Page 21

MAX FINISHED his last test and sat back with a groan.

Fuck finals. And fuck his brilliant idea of keeping them all scheduled on the same day so he only had to make one trip to campus.

He eyed the clock and saw he had about half an hour of his allotted time left, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to double-check his answers. He was done.

He gathered everything up, hooking Aradia’s pouch around his neck again and peeking inside. She was still asleep, so he settled it against his chest and took the tests up to the monitor to hand over, then made his escape.

Quinn had his legs stretched out on one of the benches down the hall, absorbed in his phone. When Max peeked over his shoulder, he saw Quinn type out on our way back in a text to Caius before hitting Send.

“Stupid shifter hearing,” Max muttered, ignoring Quinn’s laugh as he headed for the exit.

“Hungry? Why don’t we order food from that steak place and grab some ice cream to celebrate you finishing the semester?”

Max slipped his sunglasses over his eyes as they stepped outside. “You mean the steak place Lukas has an orgasm over whenever it’s mentioned?” He glanced over when Quinn growled, snickering at his glare. “Gods, when are you gonna make a move?”

Quinn groaned, his head falling back as he muttered the same curse Rían had favored under his breath.

Whatever else he said was lost in the sudden burst of white noise in Max’s ears as he saw a forest green Firebird driving across the parking lot towards them. He knew that car. It belonged to one of his father’s men.

He reached for Quinn, a dozen different warnings fighting over his tongue as fear squeezed his chest. He didn’t get a chance to do more than latch on to Quinn’s arm before the car’s window rolled down as if in slow motion, the muzzle of a semiautomatic gun sticking out .

Quinn’s curse was loud and broke the strange stretching of time. The sharp, echoing retort of gunfire cracked through the air at the same time the trees spun around him and his back hit the ground.

The gunfire continued for an endless second. Max’s amulet flared bright, creating a force field around them that stopped the bullets. Then car doors squeaked open and footsteps pounded on the pavement. Coming for them. Coming for him.

No, no, no.

Max tried to get up, but Quinn was a heavy weight on top of him.

“Quinn,” he said, pushing at the shifter’s chest. His fingers met wet fabric, and his thoughts stuttered to a halt.

No. He refused to look and redoubled his effort, finally managing to push Quinn off, where he slumped with a groan, weakly pressing a hand against his side.

His shirt was soaked through with blood.

“Quinn!”

The shield faded with the stop of gunfire and hands grabbed his arms, dragging him back.

He screamed, and the pouch around his neck wiggled.

Aradia poked her head out with a sharp bark before launching herself into the air as her wind magic circled, coaxing her higher.

Then she dove at the man dragging Max towards the car.

The man swore, slapping at her like a fly. When he clipped her side and sent her spiraling, the anger finally broke through Max’s shock.

His flames surged inside him so fast he was sure he’d burn to ash, the amulet at his throat flaring bright again as it kept his magic in check. For a moment, panic froze him, but Quinn’s life depended on him controlling his magic. He couldn’t let his father’s men get hold of him.

Unable to think of any other way to release the building flames, he opened his mouth and breathed fire in the man’s face. He jerked his arms free when the man screamed and twisted away, kicking the man’s knee to send him to the ground, where he kept screaming and writhing as the flames spread.

Max fought his gag reflex at the smell of burning meat. He looked at the car near the curb, his flames surging again when he saw the driver watching with a sneer. “Aradia!” he yelled.

She chirped and wind rushed around him, gaining enough strength his shirt snapped from side to side.

He brought his hands together and aimed his palms at the car like a fucking anime character, but there was no time to find a better pose.

Fire erupted from his hands, and with the help of Aradia’s wind, a horizontal fire tornado spiraled through the air.

When it hit the car, it immediately took root and reached towards the sky.

The man who’d grabbed him was still on the ground, still on fire, but no longer moving. Max turned to Quinn, surprised to find him already struggling to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, though he was pale and leaned most of his weight against Max when he offered his shoulder. But he was up and moving. “Can you drive?” he asked, voice tight with pain.

“Yeah.” Max filched the keys from Quinn’s pocket as the Firebird exploded in a spectacular fireball and the smell of burning gasoline.

“Fucking assholes,” he muttered, before getting Quinn to the car and into the passenger seat.

He paused long enough to let Aradia back into her pouch before getting in, then peeled out of the parking lot without buckling.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” he asked, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Go home.”

“Quinn—”

“Max,” Quinn said, voice sharp. “I’m fine. I don’t need a hospital, promise. Just get us home.”

Max snarled against the press of the bond, but he didn’t have the focus to spare to argue.

Quinn was on his phone, smearing blood across the screen as he typed message after message, his phone chiming almost constantly with the responses.

A firetruck flew past as Max turned onto the main street, followed by two police cars a moment later and an ambulance a minute after that. He kept checking the mirrors for any police coming for him, or one of his father’s men tailing them, but it seemed they were in the clear.

“Shouldn’t we have stayed there?” he asked, belatedly realizing they’d fled the scene of a crime.

Quinn snorted. “Pretty sure you killed those guys. Even if it was self-defense, the Order would have swooped in by the time they got you to the station. I’d rather be in our own territory by the time they realize what the fuck is happening.”

