Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1 (26 page)

Gwen wanted to cover her ears to shut out the occasional unearthly howl that echoed outside, but she didn’t dare. Even now, she strained to hear if there was anyone in the cabin. It was worse not knowing what was going on, but she’d promised Jacque she would stay here, so here she would stay.

She wasn’t stupid enough to think she could battle a werewolf on her own. Sure, she had a gun, but she wasn’t experienced in using it. She’d gotten lucky last time. Plus, if she were to show her face, there was a chance she’d distract Jacque and the others and possibly get them hurt or killed. No, as much as it pained her to hide like a coward, she really had no other choice.

The weapon in her hand grew heavier with each passing second. She had no idea how many bullets were in the thing, but she hoped they would be enough. She hadn’t thought to bring the extra ammunition, which was probably still sitting on the kitchen table where she’d left it last night. That is, of course, unless Gator or one of the others had moved it. She hadn’t thought to look after they’d left last night.

Was it only a matter of hours ago that they’d all had coffee cake at the table? It seemed like much longer. So much had happened in such a short time. The more she thought about the extra ammunition, the more it bothered her. It was so close, but it might as well have been miles away.

Maybe she could slip out and take a quick peek. If it was there, she could easily grab it. If it wasn’t, she could quickly hide again and be no worse off than she was now.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, weighing her options. She’d still be in the house. And, truthfully, that’s what she promised Jacque. She’d agreed to stay in the house.

Decision made, Gwen pushed to her feet, taking a few moments to work the numbness out of her legs. She’d been sitting still in one position for too long. It was probably a good thing for her to move around and get the blood circulating once again.

Holding the gun in one hand, she crept to the door and put her ear to the panel. She didn’t hear any sounds coming from the kitchen. The chance was worth it. Better to have more ammunition than less. She had no idea how long the fighting would go on or how many werewolves might actually breach the cabin.

Okay, she could do this. Gwen took a deep breath and imagined the layout of the kitchen. She’d move fast and quiet and be back in the pantry room in less than thirty seconds, if that. This was a quick in and out.

She twisted the handle and held her breath as it turned. There was no telltale squeak, only an easy glide. Jacque obviously believed in good home maintenance. She’d have to thank him for that when this was all over.

Gwen eased the door open and glanced around the kitchen. Fighting continued outside the cabin, but she was alone inside. Moving swiftly, she made her way to the table. Sitting right where she’d left it was the extra clip for the gun and the box with the remaining bullets. All she had to do was grab them and make a B-line back to the closet.

She licked her lips as she reached for them. Sweat beaded on her body, making her T-shirt cling to her torso. She had her hand around the clip when the dining area window flew inward, splintering into a hundred pieces. Shards launched like lethal projectiles and she ducked beneath the table to protect herself. The extra clip flew from her hand and landed in the corner. She crawled after it, knowing she needed it now more than ever.

A menacing growl behind her was all the warning she got. Gwen rolled swiftly onto her back and brought the gun around, firing it over and over. The wolf was in midair, making it a huge target. She hit it several times and it dropped. Blood seeped from its head as it stared at her with glassy eyes. Its mouth was open, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

She was practically hyperventilating now as she scrambled to grab the spare clip she’d dropped. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” She repeated the swear word like a mantra. She had to get back to the relative safety of the utility room.

But she already knew it was too late. Another wolf attacked and she shot continuously until there were no more bullets left in the gun. She ejected the empty clip, just like Jacque had shown her, and tried to insert the fresh one, but her hands were shaking too much.

The back door slammed inward and a man stood there, so big he blocked out most of the ambient light. For a brief second, she thought it was Jacque. Then he spoke. “Well, well, what do we have here? A human. One in need of killing.”

It was then she knew that Pierre LaForge had found her. She struggled to insert the new clip. Hope flared as it started to slide inward, but it was too late. Pierre was on her, grabbing the weapon from her hand, his grip so punishing she felt several bones in her hand crack. She cried out as the pain shot up her arm.

He looked at the gun. “Should I shoot you, I wonder?” He shook his head and tossed the weapon aside. It hit the table and slid off the side, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Gwen tracked it with her gaze, knowing it was her only hope for survival. The fighting outside was still fierce and she knew she was on her own.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he smiled. The gesture sent a shiver of dread down her spine. “Don’t expect my son to rescue you. He’s probably dead by now anyway. Andre had a score to settle with him.”

She refused to believe it. “He’ll come for me and he’ll kill you.”

Pierre laughed, the terrible sound grating her already strained nerves. “My sons are weak, mewling pups with no strength, no urge for the kill. I should have drowned them at birth.”

He clamped his hand around her jaw and dragged her to her feet. Gwen wrapped both her hands around his wrist and tried to pull away from him, but he was far too strong. He slammed her against the wall, making her head ring and her vision blur.

She was going to die.

“Do you want to know what it feels like to be bitten by a werewolf, little human? It’s not like the fairytales. You won’t become a werewolf, but you will die a long, painful death. I think my son would enjoy seeing that, don’t you?”

She shook her head, her mouth dry. Pierre’s face changed, his jaw elongating, his teeth lengthening. Gwen tried to scream but couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Her throat was frozen with terror.

In that last second, all she could think about was Jacque and how he would blame himself when it wasn’t his fault. She regretted she’d never told him she loved him and would now never have the chance.

Huge jaws closed around her neck and pain unlike anything she’d ever felt ripped through her.

The sound of gunshots coming from inside the cabin pierced Jacque’s awareness and he whirled toward it. The wolf he’d been fighting jumped onto his back. Jacque rolled, taking the smaller wolf to the ground. It took precious minutes for him to kill the beast. The gunshots had stopped and the ominous silence from the cabin was much worse.

