There had been a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t place before she made it home, her appearance explaining it. He was honestly not sure how she had made it back to the house. She was already feverish when she stumbled in, bruises appearing along the planes of her face. He saw her come through the door and was off the couch in an instant, inspecting, questioning, trying to find out what had happened to her.
She burrowed into him, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, and didn’t answer for a bit. Jonas led her into their home, peeling off outer layers and delicately examining her. Finally, Kitty began to relate her evening–an accidental brush against some guy’s ring at the coffee shop and his anger at her reaction, the apologetic man afterwards, the sudden queasiness developing quickly into illness, the two men plus a third surrounding her as she left, her escape–all of it coming out in little parts that tumbled over each other. But it quickly made sense in Jonas’ head, and he knew what needed to be done for the most part.
Easing her out of most of her clothes, he carried her lightly to their bed, tucking her in and throwing a few extra blankets on for good measure. Downstairs, he rummaged in the freezer for the bag of peas they’d never gotten around to eating and a cool glass of water. At the same time, he made a call. “I just need an extra set of hands,” he said calmly, turning off the faucet, his shoulder holding the phone to his ear. “But if Carmen doesn’t mind coming, she might be able to help.”
He waited upstairs, gently stroking Kitty’s hair as she shivered and sweated, moving the frozen peas around her face. The younger couple arrived quickly, stopping at the door of the master bedroom and looking anxiously at the sickened woman in the bed. Jonas stood and led them downstairs where they could talk, not that Kitty was paying much mind to the rest of the world.
“It looks like wolfsbane poisoning,” he told the pair, running a hand through his hair. He saw Dylan shudder but said nothing. “It’s not fun, but it doesn’t look like she got enough in her system to be worse than feeling like death for a few hours. Really, it should be passing soon.” He looked up the stairs thoughtfully, then turned back to them. “I need to go get something to help, but I can’t leave her alone. Would you–”
“We got this,” Dylan interrupted, pulling off his coat. “Go get whatever it is.”
Jonas looked at him for a moment, an odd look on his face, before nodding. He was almost out the door before he stopped. “You might ought to let Nate know. I forgot to call him, being busy and all,” he explained. “I’m not going to be where I can use my phone for a bit. Thanks,” he said as Dylan nodded again.
Only when he had shut the door did he let his concern for Kitty step to the side–she was taken care of now. In its place blossomed a rage that he had tried valiantly to keep in check ever since she told him her account of the evening. Instead of tearing out of the house as he originally wanted, he calmly got into his truck and left, though he drove more quickly than normal to the coffee shop she had been at earlier. It was deserted, but he only needed a scent. He found her scent, spiked with fear, and stood where it was strongest, picking out the three mingled with it while her own strengthened his anger, for the moment overwhelming the tug of pain that seemed to come from far away. He got back in the truck and pulled out of the lot, windows down as he searched for the men on the air.
At their home, a wide-eyed Carmen appeared in the doorway and held up the vibrating phone to Dylan, who swore and hung up on his. Kitty screamed again.
It’s hard to follow the scents of passengers in cars, as Jonas quickly learned, so he drove around town to every little motel he knew of. It was getting late and he was getting a few weird looks, but he continued, searching and hoping he found the men before Nate found him. He wouldn’t like Jonas’s plan.
He found the trail at a run down trucker hotel, but the room he kicked his way into was empty. Focusing his anger into a point sharper than his fear for Kitty–it was unfounded, right? It was just because he’d left her side for this long, but he also told himself she was in good hands with the young wolf and witch–he turned to the bar glowing fluorescently across the highway. Through the booze and sweat that wafted from it he could clearly pick out their trail.
His eyes adjusted quickly inside the bar, picking out the patrons and staff. There were less than a dozen people in the room. Two sat huddled together, not looking up much, but they did when Jonas pushed a chair out of his way loudly to approach them. They gave him a once over.
“Damn, we meant to lure more of you out,” one of them said, leaning back in his chair, seemingly unconcerned about the angry werewolf wading through the tables towards him.
“Just me,” Jonas replied quietly, and with one hand ripped a table out of his path. It clattered onto the next set of chairs, and the few patrons made for the exits, the bartender yelling something that Jonas ignored. “Where’s your friend?” he asked.
“Just us,” the man replied mockingly, but the other’s eyes flicked to the bar, and Jonas saw someone slip through the back door.
“That’s not what my wife said when she showed up with wolfsbane in her system,” he replied, knocking a chair away. There were only a few steps between them now.
But instead of getting up, the talking man smiled slowly. “Your wife, eh? Tell me, how did she enjoy the silver?” Jonas froze, his hand around the edge of the last table between him and theirs. The man laughed. “Oh god, he doesn’t know!” He slapped a hand on his thigh. “You came out to avenge her or something and she’s what? Dying in your love nest?”
