to place the male voice but it was difficult to make his brain focus.

“I’m all right, Quinn.” Like a fine wine, her voice filled him with warmth and contentment. He sighed and started to fall back into sleep when everything suddenly snapped into place.

Chrissten. The fight with Brian. The look of horror on her face when he held her mate’s heart in his hand.

Pain lashed him. He’d never forget her expression. Blood had flecked her pale porcelain skin and light hair. Her blue eyes were unfocused, her pupils dilated. He’d been afraid she’d collapse and was grateful her brother had been there to catch her.

How would she look at him now?

He was a murderer. A killer. The fact the execution was one of justice didn’t change what he’d done. He’d brutally shoved his fist into the male’s chest and yanked out his heart.

And he’d do it again in a heartbeat. Whatever it took to protect her.

“You should get some sleep. One of the others can sit with Hank.” Quinn was cajoling her now, trying to coax her away from the room. Hank didn’t like the thought of her not being close to him even as he worried about her health.

He concentrated on opening his eyes. It wasn’t easy. His entire body ached from head to toe. The good part was he would heal. If he wasn’t dead by now it wasn’t likely to happen. But that wasn’t doing him much good at the moment. His body still had a ways to go before it would pay much heed to his commands.

He persevered and managed to get his eyes open a slit. Quinn was standing beside Chrissten, who was seated in a chair next to his bed. They’d reversed roles and now it was her watching over him.

“Hank is my responsibility.”

Quinn didn’t like that. Hank could see it in the way his shoulders stiffened. Come to think of it, he didn’t like it much himself. He didn’t want her to stay because she felt responsible for him. He wanted her to stay because she wanted him, because she loved him.

And he was an idiot. She’d just gotten rid of one mate, a male who’d abducted and abused her. No way would she be looking to tie herself down to another male, especially not one who she knew was a violent killer.

“What are you saying?” His gaze narrowed on Quinn. Hank didn’t like the other male’s tone.

Chrissten shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I just need to be here.”

Quinn shoved a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. Hank almost felt bad for him. Almost. He did wish Quinn would leave so he could let her know he was awake and talk to her.

“I’m worried about you, Chris.” There was no disguising the love and caring in Quinn’s voice. Once again, Hank was reminded how close these siblings were. They were twins. That was a deep bond that would never be broken.

Chrissten reached out and touched her brother’s arm. “I know you are. But I’m okay.”

Quinn heaved a sigh. “Promise me you’ll call one of us if you get tired. It’s all I can do to keep our father from coming up here and dragging you off somewhere so you can rest.”

Hank tensed. No one was going to make Chrissten do anything she didn’t want to. He’d get out of this damn bed and fight them if he had to.

She nodded. “I will. Now go on. I’m going to curl up in the chair and nap.”

Quinn plucked a blanket off the end of the bed, snapped it open and laid it over his sister. “Don’t catch a chill.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“I won’t,” she promised. “And thank you. For everything. For never giving up searching for me. For coming to my rescue a second time.”

One corner of Quinn’s mouth turned up in a grin. “It’s what big brothers do.”

She laughed and the soft sound soothed Hank’s soul. He liked the fact Chrissten was close to her family, had someone to look out for her. At least he liked her brothers. He still wasn’t sure about her newfound father. But he wished it was him making her laugh, bringing a slight smile to her face.

“I’ll be down in the bar helping out if you need me.”

“Okay.”

He closed his eyes and felt Quinn’s gaze brush over him. Hank kept his eyes closed until he heard the front door of his apartment shut and footsteps receding down the stairs.

Chrissten sighed and he opened his eyes again, not bothering to pretend he was still sleeping. She was staring right at him.

“I thought you were awake.” She curled up deeper in the chair and pulled the blanket over her shoulders.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I figured if you wanted Quinn to know you’d have said something.”

He nodded and quickly decided that was a mistake. His head began to pound. There was a soft rustle of fabric and then a warm hand brushed his forehead. “Does your head hurt?”