Mating heat.
Styx held his mate against his chest, feral fury pouring through him as the scent of the other Breeds became offensive to his senses.
The animal howling inside him demanded that he get his mate to safety, that he check the wounds on her body, that he do something to ease the heartrending agony he had felt inside her before she passed out in his arms.
The rage that had burned inside him when he had regained consciousness at Haven, only to learn his mate had been taken, was something Styx never wanted to feel again. He never wanted to feel that bloody primal fury overtake him, control him.
The Wolf had been acting on instinct alone. Nothing had mattered to him, nothing had existed in his world but finding his mate.
The glands beneath his tongue had instantly pumped full of the mating hormone. His mind had filled with the need for her, the possessiveness and overriding protectiveness that had obliterated any other thought or instinct in his mind.
When he had learned Ghost Team had allowed Marx Whitman and Gena Waters to escape with his mate, he had nearly gone mad.
God help those bastard Breeds if he ever learned who they were. God knew he would kill them himself. It was a damned good thing they were rumored to be able to control their scent markers, because if he had known or ever recognized their scent, he would have been unable to resist the urge to kill.
Staring down at his mate, he could feel the mating hormone spilling to his mouth. His cock was so damned hard he was certain he could pound railway spikes with it. His flesh was sensitive to her warmth, soaking it up and spilling more back to him as every cell in his body seemed to reach for her.
"We have company coming in behind us," Mordecai called out as the van began to speed up.
"McCrae, contact Brogan and give him our ETA to the heli-jet," Styx ordered quickly, instinct moving to give the appropriate responses required to get his mate to safety. "I want Haven appraised of our position and situation and a team sent out immediately to capture Gena Waters and her Coyote bastard."
Marx Whitman was a dead Coyote.
"Alpha Delgado has already sent a team out," Mordecai responded as he took a curve with enough force to leave the tires screaming as they fought to keep contact with the road. "Our ETA is one minute."
"And our company is getting closer," Navarro spoke from the passenger seat as he armed a laser rifle. "Delgado's team might not have to worry about collecting them."
There was murder in Navarro's tone now. His gaze glittered with savage death, and as it flickered to Storme's unconscious form, compassion seemed to soften it.
"Get ready to roll," Mordecai announced as the van sped toward the lights of the heli-jet as it waited in the large clearing just off the road. "I'm coming in close. Jump and run."
The doors to the van were thrown open as the vehicle slid to a rocking stop within six feet of the opened doors of the black heli-jet, which hummed with power.
Styx was out of the vehicle at a dead run, jumping into the craft as the others came in behind him, the van left to idle and block the motorcycle bearing down on them.
Before Marx and Gena could reach them, the craft lifted off, the laser fire aimed at it striking harmlessly into thin air as powerful jets engaged and they were streaking across the sky.
"She's bleeding," Navarro commented as Styx laid his head back along the long seat at the back of the jet.
"A wound at her hip," Styx replied. "It had just healed. I'm going to have to discuss with her this penchant for jumping from windows, it appears."
As they had sped to the cabin, reports had come in by the second from the one member of Ghost Team who had followed Marx and Gena after they kidnapped Storme.
The Breed had stayed on their asses, finally radioing their location in just as Styx had felt as though he were going mad waiting.
"Marx had help," Navarro muttered. "We've pulled in a human and two Coyotes. Del Rey took care of the Coyotes himself. They're being disposed of as we speak."
Styx closed his eyes, grief threatening to swamp him.
Breed Law was exacting. It was a contract every Breed signed before being allowed into Sanctuary or Haven. A contract humans signed, though their punishments were far more lenient than Breeds'.
Betraying Haven or Sanctuary was fatal. Any Breed willingly accepting the role of traitor didn't get to live to regret it. No pleas were heard. No mercy was given. They were killed.
"Who was it?" he asked numbly, his arms tightening around his mate.
"Two of the Coyotes Del Rey rescued from Russia. The coya is taking it hard, Styx," Navarro sighed. "She feels responsible for what happened to Storme because they were Coyotes she helped to rescue."
Styx shook his head. He could never blame the tiny mate of the Coyote alpha whose soft heart had led her to aid in the rescue of the Coyotes her father had overseen in Russia.
"Was it one of the women?" He prayed it wasn't. If Del Rey had been forced to kill one of the fragile Coyote females of his pack, then he would never forgive himself.
Navarro shook his head. "Jacob reports it was two males. Greg and Fargo. The moment they admitted to it, Ashley killed them both."
"God." Styx almost shuddered. Ashley was almost the baby of the Coyote pack. Temperamental, so girly it made a man's back teeth ache, and so fierce in combat it made his balls shrivel. The thought of her killing anyone, especially a pack mate, never failed to shock him.
"Why didn't Del Rey take care of it?" Styx questioned harshly.
"Ashley didn't take it to Del Rey," Navarro said. "She was with the team sent to collect the two men for questioning."
"ETA to Haven is two minutes," Mordecai reported as his gaze constantly scanned the dark sky around them. "Your cabin is still standing and unaffected by the explosions. Security has a net around the entire area and the alphas and their mates are currently residing in the secured suites in security control." Security control was the heavily reinforced maze of bunkers beneath Wolf Mountain.
Styx lowered his head, drawing in the scent of his mate as he thanked God that the other women were safe and unharmed.
"They were after the children and mates," Navarro growled. "Marx hadn't been aware Storme was there until the party. Gena was in on the attack from the beginning."
Styx stroked his hand down her back, feeling the fragility of her small body, terror still racing through him at the thought of how easily she could have been taken from him.
That last blast had sent debris raining around them. He'd tried to shelter Storme from the worst of it, but a heavy piece of timber had struck his back and neck, knocking him out cold.
He'd left his mate undefended.
How the hell was he supposed to forgive himself for that? For the fact that he hadn't been there when Storme needed him, when the danger to her had been at its height.
"It won't happen again, Styx," Navarro assured him. "Ghost Team was unaware of her status. She was considered a captive, not a mate."
Therefore the priority placed on her life had been lower than that of the mated females and children that were rushed to safety. Because he had allowed her to hide from the packs rather than pulling her into the integrated society being established within Haven.
"No, it won't happen again," he agreed, his voice hardening as the heli-jet landed. "Never again, Navarro. I will see to it personally."
The heavy doors slid open at the wide stone walk that led to the front doors.
Cradling Storme against his chest, he moved from the heli-jet as Navarro ran ahead of him to open the doors to the house.
Around them, trees and cabins lay in ruins. The beauty and unique design of the main community had been wounded. It would be built back, but they would never forget that once again one of their own had betrayed them.