Shock, fear, and self-hatred slammed into Jonas at the news. The unease that had been building again, the feeling he had written off as a part of his anger, rose up inside of him. But it did not win this time. The anger coursing through his veins cut past it, only fueled by the revelation.
This time, the table broke as it hit the wall.
The men were on their feet now, pulling out weapons. But even in this form, Jonas was faster and had a longer reach. The gun flew from the talkative one’s hand and skittered across the floor. The quiet one ducked but held his ground and his knife, staring Jonas down. The scuffle that followed wasn’t clean, but the cuts and bruises Jonas gained were too far down his list of priorities for him to notice or care. By the time he had the hunter pressed against the back wall, the talker had disappeared out the back.
“Why here? Why us? Why her?” he asked, leaning the other’s throat. He pulled some of the weight off his forearm so the man could speak. When he didn’t, Jonas pulled him away from the wall just to slam him back into it.
“We didn’t mean to,” the hunter croaked out, seeming a bit surprised that he did. Sighing, hands still trying to keep Jonas from crushing his throat, he continued. “Just passing through, but when she reacted, Cade wanted to stay.”
“Where were you going?” Jonas ground out.
“Just over the state line.”
Jonas looked down at the man, considering, then stepped away. “Where did they go?” he asked last minute, tilting his head to the door through which his colleagues had left. The man shrugged warily. “Wouldn’t have helped you anyway,” Jonas admitted before slamming a fist into his jaw, the man dropping like dead weight as Jonas strode out the back door into the night.
They’d found Jonas’s truck outside the motel and the door he’d kicked in. “If he gets himself killed, I’m getting that witch to bring him back so I can beat the shit out of him,” Nate growled to no one in particular, though the two lower wolves he’d brought with him believed in his promise. Jonas’s scent was much easier to follow here, and they quickly crossed the road, unsure of what they’d find.
There was a footpath behind the bar, and it was clear the hunters had gone that way. Jonas broke into an easy jog, not wanting to lose them or their scent, but also aware of his own increased stamina and speed. Not that it proved hard to find them since the two were arguing in what he assumed they thought were quiet voices.
“Which one of you is Cade?” Jonas interrupted, breaking through their arguments and the brush to reach them. Neither answered, but even in the light of the waning moon he saw the unfamiliar one’s eyes flick towards the talkative one. Of course.
“So you just decide to attack someone because they’re not human? Without knowing anything else?” he asked, stepping closer, wanting to see their faces when they answered.
Cade spat. “Sure, you’re all monsters and killers anyway,” he replied easily.
“Oh, I’ll be happy to earn that label tonight,” he snapped back.
The third one made a break for it, running towards the deeper woods, but Jonas brought him down after a few steps. The man struggled uselessly, barely landing a noticeable hit on Jonas before he was knocked out. Climbing off of him, something prickled at the edge of his senses.
He spun, narrowly avoiding Cade’s attack. He glanced up, seeing Nate and Marcus coming into the woods, but turned his attention back to Cade.
“This fight is unnecessary,” Nate said loudly, and Jonas wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or the hunter. Cade ignored him either way, darting forward to swap a few blows with Jonas before slipping back a safe distance.
“They hurt Kitty,” Jonas said, keeping his eyes on the hunter.
“Then you should be with her, Jonas,” Nate reprimanded him.
Jonas shook his head hard. “They couldn’t get away.”
“That’s not your decision–” Nate began, but was interrupted by rustling behind them. Jonas kept his eyes on Cade until he heard his name.
“Guess the bitch isn’t dead… yet,” Cade observed as Jonas turned to find her.
Nate caught Jonas before he could launch himself at the hunter. “We’ve got this,” he told Jonas. “Go to her.”
Though Jonas regretted not getting to rip the man apart, he relaxed against his Alpha’s grip and turned around. Marcus passed him, but he barely noticed anything except the figure Dylan and Carmen were trying to help up, though they parted for him as he knelt next to her.
“They had silver,” Dylan explained, but Jonas nodded it away.
“They told me,” he said quietly, not trusting his voice. Now that he wasn’t ignoring it to focus on his anger, the connection to Kitty had flared up, filling him with sympathetic pain and fear and plenty of his own guilt. Working slowly, he pulled her off the ground and into his lap. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, fingers ghosting across her cheek, then pulling the blanket that had followed her to the woods back around her. “I should never have left you,” he admonished himself. “I’m so, so sorry,” he repeated, letting go of her long enough to rub his eyes quickly with the heel of his palm.
