Un.Wavering (Claimed Series Book 3) (6 page)

Some of the men were much larger in stature than Cole and Nicolas. It was doubtful they possessed the Slayter finesse when it came to combating, but it didn’t take much technique to swing a blade and behead an opponent.

As far as what waited for them
inside
the complex, no one knew. She doubted these men and women had the patience or the slyness to learn what faced them inside. They just wanted their loved ones rescued before it was too late.

Hayden couldn’t blame them.

She adjusted her sword, touched her knives, and followed the group toward Celeste’s hideout. The anticipation over the upcoming battle was overpowering, her excitement upon seeing Cole again was palpable, and the silence of Nicolas’ absence was nearly deafening. 

Yet, she could only continue moving forward.

There were no exclamations about the rogue hideout being ‘small’ or ‘underwhelming’. The silence from her comrades only led Hayden to believe every man and woman had already seen the hideout on their quest to search for their loved ones.

And the shack really was unassuming.

It still groaned in the fierce winds and it still looked small enough to be a simple utility shed. Hayden could only imagine what it looked like underground. Knowing Celeste, it was crafted ingeniously, full of complicated twists and turns with only one way out.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she breathed steadily, trying to focus on Cole. With the closer proximity, Hayden detected his awareness.

The past few days, while traveling with Nicolas, her connection with Cole had been murky and entirely one-sided. She hadn’t felt much of anything from him but pain and weariness. Today, however, there was a sliver of attentiveness.

“I count eight…” someone whispered, their tone peculiarly disappointed despite the promising news. “Not even enough for each of us to fight our own!”

Hayden neared the edge of the bluff and peered down at the roaming rogues.

“Don’t underestimate them,” Amber Beard reprimanded harshly. “These are not simple rogues. It may even take more than one of
us
to take down one of
them
.”

Through lowered lashes, she assessed the prowling wolves. She wondered if these wolves were a successful batch of Celeste’s prized puppets. Would they inherit the strength of their Carrier and carry out their Sire’s orders with blind obedience?

She couldn’t
smell
them. Lack of scent was one sign of the mutated rogue Celeste bred. Fortunately, Hayden’s group stood downwind, their scents staying undetected until they chose to attack.

“Well, I say we go for it.”

Hands gripped swords and rifles, their owners desperate to retrieve what was stolen from them. Hayden was no different. She quietly unsheathed her sword, her heart in her throat. She willed her hands not to tremble, knowing they were doing so more out of excitement than fear.

A shoulder bumped into her, garnering her attention.

“Good luck,” Jax murmured kindly. “I’ll have your back, if you have mine.”

Hayden’s lip twitched in wary amusement. “I thought you didn’t have confidence in my ability to wield a blade?”

“That was before I saw you stand up to Igor the Great.” His eyes landed on Muscle-man, who still held his sword proudly. “You obviously have some big balls to get away with that encounter unscathed.”

“Big balls don’t necessarily mean a skilled combater.”

He chuckled lowly. “It does in my book.”

Hayden twisted her sword anxiously, planting her boots more firmly into the snow. Up ahead, Amber Beard made a motion with his sword, a signal to start charging. Before Hayden followed the group down the hill, she turned toward Jax.

“Is his name really Igor the Great?”

The man laughed pleasantly, choosing not to reply as he began trailing his impromptu pack. Hayden followed close behind.

As they sprinted down the hill, there were no battle cries, no animalistic growls of vengeance, only a rhythmic
swoosh
as their boots disrupted the fresh layer of snow. It wasn’t long before the eight rogues were alerted to their presence.

Their ears went back, the only sign of their surprise, before they charged forward. They left the entrance to the base wide open, but one had to go through
them
in order to enter Celeste’s complex.

A spike of wicked adrenaline surged through her, and Cole’s presence stirred powerfully in the back of her mind, as if awoken by her strong emotions.

“Sorry, Cole,” she murmured in apology.

