Bitten By Mistake (29 page)

The rogue pack hadn’t been overly cautious so far. They were arrogant and overconfident, and Cam was counting on that to get the two packs inside. Nathan closed his eyes and thought of Jared as the conversations carried on around him.

At six thirty he started his deliveries. The back of his van was full of expensive laptops, bound for a new office complex opening up, and other lucrative electronic items that the rogue pack would be happy to get their hands on. It wasn’t just about the contents of the van, though. This would be a warning. A show of aggression and intent—the rogue shifters telling Nathan’s pack that they could take whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it. They wouldn’t expect his pack to sacrifice one of its own.

Nathan wished he could see their faces when it all backfired.

The roads got steadily busier as the morning progressed, and he radioed in every fifteen minutes as instructed. He’d purposefully left his phone at home; the temptation to keep in contact with Jared would be far too much of a distraction. Lunchtime came and went, and Nathan made all his morning deliveries without so much as a whiff of the rogue pack.

He returned to base and refilled the van for his afternoon shift, making sure to appear as normal as possible since he had no idea who was leaking pack information. A couple of people asked where Luke was and why Nathan was on his own. He almost tripped up on that question. They’d been working in pairs for so long it was expected. He whispered conspiratorially that Luke had an errand to run and this was a one-off. He grinned, winked, and asked them not to tell Alec. Almost everyone wanted to get one over on the boss, so they nodded, smiled, and assured him his secret was safe. The two P-Pack members that had accompanied them recently never ventured inside the warehouse, so no one commented on their absence. Just as well, because Nathan was too on edge to think up another excuse.

The afternoon passed in the same way as the morning, and Nathan’s guard slipped as he stupidly began to think the rogues hadn’t taken the bait. He took a shortcut to avoid traffic. The road passed through one of the less desirable areas of London, not that Nathan usually cared about that, but he knew as soon as he’d turned onto it what a mistake that was.

Or not—it was the reason he was there, after all.

He caught movement in the driver’s side mirror and barely had enough time to radio it in before someone ripped the door open and hauled him from his seat. Nathan hit the road with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. He rolled to his side, gasping for air, and saw his van easing to a stop about ten metres farther down the street. Someone jumped out, and Nathan struggled to his feet in an effort to get away. A hard kick to his back sent him sprawling forward onto the road again.

Gravel cut his chin and his hands as he skidded to a stop.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Nathan recognised the voice and the scent—the shifter he’d chased after, the one he’d mistaken Jared for. He scrambled backwards out of the way of another kick and stood. “I’m staying right here.” Dodging sideways as the other shifter came up behind him, Nathan angled his body so that they were both in front of him. “Gonna have to do better than that.”

“Oh, we will.” They both lunged at the same time and Nathan danced out of the way, sliding into his half-shift midstride and raking his claws down the back of the nearest one. He managed to get in another hit, and the satisfying sound of breaking bones cut through the air before the attackers shifted.

Nathan backed off as they advanced towards him, splitting up, with one coming at him from either side. If they attacked at the same time, he would struggle to fend them off. They were big, at least two inches taller than he was, and Nathan swallowed back the panic threatening to take hold.

“Just two of you?” he mocked. “Remember what happened the last time you tried this.”

It had the desired effect, obviously hitting a nerve. The shifter on his right rushed at him with a roar. They fought in a flurry of teeth and claws, and Nathan tried to inflict as much damage as he could before the other one joined in. Muscle gave under his teeth, and the shifter pinned beneath him yelped in agony.

Something tore in Nathan’s shoulder; pain lanced through him as he fought to keep his balance. The other shifter had come up behind him and caught him off guard, and Nathan kicked out, connecting with a thigh or a shin, he wasn’t sure, but whatever—it got the claws out of his shoulder, and that was all he cared about.

The shifter he had pinned managed to shove him off and scrabbled backwards out of the way. Nathan started after him, but was pulled back by his injured arm. He howled, and turned to face the one behind, but a punch to the jaw had him reeling back. He was losing badly. All it would take was a claw across the throat and he’d be done for; he’d been wide open to attack several times already with one in front and one behind. So they were toying with him, passing him off from one to the other, inflicting a little more damage each time. A slice to the back of the leg, a bite on his wrist, a punch to his injured shoulder that already bled heavily.

