Chapter 22

“Quick, we have to hurry,” Trinity urged as she rose to her feet.

Nate and Ryder both dragged her back down. “Are you crazy?” Nate hissed.

“You heard them,” she whispered, gesturing toward the clearing. They’d been scouting the new den and had heard Matthias’s challenge from the copse of trees that concealed them.

“We have to stop this,” she whispered back fiercely.

“Let Dave do his thing,” Ryder instructed. She turned back to the witch, who was crouching, drawing a circle in the dirt with a twig.

Trinity frowned. “Are you sure this transfer thing will work?”

Dave didn’t look up. “Of course.”

He’d explained that he could perform a transfer spell, shifting the power of Matthias’s wife’s ring to the one worn by Trinity’s mother. A thought occurred to her, and she crawled over to him, her hand on his leather sleeve halting him.

“Can you—can you transfer the subject, as well?” she asked.

Dave faced her fully. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you can transfer the power from Cara’s ring to my mother’s, can you also transfer it to another lycan?”

Nate frowned. “Like who?”

Trinity swallowed, not taking her eyes off the witch. “Like...me?”

Dave stilled. “You don’t know what you ask, Tracker.”

She grimaced. “I do. I understand that I will need that ring for the rest of my life in order to shift, and if I lose it, I’ll be trapped in whatever form I’m in. I understand my beast won’t like that and try to claw its way out, and I’d eventually die.” She firmed her lips. “So I’ll just make sure I’ll never lose the ring.”

Dave nodded. “Okay, so you do know, but do you know?” he said. “You’re leashing your beast. Do you think you can live with that?”

Trinity glanced over her shoulder, peering through the trees. Matthias had lived with it, for years. She knew it couldn’t have been easy, but he’d done so with dignity. And she’d learned she was prepared to do anything to keep the man she loved alive. She turned back to the witch, her face composed. “For him, I would do it.”

“Trinity, you can’t. Think of what your pack will do if they find out,” Nate protested. “And Matthias will kill me for letting you do it.”

“You’re exaggerating, Nate. Matthias isn’t going to kill you,” she argued, then smiled sadly. “But you said it yourself. My pack already consider me a traitor. They won’t take me back, especially if I’m helping with this. I’ve already lost them.” Her lips tightened. She wasn’t going to cry. It hurt, but losing Matthias would hurt more.

“You would sacrifice your beast for Matthias?” Dave asked softly. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Do it.”

* * *

Fist hit flesh, and Matthias spun with the force of Rafe’s punch. He staggered for a moment, then gritted his teeth, turning to face the Woodland lycan, his arms raised to block the next punch, and the next. The Woodland pack gathered close, shouting encouragement to their alpha prime.

Matthias pivoted on his feet, using the movement to add to the force of his own strike. Rafe’s head whipped around, drops of blood flying from the cut in his lip. The Woodland lycan lowered his head, snarling as he charged, his fangs exposed. He caught Matthias, carrying him backward until Matthias tripped. He wheezed as the Woodland lycan’s shoulder pounded into his stomach as they both fell to the ground.

They wrestled, and Matthias grunted at the jabs Rafe aimed at his side, the bites into his shoulder. Matthias arched his back to avoid a blow to his kidneys, then heaved against the lycan. Rafe fell back, and Matthias braced his hands against the dirt, then arched his back again, flipping up onto his feet.

Rafe was rising to his feet, and Matthias took the opportunity to lash out with this feet. Rafe fell to the ground again and Matthias pounced, his hand digging into the lycan’s jeans pocket to retrieve his chain.

Rafe’s eyes glowed with a realization, and he bared his teeth, his fangs dripping bloody saliva, the growl that emerged from his throat low and deep. He gripped Matthias’s hand and twisted. Matthias quickly turned, gaining release from Rafe’s grip.

Rafe wiped at the trail of blood dripping down his chin and glanced briefly at his fingers. He smiled, then slid his hand inside his pocket. Matthias’s eyes narrowed as he watched the lycan pull the chain out.

“You are jonesing for this pretty bad,” Rafe rasped. He held it up, dangling it before him. “Why? What is so damn important about this piece of metal?”

Matthias spat the blood out of his mouth. “It’s got sentimental value,” he said roughly.

Rafe laughed, then shook his head. “No, I think there’s more to it than that, Guardian.” He shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll learn its secret.” He tossed it to the side of the ring, and Matthias’s gaze followed it, cold fear slicing through him. One of the Woodland guardians caught it, but that was as much as he saw before Rafe tackled him to the ground. He rolled, trying to keep the chain in his sight, but Rafe struck him across the face.

The uncertainty, the very real fear of losing his talisman completely, the anger of having to fight for it, spurred him on, giving him a zeal, a focus that eliminated everything but conquering this lycan.

He let fly with a series of punches, jabs and kicks, rolling, twigs and stones scratching his bare back. He rolled to his feet, then faced Rafe, who had done the same. He didn’t give the lycan a chance to catch his breath. He raced at Rafe, pummeling him, putting every ounce of hate into his strikes. The Woodland lycan swung, ducked and dipped, but couldn’t avoid Matthias’s fury. Matthias swung his leg around in a roundhouse kick, and Rafe fell back against his guardians, who caught him.

He decided to see if his suspicions were correct. “Oh, did that hurt, Rafe?”