He was shifting as he ran, ignoring the various bite wounds and slashes covering his body. Blood seeped down his arms and legs, but none of them mattered. Getting to Gwen was his only goal. He shoved open the front door of the cabin and raced toward the kitchen.

“No,” he yelled as he stumbled to a stop. “No. No. No,” he whispered. Gwen was lying on the floor in the corner of the dining area beyond the table, her body limp like a broken doll.

He sensed the other wolf in the room and whirled to face his father. Blood seeped from the older man’s mouth and lips, Gwen’s blood. His own father, his own flesh and blood had done this. Jacque’s claws lengthened and he growled. “I’m going to kill you for this, old man!” He thought he’d hated his father before, but that was nothing compared to the bubbling fury welling up within him. “And then I’m going to burn your body and dance on your ashes.”

“Are you? Or are you going to try to save your precious human?”

Jacque’s gaze jerked toward Gwen and he saw her eyelids flutter.

“She’s not quite dead yet. She will be in a few hours or so. Only a very small few live after a werewolf bite. You can either kill me or try to save her. Your choice.” With that last taunt, Pierre LaForge turned his back on his son and calmly strode out the back door.

Jacque let him go, knowing he had no choice. Not when Gwen was still alive. Not when there was still the tiniest chance he could save her. He loved her more than he hated his father. He would do anything to save her.

If Gwen died, or even if she didn’t, he knew where to find his old man, and there would be a reckoning for what he’d done.

Chapter Nineteen

Jacque heard the long, low howl from outside and knew his father was calling his remaining men back to him, their job here done. He dropped to his knees beside Gwen, almost afraid to touch her, and stared at the bloody gash on her neck. She was going to bleed to death if he didn’t stop the flow. He jumped to his feet, grabbed the dishtowel off the hook by the sink and pressed it against her flesh. Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

“I’ve got you, Gwen. Everything will be okay now.” But it wouldn’t be, and the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He’d let her down, failed her when she needed him most. Didn’t protect her like he’d promised.

“Hey,” Louis called as he entered the cabin. “They’re retreating.”

“I need help,” he called from the kitchen. He heard Louis swear and then his brother was beside him.

“What can I do?”

Jacque motioned to the makeshift bandage. “Hold that in place while I lift her.” They both knew she most likely had broken bones and it probably wasn’t safe to move her, but they didn’t have much choice. She was bleeding heavily and probably dying.

No, he wouldn’t believe that. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d go mad.

Jacque held the precious bundle in his arms. “Don’t leave me, Gwen. Don’t leave me.” He whispered the words, knew his brother heard them but didn’t care. Gwen was his life. Louis kept pace as he carried her down the hall to the bedroom, keeping pressure on her wound.

Jacque set her carefully on the bed and took over Louis’s job. “We need medical supplies. Get Gator, he’s got the best hands for sewing up wounds. And, Louis, hurry.”

Louis disappeared and Jacque put pressure on the wound with one hand and brushed her hair away from her forehead with the other. “Stay with me, Gwen. Stay with me.” His hand was stained with blood. Her blood. He wanted to howl at the unfairness of it all. Gwen was such a kind, forgiving woman. Just look at the way she’d forgiven him for kidnapping her and allowed him into her life and her bed.

He alternated between swearing and snarling because it was taking the others so long to get here, and praying that she’d be okay. He kept his gaze on her chest, watching the slow rise and fall. Each breath she took was precious to him and a tangible sign she hadn’t left him alone.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard the front door slam open and sighed with relief. His pack was here and there was strength in numbers. If sheer willpower alone could get her through this ordeal, she’d live for sure.

“What happened?” Gator strode into the room wearing only a pair of jeans. Wounds covered his chest and arms and his feet were bare, but he didn’t even seem to be aware of it. All his focus was on Gwen.

This was his friend, his brother of the heart, and Jacque was about to entrust him with the most important person in his life—his mate. For there was no denying that’s what Gwen was. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d remained human and lived only a matter of decades. She was his heart.

Gator went around to the other side of the bed and put his hand on the dishtowel, which was now heavy with blood. “Let me see.” Jacque swallowed heavily and let Gator lift the edge of the towel. “
Dieu
. This is not good, my friend.” When Jacque returned his hand, Gator ripped away the neckline of Gwen’s T-shirt, exposing more skin.

“It was my father.” Jacque didn’t want to claim kinship with the monster who had done this, but there was no denying genetics. “He hurt her for no real reason other than he could and he wanted to. He found pleasure in it. What does that make me?”

Gator’s hand fell heavily on his shoulder. “A good man. You are nothing like him. I’ll wash up. Cole is getting the first aid box from our place.” Gator disappeared into the bathroom and water ran in the background.

“See,
chère
,” he told her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was cold and clammy. “Gator will sew you up nice and good. He’ll take good care of you and I’ll be right here the whole time.” He kissed her cheeks and her cool lips, willing her to open her eyes and look at him. But she remained limp and unresponsive.

Cole stalked into the room, murder in his eyes. “Fucking bastards. We gonna go get them when this is done.
Non
?” Cole’s Cajun accent grew thicker the more upset he became.

“He’ll pay,” Jacque promised.

“Good.” Cole set the box he was carrying on the bed. He had a clean towel, which he snapped open and set on the bed. He opened the first aid gear and started laying things out.

Armand hurried into the room. Like the other men, he was wearing only a pair of jeans. Jacque was the only one who was still naked. “How is she?”

Jacque shook his head.

“Let’s get started.” Gator stalked back to the bed and grunted at the supplies Cole had set out. He grabbed a packet, ripped it open and nodded at Jacque. “You have to let go of the towel now and let me see to her.” He ripped open several more small packets and sat on the edge of the bed, hands poised and ready.