Betrayal: Reckless Desires (Dark Wolves Book 2) (8 page)

Blade waited, his entire body tense as the young shifter dealt with the enemy. Within moments, the battle was over. Joss growled as he tightened his grip on the other’s neck. It wouldn’t take long for the bastard to die, but he couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. They had to find Malec.

Wesken stalked closer, shifting as he walked. “Shift, you filthy bastard,” he commanded.

The wolf curled his lip, but not a sound emerged.

“Let him go, Joss. You’ve done well.”

Joss growled one more time, giving the wolf a final shake before letting him go.

“I said shift.” Wesken grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dangling him high off the ground.

With his injuries, the man shifted slowly. His long blond hair caked with mud and blood running down the side of his bruised face, the man panted.

“Where is the boy?” Wesken demanded, tightening his grip on the back of his neck. He could snap the fucker with one hand, and the idiot needed to know that.

The guy looked at Wesken and sneered. “All we want is what is ours. The bitch you reek of belongs to us. My Alpha wants her back,” he said between panted breaths.

“Where. Is. The. Boy?” Wesken growled again, his fingers digging deep.

The man’s eyes bulged, and his face turned a deep shade of red. “You want him, give up the Mahehkan female.” The man’s voice wheezed out of him as Wesken’s grip tightened.

His struggle weakened more and more until his body went limp and the last of his air escaped from his body.

Realization crashed into him. Malec wasn’t there. She had taken him away from the village. Distracted him when he should have been guarding his pack. Amalija had betrayed them all, and now Malec was gone. Wesken looked at Blade, then at Joss, who had remained in their wolf forms. His heart pounded, and an invisible vise tightened around his chest. Tossing the male to the side, he threw his head back and roared.

***

Amalija didn’t waste any time. She wished she had a choice—any choice—but there was none. She couldn’t leave little Malec to the Mahehkans. No child deserved what they would put him through. She had to find Vincent and hope that he wanted to carry around a little boy less than he wanted to impress his Alpha by bringing them both back.

Wesken had run North. That meant Vincent was nowhere near that. What was south of the village? The creek. Beyond that? Nothing but forest for miles and miles. Wait, the garden. was south of the village. She ran as fast as her legs would take her. Vincent wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t wait around for the men to find and kill him. She had to get to the garden and follow his scent, and she wasn’t much of a tracker.

Her heart pounded, and her lungs burned, but she didn’t slow down. As soon as she got to the garden, she knew she was right. Broken stalks were everywhere, and the plants they’d nurtured for the past couple of days had all been uprooted. Where the hell did she start? Even if she shifted and used her nose, the bastard had made his way through the garden, leaving his scent all over the place. She spun in a slow circle, her chest heaving. Maybe she should go back and get Argram.

A faint sound—more of a grunt than anything—to the far end of the garden had her whipping in that direction. Relief shot through her as she spotted the toddler sitting in the dirt on the edge of the patch. She took a deep breath, ready to yell for Argram or one of the other men, when her legs faltered and her heart stuttered. There was no mistaking Vincent’s foul scent or the hulking form stepping out from the tall grass beyond where Malec sat.

A cruel smile creased his face as he lifted his finger to his mouth, shushing her. He was a foot, maybe two, from Malec. If she tried calling out to Argram, there was no way she’d get to the baby in time to keep him safe. The moisture in her mouth evaporated. Lifting his hand, he beckoned her closer, his gaze never leaving her. She had to figure something out. Anything.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him when she was close enough that she didn’t have to raise her voice.

His upper lip curled, showing his yellowed teeth. “You know why. You belong to Roger. He wants you back.”

Amalija shook her head, but she wouldn’t argue with him. Not when Malec was still within his grasp. The child looked up at her, his big eyes shining bright, but he didn’t make a sound. When she stepped off to the side, Vincent turned along with her.

“You know, they’ll never let you get away with their son,” she told him. “If you leave him here, they won’t come after you.” It was a lie, and from the look he gave her, he knew it, too. But she wouldn’t give up.

“Leave him. Finding him will slow them down. The Alpha is beside himself with worry. His second is off chasing the others. You’ll have time to get away if you go now.” She hated to say such things of Argram or remind the bastard that the pack was less than secure, but she’d do anything to keep the little guy safe. “I’ll even go willingly. I won’t fight you. Let’s just go.”

Vincent advanced on her then, his eyes cold as he smiled at her. “Fine,” he said, grabbing her arm and jerking her so hard her shoulder popped.

Amalija cried out as a searing pain shot through. An instant later, a loud roar sounded close by. The men were still patrolling. Had one of them heard?

“Shut the fuck up and come with me. Otherwise, there won’t be anything left of you by the time I get you back to Roger,” he hissed at her as he pulled her injured arm.

Amalija swallowed the pain and followed. Her shoulder hurt, but she didn’t argue. At least they were leaving Malec behind.

Feet pounded on the ground as whoever had heard her rushed to the garden. Any second now, they would find Malec and he would be safe. Amalija held her breath, waiting for it. A moment passed, then another. Finally, as she and Vincent were ducking into deeper brush, the loudest roar she’d ever heard exploded from the garden. Corresponding howls echoed from the village.

Soon, most of the men who hadn’t gone after the other Mahehkans would be out there. Some would stay and protect Malec while others would look for the enemy.

With each step they took taking her farther from her Komoro pack, the little bit of hope she’d had that they would come looking fizzled and died. They didn’t even know she was out there. Even if they did catch her scent, it would be dismissed. She worked in the garden every day. And if she knew anything about the Mahehkans, it was that they were thorough. They didn’t do the damage to the garden to annoy the pack or cut off their vegetable supply. No, they had scattered their scents everywhere. And that would extend to the surrounding woods. Tracking Vincent, if they even could, would take a long time. And that was one thing she didn’t have.

