Escaping Death

Hunter

“Stop pacing, the guys can handle it.” I can’t stand the sound of his shoes on the gravel any longer. He’s worrying for nothing and the sound of the rocks crunching under him is grating my nerves.

“It’s not that,” he sighs and grunts lowly like he does when he’s about to tell me something even remotely personal, “my wolf is restless. He’s on my case about splitting up.”

I let slip a laugh that I’ve been holding in since he first told me he was sending those three knuckleheads to Caligo.

“You think it was a bad idea, too?” Ace questions me with darkening eyes.

My smile only widens as I consider my answer, “sending Eli and Dean to Caligo is like releasing a child into a candy store. You might as well have sent Tate on his own.”

He leans backwards releasing a frustrated groan to the heavens above, “remind me to send you and Tate next time.”

My hands find their way into the pockets of my jeans while I kick at the gravel in front of me in an attempt to distract him from the panic that must be tattooed on my face. I’m hoping he accepts my silence and moves on, but with his wolf as restless as he is I think he’ll push me if only to distract himself from whatever inner battle he’s fighting.

Ace catches on to my weak attempt to deflect with a non-answer and his gaze on me intensifies. I can feel him studying me. “Hm,” he hums with amusement, “it seems I’ve hit a sore spot. You’ve got history there? Get banned for life for making all the girls drop to their knees or something?”

Any other time I’d be laughing with him, probably throw a weak punch that he’d dodge and we’d devolve into a playful fight. But all I can manage right now is an insincere half smile.

He leans against the wall next to me and mirrors my stance, “Death has no secrets, Hunter. What’s your history with Caligo?” His words are a warning disguised as a reminder.

I shrug my shoulders, “None, honestly. It’s just…owned by them.”

Understanding flashes across his face and his posture relaxes and I’m grateful when he doesn’t offer me any sympathy or pity. I gave him the truth and he’ll give me space in return – on this matter, at least.

A few minutes pass by in comfortable silence, though I can feel how stressed his wolf is and it’s getting worse by the minute. He’s usually exceptionally skilled at keeping his feelings hidden, even through our pack bond. I’m hard pressed to recall the last time he was ever anything but calm, focused, or determined.

Gravel crunches beneath the tires of an approaching SUV redirecting Ace’s attention away from whatever has his wolf in a frenzy back to the work we’re here for.

The black SUV comes to a stop directly in front of us. The tint on the windows is so dark it’s hard to tell what’s window and what’s car body. Slowly, the driver’s window begins to roll down revealing a large man, clearly hired muscle, in a suit and glasses tinted to match the car.

“Ace.” He states rather than questions, indicating that he already knows who we are.

Ace nods and pushes off the wall to approach the car where the driver has now extended out his arm to hand over a small white envelope. As soon as Ace takes the envelope he backs up and rips it open.

Inside there is a card with one name written on it — Nightshade.

I can feel Ace’s flames building in his chest, the smoke billowing from his nose is confirmation that I’m right.

“This is your Death Wish?” He asks the driver.

The meat-head of a man shakes his head no. “My boss.”

“I’d like to meet your boss if possible. This name…” he trails off either having trouble finding the words to properly describe everything confounding about this request or his wolf is beginning to get in the way of our business.

“Can you do it?” The driver asks, his voice never loses its hardness.

“How much?” Ace asks distractedly.

“5 million.”

Ace scoffs out a laugh. “This name…is like hunting a ghost. No one has ever seen him, he leaves no trace, the only thing separating him from mythological creatures is the poison he uses like a calling card. 10 million, no deadline.”

The window hums as it rolls up once again blocking the contents of the car completely from view.

“Ace, really? This is a wild goose chase. You said it yourself, he’s more myth than man.”

The driver rolls down his window one last time, “10 million, weekly status reports.”

“Monthly.”

“Monthly, then. We will contact you.”

The driver speeds off without so much as another glance at us.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ace scolds me.

“Like what?” Like you’ve lost your mind? That’s what I’d like to say but instead I bite my tongue.

“You’re not even the least bit curious? They could have put a bounty on him like anyone else but instead they hired a hit.”

In our circles, bounties and hits serve different purposes. Bounties are posted publicly, if you can call it that, to those who run in Underdark circles. They’re good at getting problem people to scurry away and hide, or at least rectify the issue that incurred the bounty. Most times people want their targets brought in alive for the theater, for the power trip.

Hits, on the other hand, are almost the exact opposite. They’re strictly between a client and the hired gun. Targets don’t know they’re targets until metal is tearing through their bodies, be it from a knife or a gun. The client doesn’t care about making a scene, it’s usually not even done as punishment. They just want this person removed from the equation, cleared out of the way.

