Page 84 of Moonlight and Mischief
“Don’t be dramatic, you’re going to be fine. It’s barely a papercut,” Cassia says. He laughs and then winces.
It’s obvious the moment my sister realizes whose dagger sits abandoned and bloody on the floor. “What did you do?” Ember screeches at our mother, straining against the zip-ties.
“Choose my child over my mate?” Sienna asks quietly, her words a little slurred. Ember lets out an anguished scream in response. “You wouldn’t becomplaining ifyouwere the child I saved,” Sienna says before turning her face away.
Slate looks between them, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He looks as confused as I feel. For someone who has spent her life attempting to destroy this pack, Sienna didn’t hesitate to put her estranged son before her mate, jeopardizing her power in the process.
“You’d better get out there, boys. The fight’s not quite over,” Cassia growls, looking up from wrapping gauze around Onyx’s torso and tightening the bandage in place.
Slate and I pull on our sweats and slip on the gear Cassia hands over. I try to ignore the blood along the side of Onyx’s tactical gear as I pull it over my head.
“Ferris is dead, and Sienna is captive. You’ve lost,” Slate shouts, slamming the door open.
The ground is strewn with unfamiliar figures. Our team has dispatched many of our enemies, but small pockets are still fighting.
Hazel whirls, daggers flashing. Fern leaps on a man staggering away from Hazel. A man I recognize as Flint ducks past Hazel’s offense and grabs the strap of her harness, attempting to shove her to the ground.
Slate is already across the clearing, seizing the man by the back of his shirt and flinging him to the dirt. His weapon clatters away. He rolls but before he can stand, Slate is on him. Hazel watches her mate as he slams his fist into Flint’s ugly face. Three strikes and Flint’s lip and cheek are split, his form limp.
Slate staggers up, embracing Hazel as she smashes into him and kisses him roughly.
My eyes scan for my own mate.
The hulking form of Aries blocks my search. He bares his teeth, barreling toward me. Without hesitation, I draw the gun strapped to my chest, praying it still has ammo.
My hand is steady as I point the weapon at Aries. He slows, his grin bloody as if someone has already knocked his teeth loose. “You are too much of a coward to shoot me,” he croaks.
“Try me,” I say.
His growl is anything but human. I wait until he is a few feet away and shoot into his gut. It’s not a fatal shot for a shifter, but enough to take him out of the fight.
Grunting, Aries stumbles, hand pressing to his wound. “I’m going to kill you.”
Somehow, he trudges forward, raising a filthy knife. I dance back, readying another shot that never comes. I’m out of bullets. My hands pat over my gear, looking for more.
Aries closes the distance before I realize how fast he’s moving. His boots kick my legs out from under me. My ass hits the grass. He looms over me and his face contorts. My lungs scream as if filled with glass as I suck in a rough breath. I need my head clear to survive this brute.
But Aries doesn’t move. His eyes stare ahead, and he slowly sways and falls forward. I pull my legs backclear of him as he crumples. A crossbow bolt sticks out of his back.
Across the clearing, Marigold is already reloading and selecting her next target. I’m entranced by the elegant curve of her shoulders as she raises her weapon. She’s magnificent.
“Your Alpha is dead, surrender!” Slate yells, firing his gun into the dirt beside a snarling enemy wolf.
There are few opponents still standing.
Marigold advances, her crossbow pointed at a tall figure. Hawk. He raises his hands, dropping his gun on the ground at her feet. Slowly, he kneels, allowing Fern to zip-tie his wrists.
Slate and Hazel similarly restrain the remaining Granite Ridge pack members.
Looking around, I can tell that some escaped. Less than a dozen still stand, and they are battered, heads hanging. Cassia walks Sienna and a sobbing Ember out of the training building, pushing them to the ground at Slate’s feet.
Hazel glares at Sienna, advancing slowly with a dagger in her hand. My mother looks up at her, her face passive. It’s strange to see her without either a cold sneer or a simpering smile.
A shout rises, a mix of victory and anger. While many are bloody, I see none of our own seriously injured.
A blur of reddish-gold hair and flushed skin streaks toward me. Marigold’s weapon lies discarded in the grass. She launches herself, wrapping her legs around my waist as I lift her up. We cling to each other,reveling in the moment of victory. The emotion flowing between us is enough to steal my breath.
“We made it,” I say against her neck.
