Page 28 of The Warrior's Captive

He’d fight to the death, and he’d make that death slow in coming. He had to. He had to give Briar May a chance to reach her pack lands.

Apollo and Zeus stopped and watched him warily. They didn’t trust that he didn’t have some trick or plan or an ambush of his own out here. It was clear they still thought he was mated to Briar May, which would mean he had connections with the Nightfall Pack. They were clearly heading in that direction and they had to assume he had more wolves hidden away.

As Apollo crouched low to the ground, Zeus’s fur bristled. He shook himself and then snarled, the saliva dripping from his sharp white fangs.

The way they both glared at him, their eyes cold and menacing, he knew he’d been wrong in assuming they’d want to take him alive, just because they hadn’t shot him while he was driving. That kind of killing would be too quick and merciful for them. They wanted it like this. The warrior’s way. It was personal to them, the way they thought he’d tricked and betrayed them, and they wanted the punishment of his death to be adequate compensation.

He’d been too focused watching for danger at every angle to fully try to pinpoint where they were, but they were closer than he thought. He only realized it when a series of chilling howls tore through the woods like wind whipped spirits. The cries lashed at them, a warning and a promise. Apollo and Zeus weren’t the only wolves in the woods looking for revenge.

The only wolves out this way had to be Briar May’s pack. Had she reached them? Was she safe? They would have no way of knowing that he was bringing her back. He was soon to face a threat on every side, utterly alone.

Apollo and Zeus froze at the howls. They looked at each other nervously and Castor could scent that they were nervous. His pack were trained fighters, but they went to battle with a plan, here they weren’t sure what they were readying themselves for.

They’d go down fighting. It would take many, many wolves to put them down and keep them down.

And many, many wolves there were.

White and silver, they materialized from behind the trees like shimmering ghosts. They ringed around the three of them, closing them in so there was no escape.

Their alpha was an impressive wolf, but not nearly as large as the three of them. Though it didn’t matter. There were at least thirty wolves. They were completely surrounded.

Castor expected them to close ranks and go straight for the kill, their sheer numbers a guarantee that it wouldn’t take long before sharp fangs ripped into flesh and arteries and tore the three of them apart. His instinct was to back up, to go back-to-back with his pack members, protecting their flanks. He owed them no loyalty, but it might be his only chance. The other half of him wanted to shift and use the axes. Let them come. Let them try.

He was a warrior and he’d die a warrior. He’d lived his whole life knowing this would be the way it ended. Mayne not by a pack of enemy wolves, but he knew the end would be violent and gory and painful. There was honor in that.

But the more wolves he killed, the more he’d hurt Briar May.

He might unknowingly kill her brother. Her father. An uncle, a cousin, a brother-in-law, a friend, god, he might even kill a mother or sister. He scented the presence of female wolves. In his pack, females were also trained as warriors to a certain extent, but they wouldn’t have been allowed to engage in a battle like this one.

He waited, watching the alpha wolf. He never gave the signal for attack.

The shots fired were almost soundless. Almost.

They were so focused on the wolves surrounding them that none of them realized the darts were coming until they’d already been hit.

After that, it was only a few seconds before the tranquilizer spread through their bodies. Apollo dropped first, then Zeus. He was the last wolf standing, but only for a blink longer. He went down, the darkness closing in on his thoughts, sucking him into oblivion, but Briar May’s lips were there, her soft eyes, her flowing wild hair, the softness of her skin, the sleek majesty and breathtaking beauty of her wolf.

He didn’t mind it if he couldn’t die a warrior’s death as long as she was safe.

She’d made it back to her pack and that was all that mattered.

Chapter 11

Briar May

She told her father and Kieran everything. Her dad, the pack’s former alpha, had guided their wolves through five decades. It was clear that Kieran and everyone else in the pack still valued Silas’s input and wisdom. There was no question that Kieran was their new leader, though. Silas would never subvert his decisions nor question his new authority, but he did support his son, and Kieran needed that and wanted it. He needed all his family and all his pack. He’d die for them, and he’d do his best to live for them. That was what would make him such a great alpha.

Her father had escorted her back to the heart of the pack surrounded by the pack guards, while most of the wolves stayed behind with Kieran to deal with the prisoners. She’d been taken straight to her cabin, and after throwing on a set of clothes, she couldn’t stop crying even though she’d watched Castor and those two wolves chasing them get tranquilized.

They’d arrived shortly after, unconscious, bound, and taken straight to the brig.

No one in Nightfall Pack feared the place because it was hardly ever used. Members of her pack generally obeyed pack law or faced banishment. There was no need to keep them locked away.

The pack had a system to punish and deter, or teach, and it didn’t often involve the small wooden, windowless building. The place was basically one huge cage, with floor-to-ceiling bars in place. It was only ever used for short interrogations or to keep enemies locked up for brief periods of time. There was never anyone who rotted away in there. No shifter could survive in a cage, it was a cruel punishment and that her father hadn’t believed in and her brother even less so.

Knowing that Castor had been taken there and thrown in with the two wolves who meant him harm scared her senseless. She had no way of knowing what her brother would do to them, so even though she couldn’t stop crying, she’d forced herself not to get hysterical. She’d gone straight to the big cabin, which was the home of the alpha and the central of all the cabins that lined the three main streets in the heart of their lands.

Her entire family had gathered around her, trying to fuss over her and hug her. Her sisters were a mess. Her mother looked like she’d just lived the worst days of her life. Even her younger brothers were discomfited and in a rage. Her father and older brother arrived and tried to keep everyone calm. They were relieved she was back unharmed. They’d all wanted to know how she’d escaped and what happened, who those wolves were and why they’d taken her. They wanted to make sure she was indeed unharmed and that nothing happened to her before her escape.

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