Ellie
He was getting slaughtered out there. Ripped to shreds and then suddenly, instead of stumbling around, tripping over his own paws, Christian’s wolf leaped at the big one and latched onto his neck. The attack came out of nowhere. The big grey wolf hadn’t been expecting it.
He shook and rolled and scratched at Christian, but Christian didn’t let up. Not a single tiny inch of ground. Blood poured down the grey wolf’s neck. His movements were getting sluggish and uncoordinated.
Christian must’ve nicked the carotid artery.
The wolf went down into the dirt, belly up. Submission. Surrender.
Only then did Christian release him.
Christian’s rusty colored giant wolf didn’t waste any time jumping into the next fight. Whatever had been holding him back before was gone. He tore through opponent after opponent like he’d been a wolf all his life. Like he’d been trained to fight with tooth and claw.
He was alive.
He was winning.
That was all that mattered right now.
“Your boy is doing better than I imagined he would.” Miranda’s voice was thready and filled with shock. A little of her tough-bitch armor had fallen away, and she’d become the elderly woman who’d lost her husband and was about to lose her pack.
Ellie could feel the air changing in the surrounding crowd.
A loud gasp of breath beside her made Ellie look at the arena again. It was so hard to watch them literally tear each other apart. Another wolf was on the ground. Then another. She’d lost track of who was who. It was a mass of growling, snapping jaws, with bits of fur and blood spraying every direction.
It was disgusting.
Christian was still standing. Limping, but standing. Thank fate.
Wait. Where was Daniel? She hunted through the animals, still fighting. His wolf had distinct black markings on his face. She couldn’t find him.
Her stomach rolled. Bile burned the back of her throat. Fear was an ugly creature, with claws wrapping tightly around her lungs and squeezing. Squeezing so hard, she couldn’t cry. She couldn’t breathe. Nothing. There was nothing.
Christian’s wolf limped from another opponent he’d put into the dirt. He stood for a moment, panting, sucking in oxygen like he was drowning. Moonbound strength or not, he couldn’t keep going like this.
There were still too many wolves left. Or were there? It was confusing. There was a lull as several wolves dragged themselves to the gate and left the fight.
Three. There were three wolves left.
Christian and two other ugly sons-of-bitches that looked like they’d barely gotten touched. One big grey wolf with a scar on his front shoulder and another rusty red wolf with markings similar to Christian. The red was limping too, and after taking a moment to survey the situation, he gave a shallow bark and turned for the gate.
Now it was only the big grey against Christian.
At least it wasn’t two on one. She couldn’t watch this.
Blood poured from wounds in Christians legs and shoulders. His rusty fur was wet and dark with blood and matted with dirt from the arena. He was limping badly.
The tears finally came. They overflowed her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Rivers of pain and sorrow and fear. Rivers of anger and frustration and an overwhelming sense of being cheated out of a second chance that she didn’t deserve but wanted so desperately.
She turned to Miranda. “Please. Make them stop.”
Miranda shook her head. “You watch, girl. You watch him die. He disobeyed. This is all he deserves, and Faulks will make sure he gets it. And then that will be the end.”
Ellie twisted back in her seat. The wolf Miranda had called Faulks was circling Christian’s wolf now.
The crowd was silent. Everyone waited.
Christian’s wolf was barely standing. Every movement was labored.
The end. Several wolves had died earlier, but she’d only been paying attention to Christian. Had Faulks been the one killing?
No. No. No.
Ellie put a hand on the woman’s leg right next to her. “I need a knife. A gun. Something.”
The woman frowned and shook her head. “They’d kill you for interfering.”
It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let that bastard kill Christian and leave his sister all alone. She grabbed at another person and another, begging for a weapon. One of these women had to be armed. There had to be something she could do. She climbed from her seat and hurried toward the arena fence.
“Stop her.” Miranda’s voice called out through the still air.
The fight hadn’t started yet. And now she was causing a scene. She was distracting Christian. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Big arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the ground before she got to the gate. The cowboy put his mouth right up against her ear. “You need to hush right now, or your boy doesn’t have a shot in fucking hell, do you hear me? The last thing this pack wants is Faulks running things. That asshole will bankrupt this place in six months.”
Ellie’s muscles went slack.
He was saying he wanted Christian to win.