So when Ace brings up the fact that there’s a hit on this ghost, rather than a bounty, I start to puzzle out what he’s suggesting.

“You think he’s part of a larger problem…that he’s getting in the way of something?”

Ace flips the small card with Nightshade’s name on it between his fingers several times in deep thought. “Text Tate, tell him not to accept the Caligo job.”

I take out my phone and begin texting Tate but curiosity gets the better of me. “Since when do we refuse jobs?” I throw him a grin so he knows I’m only giving him a hard time.

Ace ignores my question, instead he rounds the building to the other side where our car is parked. I follow behind him silently, hop into the passenger seat, and together we head home.

— — —

Elias

Solana jumps over the railing off the balcony of the VIP lounge, obviously a maneuver she’s done many times.

The two Alphas shake hands with Dean and Tate and then turn to me, still staring at the spot where Sol disappeared over the railing. I refocus my attention and reach my hand out to Varian and then Rohanor.

Rohanor’s grip is firm, unyielding. His hand begins to heat up but his grip doesn’t waiver. He’s testing me. I wonder idly if he did this to Dean and Tate, which then makes me wonder if they would have even felt it given that they’re dragons.

I try to keep a neutral face as I form ice in my palm to counteract the heat, similar to the way I did with Solana. The corners of his mouth twitch up only once before he releases his hold on my hand.

I think I passed that test.

“Well, why are you still standing here?” Varian asks. “Your charge is on the run.”

Tate takes a page out of Solana’s book and jumps the railing, cloaking himself in shadows like she can, while Dean and I race down the stairs and out the front doors.

From the fight she gave her dads, and mother apparently, I expected her to be a challenge but this Houdini act is definitely going to keep us on our toes and likely piss Ace the fuck off.

Fuck. Ace.

I can’t wait for his take on this. He’s probably going to call us idiots, tell us she’s our problem, but then make sure she only sleeps in his bed. Perks of being Alpha.

Dean and I finally make it out to the street where Tate is sitting sideways on what I deduce is Solana’s motorcycle, arguing over the intricacies of this arrangement.

“My fathers said you had to guard me, they didn’t say anything about me having to take orders from you.”

Tate is unaffected by her words, he remains a pillar of self-composure. “We should meet with the rest of the guys and set boundaries we can all live with.”

I turn my head towards Dean and drop my voice to a whisper, “can’t you calm her down?”

“I’ve been trying since the lounge, she’s like a brick wall.” He hisses back, frustrated that his empath abilities aren’t working on our little hellion.

We can’t keep going like this, the more we push the more she’ll dig in. “Tate let her go,” I say and give him a nod to say I’ve got an idea.

Tate steps away from her bike and she quickly mounts it and kicks it to life. She slowly pulls past Tate and waits for a break in traffic giving me just enough time to hop on the back of her bike before she can speed off into the night.

Everywhere my body connects with hers instantly warms but not enough for me to need to counteract it with ice, this is her natural heat not something she’s putting off to get rid of me.

I take a chance and grip onto her hips, I’ll say it’s for support but really I just like the feeling of her in my hands again. “Sol,” her name is a plea and I can’t help but place a kiss against her neck, “let us take you home and figure this out.”

“I don’t need bodyguards.” She says harshly.

I laugh, “that much is clear. At least come back for tonight, let’s come up with something we can all be happy with.” I purr in her ear hoping I can kill her with kindness. “If nothing else, we can pick up where we left off in the club.” I breathe against her ear, sliding my hand down the inside of her thigh.

I feel her growl more than I hear it. “Fine,” she spits, “where?”

I drop a kiss on her shoulder and give her directions to the house which is a convenient ten minutes from the heart of the city, resting right on the outskirts.

Dean and Tate are already parked behind Ace’s car when we pull up to the house.

Here we go.

We walk together behind Dean and Tate up to the door. Dean pushes the door open and gestures for Solana to go in. “Ladies first,” he grins warmly at her and then he mouths “wow” at me after she passes.

Ace and Hunter jump up from their seats on the couch and approach us slowly as we all file into the entryway.

Hunter’s eyes are wide as saucers as he gets nearer to us while Ace’s are hardened and narrowed, clearly angry that she’s here.

“Sol, this is Ace and that’s Hun—“

Dean’s words are silenced by the smack of skin against skin and cracking of bone as Solana decks Hunter across the face and storms off upstairs.

Ace erupts in flames, stalks out the front door, and takes off on his motorcycle leaving Dean, Tate, and me at a complete loss for words and Hunter with a bruised and broken face.

“Alright,” Tate chirps with amusement, “I think that went well.”

— — — — —

Well, that went well 🤣

Have the boys bitten off more than they can chew?

Vote, comment, and see you back next Thursday