Page 36 of Pack Rage (The Splintered Bond #4)

Chapter 35

Righteous Fire

FINNICK

H elp was coming, though not from the moon. I could feel Grigor pushing himself as my own blood thrummed in my veins, my own mouth opened to pant.

But he might not arrive soon enough.

My eyes flicked to the full moon sailing over the pines, and my mind to the puzzle it presented.

The absence of its power filled me with confusion and fear. Of course, nothing made sense in this damned ring. Not the way Bradley had died, or how many shifters Father had brought in to witness his rise to power, including our house staff, or the casual way his Enforcers were revealing their weapons.

Guns? Silver-laced blades? The smaller packs and visitors were doing the best they could to slink to the fringes of the circle. I could sense their growing panic and horror as they realized there was no escape. Some of the foreign shifters were showing how dishonorable they were, grabbing the Eastern maids and holding them like shields in front of them as they tried to flee, though they could only go so far before they were stopped by an invisible force.

That also made no sense. The dome that stopped them from leaving the clearing was a magical spell, or at least it felt the way I imagined one would. But what was powering it?

Grigor had given me a first lesson on perceiving magic when he taught me to open the locks in the lower levels. Spells and magic were as different as cars and gasoline. “One is the power, and the other the vehicle used to contain and use it.” He’d let me feel the power inside him, and then, through our bond, showed me his intention to break the lock. “Some witches have to use incantations. Others need an object, a stick or a blade. All you and I need is our fuel—our magic—and our intent to use it, which is the ‘spell.’”

This bubble was a spell, growing stronger as the minutes ticked on. As if it were somehow getting more fuel from somewhere, or someone.

Mother.

It was her power amplifying the energy inside it. When she’d entered with her new ally, the panic and noise inside it had increased. But I didn’t know how to confront that magic.

Father had to be stopped as well, even though the moon’s role in the transfer of power from one Alpha to another was obviously being shielded against in here. It didn’t matter. He had to die for the crimes he was committing, the betrayal, all under the cover of his position.

I glanced over at Brand. The guards had herded him, still holding an unconscious Glen, along with Flor and Luke, to the center of the ring. Brand looked on the edge of shifting, fur rippling over the backs of his hands as he cradled Glen to his chest. Even so, he still appeared calm, somehow.

Flor, though… Her face was flushed with anger, or power, maybe both. Her rage was like a living thing as it rose inside her, a red sun moving higher inside her soul. Or a red moon.

Maybe we weren’t completely cut off from power after all?

But I didn’t have time to wonder.

Father was spouting some more nonsense about Flor having corrupted me, as I waited for my chance to attack, when the air shifted. Someone else was taking his shot. Without warning, Niall was at my side, snarling and reaching for me.

My wolf licked his lips as I ducked away from him easily, slipping through the crowd. I might have trouble defeating Father, with his links to the Eastern pack bonds, but this fucker? If I could get him far enough away from my parents, I could kill him, though I regretted not having time to mete out at least a few of the tortures I’d planned for him. He needed to suffer, though hearing that the Alpha’s daughter he thought he had some right to had been promised to a Russian oligarch must have wounded his pride at least.

Sending a prayer up to the moon, even if I knew it wouldn’t be heard, I drew Niall closer to the edge of the crowd. I stopped in front of a group of maids who had moved as far away from the center of the ring as they could go, though a line of young Enforcers stood beside them. These weren’t the worst of Eastern’s males, though, and I could tell they were more or less protecting the females. In fact, more than one of these males had been Niall’s targets, if the disgust and fear that shone in their eyes as they gazed behind me was genuine.

I felt the air move and knew Niall was striking for my back, and I wondered if one of them would muster the courage to call out to warn me. But they were all frozen in fear, only one of the females making a squeaking noise, her mouth opening.I turned at the last second, ducking underneath his swing, the blade in his hand stinking of silver. I didn’t bother talking to him. I’d heard everything he had to say the month before, when Father had confined me to the lower levels for this asshole to torture.

All I wanted was for him to die painfully.

All he wanted to do was chat, apparently. “I’ve wanted to kill you for years, Alpha Heir. I’m almost glad you turned out to be a traitor to the pack. You never deserved to be next in line to lead,” he sneered, lunging again with his silver dagger. It caught the edge of my borrowed black uniform, searing a line down my bicep, but I moved before he could bring it around for a second parry.

A grating sound—metal on the dirt at my feet—had me glancing down for an instant. The female who’d squeaked, or maybe one of the Enforcers nearby, had kicked a sword my way. I snatched it up, spinning to avoid another slice of silver, and met Niall’s next strike with one of my own.

The fight lasted only a few minutes, and Niall got in more blows than he should have been able to, even with his training. I was faster and stronger, and his eyes grew wild. But the bonds that tied me to Brand, Glen, and Flor kept reacting every few seconds, and the anger swelling inside me distracted me long enough for him to use his silver blade.