He wouldn’t approve of her current whereabouts
or
her current activities. He would have preferred her to sit obediently behind with the rest of the pack. Or more accurately, accompany someone more reliable, like Blake
or Nathan. Both of them, even the latter, would have been a welcome sight. Following Nicolas’ lead had gotten her nowhere.

On second thought, that wasn’t entirely true. He had delivered her to this pack.

Up ahead, Igor snarled powerfully and swung his sword. His muscles bulked and trembled as he brought his sword down and across, slicing straight through the wolf’s neck.

One rogue down, seven remaining.

The quick execution lightened their party’s spirits, for they attacked with far more confidence than Hayden ever thought possible. They actually appeared like a synchronized pack, all moving in unison and lending a quick hand to a fellow companion in need.

A wolf dodged past the raining bullets and lunged at Hayden. It had enough momentum to gain significant height. To counter, she dropped to her knees and raised her sword partially above her head. The blade ripped through the belly of the wolf above her, a lethal strike that would render the werewolf useless.

Warm blood showered her, staining her skin and clouding her vision. As she extracted the sword from the wounded wolf, she barely had time to dodge another attack.

Jax sidestepped quickly, standing before her and nicking the wolf in its side. His interference sent the wolf off-track, away from Hayden and any malevolent intent it might have possessed. However, Jax’s attack hardly deterred the wolf for long.

It circled back around and charged at Hayden, its ears flattened and its hackles raised. Remaining calm, she flipped her sword around and held the hilt at her chest. She met the wolf in the middle, swiping at his muzzle.

As predicted, it turned away, exposing his wounded side.

With a slight pang of regret, Hayden buried her sword into his side, if not killing it, wounding it enough to stop any future attack.

As the wolf fell, she turned away abruptly, unable to watch it suffer. It was a necessary sacrifice to get Cole back, she understood. But she wished things were different. Before her training, Adolf had warned her that a soft warrior was a dead warrior. She needed to harden herself on the battlefield and mourn afterward.  

“That’s…. it? We did it?”

Hayden whirled around at the inquiry, frantically assessing the scene. She hardly believed it, but it was true. The rogues were dead or mortally wounded. Blood stained the trampled snow and everything was silent and still.

“You still have a long way to go, I’m afraid.”

The aristocratic voice froze the adrenaline in Hayden’s veins.

With dread in her stomach, she turned toward the rogue complex, finding Nicolas Slayter standing in the entrance with Tracer at his side. It took her companions longer to identify him, only because Nicolas had cut his hair and shaved the entirety of his face.

He no longer shared an uncanny resemblance to Cole, but to his old self, the sophisticated rogue Alpha she first met back in New York.

Seeing him standing beside her Sire wasn’t as surprising as she would have thought. A part of her expected it—anticipated it— she supposed. But she’d gone too far to turn back around. She’d only hoped for the best.

The other werewolves of the impromptu pack hadn’t been as prepared for the unconceivable betrayal. They hadn’t counted on
Cayden
showing up in alliance with the rogues. Not after he risked his life to aid their efforts.

Looks of betrayal were sent Hayden’s way, as if she were his coconspirator. Gradually, they all took a respectful step away from her. She was left standing alone, soaked to the bone in blood and cloaked with a palpable air of guilt and defeat.

How could she have trusted Nicolas?

Not so much trusted… but relied on. She’d fallen for his tale of loving Cole, thinking it was a darkly romantic tale. It had made sense. It
still
made sense.

But Nicolas was good at spinning tales, wasn’t he?

Hayden’s breathing quickened and her limbs began to tremble.

Across from her, near the tree line, shadowy figures slowly advanced. Their dark forms gradually took shape, the anticipated wait nearly excruciating. Werewolves emerged from the trees, in human form, all moving fluidly and as one. Their expressions were rather blank, but their eyes
burned
.

She realized then that the wolves they fought and killed were just ordinary rogues. They hadn’t been Celeste’s prized breed of werewolves. But the ones emerging from the trees
were
created by a Carrier. And in this case, Tracer was the Carrier in question.

