His Little Mate

Chapter 43

"She's just a woman!" Nicholas growled, "bring her!"

I knew at once he was talking about my mother. Before her though, some of the men from the White Falls Pack carted out the unconscious bodies of some other men...they looked like hired goons. They were probably drugged like Neil. A couple more of them came out with walking men, they too looked like hired men. Some were walking funny, others looked confused. Definitely drugged or something. Raiden came out after them, carrying Neil who was overtly uncomfortable and trying to break free of him. I didn't have the heart to watch. In my short time with the wolves I had learned a lot; a lot Neil already knew. No matter how much he hated Raiden and detested his mere touch, there was nothing he could do. Laws were harsh, rules were strict, and culture was unbreakable. He would have to go with him soon...

Two men bringing out my mother refocused my attention. She was fighting against them, screaming and thrashing. She even tried to dig her feet into the ground."No!" She cried, "leave me! Let me go! You cowards! You have no pride! I am only a woman!"

"Whose the fucking coward here you bitch!" Nicholas spat at her as the men lifted her from the ground, "who kidnaps their own son from a fucking forest and doesn't even have the guts to do it themselves?! Not any woman I know!"

She pursed her lips at him as the men lifted her up and carried her out easier.

"Line them up!" Nicholas ordered, growling as he spoke. "Tie them!"

Everyone taken from the house was lined up on the grass, their arms tied behind their backs, their ankles bound, and all the men who were unconscious began to rouse. Most were shocked by Nicholas and his men, but the few that tried to fight were easily beaten. They were weak and unable to put up much of a fight. Jenna was stained with her own tears and she kept looking at her husband. She didn't know how to react or what to do. Ralph was stone faced and frowning. My mother was cursing and spitting insults.

"SHUT HER UP!" Nicholas ordered.

One of the men was quick to tie a cloth over her mouth, muffling her.

"I want those three brought to the house now. Lock them in the dungeon. Kill the rest." He waved his hand and walked over to me.

I felt a lump form in my throat at once. He had easily ordered the killing of the other men. It was nothing to him, a simple wave of his hand. As some of the warriors began to stalk toward the men, Nicholas stood in front of me.

"Don't look. Don't listen. Don't question." He semi-stated/commanded me.

As the sound of screams began to fill the area I covered my ears tight and squeezed my eyes shut. Nicholas pulled me into his body and as I peaked a bit to the side, I saw Raiden holding Neil's head into his chest as Neil frantically covered his ears. When all was said and done, and Nicholas allowed me up from his chest, the smell of iron stung my nose.

By the Moon Goddess...Winter piped up for the first time, in pure shock.

The stench hit me first, a thick, iron tang that clawed at the back of my throat, and then the sight. Bile rose sharply. They were everywhere, the hired help, lifeless and grotesquely arranged. Jagged tears marked throats, exposing raw flesh. Skulls were fractured, revealing the sickening pink of brain matter. One man's chest was a gaping cavity, his heart visibly absent. Their blood, a dark, viscous tide, coated the floor and hung heavy in the air, a suffocating sweetness. I gagged, clamping my hands over my eyes, the gruesome images already burned into my retinas. Then, strong arms lifted me, and I instinctively burrowed into Nicholas's chest, burying my face against the rough fabric of his shirt, desperate to block out the lingering sights, the phantom smells. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could plug my ears as well, but I only had two hands. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a small anchor in the storm of my nausea and terror. Only when he finally stopped moving did I dare to lower my hands, my eyelids fluttering open with trepidation. The familiar silhouette of the pack house loomed before me, and a wave of unexpected calm washed through the lingering horror. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a fragile sense of belonging settled within me. This chaotic, blood-soaked place... it felt like home. Safe, within these walls, even if it was with a man capable of such brutal violence... a maniac, yes, but one who led with a terrifying, effective... maybe even good... kind of maniacal authority.