But I’d learned to ignore pain far worse than silver, and my strikes grew faster and harder as I sensed the others in my bonds needed help. Brand, in particular, was being overwhelmed with sheer numbers.

The moment arrived, and time seemed to slow down as I saw the opening. Niall slipped on a smear of my blood, and as he wobbled, I delivered a sweep to his leg, the kick bringing him to one knee. Then, a jab with my fist to his temple, and a 360-degree turn that brought my sword hand back to his neck, before he could recover his balance.

He’d lifted one arm, and I sliced through that as well, though it was his head that flew farthest, sliding across the ground to land at the females’ feet. The closest of them didn’t wait for the light in Niall’s eyes to die before they pounced on the head, and lunged for his fallen body as well, taking out years of vengeance on his corpse, now that they could.

“Shit,” one of the Enforcers whispered, backing up from the wild-eyed women at his feet. “They’ve gone crazy.”

I let my eyes find his and spoke the truth, though I was panting with exertion. “You know he probably brutalized every one of them at some point. This isn’t insanity. It’s justice. If you did the same, justice will find you.” I didn’t wait for his answer, but waded through the crowd toward the greater battle that was being fought. To Brand, and Flor.

I never made it that far. A circle of soldiers formed around me out of nowhere, all of them in Russian uniforms, save one.

“You useless sack of shit. You’ll pay for killing Niall.” Father had chased after me as well, and stood directly in front of me, holding a sword I’d never seen before.

“Why?” I asked, truly curious. Father blinked. “He was a broken tool. You’d promised him Tana, and didn’t deliver. I wonder what the Alpha of Novosibirsk will think when he learns you can’t deliver her to him either? She’s gone,” I said in Russian, just in case. “I helped her escape, but not even I know where she is now. She’s safe from you and your deals. Not that it matters. I’m sure you wrote some back door into the contract with him. You always do.”

The Russians’ eyes moved to Father, all of them narrowing with suspicion. One of them asked me, “This is true?”

“It is. He is not a wolf, but a fox. Very careful to make agreements he can easily escape. I should know; he taught me how to do it as well, and I used all I learned to make sure my sister is far beyond his reach.”

Father shrank back for a split second when the tallest Russian growled at him. Then he lunged for me. “I should have drowned you as a pup,” he snarled, just before his sword met mine.

“You tried,” I reminded him, almost laughing at the weak blow. I’d grown stronger than him long ago.

“You’re a traitor to your pack. To the Council.” He backed away, looking for a better angle to attack. The Russians had widened the circle, to give him room.

“No, I’m a protector,” I replied, remembering Flor’s whispered thought. “Killing you is protecting this pack. Taking back the Council you stole is justice for all the packs. The moon’s justice.”

He laughed out loud. “I tried to beat that sentimental, sanctimonious shit out of you, but it seems I failed. You were born a fool, and you’re about to die one. This pack will never be yours.”

I wasn’t sure what he’d been waiting for, but all I could think was good. Something hardened in his gaze, and he lunged forward.

Even if he wasn’t as strong as me, he was fast, and exceptionally skilled as a fighter. We hadn’t sparred in years, though, and he hadn’t been practicing, or learning new skills. His moves were predictable, and I avoided his first strikes without breaking a sweat. I was faster, having learned a few things at Northern—and at Southern—he wouldn’t be ready for. I pulled out a series of kicks Sergeant had taught me, with a spinning roundhouse that connected with Father’s knee.

The crack of the patella breaking was louder than the grunt he let out as he hopped back on his good leg. His eyes narrowed, and as he inhaled, I could tell he was pulling on the pack bonds to heal. He shook his leg out and attacked with a series of open hand strikes so fast, I couldn’t track them, only use what I knew of his style to avoid most of the hits.

Neither one of us spoke as we fought, though I had a feeling I’d need to land a few more mental blows before he would make a mistake severe enough for me to secure the advantage. But distractions were all around. When Father broke away after I’d landed a blow to his face, blinding him for a split second with the blood, I lost focus as surely as he had, but not from a strike.

“Brand!” Flor’s scream came a split second before Glen’s shout for his mother, and at the exact moment that a gut-churning wave of agony tore through the bond inside me.

Back in the ring’s center, Brand was being attacked. I barely held onto my sword, staggering drunkenly as the pain started and stopped in the next instant.

Fuck. Fuck! He had closed off the bonds so that we wouldn’t feel what was happening.

I had to get to him, had to save him. Save all of us.

I wrenched my focus back to the fight I was in, and swiped out in front of me with my sword… to find no one there. Father was fleeing, leaving a trail of blood and cowardice as he retreated behind the Russians. None of them moved as they watched my father’s retreat, their eyes filled with disgust and judgment as they heard his call of, “Finish him.”

It was too much to hope that they would let me chase him down and finish the fight, though. As one, they stepped forward, nodding and unsheathing their own blades.

I had one hope of winning this fight. I called out to Grigor, sending a demand through my blood.

I needed his power, all of it he could spare, and I needed it now.