Page 16 of Howl For A Kiss (Rebellious Mates #3)
FOURTEEN
DAMON
D amon's tactical mind cataloged the armed figures emerging from the shadows with deadly precision—three Council guards descending from above, four guards and operatives ascending from below. Seven against two. Not impossible odds, but damn close to it.
We walked straight into a damn trap, he realized. This whole setup was too easy.
However, it was the flash of recognition in one of the ascending guards' eyes that made Damon's blood turn to ice.
It was William—a decent man who'd served the Council faithfully for decades, and someone Damon had exchanged pleasantries with countless times during his Beta duties at Thorne's estate.
The older guard's face lit up with surprised delight, his mouth opening to speak.
Fuck. Not here, not now, not like this.
"Beta Gray! What are you—" William started, confusion replacing recognition as he took in Damon's tactical gear and Elena's drawn weapons.
Damon's mind raced through possibilities in microseconds. His cover was blown, Elena had found out his true identity in the worst possible way, and they were still outnumbered seven to two with no viable escape route except?—
"Follow my lead and cover my back," Damon commanded Elena, his voice dropping into the authoritative tone that had made him the youngest Beta in Silvercrest history.
"When I shift, start shooting at the guards coming down behind us.
I'll create enough of a distraction for you to run back the way we came—straight to that service entrance. "
Elena's eyes widened with panic and confusion, her gaze darting between him and William's still-befuddled expression. But underneath the chaos in her light blue eyes, Damon caught something that made his wolf preen—absolute trust in him.
She trusts me implicitly, even when nothing makes sense.
The moment Elena gave him that look of complete faith, Damon felt his control snap.
His wolf surged forward with supernatural speed, bones cracking and reshaping as dark brown fur erupted across his expanding frame.
The transformation that usually took precious seconds compressed into a heartbeat of violent beauty.
His clothes shredded as he launched himself at the four ascending guards, his massive wolf form striking with the precision of a guided missile.
William's shocked "Beta Gray!" echoed through the grand hall as Damon's wolf crashed into him with enough force to send the older man sprawling but not enough to seriously injure.
Can't kill them. Can't make this worse than it already is.
His wolf's enhanced senses registered Elena's gunfire behind him—sharp, controlled bursts that spoke of her exceptional training. The acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with the metallic scent of fear from the guards as Damon's wolf form moved like liquid death between them.
Terry, another guard Damon recognized from years of Council meetings, stumbled backward as claws raked across his tactical vest—tearing Kevlar but not flesh. The two human operatives flanking him raised their weapons but couldn't get a clear shot with their own people in the way.
Confusion is our friend right now.
Damon's wolf spun, his powerful hindquarters propelling him toward the next target while Elena's continued gunfire kept the descending guards pinned on the upper staircase. But then he heard it—Elena's sharp cry of pain cutting through the chaos like a blade.
His wolf's head whipped around to see Elena stumbling, crimson spreading across her tactical pants where a lucky shot had found her thigh. But she was still moving, still firing over her shoulder as she limped toward the main hall with fierce determination.
My mate is hurt.
Rage flooded through Damon's wolf, primitive and all-consuming. The careful control he'd maintained shattered as he struck out at the remaining guards with brutal efficiency—not to kill, but to incapacitate quickly so he could reach Elena.
William groaned from where he'd fallen, clutching his shoulder.
Terry was down but conscious, his eyes wide with the kind of shock that came from seeing someone you knew transform into something deadly.
The human operatives were backing toward the walls, their weapons trained on Damon's wolf but hesitant to fire with Elena already through the doorway.
Damon's wolf bounded after Elena, his heart hammering as he caught her scent—pain, determination, and that unique sweetness that marked her as his mate.
She was just outside of the service entrance when he reached her, and the blizzard that chose that moment to descend felt like divine intervention.
Snow whipped through the air with supernatural fury as Damon's wolf cut across Elena's path in a deliberate motion. She understood immediately—one of the things he was growing to love about her tactical mind—and climbed onto his back without hesitation.
Her fingers buried in his thick fur, and despite the chaos around them, despite the gunshot wound in her leg and the pursuing guards, Damon felt complete for the first time in fifteen years. His mate was where she belonged—trusting him, depending on his strength, and allowing him to protect her.
This is what I was made for.
