Kym Grosso - Tristan's Lyceum Wolves

“Gerald? Alpha of Wallace pack?” Tristan asked with a snarl.

“Yeah, what’s it to ya? This is my land, here. Ya need to get off.”

“Where are the women and pups?”

“I got a bitch downstairs if ya want her, but we don’t got any others right now. We’ve been pickin’ them off up north,” Gerald freely admitted, not recognizing Tristan as Alpha of Lyceum Wolves.

“Declan! Downstairs, now! Make sure Logan’s got Kalli out of here,” Tristan shouted.

Furiously shaking Gerald by the scruff of his shirt, he jammed him up against the wall. A tiny red dot appeared above Gerald’s brow as Simeon’s laser locked on the broad prominence of his forehead.

“Stand down, Si,” Tristan instructed, holding two fingers into the air. A bullet to the brain was too good for Gerald; too easy. After all the pain and suffering he’d inflicted on men, women and children over the years, he’d go down old school. Tristan, not one to be accused of going outside of pack protocol, sought to have him submit as wolf, and die as wolf. There was no other way that would make amends for the bloody atrocities the man had caused to so many.

With a grunt, Tristan threw him clear across the room where he slammed into a pile of aluminum chairs. Aside from the sound of scraping metal, Gerald’s heavy panting was the only audible sound. Dead Wallace wolves, well departed from life, provided a macabre background to Gerald’s impending demise. Tristan smiled coldly as he noted that Morris, the wolf who had helped to kill Toby, lay among the dead, a silver bullet to his head. Simeon had picked him off; still dressed, the wolf gripped a small handgun. Giving the lifeless body a nudge with his boot, a small bottle of pills spilled out of his front shirt pocket. CLI. Never taking his eyes off Gerald, Tristan effortlessly scooped up the bottle and tossed it over to Shayne, who’d shifted back to human.

Disgusted by Toby’s needless death and Kalli’s abduction, Tristan stalked toward Gerald, who was eyeing a Glock that had fallen into the debris. Kicking the grey metal out of reach, Tristan stood towering above the seething brawny wolf. With an ominous delivery, Tristan informed him of his death sentence as if he were a judge in a courtroom. His menacing stare bored into the malevolent creature who’d taken his mate.

“Gerald, wolf of Wallace. Consider yourself informed of my challenge to your pack. From this minute forward, any females or pups you’ve hidden will be placed under my protection. I command you to shift. In front of my wolves, we will do this challenge,” Tristan demanded, with a cool demeanor. It had to be done this way. The respect of his own wolves was as important as eradicating Gerald. Wolf versus wolf, it was how he was raised, and how he would die.

Tearing off his shirt and pants, Tristan transformed to wolf within seconds. Gerald’s husky brown wolf charged at him, jaws snapping, but Tristan sidestepped the attack, snarling in response. Standing proud, the black Alpha wolf circled around the brown, eyes locked on his. With his ears forward and tail lifted, Tristan bared his fangs. His wolf demanded the death of the one who’d dared to challenge him for his mate. Eyes wild, threatening and locked onto Gerald, Tristan’s wolf kept low to the ground, readying for attack. Taking flight, he rushed Gerald, and in a submissive move Gerald took off out of the building. With his prey on the move, Tristan gave chase; a rush of adrenaline flooded his system, anticipating the kill.

Gerald only made it a few hundred yards before Tristan pawed him downward, dragging him to the leaf-covered ground. Engaged in a ritualistic combat as old as time, Tristan pinned the brown wolf with his forepaws, exposing his vital areas. Unwilling to submit, Gerald continued to fight, biting a small gash into the black wolf’s back leg. With an arched neck and bared fangs, Tristan seized Gerald’s vulnerable soft throat, tearing out a huge chunk of fur and flesh. The smell of fresh blood spattered the woods. Furious and violent, Tristan tore apart the brown wolf’s neck until the head dangled by a single vertebra.

Tristan. Kalli felt him the instant he landed on the mountain ridge. His unique scent, carried to her on the wind, provided a renewed energy. She hoisted herself to her feet, but wavered. Overwhelmed with dizziness, she fell back to the dirty cot. She thought she should shift, but her head pounded in protest. Reaching her hand into her hair, she felt the large knot of swelling on her skull. I need to shift. But then a rustling outside her window called her to the night. Feeling as if she’d faint, she grunted, pushing onto her knees until her fingertips felt the rim of the small window.

“Tristan!” she screamed over and over, praying someone would hear her.

Her breath hitched as a hand found hers. Unable to see, she desperately grabbed onto it.

“Kalli!” Logan yelled into the small dark cavity. He could barely make out Kalli’s face through the mask of blood; tendrils of black curls adhered to her skin. As he peered in further, he swore. Tristan was going to kill Gerald a thousand times over for attacking his mate.

“Logan. Please,” Kalli coughed. Between vomiting and screaming, her throat was raw. “Door’s locked. There’s no way out. I need to shift. My head.”

Logan looked to Gavin. “Kalli, this here’s Gavin. He’s ours.”

Gavin knelt down next to Logan, and allowed Logan to put his hand into Kalli’s.

“Take his hand. It’s okay. He’s gonna stay with you. I’ll come round to get you. I’ll be right there. You’re going to be okay.”

“Tristan? Where is he? Please, nothing can happen to him,” she cried.

“Trust me, Kal, Gerald’s the one who’s got to worry. Tris will be fine. Just hold tight. I’m coming.” He heard her give a small sob at his words. She might have been strong, but he could tell she was on the verge of breaking.

Without a doubt, Tristan was going to go ballistic when he saw Kalli’s face. His Alpha, a well-oiled killing machine, didn’t need yet another reason to rip into Gerald. Fearing the sight of her could distract him in his quest, Logan took off in a full sprint. Once he found the back entrance, Logan heard growling followed by an eerie silence emanating from another room. Staying focused, he made his way to a staircase that was tucked into an alcove in the kitchen. Making his way down the steps, he found himself in a complicated series of tunnels.

Taking a minute to sniff the dank musty air, he caught her scent. In the dark recesses, he heard crying, voices of children and women. Exploring the cavernous passages, Logan swore, realizing this was some kind of underground prison. He’d need to work on freeing these wolves, but Kalli’s injuries warranted his immediate attention. Finally arriving where he believed she was being held, he pulled on a rusty doorknob. Locked. A noise alerted him that someone was close behind. Relieved, he found Declan’s wolf padding toward him.

“Hey Dec. I need you to shift. Help me break open this door.”

Declan shifted back and prepared to help Logan. Heaving their shoulders into the heavy wood, it splintered open. Logan rushed into the room, finding Kalli stretched upward still holding tight to Gavin. Gently uncurling her fingers from Gavin’s, he took her into his arms. She was shaking, presumably from shock. Logan wrapped his shirt around her. He needed her to shift so she could heal.

“Come on Kalli, girl. You’re okay,” he cajoled, more trying to convince himself than her. He felt the significant goose egg on the back of her head. Blood still trickled out of the gash on her face; her eye was swollen shut. Tristan was going to freak the hell out knowing they’d done this to her.