She struggled, but he didn’t let go. “If you interfere, they’ll kill you and him and we’ll be stuck following Faulk’s orders for the rest of our lives.” He squeezed a little harder, making it slightly difficult for her to take a breath. “Don’t make me put you under.”
Spots danced in her eyes. She struggled more, this time from panic, but his arms only tightened further. Then one hand went around her neck, choking off the last bit of air she’d been sucking in a little at a time.
The last thing she heard was an angry snarl and then a yelp of pain. And then the ground came crashing toward her face.
She didn’t hit the ground. Somehow, more arms snatched her from mid-air and set her gently on the ground, cradling her head so that it didn’t hit the cement at all. She was still woozy, and her body was trying to catch up on oxygen consumption.
An unfamiliar male face stood over her for a short minute, like he was making sure she was alive, and then backed away, quickly disappearing from view.
A low possessive rumble crackled through the silence like a live wire sparking. She could feel it, like it was part of her. But everything hurt. Her ribs. Her legs. Her skin felt like it was on fire. She wanted to curl up and sob, but the act of moving her body from its present situation was just too much.
Except the pain wasn’t hers. Not really. She knew she didn’t have the injuries she was feeling. They were Christian’s. The necklace had been ripped away. She was feeling him. The beating he had taken. The weakness from blood loss. The wounds and cracked bones. It was overwhelming, and she reached for the lever in her mind. She hadn’t used it in so long. Not since that night when she’d felt Donny die.
She didn’t want to feel Christian’s death, but she didn’t want him to feel alone, either. So, she left it on. She would stay with him—body and soul. Whatever she could give, she would. He deserved that.
Ellie stared up at the rafters of the arena and let tears flow from the corners of her eyes, down her temples, and into her hair. They had fought. Hard.
She wished she had the strength to go to him, to move, even to crawl to wherever he lay. He was moving. Or trying to move. She couldn’t focus well. She just laid quietly on the concrete. Everyone was quiet. No one came close enough that she could see them through her tears.
A presence moved closer. And then it laid down at her side and whined.
Christian’s wolf. His wolf was out of the arena. It was lying next to her… bleeding and wet and—Fuck!
She sat up and wiped her eyes and barely held back the urge to fling herself onto his animal. “Christian.” His name bubbled up from her throat between sobs. “I thought—”
“Your boy was a bit tougher than we gave him credit.” The words were spoken by the man who’d grabbed her earlier. Who’d choked off her air. Who’d told her he was rooting for Christian to win.
She turned and glared at him and pointed to where her truck was parked. “Get me my orange bag from the back of that truck. Right. Now.”
The man—a boy really—tipped his chin and jogged toward her truck. He didn’t look to be barely seventeen or eighteen, but he was tall and built like a truck. If not for the baby face with barely a trace of scruff, she would’ve said he was closer to twenty-five.
A few moments later, he was kneeling next to her and Christian with her emergency bag.
The crowd began to mill. Voices started arguing around her. Miranda’s voice carried the loudest.
Ellie stood and pointed. “You. Sit. Nobody leaves this arena. Period. Is that clear?”
“You’re not the alpha, dearie.”
“I’m the alpha’s mate, bitch. You sit your ass back on that bleacher bench and shut the fuck up.” She pointed to a couple of cowhands who looked like they needed directions. “Get Molly and bring her to me. Miranda Quade gets locked in a horse stall.” People looked at her like she’d grown a third eye. “Now!”
Everyone jumped to action, followed orders. Miranda was dragged off pitching a fit and Molly was led over closer to where Ellie was doing her best to stop the blood from leaving Christian’s body. His wolf was fighting hard, but he was in bad shape. He needed more magick.
“Start pledging.”
“He has to make it on his own.” One man called from the crowd.
“He did make it. He fought everyone. He won. Now give him your loyalty. Say the pledge.” Her voice rang with authority. Christian was their alpha. He’d earned it, and now they needed to follow through. The alpha connection would boost his magick, give him the ability to heal faster.
There were a few murmurs and then several men stepped forward from the crowd and knelt. They spoke the pledge. One after another.
More and more men stepped forward. Women. Teens.
Christian’s breathing slowed and became less labored. The smaller cuts were closing on their own. The larger gashes weren’t geysers of blood any longer.
She drew in a shuddered breath and released it slowly.
It was working.
He was healing.