graveyard they passed and the rough crosses
hammered into the desert. Before he set out, Kane wanted to rest his bones
there, then maybe find Kevin in the afterlife. Tell his brother he could be
proud Kane avenged him.
He approached Reaper, fingering the
hem of his shirt. “I don’t want to see you die. Fuck, Reaper, I just found
you.”
Closing his hand over his wrist, Reaper
grinned at his racing pulse, at the effect he had on Kane. “You’ve made one
fucking mistake, little human. I won’t die, and neither will you. When the
world fucks with you, you fuck back harder.”
Unable to help himself, Kane
laughed. “That’s a terrible philosophy.”
“Are we doing this, Kane?”
Kane glanced at the skulls again.
The short time he’d been with the Hellhounds taught him nothing was black and
white. The werewolves that ruled Wolf County were like everyone else, trying to
make the most out of the sorry-ass remains of their world. Harvey and his
hunters didn’t belong to this time. They needed to reevaluate their way of
thinking, but old husks like Harvey wouldn’t change even if the world ended for
a second time, wiping out everyone for good.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Reaper walked to his bike and took
out the crucial piece of their plan from the bag. He handed it to Kane, once
Kane’s hands no longer shook. Unrolling the canvas case, Kane stared at the
syringe for a moment.
“Tell me how it works again,”
Reaper said, although Kane suspected he did that to calm Kane’s nerves.
“Once the L-23 serum hits your
bloodstream, it’s not going to stop your heart, but slow it down enough so the
hunters will think you’re dead. Your body is going to grow cold as well,” Kane
repeated their plans as Reaper stripped down.
A fine specimen indeed, but Kane
cleared his throat to keep on track.
Smirking, Reaper shifted, until a
huge wolf replaced the man.
Kane knelt, syringe in hand. Reaper
licked at his wrist in reassurance, leveling his golden gaze on Kane’s. He ran
his free hand across Reaper’s unexpectedly soft fur, settling it against his
neck before thrusting the needle into his skin.
Kane pressed the plunger, watching
the clear and colorless liquid disappear. Before they left Wolf County, Mercy
handed them the pouch and syringe, explaining how it worked. When Kane asked
Reaper how a biker knew about Lazarus or L-23 serum, he shrugged and told Kane
Mercy used to be a doctor—another surprise. The support of the Hellhounds made
Kane speechless. It seemed most of them wanted them to succeed.
Seconds later, Reaper convulsed,
before slumping on the road.
“Now the hard part,” Kane
whispered.
He shoved the case back in the
carry-on bag, and took out his silver-edged blades. The ones Harvey gave him
after completing his apprenticeship, the very same he placed against Reaper’s
throat when Kane set out to kill him. Hands steady, Kane knelt again. Christ,
it felt wrong doing this to a defenseless man, his own mate, but there was no
other way.
Gripping the hilt, Kane made quick
slices, wincing each time blood spilled across Reaper’s fur. He avoided the
critical areas, and once Reaper looked convincingly dead, Kane put his blades
away. Next, he took the metal spray from the pouch Mercy handed him. Ammonia
mixed with something else, to replicate the smell of a rotting corpse.
According to Mercy, the shifter
rebellion developed both formulas to liberate captives the human scientists
used to experiment on during the development of the T-11 virus. Mercy and some
of the Hellhounds like Mace and Viper, worked as spies for the human government
during Pre-fall times, Reaper mentioned.
After taking out the ropes, Kane buried
the carry-bag in the sand, and marked its location with a pile of small stones.
Strapping Reaper on the back of the bike turned out harder than he expected. By
the time Kane finished, sweat soaked his front and back. He couldn’t afford to
tally. Half an hour, until Reaper’s heart
hammered into the desert. Before he set out, Kane wanted to rest his bones
there, then maybe find Kevin in the afterlife. Tell his brother he could be
proud Kane avenged him.
He approached Reaper, fingering the
hem of his shirt. “I don’t want to see you die. Fuck, Reaper, I just found
you.”
Closing his hand over his wrist, Reaper
grinned at his racing pulse, at the effect he had on Kane. “You’ve made one
fucking mistake, little human. I won’t die, and neither will you. When the
world fucks with you, you fuck back harder.”
Unable to help himself, Kane
laughed. “That’s a terrible philosophy.”
“Are we doing this, Kane?”
Kane glanced at the skulls again.
The short time he’d been with the Hellhounds taught him nothing was black and
white. The werewolves that ruled Wolf County were like everyone else, trying to
make the most out of the sorry-ass remains of their world. Harvey and his
hunters didn’t belong to this time. They needed to reevaluate their way of
thinking, but old husks like Harvey wouldn’t change even if the world ended for
a second time, wiping out everyone for good.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Reaper walked to his bike and took
out the crucial piece of their plan from the bag. He handed it to Kane, once
Kane’s hands no longer shook. Unrolling the canvas case, Kane stared at the
syringe for a moment.
“Tell me how it works again,”
Reaper said, although Kane suspected he did that to calm Kane’s nerves.
“Once the L-23 serum hits your
bloodstream, it’s not going to stop your heart, but slow it down enough so the
hunters will think you’re dead. Your body is going to grow cold as well,” Kane
repeated their plans as Reaper stripped down.
A fine specimen indeed, but Kane
cleared his throat to keep on track.
Smirking, Reaper shifted, until a
huge wolf replaced the man.
Kane knelt, syringe in hand. Reaper
licked at his wrist in reassurance, leveling his golden gaze on Kane’s. He ran
his free hand across Reaper’s unexpectedly soft fur, settling it against his
neck before thrusting the needle into his skin.
Kane pressed the plunger, watching
the clear and colorless liquid disappear. Before they left Wolf County, Mercy
handed them the pouch and syringe, explaining how it worked. When Kane asked
Reaper how a biker knew about Lazarus or L-23 serum, he shrugged and told Kane
Mercy used to be a doctor—another surprise. The support of the Hellhounds made
Kane speechless. It seemed most of them wanted them to succeed.
Seconds later, Reaper convulsed,
before slumping on the road.
“Now the hard part,” Kane
whispered.
He shoved the case back in the
carry-on bag, and took out his silver-edged blades. The ones Harvey gave him
after completing his apprenticeship, the very same he placed against Reaper’s
throat when Kane set out to kill him. Hands steady, Kane knelt again. Christ,
it felt wrong doing this to a defenseless man, his own mate, but there was no
other way.
Gripping the hilt, Kane made quick
slices, wincing each time blood spilled across Reaper’s fur. He avoided the
critical areas, and once Reaper looked convincingly dead, Kane put his blades
away. Next, he took the metal spray from the pouch Mercy handed him. Ammonia
mixed with something else, to replicate the smell of a rotting corpse.
According to Mercy, the shifter
rebellion developed both formulas to liberate captives the human scientists
used to experiment on during the development of the T-11 virus. Mercy and some
of the Hellhounds like Mace and Viper, worked as spies for the human government
during Pre-fall times, Reaper mentioned.
After taking out the ropes, Kane buried
the carry-bag in the sand, and marked its location with a pile of small stones.
Strapping Reaper on the back of the bike turned out harder than he expected. By
the time Kane finished, sweat soaked his front and back. He couldn’t afford to
tally. Half an hour, until Reaper’s heart
Similar Books
