Page 50 of Rebel for Claws
"Ambush!" Vivian's voice carried over their comm system as she dove for cover behind a supply crate. "How did he detect us?"
Alaric's mind raced even as his body moved on pure instinct, rolling behind concrete barriers as bullets shredded the air where they'd been standing.Unless he has enhanced abilities himself...
The sharp whistle that tore from Alaric's lips carried the unmistakable command of an Alpha in battle—the signal fortheir backup team to engage. Almost immediately, the sound of return fire echoed from the ridge as Logan, Damon, and the others provided covering fire.
But fifty against nine were impossible odds, even with their supernatural advantages.
The battle erupted into controlled chaos—Vivian's blades singing through the air as she took down operatives with lethal precision, and Alaric's enhanced strength allowing him to tear through defensive positions like paper. Behind them, the distinctive crack of Elena's sniper fire and the thunderous roar of Logan's assault rifle provided a deadly symphony.
We can do this.Alaric's confidence surged as he watched his mate move like liquid death, her supernatural abilities making her untouchable.We can actually?—
The silver-enhanced blade appeared from nowhere, arcing toward his heart with professional precision. Time slowed to a crawl as Alaric recognized the killing stroke, saw the specialized weapon designed to pierce Alpha hearts, and felt death approaching with cold certainty.
Then Vivian was there.
"Alaric!" Her scream tore through the battlefield as she threw herself between him and the blade, her body absorbing the strike meant for his heart.
The silver-enhanced sword pierced her side with a wet, horrible sound that would haunt Alaric's nightmares forever. Blood—bright red and far too much of it—spread across her tactical gear as she collapsed against him.
No. No, no, NO.
Something primal and terrifying erupted from Alaric's chest—a roar that shook snow from the surrounding trees and sent every human operative stumbling backward in primal fear. His eyes blazed gold as power he'd never felt before coursed through his veins like molten lightning.
The world became crystal clear and diamond sharp. Every heartbeat within a hundred yards registered in his consciousness. Every scent, every sound, every threat crystallized into perfect tactical awareness.
Protect your mate. Destroy the threat.
Bodies flew as Alaric carved a path of destruction through the operatives, his enhanced abilities making him unstoppable. Concrete cracked under his fists. Steel bent beneath his grip. Men twice his size went down like wheat before a scythe.
When the path was clear, he gathered Vivian's bleeding form in his arms, her violet eyes fluttering with pain and shock. "I've got you," he promised, his voice rough with emotion and supernatural power.
Behind them, the sounds of battle continued as their team fought to retrieve the evidence bag, but Alaric's entire world had narrowed to the woman in his arms and the spreading stain of blood on her tactical gear.
She took a blade meant for me. She saved my life.
The forest welcomed them as he carried her to safety, every step measured and careful despite the chaos behind them. Through their earpieces, he could hear Damon's tactical assessments and Elena's sharp commands, but his focus remained laser-focused on his mate's breathing, on keeping her conscious, on getting her somewhere he could assess the damage.
Don't you dare leave me, Vivian. Not after everything we've been through.
Two miles into the forest, Alaric found a small clearing sheltered by towering evergreens and gently lowered Vivian onto the snow-covered ground. His enhanced senses swept the perimeter automatically—no immediate threats and no human operatives pursuing them through the dense woodland.
Focus. Assess the damage first, then worry about everything else.
With trembling hands, he carefully peeled back the torn fabric of her tactical gear. The silver-enhanced blade had sliced through her left side, missing vital organs by mere inches. Blood seeped steadily from the wound, staining the pristine snow beneath her with crimson drops.
"It's not as bad as it looks," Vivian whispered through gritted teeth, though her violet eyes were clouded with pain.
"Don't you dare downplay this," Alaric responded as he ripped strips from his thermal henley, the fabric tearing easily under his enhanced strength. "You took a blade meant for me. A silver blade."
She could have died. She could have died protecting me.
The realization hit him with staggering force, stealing his breath and making his hands shake as he pressed the makeshift bandages against her wound. Never in his forty-eight years had anyone willingly put themselves between him and death—not even during his arranged mating, not even from his own sons.
"Stop the bleeding first," she instructed, her tactical training overriding her pain. "Silver poisoning won't kill me immediately, but blood loss will."
Alaric worked with methodical precision despite the chaos in his mind, applying pressure and binding the wound with strips of cloth. Each drop of blood that soaked through the fabric felt like a personal failure, a reminder that he hadn't been fast enough, strong enough, or protective enough.
What kind of mate am I if I can't even keep her safe?