Nathan slumped to the floor, his vision hazy with pain, as a screech of tyres against tarmac sounded close by. Both attackers stopped, let go of him, and looked up, momentarily startled. It was the best chance Nathan was going to get and a spike of adrenaline shot through his veins as Gareth’s words repeated in his head.

“Run, really fucking fast.”

Gathering all his remaining strength, he pushed up off the ground and ran, not caring where he was headed, just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as he could.

Shouting behind him. “You get the van back, I’ll get him.” A door slammed, an engine started up.

Nathan rounded the first corner as footsteps sounded on his tail.

Run faster.

The damage done to his body began to take its toll. Nathan’s will alone couldn’t keep his legs moving as fast as he needed them to. The footsteps closed in on him as he forced his tired limbs to carry on. Blood trickled down his arm, dripping a trail on the ground as he ran, soaking through his ripped T-shirt; his open wounds made the material stick to his back and chest.

Breathing behind him. Expecting an attack any second, he forced the last bit of energy from his tired legs.

Vision blurry, dark around the edges.

His steps faltered.

A hand on his shoulder.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jared paced the length of Nathan’s living room, biting the skin on the side of his thumbnail. Nathan had left his phone at home, as Jared discovered after the first thirty minutes when he sent him a text and heard the phone chime. But he’d thought ahead, figuring Nathan might do something like that, and had asked Luke to keep him updated. He’d agreed somewhat reluctantly but Jared didn’t care so long as he was kept in the loop.

He’d received three texts so far, all saying the same thing—nothing to report. Not that he wanted there to be anything to report, but it was virtually inevitable that something would happen, and the waiting was killing him. Leaning against the window, he glanced up at the sky. The weather had turned dull and overcast, and it matched Jared’s mood perfectly.

Maybe nothing would happen today, after all? Maybe the rogue pack were expecting a trap and refused to take the bait? Maybe—

His phone chimed with another text alert, startling him. One glance at the name on the screen and Jared’s stomach dropped. Fuck. He opened the message with shaking fingers.

It’s started

That was all it said—two fucking words!

Jared clutched his phone, feeling sick and terrified and not knowing what to do with himself. He’d be no fucking use to anyone, but every part of him wished he was out there with them. With Nathan. Being the one left behind—even if it wasn’t his fight—sucked major balls. A voice at the back of his mind reminded him,
if the change takes, you’ll be out there with them next time.

Jared huffed. If that happened, there’d be no fucking stopping him.

Another hour slipped by as Jared alternated between staring outside and down at his phone, but no one came back to the building, and no one called. The temptation to throw the phone at the nearest wall nearly overwhelmed him a couple of times, and only the worry of losing his means of contact stopped him. He sank into the nearest chair and covered his face with his hands.

Please be okay. Please be alive.

Time passed at a snail’s pace. Jared tried watching TV, working, even eating to pass the time, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything and his stomach roiled at the smell of food. The sky darkened, and Jared was on the verge of marching down to the building he’d been escorted to yesterday to see if he could get some news—Nathan had begged him not to leave the flat, but he was at his wits’ end.

Fuck it.
He couldn’t stand not knowing anymore.

After grabbing his jacket and keys, Jared marched down the hall to the front door, determined to get some answers. Muffled voices and shuffling sounded in the corridor outside, and Jared’s heart stuttered before setting off at a gallop. He fumbled the latch in his haste to get it unlocked, swearing up a storm before yanking the door wide open.

“
Oh God
.” He took in the battered and blood-soaked body held up between Gareth and Luke, and almost lost what little food he’d managed to eat. “Is he…?”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

“He’s alive… barely.”

Jared pressed himself against the wall as Gareth and Luke pushed past, half carrying an unconscious Nathan inside the flat.

