Four months later
THE CARGO truck sped down the dirt road, and Poe didn’t hesitate to leap after it. He ran full-out, ignoring the gravel and dirt the tires kicked up. It was obvious he couldn’t keep up the momentum. But if he had any hope of rescuing the shifters trapped inside the cargo compartment, he had to make a decision now. With a deep breath, Poe launched himself in the air and managed to grab hold of the rectangular handles that protruded from the doors. He shoved his boots against the bumper and didn’t dare look behind him. He knew once Nordik bound the three knights left behind, he would take Poe’s motorcycle and follow. Poe just hoped Nordik remembered to contact the Agency before giving chase. The raid wouldn’t count if they lost the knights running the operation.
Two months earlier Hunter had managed to break down Lindsay’s barriers and get her to talk. Not that she would ever be a friend to shifters, but her love for Hunter managed to overcome her trained hatred for creatures she didn’t understand. She did, in fact, know Gregor personally. She had even followed him to claim the scroll Agents Pan and Jin had worked so hard to protect. The Agency first pressed her on Gregor’s current whereabouts, but it seemed they split up after claiming the scroll, and he gave her leadership over a unit, trusting her to carry out his commands. But as for himself, he was keeping his location secret from everyone.
She still managed to inform the Agency that units of knights were rounding up small groups of shifters. Her information confirmed Poe’s suspicions that the Knights hadn’t yet abandoned their experimental operations, despite the raid on their main compound. Then Agent Pan was nearly kidnapped weeks earlier. Thankfully Agent Jin and Pan’s mate Viktor managed to rescue him before knights could take him off the grid. A few other agents were nearly caught in the same way, but all had managed to slip through the enemy’s grasp.
Ever since Lindsay dropped the bomb about the kidnappings, all field agents had been working nonstop on rescue missions. Not just in the US but around the world. It wore them down, but every shifter saved kept their hope and determination alive.
Poe grabbed the heavy deadbolt on the lock. The lock seared his skin, indicating it was pure iron. He hissed and yanked his hand away. As the truck gained speed and the road became bumpier, he concentrated on his footing. It would be a painful drop, and he’d lose the shifters only a wooden cargo door was separating him from. No. It wasn’t an option. He pulled back his arm and called up all his strength. Then he smashed his fist into the door. The thick wood splintered as a hole the size of his fist appeared. But he ran into the same problem and cried in pain as he jerked his hand back. Iron bars were braided through the wood. He was fucking helpless against so much pure iron.
The knights had to have been using thick gloves to handle the iron bolt and create such a cargo hold. The knights had obviously expected a raid, and that wasn’t surprising given the Agency’s success in shutting down one operation after another. Poe leaned forward, and in the dark, he saw movement and heard crying and howling. He realized why as the sun decided to peep out from behind a cloud. The light flashed off silver bracelets locked on each of the prisoners. He cursed viciously and quickly came up with a plan. It wasn’t the best, but he didn’t have a choice. Their sounds of suffering were tearing his heart apart. There were children in there with bracelets just like the adults.
Fucking shit-eating psychopathic bastards!
It disturbed him how much machinery the Knights still had at their disposal. The Agency might have infiltrated their HQ, but it seemed Arcas’s pockets were deep indeed. He had far too much influence and money.
Gritting his teeth, Poe gripped the handle of the cargo hold and rose on his toes, balancing precariously on the bumper. He considered just yanking the door open and breaking the iron lock that way. But he’d probably go flying with the door and would still lose the truck. No, he was about to pull an Indiana Jones.
He gripped the top edge of the cargo hold with both hands and bounced slightly before pulling himself up to the roof. He breathed shallowly as he belly-crawled toward the cab of the truck. They suddenly took a hard right turn, and he slipped a couple of inches toward the edge. Poe couldn’t swallow back the high-pitched squeal that erupted from his throat. Thank God no one heard that!
