Page 48 of Retribution

The skinbetween my teeth was the foulest thing to ever cross my lips. The man in me fought against it, but my animal savored the death and destruction like it was the finest thing it ever consumed. I felt no remorse taking the life, though she was already halfway to crossing over. I relished in the joy of knowing that she was dead.Greta was dead. The person who locked me into my prison for so many years I couldn’t physically count them was no longer a soul living on this plane.

I tore at the flesh viciously. Ripping pieces, taking chunks, breaking the bones and vertebrae off her body. I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t do it. Not until pieces of her littered the floor around me, and there was absolutely no doubt in mind that she was dead.

I felt a heavy weight on my back, but I wasn’t afraid. The familiar touch activated the calmness Lenin brought to my soul. His fingers tightened in the fur at my nape, his strength pulling me away. I snarled, snapping my teeth at him, though I knew I would never bite him. But I wasn’t done. She wasn’t dead enough.

“She will not resurrect,” he told me. I spat blood to the floor, the rancid taste still coating my throat. I wanted to believe him; I did. But I’d seen so many unbelievable things since Liberty broke my curse, and I wouldn’t put it past her to poof herself back into existence with destruction on her mind.

When I didn’t react to his declaration, Lenin rubbed his fingers gently over my fur. “You can shift now.”

But I couldn’t. There was something in me that wouldn’t accept it. Maybe it was the overload of emotions, the fear of impending threat, but my wolf refused to give up control, refused to let the man take over. I let out a whine, my emotions nearly too much to handle, almost overwhelming all my senses.

“Can you walk?” The sound of Sterling’s voice broke through my mind. The timbre was familiar to my beast and the man within.

“Fuck. Can we call the healer?” Oak’s voice seemed panicked and weakened. “I was supposed to protect you.”

But we all knew he did what he could until he couldn’t. We all did. It wasn’t about one person being stronger than the other. It was about working together and giving all we could when we could. I snarled as I turned away from the carnage toward the pack I called my family, my beast's mind solely set on checking every bone in Liberty’s body.

“I think it’s too late for that,” Maggie mumbled.

Too late? For what?

My eyes found my mate, her hands clutching her stomach, and a growl escaped me as the memories filtered back. My animal pushed forward, not approving of anyone touching her, needing to be next to her, needing to protect her from any threat, and right now, everyone who wasn’t me was a threat. Every single person who –

“I will carry her to a room.” Lenin looked around, “Less destroyed.”

I paused in my thought; every single person who wasn’t Lenin or myself was a threat. I trusted my mate with her safety. I trusted him to put her wellbeing above all else, and I trusted him to protect our daughter as she entered this world, cherish her as if she was the most precious of gifts. Which she was.

My wolf whined again, and Lenin stroked my fur. “Come on; she will be safe.”

He took Liberty in his arms with ease before carefully trekking over the mess that littered the floor. Behind me, everyone followed along, and though the wolf disapproved of their closeness, the man knew that the extra bodies were ideal in protecting what was ours.

“So this secret room was a bust,” one of the females commented as she kicked some stones, and I couldn’t agree more. It did nothing to protect her, not when the walls were so easily blown to smithereens. But we couldn’t change it now, only move forward. The damage was done, and Liberty, she –

I dared a glance at her, my wolf having to strain his neck to view her in Lenin’s arms. She was okay. I was positive. If she weren’t, I would know. But the pain that came in waves was intense, and if I could feel it, I knew she was experiencing it tenfold.

Lenin inhaled deeply, his nose buried into the crook of her neck as he carried her. “Soon. It will be over soon, Kitten.”

He hadn’t lied to her. By the time we made it to a room a few minutes later, she was writhing in pain, her face flush, her fingers grasping at anything she could reach. I wanted to hold her hand, to comfort her, but the conflict inside of me refused to allow me to change. The need to protect her won over the need to comfort her. The desire to guard her in my most protective form overruled everything else.

“Perhaps some tea would help?”

Everyone in Lenin’s vicinity snorted, and I felt my chest puff with pride at my mate, his caring and need to give comfort always endless. It was Oak who spoke, “I don’t think that it will help in this situation.” Oak sighed. “Why hasn’t he shifted?”

Lenin looked at me while squeezing Liberty’s fingers. “It is a lot of emotions to process. To kill your captor, the endangerment of your mate, a child – if his wolf feels he needs to be on guard and ready to protect, he may not hand over control so easily. He does not trust that all is safe just yet.”

The eyes in the room fell to me, and I ignored them all. Instead, I jumped onto the bed and curled my body around Liberty. I let her use my warmth for comfort and my fur to wrap her palms into. My animal was uncomfortable with her pain and whimpered with her, cried at the sounds of his mate’s distress. My tongue lolled out, licking her skin, ignoring the taste of fear that she was coated in, and focused instead on the love I knew she also felt.

If they had called a healer, it wouldn’t have mattered. Time was limited, and though Rolland, the keeper of time, was among us, it waited for no one. A sharp scream pierced the air around us, and Liberty’s body rippled against my own. Another scream filled the air just before the cry of an infant held tightly in Lenin’s palms surrounded us. My wolf sighed in relief, and I finally shifted back.

Epilogue

LIBERTY

THREE YEARS LATER

She had his eyes.His dark soulful eyes that spoke of life and experiences well beyond her three years of age. She carried the spark of Ellis’ humor, too, and though she had so many aspects of all her fathers, it was Ellis she reminded me of the most. Which was crazy, and I knew it because she shouldn’t have his eyes or Sterling’s nose, and everything I’ve ever learned told me that sharing Oak’s agility and Lenin’s visions shouldn’t happen. Still, she sang and danced before me, with pieces of all her fathers solidly in place, and I couldn’t help but think that she had to be the luckiest kid in the world to share people who loved so deeply as they did.

Three years, it had been three years to the day, and the peace that had settled over our family had raised so many more questions than gifted us with answers. We waited for a while, for something to come, for the happiness to be torn away, and it never came. We waited until one day we found ourselves relaxed and happy, no longer fearful of what would be taken next. It was slow to get there, painful at times, but now? There was no place I would rather be.