Twin Wolf Trouble (Shifter Squad Six 2) (18 page)

The five men split into two groups, Grant and Grim heading for an entrance to the right of the main building while Thatch, Tex, and Connor took the main entrance. As they’d guessed, The Arctics were well on their way to destruction. Hidden in darkness, they’d killed both of the guards at the front desk and dragged their prone bodies behind the table there. Connor snatched a security pass from each of them and tossed one to Thatch while he kept the other.

Thatch caught it mid-flight and swiped it quickly, gaining entrance into the building. He threw it back and Tex followed while Connor took the other high, metal-covered gate. The gates whined in high-pitched protest at their guns, but one shot to the power consoles at the bottom left silenced that incessant noise.

“To port,” Connor said, taking point as Connor and Tex followed, both covering their flanks as they moved down the corridor and toward the stairs that led down into the belly of the building.

Like always, adrenaline was pounding through Thatch’s veins and his vision was both ultra-sharp and sort of fuzzy at the sides. He was very acutely aware of his breathing and even the slightest sound or smell caught his immediate attention. Shifters made excellent soldiers, not only because of their strength but because of their ability to tap into those latent powers that even their human forms carried. Heightened senses, hyper-focused attention, speed—it all helped to make one hell of a soldier.

But today, Thatch wasn’t feeling invincible. Today, he wasn’t the best man for the job. He worried. His gut was twisting and tossing with something very much akin to panic. He would have given anything to have Madeline in his arms right now and to be curled up on the bed with her and Tex instead of running around here. He would have given his left arm to spend a quiet evening at home with his mates and his kids.

We have to get her back,
he thought, feeling the cold chill of icy sweat.

Tex’s hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it. Thatch looked up at his brother. Tex simply nodded, a somberness to him as he motioned to the stairs. He knew, and he was keeping his head on his shoulders. Thatch took a deep breath. He would have to do the same. For Madeline. For their future, no matter what it was going to be like.

As soon as Connor tried to enter the stairwell, he was met by a hail of bullets. He pulled back sharply, hissing a breath, and Tex grabbed a grenade from his belt and unpinned it, tossing it down. They all held back, listening to the second of pure, blissful panic that came after the first guy saw the grenade bounce down the stairs, followed by the scratching sounds of walls shattering and men being blown apart. Tex counted to three and then dove in first, running down the stairs with his rifle drawn and his body on edge.

As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairwell, he was met with gray walls lightly speckled in blood, and three bodies lying in various bits and pieces. Then, a round of shots was fired at him and he ducked down, using the corner of the stairs as coverage. He shot back, taking careful aim in the direction that the shots had come from, somewhere deeper in the corridors with little to no light. The next barrage showed him muzzle flashes and he could focus his own return. He heard a grunt and a satisfying crunch almost at the same time, and a second later Thatch was bursting past him, running straight in like a madman.

“Tex! Shit!” Thatch hissed, going after him immediately.

Both of them made it to the next corner, pinning themselves against the wall, and Connor was right behind them.

“Slow the hell down, man,” Connor said, his voice that low, booming hiss that made them stand up a little straighter every damn time they heard it.

“She’s here somewhere. I can smell her,” Tex said, his voice on edge.

Thatch frowned, taking a deep whiff, and sure enough, he could smell her. There were small windows showing patches of the walkway outside, but no one walked past. One of the walls was almost completely covered in blood.

“He’s right,” Thatch said, feeling another chill traipse down his back and freeze the hell out of him.

Tex tried to duck into the next stretch of corridor, but he had to pull back right away because there were at least three guns firing at him.

“Shit,” he growled. “It’s too narrow. They’ll get us.”

Connor slid past them and shot an experimental volley into the corridor. He barely got the muzzle of his rifle around the corner when they were peppered with shots, probing, expectant. Gritting his teeth, Connor pulled back and the three of them huddled for a moment, Thatch keeping a close eye on the stairwell they’d come down.

“Doesn’t matter how many of us we have here, they have a good hold. I’m guessing three guys. Ideas?”

“Suicide, that’s about it,” Thatch muttered, taking another whiff of the air and almost doubling over because it all smelled like her and it was killing him.

“We could rush them,” Tex said.

“Yes, suicide. Didn’t I just suggest that?” Thatch commented darkly.

“Smoke bombs. We shift. One of us gives covering fire. We run through the length and take the fuckers out on the other side,” Tex said, eyes flashing gold.

Thatch frowned, looking at his brother. It fit the bill of what Thatch himself had said, but there was a chance to it. Maybe if they were fast enough. Maybe if they were brutal enough, they could make it. Not without taking a loss, sure, but if one of them could get through…

“I’ll do it,” Thatch said blankly.

“We’ll both fucking do it,” Tex growled.

“I can’t let you run in there like that,” Connor said, reeling them both in a little.

“You can’t go. You’re a fucking bear. The biggest target we have. We’re wolves, we can rush through before they even know what hit them,” Tex whispered, his eyes now a solid gold, matching Thatch’s.

Thatch’s wolf agreed wholeheartedly. It was stupid as fuck and had a hundred things that could go wrong, starting from there being too many guys on the other side, to the both of them getting shot down before they could make it through. But he could sense that Madeline was close and The Arctics were no pussycats. He would not be surprised at all if those guys were more than willing to die for their mission.