He continued on his way and took a deep breath as he reached the cab. It was below him with two knights inside. Now how to stop the truck without killing everyone involved? He had to get control of the truck itself, which meant eliminating the knights. He had no choice. Knights were wanted alive, but they already had three back at the compound. These two dead were acceptable. The shifters were first priority.
Breathing carefully, Poe moved around and sat on the cargo hold with his feet placed firmly on the cab roof. He slipped down until he was on his belly again, facing the passenger side. He crawled forward and glanced in the side mirror. He saw the arm and shoulder of the passenger, who wasn’t wearing a seat belt. It was a woman. Didn’t matter. She was a knight. The enemy. He took a precious moment to close his eyes and harden his will. Then he struck.
He yanked the door off its hinges, and before either knight could react, he grabbed the woman’s arm and flung her out of the cab. She landed wrong, and he heard a sickening snap even over the sound of the truck’s diesel engine and the tires crunching gravel. Without pausing, he swung himself inside the cab feetfirst. He plowed into the other knight’s shoulder. The lanky man hit the door with enough force to pop it open. But he was wearing his seat belt and didn’t go flying out. But the sharp popping sound proved his shoulder was dislocated. Poe plowed a fist into the man’s face as he gripped the wheel with the other hand. They swerved dangerously, and Poe struggled to get his foot on the brakes. But the man somehow kept his foot on the gas.
“Fucking asshole!” Poe punched him again, but the man ducked. The swing glanced off his already damaged shoulder. “You lost! Just let the fuck go!”
The knight snarled and suddenly yanked the wheel to the left. At the speed they were going, that caused the truck to jerk sideways and become airborne. But only for a moment. Poe had the nauseating sensation of flying before the truck slammed into the street upside-down. Poe smacked his head against the roof of the cab and saw stars. The truck bounced one more time before crashing back and skidding across the gravel. Poe heard the distinctive sound of snapping bone, and a hot, greasy sensation raced up his arm and to his throat.
Then he knew nothing at all.
NORDIK RACED after the truck. He’d only just become adept at driving Poe’s motorcycle, and in the back of his mind, he knew at the speed he was going, he must have a death wish. But he didn’t care. The last sight he saw was Poe leaping onto the back of the truck right before it rocketed down the street. Only by the thinnest margin of control did he manage to follow procedure and bind the remaining knights before calling the Agency. But all the while, horrid images of pain and death whirled around in his brain, becoming stronger the longer Poe was out of his sight. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Poe’s abilities and skill. But Poe wasn’t perfect, and he was still easier to kill than Nordik.
Nordik sped around a narrow corner and up a hill before the sight of his worst nightmares became reality. His heart actually stopped as he approached the dented and smoking remains of the cargo truck. He heard wails and screams coming from the hold, but despite his best intentions, he ran around the truck, looking for Poe. He had to know if Poe was alive. Had he been flung off? No, Nordik didn’t see him anywhere outside the truck. Poe had to be around somewhere, this was no accident. Nordik knew in his gut that if Poe was dead, he would sense it instantly. But he could be dying. It was imperative he find Poe alive. He had to.
The truck lay on the driver’s side, so he climbed to the passenger side, barely registering the missing door. He looked inside to see two tangled bodies, lying still. His breath began to hitch, his heart hammering against his ribs as he carefully crawled inside.
“Poe? Byron! Byron, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Hooking his boots against the bottom of the doorframe, Nordik eased his way inside, the cacophony of screams and wails from his shifter brethren causing sweat to rain down his face and agony to slice his heart. Just hold on, my children. Just a little longer.
Poe lay on top of a knight who was obviously dead, if his sightless eyes were any guess. Poe’s eyes were closed, and when Nordik lightly brushed Poe’s cheek with his fingertips, Poe whimpered. It was the most beautiful sound Nordik had ever heard.