His wolf's supernatural speed carried them through the mountains with Elena clinging to his back, her warmth seeping through his fur as the blizzard provided perfect cover.
Miles passed in a blur of snow and pine until his enhanced senses detected the hidden cave system he'd been unconsciously seeking.
As they reached the mouth of the cavern, Damon's wolf finally slowed, his sides heaving from the sustained sprint.
Elena's grip on his fur had never loosened during their escape, her trust in him absolute even as questions about William's recognition surely burned in her mind.
But when he felt her slide carefully from his back, he feared she would immediately demand answers.
Now comes the reckoning.
The transformation back to human form always left Damon feeling raw and exposed in more ways than the obvious.
As his bones shifted and fur receded, the November blizzard hit his naked skin like a thousand ice needles.
But the physical discomfort paled compared to the weight of Elena's silence behind him.
She's not asking. Why isn't she demanding answers?
He could feel her gaze burning into his back as he moved with urgent efficiency around the cavern entrance.
The previous occupant—some hunter or traveler—had left a small cache of supplies that might as well have been divine intervention twice over.
Dry wood stacked against the cavern wall, flint and steel wrapped in oiled cloth, even a few strips of relatively clean fabric.
"Stay there," Damon commanded when he heard Elena shifting behind him, his voice rough from exertion. "Don't put weight on that leg until I can get the bullet out."
Focus on what matters. Elena's wounded. Elena needs you. The rest can wait.
His hands moved with practiced precision, arranging kindling and coaxing sparks from the flint.
The fire caught quickly, casting dancing shadows across the cavern walls and throwing blessed warmth into the space.
He wrapped one of the larger cloth strips around his waist—not for his own modesty, but because Elena deserved his consideration at this moment.
Beta Gray. William's shocked voice echoed in his memory like a death knell. Three days of carefully maintained secrecy, reduced to rubble in a single moment of recognition.
"The fire's ready," he said, turning to face Elena properly for the first time since they'd reached the cavern.
She sat propped against the stone wall, her tactical pants torn and bloodied around the bullet wound in her thigh.
But it wasn't the injury that made his chest ache—it was the way she looked at him.
Not with anger or betrayal, and not with the explosive fury he'd expected.
Instead, her light blue eyes held something that was somehow worse: careful assessment, like she was studying a dangerous animal and deciding whether it should be trusted.
She's weighing whether to keep me or cast me out. And she has every right to.
"This is going to hurt," Damon said, kneeling beside her with the makeshift medical supplies. He'd heated one of the smaller cloth strips near the flame to sterilize it, and the metal he'd found—a small knife left by the previous occupant—glowed red-hot from the fire.
Elena's jaw tightened, but she gave a sharp nod. "Do it."
No questions about William. No demands for explanations about why a Council guard had addressed him as Beta. Just that quiet, devastating trust that made his wolf whine.
She should be screaming at me. She should be demanding answers.
Damon positioned the heated metal near the wound, his movements deliberate and sure.
His grandmother's healing knowledge guided his hands as he worked to extract the bullet—angle of entry, depth of penetration, proximity to major vessels.
Elena's breathing hitched when he began, her fingers digging into the stone beneath her, but she didn't make a sound.
"You're tougher than most of my pack enforcers," he murmured, genuine admiration threading through his voice as he worked. The bullet came free with a soft metallic ping against the cavern floor.
"Am I?" Elena's voice was deceptively calm. "And exactly how many pack enforcers have you treated, Damon?"
There it is. The question beneath the question.
His hands stilled for just a moment before he resumed cleaning and dressing the wound. "Enough to know courage when I see it."
She didn't respond immediately, and the silence stretched between them like a bowstring pulled too tight. When he glanced up from his work, her blue eyes were fixed on his face with that same careful scrutiny.
"Beta Gray," she said quietly, testing the words like she was tasting something foreign. "That's what he called you."
The bandage in Damon's hands suddenly felt heavy as lead. No more running. No more lies.
"Elena—"
"Are you the Beta of Silvercrest pack?"
The question hung in the air, sharp and inescapable. Damon's hands continued their work automatically, securing the dressing around her wound with movements that had become second nature. But his mind raced through a dozen different ways to answer, all of them inadequate.
Tell her the truth. All of it. She deserves that much.
"Yes." The word fell from his lips like a stone into still water, sending ripples through everything they'd built together. "I am."