Page 235 of The Alpha's Second Chance Mate

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Kyle sneered. “You two are fucking pathetic. You deserve each other.”

I was going to kill this bastard. He wouldnotsee the next sunrise. All I needed was an opening. As much as I wanted him dead, I wanted Avery alive more. A half second, even a quarter second, was all I needed.

“Don’t move, Avery,” Kyle snapped. “Don’t you move a finger, or your precious little boy is gonna watch Mommy’s head go boom.”

Keeping the gun pressed to her head, he released her and reached into his rear waistband. He pulled a second pistol out and tossed it at Ashton. The gun clattered and bounced, coming to rest a couple of feet from his sneakers.

“Pick it up, you brat,” Kyle shouted.

“What?” Ashton looked back at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Do it,” Kyle snarled through gritted teeth. “Or dear Mommy here goes bye-bye.”

“You sickbastard,” Ashton spat, but he picked up the gun.

This strange play was taking place in the middle of a battlefield. Kyle’s men were still fighting my people, but the battle was dying down. Distantly, I heard Langston shouting orders and Trent calling my name, but none of that mattered right now. The entire world had vanished, leaving only the four of us in this showdown.

“Now,” Kyle said as Ashton stood, gun in hand, “aim that at your daddy’s face and pull the trigger.”

Ashton gaped at him. “No.”

I kept my eyes on Kyle, waiting for an opening.

He grinned, sickly sweet. “Choices, choices, young Ashton. Let me lay it out for you. Shoot your father, and I’ll let Mommy go. Don’t shoot your father, and I will shoot him for you, then I will blow your little bastard brains out, and then Avery here takes a dirt nap. Kill one, or I kill all three. Up to you.”

Ashton looked from Kyle to me, his hands shaking. “I can’t.”

He was kind, not made for things like this. I would gladly lay my life down for either of them in a second, but Ashton didn’t have that ability, no matter how serious the threat.

“Do it, you little fucker! Do it, or I will shoot this bitch. Do you understand? Kill him.Kill him!”

Kyle was growing more unhinged and unpredictable by the second. I needed to do something. Maybe I’d have to risk it and rush him. Pray to God that he turned his gun on me rather than shoot Avery. It might be the only chance.

Ashton’s hand twitched, but the gun didn’t angle toward me. It looked like he was thinking of pointing it at Kyle. I wanted to shout for him not to. The man wouldn’t hesitate to turn his own gun on my son and shoot him in the head. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but that was when the flutter of movement behind Kyle caught my eye.

A waifish young woman inched up behind him, an old broom or rake handle raised above her head.

Everything slowed to a crawl.

Ashton’s hand rose, aiming the gun at Kyle. Kyle pulled his pistol away from Avery’s head. A scream caught in my throat, a shout of terror for my son. Even as my mouth opened to shout, the girl behind Kyle flexed her arms, twisted her hips, and brought the wooden handle down toward his arm. Kyle’s pistol moved faster than Ashton’s, the barrel a dark pinpoint of finality aimed at my boy’s chest. Unsure if the girl’s strike would do the trick, I dived to the left.

As I did, the girl wood made contact with Kyle’s arm. It wasn’t a solid blow, only glancing, but it was enough. His gun fired, but the bullet went wide. A buzzing ripple of airwhooshedpast my ear as the bullet slammed into the wall to my right. Kyle’s gun flew from his hand and landed on the grass a few feet away.

I slammed into the ground. Even as I scrambled to my feet, Kyle was turning, his eyes filled with blistering rage. When he saw who’d struck him, his lips peeled back in a rictus grin.

“Traitors everywhere. My own daughter?”

“I’m not your fucking daughter, you bastard?—”

Kyle slapped her hard enough to send her crashing to the ground. It was the opening Avery needed. Jerking out of Kyle’s grip, she ran.

For the barest of moments, Kyle and I stared at each other, the gun on the ground between us. It was his only chance. He knew it. I knew it.

“Fuck you,” Kyle hissed, diving forward, arms outstretched for the pistol.

I lunged at him, shifting as I did. Kyle had moved first, but in my wolf form, I was faster. The moment his fingers touched the metal of the gun, my teeth sank into the bony part of his wrist. There was no holding back. Weeks of terror, anger, fear, and frustration burst through me, and I bit down as hard as I could, shaking my head for good measure. I felt the bones in his wrist snap. Kyle yowled and managed to yank his arm from my jaws, tearing the flesh to the bone. The taste of his blood sent a surge of primal pleasure through me, and my wolf reveled in it.

Kyle fell backward, clutching his mangled wrist and hand to his chest. He stared at me with wide, unbelieving eyes and shifted. It was possibly the worst idea he’d ever had. His front forepaw was twisted at an angle and couldn’t support his weight. When he tried to lunge for me, he yelped and fell to his side.

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