Blood matted Poe’s hair and was splattered on his face. His right arm was in an awkward position, with a piece of bone jutting out of the skin. Swallowing hard, Nordik crawled back out of the cab and jumped to the ground. He raced over to the doors of the cargo hold and lifted his foot. He kicked again and again until the hole—one he suspected Poe had created—was large enough to use his hands to break the wood and iron away. He then began to help one shifter after another out of their hold. Many were as bloody as Poe, though none seemed to have been severely wounded by the crash. But all of them were barely conscious from the silver around their wrists. Nordik saw red and wished he had a knight to tear apart.
A few of the shifters were in their animal forms, but most were still in their human form. There were many different types, from wolves to deer to cougars and a bull. Many of the children were unconscious or simply moaning incomprehensibly. They all looked at him in wonder and agony as he helped them sit on the side of the road. They knew him to be a master shifter; they either sensed it or smelled it. All of them trembled and shuddered from the silver, looking ill and ravaged.
Agonizing minutes passed, and only after all the shifters were sitting on the curb did Nordik hurry back to Poe’s motorcycle. He grabbed Poe’s phone and hit the speed dial for the Agency.
“Poe, that was fast,” Mackenzie said when she answered. She was the Agency’s main field dispatcher.
“Poe’s injured badly, and I’ve got about twenty shifters here with silver bracelets.”
“Medics on the way,” she said immediately. Nordik listened to the coded commands she spouted on another line. “We have your GPS coordinates. Is Poe conscious?”
“No.” His heart lurched when he said it.
“But he’s breathing?”
“For now.” Nordik stared at Poe through the windshield and wondered if he should dare try to move him. He’d have to break the rest of the glass to get to him. The passenger side of the glass was already shattered, but the part nearest the driver’s side was still attached.
“I have to ask—is there any way you can get the silver off the shifters without harming yourself?”
Nordik looked at his brethren. At their agony.
“No. There isn’t. Just get here now.” He hung up. Though it hurt with every breath he took to step away from Poe, he knew what he had to do. The war was bigger than them. More lives were at stake than just theirs. He was a master shifter. He knew his duty.
Nordik crouched down in front of a young female shifter. Even her lips were pale, and she was soaked in cold sweat. She looked dazed, and an ugly knot protruded from her forehead. He took a deep breath and gripped the silver bracelet. His skin burned as if he’d touched a living flame. Baring his teeth in a snarl, he got a good grip and yanked, snapping the bracelet in half. Then he tossed it away with disgusted fury. The young woman gulped in air, and color flooded back to her face. Her eyes cleared, and she stared at him.
“Thank you. Bless you.”
Nordik laid his hand on her head only a moment before looking at the other shifters, seeing the hope in their eyes.
“Children first.”
He was glad there wasn’t even a bit of grumbling at that. The children were brought to him, but getting the bracelets off their wrists was harder since they were smaller. He couldn’t get a good grip on them. Giving in to desperation, he bit down on the bracelets and snapped them with his teeth. The silver burned his gums, and his eyes watered in pain. But he never stopped. Soon the five children were bracelet free. Then he began on the adults. He grew sicker by the moment, his body rebelling against the poisonous metal. But now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. He had to finish. When the last shifter was brought to him, he wondered if he had enough strength. His arms trembled, and his stomach was in tight, greasy knots. But he simply clenched his teeth, gripped the silver, and snapped it off.
Then he could only kneel, bracing his hands on the ground. He trembled and concentrated on taking cleansing breaths. The sound of shattering glass caught his attention, and he swung around. Several of the newly freed uninjured shifters gently maneuvered Poe out of the cab. Somehow one of the smaller females managed to climb fully into the cab and cover Poe’s body with her own while two others broke the rest of the glass as safely as possible. Poe moaned in pain, but Nordik could see they were handling him as best they could. Two male shifters brought him to Nordik. Nordik only lifted his arms, and finally—finally—he cradled Poe against him.
Nordik looked up at his kin, and his throat threatened to close. He could only nod to them in thanks, and they all nodded back. One of the children, a small girl with disheveled hair and weary eyes, waved at him with a small smile. He managed to smile back.
As they sat staring at each other and the ruins of the truck, he finally found his voice.