Her Sire held up a single fist and the werewolves stopped abruptly.

No spoken words were needed, Hayden realized in horror. All these werewolves were Tracer’s personal toy soldiers. Granted, they were soldiers with unbridled strength and power, but in the end, they were simple puppets.

Hayden never thought she’d see Celeste’s final product in action. But she stared at it first handedly, witnessing the complete and utter power Tracer held over the ones he Sired.

Vaguely, Hayden realized how fortunate she was to be a part of Celeste’s first failed prototype. Otherwise, she’d be in that line of soldiers, mindlessly waiting on Tracer’s next command.

“Why?” Amber Beard demanded toward Nicolas. “Why lead us by the noose?”

“Let me introduce myself.” Nicolas smiled charmingly and offered a small bow at the waist. “I am Nicolas Slayter.” His pale eyes looked at Hayden. “I think that’s all the explanation that is needed, is it not?”

Utter defeat swept amongst the group. Hayden could see it in their slumped shoulders and the way they gripped their weapons futilely. All of these men and women had someone they loved waiting for them inside.

And they’d failed.

Hayden trembled, seeing red.

Up ahead, Tracer smiled, revealing his thickly yellow teeth. “
Attack
,” he commanded.

And as if she stood amongst the line of puppets, awaiting Tracer’s order, Hayden sprinted into action. She charged toward the line of solid bodies and past the motionless figures of her impromptu pack.

One of the men, Jax maybe, tried to grab her and hold her back. Avoiding the reach, Hayden slipped straight past, grabbing one of her knives and skidding to a halt. Planting her feet into a quick, yet solid stance, she threw her knife with deadly accuracy.

It cut through the air and imbedded into an unsuspecting rogue’s head. Hayden charged at her target, noticing the man had yet to drop despite the knife’s intrusion. She ducked under his furious fist and twirled around his back.

With her sword, she slashed a deep cut into both his calves. The rogue went down to his knees, and with heightened strength Hayden didn’t know she possessed, she slashed her sword and severed his head.

She whirled around to face Tracer and Nicolas, another knife in hand before they could blink. Her first instinct was to aim at Nicolas, for his cold-hearted betrayal, but at his wide-eyed and impressed smirk, she hesitated.

Tracer controlled these monsters. Nicolas did not.

Nicolas once said that to kill Celeste would be akin to cutting off the head of the beast. The same logic could be applied to Tracer.

As she made to throw the knife, her arm was taken captive and nearly ripped from her socket. A shoulder rammed into her, completely lifting her off her feet. Her body twisted unnaturally in the air before landing heavily on the ground.

It felt as if she’d been hit by a car. All from a simple, nonthreatening shove.

The oxygen left her lungs, and her adrenaline seeped from her body. She heard the distant sound of feet retreating and knew the impromptu pack had abandoned her. Hayden didn’t blame them. In their eyes, she’d betrayed them first.

“Follow them. I want you to kill every single one of them,” Tracer bellowed at his army. “Leave no survivors.”

She closed her eyes against the murky grey sky, her fist still curled loosely around her throwing knife. Her shoulder ached and her ribs were sore. The beast hardly extracted much effort in putting her down. She couldn’t imagine the scope of their abilities.

Would they truly not rest until they carried out their master’s orders? What was the extent of their obedience? 

Her body tensed when footsteps approached her prone form. Much to her dismay, Tracer leered down at her. He hadn’t changed at all from the last time she’d seen him. His eyes were still mismatched in color and his long hair was still greasy and full of gnarls.

He was supposed to possess an unlimited amount of strength now, thanks to Celeste’s tampering. Whatever her chemically-altered venom did to him, he was now above and beyond Cole’s level.

“What do we have here?” He chuckled. “The damsel saving the prince in distress?”

Hayden narrowed her eyes, hardly finding it the least bit humorous.

His eyes ran the length of her sprawled figure. Though she was fully clothed and drenched in dried blood, he still found the sight appreciative.

“What will I do with you? The possibilities really
are
endless…”