strange . . . broken, Riley realized. It slowed his descent from killing to crippling. The changeling also managed to shift his trajectory so he slammed into a pile of old wood instead of the concrete, but he came down hard, a falcon in full animal form.
They were both running before he hit, heading back toward the building. Riley hated that his mate was going into danger, but his wolf respected her strength. This was who she was, and she was perfect. The falcon lay as if dead, but when Mercy put her hand on its body, she nodded. “Alive.”
Riley gauged the bird’s weight. “Big son of a bitch.” Carrying him in animal form would be awkward, but if he was this big as a bird, he was likely bigger as a human. Bird changelings did seriously weird things with their weight when they shifted, but in general, their animal form was smaller. In the end, it took both of them.
He slid his hands under the falcon’s back half, while Mercy took the front. “Ready?”
“Go.” They headed away from the scene, knowing they only had seconds.
But they didn’t even have that. They smelled the ignition at the same moment. Riley looked at Mercy.
Laying down their burden even as they shifted, they covered the injured changeling with their animal forms as the world turned to fire around them.
The wolf’s howl lifted above the city, mournful, sad, so desperately sad that everyone who heard it felt their heart tremble in echoed grief. Running from the Palace of Fine Arts at a speed that made the humans in his way gasp and wonder if they’d really seen what they thought they had, Hawke followed the sound to a patch of concrete not far from a collapsed building. Dust and smoke clogged the air, but he didn’t need to see to find them.
A large gray wolf stood in front of an unconscious leopard. The wolf was licking at her muzzle, patting her face with his paw, trying to nudge her to wakefulness. But the leopard lay still, so still that it was almost as if she wasn’t breathing.
A falcon lay a little to the left. It was alive. Good enough. Hawke turned back to those who were his own and knelt down beside them. The wolf didn’t turn to look at him, all its attention focused on the fallen leopard. When Hawke went to check the leopard for injuries, he moved slowly, ensuring the wolf knew he didn’t intend to do harm. Even so, the wolf stood ready to strike, those amber eyes watching Hawke’s every move.
That was when Hawke noticed the wolf’s left back leg was broken. He didn’t tell the male to sit. Instead, he focused on finding the leopard’s injuries. The most dangerous one was obvious the instant he looked at the downed feline’s side. A massive gash split the black and gold of her soot-covered fur, probably caused by flying debris.
Hawke swore and pulled off his T-shirt to stop the blood flow. He could’ve helped the wolf, but sharing strength with a leopard was beyond his abilities. It agitated the alpha wolf inside him—this leopard, this woman, was Pack. He had to help her. “Hold on, Mercy,” he murmured, shoving a hand into his pocket to close around his cell phone.
It proved unnecessary.
Lucas ran out of the smoky haze that very instant, followed by Tamsyn. Behind Tammy and Luc, he saw two other falcons land and shift. In normal circumstances, they’d be dead for having invaded another predator’s territory, but Hawke knew they’d likely been coming in early for the meeting at the Glade.
“Lara had to stay at the hospital,” Tammy said in a quick-fire report. “One of your young men is having a bad reaction to the tranquilizer they used.” A glance at the wolf who stood in silent watch. “Can you take care of Riley?”
“He won’t let me,” Hawke informed her. “Not until Mercy’s okay.”
“Men,” Tamsyn muttered but she was already removing his wadded-up T-shirt and checking the wound. “It’s bad, but she’s a fighter. Come on, Merce.” Putting her hands over the wound, she closed her eyes.
Hawke could feel the healing energy emanating from her, though her energy was unfamiliar—feline. Healers calmed everyone when they began working; however, the injured wolf stood guard, ears raised, but mouth closed. Watching. Waiting. If anyone made a wrong move, that unfortunate individual would find their jugular sliced clean through.
Riley was in no way rational right now.
Placing one hand on Mercy’s head beside Hawke’s, and the other on Tammy’s shoulder, Lucas frowned. “Sascha’s got her, I think.”
Hawke knew Luc and Sascha had a strong connection, but he hadn’t realized it was telepathic to a degree. A twinge of envy uncurled in his gut. Like the leopards, changeling wolves mated for life. He’d never had that chance —the girl who would’ve grown into a woman he adored had died decades ago. And now his wolf walked alone.
It was as well, he thought, that Riley had mated. They needed a strong male-female bond at the top of the leadership structure. It would center the pack, anchor it. Now he felt the strength of that mating bond flow into Tammy, and through her, back into Mercy. Changeling healers fixed things with touch, but the energy had to come from somewhere. Riley nudged at Mercy’s nose with his own, touching her with one careful paw.
That was when Hawke felt something tug at him. Similar to when Lara drew power during a complicated healing. He glanced at Tamsyn. “You feel that?”
A distracted nod. “It’s from Riley.”
No, Hawke thought, it wasn’t. It was coming from him, too. And that meant Riley and Mercy had completed the mating. His gaze met Lucas’s.
“You can’t have her,” the leopard alpha said, as if he’d read Hawke’s mind.
Their eyes clashed, alpha to alpha, wolf to leopard. The air stilled.
“Fight over her later,” Tammy hissed, her voice a lacerating whip. “Come on, Mercy, wake the hell up.”
But she didn’t. No matter how many times the wolf tried to nuzzle her back to consciousness.
CHAPTER 53
The Councilors didn’t bother to have a full meeting to deal with the Alliance issue. They simply agreed on a course of action and dispatched squads to take care of it. If the Alliance wanted a war, they’d get a war.
But the chairman had miscalculated on one crucial point. The Council chose stealth, not public violence. With the recent surge of hostile behavior by Psy, overt bloodshed would’ve run counter to their attempts to calm the populace. Instead, things were taken care of with such subtlety, it was impossible to prove Psy involvement.
And the Psy didn’t kill everyone. Instead, minds were scanned and dossiers built. The one called “the chairman” had escaped the net, but three of those at the top of the food chain had been tracked and eliminated. The others would be found sooner or later. The worker bees had been left alone . . . with their memories of what had happened intact. Their leadership had abandoned them to take the heat, knowing the assassins would come.
The Psy had had a century to learn the cold logic of demoralizing the enemy.
Now, the paramilitary arm of the Alliance was crumbling from within.
CHAPTER 54
Lucas and Hawke stood looking down at the badly injured male prone on the hospital bed. “What the fuck happened, Adam?”
“I got shot out of the sky. Like a damn plane.” Ignoring the myriad other wounds that marked his body, the tall, heavily muscled man stared at his shattered wing, having remained in half-shift form to allow the wing to set properly. “Fuck, that’s going to take weeks to heal.”
“Only reason you’re not dead,” Hawke pointed out, “is because you’re alpha in waiting.”
“Wing leader,” Adam corrected, an odd catch in his voice. “It’s you four-legged beasts who have alphas.”
“Insulting us?” Hawke drawled, though his mood was anything but buoyant.
Lucas looked over, his own face drawn. “I don’t think he realizes he’s in our territory and we can bury his