They ran until the muscles in her legs quivered and shook, and they kept on running. Every once in a while, Vincent would look over his shoulder at her, sneer, and give her arm a sharp tug. She wasn’t sure if he was more pleased when she managed to keep her cries inside or when the pain was so much that she couldn’t contain it.

Each mile they crossed had the churning ball in the pit of her stomach growing bigger and tumbling harder until bile rose up in her throat. After all this time, she couldn’t believe she was back in the clutches of the Mahehkan pack. Even if Vincent didn’t touch her, which he almost certainly would, Roger would make her pay for leaving. He’d make sure she regretted ever having dreamed of a life where pain and suffering were nothing more than a distant memory.

***

Wesken was already back at the village when he heard Orrin’s roar from the garden. He didn’t bother stopping at Argram and Miga’s house. Orrin’s call had demanded assistance. Wesken howled as he ran, nearly knocking one of the Komoro women over as he rushed past.

The first thing he saw when he entered the garden was Orrin with his back turned away from him. The next was two forms, one larger one lying on its side, unmoving, the other, a frail looking female he’d never seen before. With her arms wrapped around her knees, she rocked back and forth. Fear shone in her eyes, and streaks of pale skin showed through the dirt on her face from where her tears had fallen.

If it weren’t for Orrin’s posture, Wesken might have shifted to make himself look less intimidating, but he was looking for something, and Wesken didn’t want to waste any time shifting back if he had to give chase. He loped over to his pack brother’s side, peering into the long grass and the forest beyond, seeking what Orrin was intent on finding.

When he didn’t see anything, he looked over at Orrin, and his heart all but exploded from his chest it was pounding so hard. Nestled there, in the big man’s arms, was Malec. He had a couple of scratches on him but, otherwise, seemed unharmed.

No longer caring if he frightened the woman further or not, Wesken shifted. “Thank fuck.” He reached for his nephew, who smiled and held his little arms out for him.

“You shouldn’t talk like that in front of him. Miga won’t be pleased. What the hell happened here?” Orrin asked, obviously forgetting the advice he’d given. “Why was Malec sitting here in the garden all alone?”

“The Mahehkans. That’s what happened. Amalija’s one of them.” Just saying her name left a bitter taste in his mouth. “She betrayed us.”

Orrin looked at him again. “No, she didn’t. There is much we didn’t know about her, but I’ve learned a lot while I was gone. We need to talk to her. And Argram.”

The pounding of feet, both in wolf and human form came at them from behind. Wesken turned in time to see his brother explode into the garden. As soon as he saw Malec sitting happily in Wesken’s arms, he stumbled. The big wolf skidded to a halt only a foot away. He was shifting even before he came to a complete stop.

“Go, get Miga!” he yelled at no one in particular, knowing that someone was already scrambling to do as he’d commanded. His hands shook, and tears ran down the big man’s face as he took his son and held him close.

Wesken kept himself between his brother and the rest of the pack, providing some measure of privacy while he regained his composure.

Malec grunted and growled in his baby talk, something no one other than Miga had yet to understand, but it lightened the weight pressing on his soul just hearing it. He was safe.

“Thank you, brother,” Argram said, his voice thick.

“I wish I could take the credit, but it was Orrin who found him here in the garden.”

Argram looked over at Orrin and nodded. “He was in the garden? Alone?”

Before he could say a word, Miga came running into the clearing, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t stop until she had her son clasped to her chest. Argram wrapped her in his arms, protecting them both.

“Bring them home. I’ll take over here,” Wesken told him. They needed some time, and he had to make his failure to keep them safe up to them, if only in this small way.

Argram grunted once before leading his family away.

He waited until the Alpha was out of sight before turning his attention to the two Orrin had brought to the village both of which had yet to make a sound. “Now, what’s going on here?” he asked.

Orrin was already standing by the woman, sheltering her from prying eyes. “They are both Mahehkan, I brought them back to the village with me,” he said, then lifted his hands in front of him when growls erupted from all the males present.

“Why did you bring them here? Is that one even alive?” Wesken asked, as he pointed to the male who had yet to move.

Orrin huffed and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Barely. I brought them because you need to hear what they have to say.” He scrubbed his jaw with his knuckles. “Well, what Roxie has to say. James won’t be talking for a while.”

“Fine. Let’s go to the pack house.” When Orrin went to the female and picked her up, Wesken rolled his eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do with the male? When the others all left him lying there, Wesken growled, then picked the man up. If he was responsible for the woman’s injuries, Orrin’s rage wouldn’t matter. Wesken would kill him himself.

Wesken stared at the battered Omega knowing full well that he was intimidating the crap out of her. But it didn’t matter. Only the truth mattered. The question was, could he trust what a Mahehkan was telling him? His head said
hell, no
with a big emphasis on the no, but his gut told him otherwise.

“How do you know Amalija?” he barked, asking her again for the third time, making her jump with the suddenness he’d asked it of her.

The Omega wouldn’t look at him, but then, he didn’t expect she would. She was as submissive as anyone ever got.

“She’s already told you,” Orrin butt in, his voice edgier than it should have been.

Wesken narrowed his eyes as he looked at the man. He hadn’t left the female’s side, not for a single second since they’d arrived. James, the male—who apparently was Amalija’s brother—had woken but had been taken to the infirmary for treatment to the various wounds Orrin had inflicted when he’d found Roxie in his possession and injured. It was a miracle that the little female had found the strength to keep Orrin from finishing the other man off in his rage.

“I want to hear it again,” he snarled at his friend. It was obvious the man wasn’t as objective as necessary for the situation.