The fox tried to buck him off, but the wolverine’s stocky, muscular build was far too heavy. The male swung his arm backwards, aiming for the animal’s head. The wolverine caught the limb with his powerful jaws and clamped down, crushing bone and tasting blood. The crack mingled with the fox’s scream.
Footsteps pounded along the ground. The wolverine released the broken, mangled arm and snarled at the people approaching. They slowed but didn’t stop. When one of them got too close to the sleeping pallas cat, the wolverine snapped his teeth in warning. The female stumbled to a halt, breathing hard.
“Don’t kill the fox,” said the male at front of the group. His Alpha.
The wolverine only growled.
Vinnie Devereaux eyed his nephew’s beast warily. Not a lot disturbed Vinnie—he was born that way according to his mother—but the sound of a wolverine’s growl? That soul-chilling, hackle-raising, bone-rattling sound that he’d only otherwise heard in werewolf-themed horror movies? Yeah, that would unnerve just about anyone.
Wolverines might look like small, stocky bears when in their animal form, but they were built to kill. Their powerful, steel-trap-like jaws could crunch bone, and their sharp, curved claws were ideal for hooking, shredding, and digging. Moreover, their incredibly tough hide meant they could take a beating and keep on going.
In sum, they were hard to hurt and even harder to kill.
“No, Elle,” he said quietly to his daughter, sensing she wanted to get to Bree’s cat, who was sprawled on the ground, unconscious. He was presuming the tranquilizer gun a few feet away from her was responsible for that. “He’s not going to let anyone near her.”
Elle glared at him. “But—”
“You can hear her heart beating nice and steady. She’s fine.”
“She’s fucking drugged is what she is,” clipped Mateo. “I can smell it. And she’s hurt.”
Blood matted her long, gray coat that was tipped with white—a coat usually so fluffy and pretty with its frosted silvery appearance. “I don’t think all that blood is hers.”
Elle clenched her fists. “Dad, you’ve got to let me get to her.”
“Don’t worry about her; I told Gerard to call Helena,” Vinnie assured his daughter, referring to one of the pride’s healers. “She’ll take care of the cat’s wounds.”
The wolverine’s beady eyes narrowed, flitting from person to person. Blood stained his dark snout, paws, and the cream fur around his face. Most of the wolverine’s dense coat was a dark brown, but there was a single stripe of cream fur on his flanks that also tinted the top of his bushy tail.
Vinnie spared a glance at the whimpering male trapped beneath the animal. His butchered, broken body was quivering with pain and terror. If the blood he was coughing up was anything to go by, he had some internal bleeding. Nope, he wasn’t going to survive those wounds. Vinnie needed to question him fast. But getting the wolverine to release him … no, that wasn’t going to be easy at all.
Mateo took a step toward the pallas cat, and the wolverine roared.
“Step back, Mateo,” Vinnie snapped.
“He has to know I’d never harm her,” said the other male cat.
“All that beast knows right now is that she’s hurt and vulnerable—he won’t want you touching her, and you’d be a damn fool to test him.” Vinnie had met several wolverines in his time, but none so fiercely hardcore as Alex’s beast. It was straight up forty pounds of nightmarish ferocity and unmatched ultra-aggression that no creature with any sense would dare anger.
Seriously, it might be no more than two and a half feet tall, but the wolverine was a killing machine that would fuck you up like a boss, and not much provocation was required. He’d then go on about his day, no more affected by a confrontation than he would be by a droning fly.
But this situation here … this was different. Someone under the beast’s protection had been harmed. He would not be content to walk away and leave the kill to Vinnie; he wasn’t going to allow anyone to finish when he’d started. And while Vinnie had no issue with the wolverine mauling the living shit out of the fox, it was always a little disturbing to watch the animal eat its victims.
“Don’t kill the fox yet,” he told the wolverine, trusting Alex to convey the meaning of the words to his beast. “We need to question him first. We need to know who he is and what he wanted with Bree.”
The beast, well, it threw back its broad head and roared. Yeah, it had received the message. And it apparently didn’t like the thought of releasing its new toy.
The creaking of door hinges reached Vinnie’s ears, and then fast footsteps headed his way.
“Helena is here,” said Luke.
The wolverine’s eyes slammed on the newcomer as she sidled up to Vinnie.
“She’s here to heal Bree,” Vinnie told him, knowing the animal would recognize her as their healer. “You need to let her close, and you need to back off so we can question the fox. Or don’t you want to know if there are more threats to Bree out there?”
The beast stared at him, its gaze unblinking.
“You can guard the cat while Helena heals her, if you want. But not if you’re all the way over there. So, would you prefer to stomp on the fox or watch over Bree’s cat?”
An annoyed chuff escaped its snout and fogged the air. The wolverine’s gaze darted from the cat to the fox and back again. Finally, it slowly stepped off the fox—but not before spitefully raking its claws down his shredded back one last time.
Luke winced. “Ooh, that had to hurt.” The prospect of that seemed to delight him.
Licking its bloody muzzle, the wolverine padded over to the unconscious cat and stood over her like a sentry. He eyed Helena closely as she approached, baring his teeth at her in warning. But he made no move to stop her as she bent over and touched the cat, sending healing energy into her small body.
Tate squatted beside the fox and took a good look at him. “He’s alive, but I doubt he’ll be that way for much longer.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Vinnie crossed to his eldest son. “Flip the fucker over.”
Tate did so, and he wasn’t careful about it. The fox let out a gut-wrenching scream that eventually faded into a pitiful whimper.
Tate pushed his fingers into a deep injury on the fox’s side, earning himself a weak snarl. “That looks real sore. I can make it worse, or you can just answer our questions.”
“What did you want with Bree?” Vinnie asked the fox.
The male looked up at him, his torn-up face creased in blinding agony. But there was a defiant glint in those eyes that said, “I’m dying anyway so do your worst.”
“I can have my healer tend to those wounds. And no, that isn’t a friendly offer. Nor am I saying I’ll allow her to heal you in exchange for information from you. I’m saying that although you may be dying, that’s fixable. I can have you healed and then tortured over and over and over. Oh, don’t look so horrified.”
“You knew what you risked when you decided to come after one of ours,” Luke cut in. “You knew you’d never get out of this situation alive if you were caught. What you probably didn’t know is that Bree is under the direct protection of a wolverine shifter. They’re kind of the lovechild of hell itself, aren’t they?”