Just then, a message came through, Grant’s voice tinny in their ears.

“On ninth, heavy resistance on seventh. Got three of them. They’re starting to scatter, though. I don’t know if they got what they need... shit. Sorry. I don’t know if they got what they were after, but they’re starting to run like rats off a sinking ship,” Grant said, the sound of a bullet whizzing by far too close for comfort and throwing him off for a moment.

“Fine. Suicide it is,” Connor agreed with a growl.

Grinning, both of the Crawleys tossed off their shotguns. They took smoke grenades off their belts and handed them to Connor, who weighed them in his hands for a moment.

“Shift. I’ll throw both of these in and give you cover. Stay low, I’ll aim mid-high. If there’s too many of them, try to make it back. Good luck,” he said, while the wolf twins were already starting to shift.

It was like he’d been holding a long breath and could finally release it as Thatch felt the wolf starting to take control. He felt his body get loose and fluid and the familiar, comforting power starting to throb through him in growing quantities. A thick maw with sharp teeth and almost brilliant white fur with deep black markings sprouted from his muscular forms, his legs becoming lean and strong and his eyes gleaming a threatening, almost demonic shade of gold now.

Snapping his teeth once, Thatch looked at Tex and both of them snarled. Connor threw the grenades in and whipped the barrel of his rifle down the corridor. Lock and fucking load.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY

Madeline

Madeline had been kicking and screaming the whole way down to the bottom floor, getting dragged through corridor after corridor by uncaring arms. She didn’t see a single other person in the hallways, other than the men clad in black and brandishing weapons that promised swift death regardless of what she did. Somewhere halfway down to the cellar, Duke had shoved a gag in her mouth, but he only tied her up when they got to a big boiler room at the bottom of the building.

She had been roped to a chair with alarming efficiency, Duke and the other man she’d seen on the train not even bothering to cover their faces. They simply tied her up, smirking to one another.

“What luck,” the other one said. “Didn’t even have to hunt for her anymore or anything. It’s like she wanted to surprise us. You’re so sweet,” he said, blowing her an air kiss.

Madeline hissed out something that could have been an insult if she’d managed to form a damn sentence, but it sounded like little more than a garbled mewl.

“Go on, make sure her little friends don’t show up before we’re done here,” Duke commanded, his pale blond hair and blue eyes making him both striking and scary as hell at the same time.

The other man complied, stalking out while guys who could have been carbon copies of Duke carried heavy boxes into the room and then cracked the tops. When they took out the armaments hidden inside, Madeline sucked in a breath. She knew those things. They were the same bombs that Duke and his merry band of terrorist nut jobs had been stealing before.

“What are you going to do?!” she shrieked, watching in horror as they simply piled the things one on top of the other, like they were building some sort of demented sandcastle.

“Oh, aren’t we curious!” Duke exclaimed, walking across the room to another, smaller black case and opening it up.

Madeline didn’t have to work in explosives to realize that she was staring at a bomb and remote detonation devices, as well as wiring to hook it up to explosives carrying a big enough charge to set them off. Duke picked up the detonator and brought it over to Madeline, showing it off to her as if it were some prized possession.

“Well, you see, I intend to kill you,” he said mildly, smirking flatly.

“I’m flattered you went through all this effort,” Madeline snorted, finding herself far more defiant this time, knowing that she had two little ones at home to fight for. “But I don’t think you like me quite this much. Could we maybe go on a date first? See if we want to kill each other then?”

Her mouth kept saying words even though her mind was skipping beats left and right. She simply knew that she had to keep him talking to have any kind of a chance of getting out of there. Time was what she needed and she didn’t have a whole lot of options on how to get any without going out of her way to be obnoxious.

Duke quirked a brow at her, standing a mere foot or two from her. He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then he leaned closer and whacked her over the cheek so hard that her ears rung.

“Shut up, princess. I don’t need your smart fucking mouth here.”

“Yeah? I thought you liked an audience! Devs sure liked it when I was there to see him die. I bet I’ll be here to witness your death too,” Madeline spat out, the words coming with a spatter of blood as he’d managed to split her lip-

It was the adrenaline that kept her talking, even if in any other situation she would be keeling over and sobbing by now.

“I think you’re underestimating my level of preparation here, Madeline. You see, I’m in no hurry. I
want
you to have fun with me here. See all the nice things I’m doing, like building a fucking pile of explosives that will blow this place off the map? You see these bombs? You know what they can do?” he asked, picking one of the heavy things up delicately and spinning it around in his hands for Madeline.

“I know they make a psycho like you think he has some power,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“True. But they can also make this building disappear. And when people come to gather around, lament the loss of such a great research center that did so much good for both humans and shifters, they’ll find traces of explosives only used by the US government. And you know how well the government gets along with shifters these days,” he mused idly, putting the bomb back down again.

His cold blue eyes flashed for a second as he looked at Madeline, and she swallowed heavily. There hadn’t been another person in the room for a few minutes now and being so close to him—this monster—all alone was unnerving her. But she had to keep talking.

“You’re a psycho. No one’s going to believe any of that stuff,” Madeline said, letting whatever came to her head first slip over her lips.

“Well, I bet they will, though,” Duke commented, crouching down by the armaments and starting the process of fastening the timer and some adhesive explosive putty in place, his back turned to Madeline. “We have a great PR department, after all.”