The fury welled up like a volcano and, with it, strength beyond any human. Shaker and Tusker had sacrificed good men. All those enhanced soldiers they’d sent in advance to kidnap Lily and Daniel, forcing Jonas and the others to kill them. The advance scouts Team Two would have to kill. Crawley and his team, whose only sin was being loyal to the wrong men. Angel, who had believed them so absolutely. Knowing that Gorman and Lewis and Angel were dead hadn’t stopped Shaker. He still wouldn’t stand down.
Jonas was aware of Camellia instructing Jeff to come up on Kyle’s left side in order to get a better grip with both hands so, when she told him, he could draw the spear upward in increments. It would be excruciating for Kyle. Before Jeff started to extract the spear, Red dripped some other liquid into Kyle’s veins in order to counteract the pain. Kyle’s life was in their hands. Jonas was all about death.
Jonas found their ability to heal both fascinating and ironic. Camellia’s healing gift in particular. Why had that bastard Whitney decided to pair Camellia, a woman who was all about life, with Jonas, who was all about death?
Pops suddenly rushed Kyle, coming at him in an explosive attack, much like the Komodo dragon. As he drove at Kyle’s head, he opened his mouth wide, so wide his jaw appeared unhinged, exposing two rows of serrated teeth. Venom dripped between the teeth, telling Jonas the man would bite down and tear, allowing massive amounts of venom to infiltrate the wound. If Pop’s venom was similar to a Komodo dragon’s, it would contain over six hundred toxins and would prevent clotting. Pops wouldn’t need to deliver a killing bite, only drip the venom into the open wounds and sit back and wait for the toxins to take effect.
Jonas intercepted the attack, coming out of the fog, ripping a thick branch from a tree as he raced past it. The branch was green, not at all brittle. He swung it with deadly accuracy, slamming the heavy limb into Pops’s open mouth and smashing as many of the serrated teeth as possible, then using it as a battering ram, shoving the branch down his throat until a good two feet of bloody wood tore through the side of his neck. Pops died instantly, his eyes wide with shock and panic, his body toppling as far as the branch would allow.
Instantly, Jonas was gone again, disappearing into the fog, moving slowly with the droplets, circling back around Kyle to where Jeff was crouched beside him, doing his best to follow Camellia’s instructions.
Jonas was becoming adept at reading the underground network now that he knew what it was. Tusker and Shaker had changed positions, utilizing the dense, covering fog to move covertly. Shaker was no longer in the clearing. He had disappeared that quickly, with no hint of his movement telegraphed over the mycelium network, which meant he wasn’t touching the ground.
Tusker was close to Jeff and Kyle. A threat to them. Tusker should have known better. They should have known better. But then, Jonas had known they would go at Kyle again. He was the bait after all. Kyle had known he would be used to bring Jeff, Jonas and possibly even Camellia straight to Shaker and his men. They wouldn’t have to cast around in the fog. They would know right where to look.
He was beginning to know Shaker now. This was all about him. His enhancements. His ego. His cunning intelligence. Shaker had been enhanced before his brother had been killed. Oliver had tried to talk him out of it. Oliver had been adamant that his brothers not undergo the psychic or physical enhancements. He’d been extremely upset when he found out they’d gone ahead with their plans.
“You want me to be the one to have killed Oliver to let you off the hook, Shaker. You know you were like him. Like me. You can’t control it, can you? The testosterone raging in your body making the demands to challenge any other male who won’t do exactly what you say? You have to be alpha, and everyone had better do what you tell them.”
He whispered into the fog, dispersing the thread of sound into those droplets so they wouldn’t give away his location. He and Shaker were playing cat and mouse, and Jonas refused to be the mouse.
Shaker was about to find out what a real alpha was.
Jonas had learned over time through trial and error—so many errors—that the way of the wolf alpha was the most effective for him. He tried to follow that lead, to not beat his chest, snarling and demanding. When rage became too much, he took himself away from anyone he loved until he had himself under control.
“Did you always need to be alpha? To force everyone around you to do what you said? I know you did to your brothers. Oliver’s abilities made you jealous, didn’t they, Shaker? You wanted them for yourself. You thought he couldn’t handle them because he was weak.” He kept projecting the whisper into the fog, all the while keeping track of Tusker.
Tusker moved with stealth, and the fog muffled any sound he might have made. Jonas didn’t need to hear or see him, not with the underground network keeping track of him as surely as any GPS satellite could have. Tusker made his way around the dead body of Pops, pausing for one moment and then creeping around to come at Jeff from behind.
His movements, now that Jonas could actually see Tusker rather than just monitor his progress via the underground network, reminded him of a bull elephant. Jonas instantly cataloged everything he knew about the animal and the way it behaved when attacking. It was one of the most dangerous and aggressive animals in the world when riled.
Head down, eyes on his target, Tusker’s entire demeanor had changed. He looked larger and much more lethal. He was a handsome man, just as Oliver had been, but his facial features were somewhat distorted. Examining him closely, Jonas could see a thick patch of darker skin on his forehead that was worrisome because it made no sense. A similar thick patch had formed on his cheeks and along his jaws. Jonas had never seen such distortion, as if those patches were still growing and taking over Tusker’s entire body—like armor.
That pulled him up short. Was it that? Was it armor? He only had seconds for his brain to analyze and figure out exactly what was covering Tusker’s face and most likely his body under his clothes—clothes that suddenly looked entirely too snug in places, as if he were wearing a policeman’s vest.
Pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place, pieces that Jonas didn’t have time to connect, not with Tusker suddenly charging Jeff’s back as Jeff pulled at the spear in Kyle’s shoulder. Jonas leapt over Kyle and Jeff, the balls of both feet striking Tusker precisely in the eyes, driving him back and away from his intended target.
Jonas was enormously strong, and he’d put not only his body weight behind the blow but every bit of his enhanced strength. He rocked Tusker, drove him back, but Tusker didn’t go down. What he did do was trumpet a challenge, rage and pain all at the same time. Jonas had targeted the other man’s eyes because that was now the only place on Tusker’s face not protected by the thick patches of hardened, armor-like skin. Jonas was certain that armor would protect Tusker from feeling too much pain—possibly even block or deflect any bullet that hit where those patches grew thick.
Keeping his body between Tusker and his two fellow GhostWalkers, Jonas studied his opponent, searching for any area of vulnerability. Jonas had speed and he had strength. He might be more animal than man when he battled, all those predatory traits rushing to attack anyone who dared to threaten those he called family, but he also had a brain. And his father had taught him that, above all else, his brain was his greatest weapon.