“If you stay, the Agency can see to your injuries and take you home.”
As they were all weary and most likely still in pain, the shifters sat down around Nordik, creating a protective ring around him and Poe. Nordik stroked Poe’s hair, doing his best not to jostle him. He kissed Poe’s head, then his cheeks, then his lips. Poe moaned again and briefly opened unfocused eyes. He seemed to see it was Nordik who held him and closed his eyes again. He knew he was safe, where he was supposed to be. Nordik held him closer.
As they sat and waited, a few of the shifters, those in human form, began to tell Nordik where they were abducted and how they were captured. Nordik listened, filing everything away for later. The Knights were becoming bolder. Reckless. He knew it had started with Arcas’s message to his followers, but knights seemed to have taken his commands and run with them, feeling as though they were invincible. Lone hunters indeed.
The situation was escalating. Neither he nor Poe had been able to draw a steady breath since they started these missions nearly a year ago. They were consumed with them, often overwhelmed by them. It was one after the other after the other. Again and again. They would stop one unit, then have to stop the next one. And the next one. But there were bigger events at play, ones only seen in the shadows. Arcas was certainly giving them enough distractions to keep them busy. But Arcas had recently been spotted in Thailand and then in India. He was searching for one of the scrolls. It was the only thing that made sense.
One thing was certain, however: he and Poe made an awesome team.
Haven was on full alert and had been since this all started. But there was no indication of any hostility toward that place. Nor to Sanctuary. It was odd, since those two places seemed like prime targets. But Nordik wasn’t lulled into false security. He suspected it was merely the calm before the storm. Sanctuary and Haven were to be the finales.
The thud-thud-thud of a helicopter broke through his thoughts, and he looked up. He recognized it as one of the Agency’s and calmed the shifters as a few, mostly those still in their animal forms, started to climb to their feet and growl. The simple nondescript helicopter landed on the dirt road not far from them. Even before the engines stopped, the door slid open and Genii hopped out, running full speed to Nordik. He was a little disappointed Lila wasn’t the one to come. But he knew that was selfish. He wanted Poe healed now. Genii was just as good, even if she didn’t have Lila’s healing ability. Poe claimed she was a genius at extracting silver bullets from shifters. He could appreciate that.
“How’s he doing?” Genii asked as she dropped to her knees beside them.
“Bloody head, broken arm. I don’t know about internal bleeding.” And that was something he refused to think about.
As Genii got to work examining Poe, Nordik looked up and was a little surprised to see Captain Odin standing next to the helicopter, surveying the scene. He certainly cut an impressive figure clad in near seven feet of black, with his pale skin, bald head, and dark eyes. The copter finally stilled, and Mac jumped out. Odin said something quietly to Mac, who nodded and immediately climbed back into the copter and riffled through boxes. Odin strode forward and acknowledged Nordik with a nod before he addressed the other shifters.
“My name is Captain Odin. I know you’ve been through hell, and I don’t want to make it more difficult for you. I would like to help you, if you let me. We have supplies here, food, blankets, medicine, and cloths to clean yourselves. We have a few sets of clothes for those of you still in your animal forms. We have safe houses nearby as well, if you like. I hope you each can tell me what you know about your captors. Any and all information you have is vital to stopping the Knights of the Dawn for good and making them pay for the crimes they’ve committed against you and your kin.”
Every single adult shifter looked at Nordik. Nordik glanced at them before meeting Odin’s eyes.
“I trust the Agency with my life, brothers and sisters. So can you.”
He heard Genii’s quick intake of breath even as Odin’s eyes widened slightly at Nordik’s unflinching support. Odin cleared his throat and beckoned the shifters to him. Mac appeared with coolers and other large containers that obviously held the supplies. He doled them out with smiles and kind words and even managed to make a couple of the children laugh.
Nordik realized, as he watched their interactions, as Poe stirred against him when Genii began examining his broken arm, that he also had two tribes now. The shifters were one. The Agency, somehow, had become the other.