He bounced a little on his toes, his fists raised to block any attack. “You’re not as strong as you think you are. I guess your old alpha prime was right.”

Rafe wiped the blood from his chin. “What?” His voice was deep, laced with hatred.

“You know, when you went up to talk to Trinity’s father at the cabin.”

Anger flashed in Rafe’s eyes as he straightened. “You don’t know anything.”

The rage in the other man’s eyes was enough encouragement for Matthias. It was a long shot, and he had nothing to prove it, but Rafe was obsessed with being seen as the strongest. With an alpha prime prone to bouts of depression and pining, would he consider that a weakness that had to be culled from the pack? Trinity had said Rafe had been the one to find him, the one to decree the alpha prime’s death a suicide. What if it wasn’t? Matthias was not Woodland—he didn’t have to believe this alpha prime, and he questioned every fact that came from this particular source.

“Sure I do. He was your alpha prime, but he was depressed. He pined after his mate. You didn’t think he was strong enough to lead your pack.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “He wasn’t.”

“He didn’t jump off the cliff, did he?”

Matthias could hear the whispers, the rumblings from the crowd surrounding them.

Rafe bared his teeth. “He fell.”

“Fell? Not jumped? Or...pushed?”

Rafe glanced around the crowd. His pack’s expressions were a combination of shock, horror, fear and dismay.

“He fought me,” he roared. “I challenged him. You all saw it, yet none of you were prepared to do anything about it. He was a shell of a man, and he didn’t deserve to be Woodland’s alpha prime. He fought me, and he lost.” He raised his thumb to his chest, his chin jutting forward with pride. “I won. I showed him. I showed him that I was strong enough to be Woodland Pack’s alpha prime—not him.”

Matthias noticed he couldn’t even say the man’s name. He also noticed the shock in the surrounding pack.

Rafe glanced around, seeing the censure, the dismay. He clenched his fists, the tendons in his arms, shoulders and neck standing out as he roared deep from his chest. He tore the Woodland crest from his finger and tossed it to the same guardian. Matthias backed up as the Woodland lycan shifted, his bones snapping, claws extending, his eyes full of anger and hate, his clothes and shoes tearing as the larger frame of the lycan emerged.

The black wolf lowered his head, fangs bared, chest heaving. Matthias clenched his fists. Okay. This wasn’t so good.

The wolf tilted his head, and Matthias glimpsed brief confusion in the lycan’s eyes when Matthias remained in his human form, then realization bloomed, and the wolf’s lips pulled back in what looked like a smile.

Matthias’s blood chilled as he brought his arms up, fists clenched, ready to strike at the wolf. He knew. Rafe knew he couldn’t shift.

* * *

“Oh, God, please hurry,” Trinity whispered, glancing from the fight in the clearing to the witch kneeling inside the ring. Dave rose to his feet and beckoned her into the circle.

“I need one more ingredient,” he said quietly, calmly. He reached for her hand and held it, palm up.

The knife appeared so quickly, she barely registered his movement, then she hissed softly as the blade was drawn across her palm. Dave turned her hand over, letting drops of blood drip onto the ring that lay on the ground on a black bandanna Dave had pulled from his back pocket. He lifted his chin to the men who watched the ritual with curiosity. “It’s time.”

“This isn’t going to hurt, is it?” Nate asked, stepping slowly toward the drawn circle, his expression suspicious.

Dave arched an eyebrow. “This woman is preparing to leash her beast and sacrifice her blood, and it’s the guardian who’s concerned about getting hurt...?”

Nate shot him a dark look. “Remind me why I’m letting you do this.”

“Because Matthias needs our help,” Ryder said simply, “and we’re getting justice for Jared Gray’s death.”

“Fine. But this better not shrivel me up or stop me from shifting or turn me into a frog, all right?”

“Stop you’re bitching and get in here. I’m not putting a hex on you—I’m channeling your energy,” Dave muttered. “Now, hold hands.”

Nate stood to her right, Ryder to her left, and Dave faced her. Once they’d linked their hands, Dave took a deep, calming breath. “Okay, so the curse was cast by a coven—it’s too strong for just me to break, but we can shift it to this object.”

Trinity frowned. “How are we going to get Matthias’s blood onto it?”

Dave leaned to the side to look beyond her to the fight in the clearing. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” he said, then straightened. Trinity flinched when she heard the snarl of the wolf, and Matthias’s bellow of pain.

“Hurry,” she urged, the burn of unshed tears itching at her eyelids.

“Close your eyes,” Dave said, “just relax, and close your eyes.”

Trinity closed her eyes. Her fear and worry were slowly replaced by a dangerous calm as she listened to Dave’s whispered chanting. He spoke in a strange language, and no matter how hard she tried to concentrate, she couldn’t quite catch the full sound of the words, let alone their meaning. It was almost as though the words themselves were shrouded in mystery.

A wind stirred around them, but she kept her eyes closed, twigs and leaves brushing by her as though caught in a gentle tornado.

Dave’s voice grew ever so louder, and then suddenly he stopped. The wind dropped.

“It’s done.”

She opened her eyes slowly, then gaped. Her mother’s ring floated directly in front of her, held up by an invisible force.

Dave nodded. “Take it, and then get it to Matthias. As soon as his blood comes in contact with this ring, it will anchor the transfer.”

Trinity grabbed the ring, turned and sprinted toward the man she loved, who was even now fighting for his life against a powerful werewolf.