“Get some towels and bandages, and whatever else he’s got in the way of first aid. The doctor’s on his way, but we need to stop the bleeding.” They took him into the bedroom and as gently as they could, laid him on the bed. “Now, Jared!”

“Shit, sorry.” Jared stumbled back into the open door, unable to look away.

So much blood….

Gareth ripped the remains of Nathan’s shirt away, revealing flesh torn open to the bone.

Jared turned and bolted from the room. He burst through the bathroom door and bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing through his nose in an effort not to throw up.

That bone was Nathan’s shoulder blade.

He retched and just made it to the toilet in time to spit bile into the pan.

Get a fucking grip. There’s no time for this!

After quickly rinsing his mouth at the sink, he pulled open the doors to the cabinet underneath and grabbed anything that looked slightly useful, then snatched two thick towels from the rail and hurried back to the bedroom.

They’d stripped Nathan of all his clothes, and it looked like no part of his body had escaped unscathed.

“
Jesus
.” Jared dumped everything at the bottom of the bed near Nathan’s feet. “What can I do?”

Gareth shoved a towel into Jared’s hands and pointed to a wide gash on Nathan’s right thigh. “Press that on the wound and keep it there.”

Jared did. “Shouldn’t he be healing?” He was no expert, but everyone knew shifters healed a hell of a lot quicker than this.

“He is.” Luke frowned down at Nathan as he spoke, pressing the other towel to Nathan’s stomach. “You should’ve seen him when we found him. He was….” Luke shook his head, and paled. “I thought we’d lose him before we got back here.”

Jared had a thousand questions running through his mind, but every single one of them could wait. He glanced at Nathan’s face, a mess of cuts and bruises, and his heart clenched at the same time as white-hot anger filled him up inside. He wanted to kill whoever had done this—tear them apart as they had Nathan. He didn’t realise he was growling until Gareth shouted his name.

“I know.” Gareth reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Believe me, I know.”

Jared met his gaze. “Tell me you killed them. Tell me every one of those bastards is dead.”

Gareth nodded. “Every last one.”

“Good.” Jared’s lack of empathy scared him, until he looked back at the blood-soaked towel pressed against Nathan’s thigh, and then he didn’t give a shit.

The doctor arrived. Luke ran to the door to let him in, ushering him back down the hallway and into the bedroom. “Jared, this is Tim Walters, one of the pack doctors.”

Tim looked far younger than Jared had expected, and he stared at him with barely concealed distrust. “Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital?” Nathan lay sickeningly pale on the bed, and Jared could only imagine the amount of blood he’d lost. “Surely he needs a transfusion, or…
something
?”

The doctor opened his bag and glanced at Jared, pulling out sterile packs of needle and thread as he did so. His gaze focused on Jared’s neck. “Are you bonded to Nathan?”

“Yes.”

“Good. In that case, what he needs is stitching back together, a lot of rest, and you.”

Jared scoffed. “Me? What the fuck can I do?”

Tim proceeded to stitch the wound on Nathan’s stomach as he talked. “Nathan’s body will heal itself, but with this much damage, he needs a little help. What he doesn’t need is unqualified human doctors poking around and making things worse.”

“Worse?” Jared gestured at Nathan and the bloody towels and sheets surrounding him. “How could it possibly be worse?”

Tim cut off the last stitch and moved to Nathan’s thigh, gently pushing Jared out of the way. “He could be dead.”

That shut Jared up pretty quickly. He stepped back to give Tim some room, his hands starting to shake as the reality of the situation hit him all over again.

“Look”—Tim spoke softly, as you would to a spooked animal—“I don’t mean to sound harsh, but this isn’t the first shifter I’ve had to patch up.” He slipped the needle through Nathan’s skin and tied off the thread, then started on the next one. “I know what I’m doing, trust me.”

Jared clenched his hands to stop the tremors. “Will he… is he going to die?”

Tim stopped and looked up at him. “I won’t lie. It doesn’t look good. The blood loss has been substantial even for a shifter.” He sighed and tied off another stitch. “But he has you, and that might be the thing that gets him through this.”