Max frowned and glanced at Quinn, the color already returning to his face, and it didn’t look like fresh blood was soaking his shirt anymore. “How are you still conscious? ”

“I’m a shifter,” he said, still texting.

“No, really ?” he snapped sarcastically, grinding his teeth as he checked the mirrors again. Was that black SUV following them, or was he being paranoid?

“We heal fast,” Quinn replied, but Max hardly heard him.

The light ahead turned yellow and he stepped on the gas, passing through the intersection as it turned red. He glanced back and breathed a soft sigh when the SUV stopped instead of trying to keep up.

He didn’t stop looking for an ambush the entire twenty-six minutes it took to reach their neighborhood, and even then he didn’t get a decent breath until the garage door screeched closed behind them.

He slumped against the steering wheel as the adrenaline vanished, leaving him cold and shaking. He heard Quinn curse and get out of the car, and then an eternal minute later the driver’s door opened.

Caius pulled him out of the car and picked him up in a bridal carry before heading inside. “Are you hurt?”

Max shook his head and buried his face against Caius’ chest, fisting a hand in his shirt.

He was distantly aware his fingers were still tacky with blood and swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat.

It was his fault Quinn nearly died. He should have rescheduled his finals.

Of course his father would have ransacked his room and snooped through everything on his computer.

He’d used the university portal to schedule his finals, and the login was saved.

Aradia stirred in her pouch, wiggling out of it and tucking herself against Max’s neck. He blinked and lifted his head as someone tugged at his hand.

Lukas sat on the coffee table in front of him, attacking the blood on Max’s fingers with a hot, soapy cloth, glaring at them like he wanted to rip them off. “Who did this?” he snarled.

“Lukas,” Caius said, his voice calm, but Max felt the anger beneath it.

Lukas’ lips twitched into a sneer before he forced out a slow breath, easing up on his scrubbing.

“My father’s men,” Max said. “They shot at us and grabbed me.” His voice hitched, and he slumped against Caius when arms tightened around him. “I burned them. ’M pretty sure they’re dead.”

“Good,” Lukas growled, finishing with Max’s hands and sitting back as Quinn joined them.

He’d ditched his bloody shirt and at least wiped himself off .

Max stared at his chest and stomach, looking for the bullet wound, but other than a few smears of drying blood and a scabbed-over splotch of bruised and angry red flesh, he looked unharmed.

Quinn handed over a steaming cup of tea, before carefully sinking down next to Max with his own cup. His expression pinched with discomfort, which was somehow reassuring.

At least Max hadn’t imagined the last hour in some psychotic break. He might have been stressing over finals, but not that badly.

Quinn gave him a faint smile. “By tomorrow I’ll be good as new.” He cleared his throat and glanced at Caius before ducking his head. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have been taken down by a single bullet. It caught me by surprise.”

Max frowned at him, about to tell him it wasn’t his fault and he was lucky to be alive, but Caius sighed and reached out, pressing his hand against the side of Quinn’s neck.

“You’re both safe. That’s all that matters. You’re lucky they were regular bullets.”

Quinn shuddered and closed his eyes, leaning into Caius’ touch as the tension seemed to melt out of him.

“So, what’s the plan?” Lukas asked, glowering at Quinn’s stomach before reaching over to wipe away the missed blood. Once satisfied, he got up to toss the cloth in the kitchen sink.

“There’s not much we can do right now,” Caius said, nudging Max’s cup until he got the hint and took a sip.

Belatedly, he realized he was sitting in Caius’ lap and tried to slide off, but Caius kept him locked in place with a soft, warning growl that somehow went straight to his dick.

“We don’t have the numbers to declare war. Unless the police tie the dead men to Savino, we have no recourse.”

When Caius flexed his fingers, Max caught the way they shifted from human nails to dark claws and back again.

A quick glance at Lukas showed the same, both of them clenching and unclenching their fists as if they wanted to strangle someone.

Even Quinn, who was pale where he slumped into the sofa, looked furious.

That was new. Max wasn’t sure he’d ever had someone genuinely worried about his safety before.

Ironically, surrounded by three pissed-off shifters was the safest he’d ever felt.

“The security cameras should at least show they attacked first,” Quinn said .

Max groaned and buried his face against Caius’ chest. “Fuck, they’re gonna know it was me. They’re gonna kick me out, and I’ll never finish my degree.”

“They’re not going to kick you out,” Caius growled.

Max was sure Caius fully believed he could threaten the university into letting Max stay if they tried anything, but he wasn’t so sure.

“You are part of our pack. You’re protected against discrimination even if you’re not a shifter.”

Max scrubbed at his face and took another sip of tea. “I think you need to give me a crash course in Pack 101.”

“Sure,” Quinn said, “but maybe tomorrow.”

“Yes,” said Caius, standing with Max still in his arms. “You need a shower and rest.”

Max huffed. “I’m fine. Quinn is the one who got shot.”

“You smell like ash and Quinn’s blood.”

He winced. “Fine,” he muttered, sipping more of his tea rather than trying to tell Caius he could climb the damn stairs by himself. If he were being honest, it was kind of nice being fussed over. And when Caius pulled him into bed after his shower, he was certainly not saying no.