Phoenix Reborn (Alpha Pack, #7.5)(32)

Not optimal. But sometimes there was no help for it, and you did what you had to do. They took off, their pace quickly eating up the distance. About a half mile from the place, the team’s human sniper, A. J. Stone, set up on a ridge. It was always damned comforting to know A.J. was out there, ready to pick off the enemy sneaking up behind them.

As they raced down the slope, a large, sprawling log cabin came into view. Nestled in the hills, surrounded by trees with the mountains rising majestically around it, the scene should’ve been breathtaking. But to the terrified family inside, their haven had become a nightmare. Their screams could be heard clearly through the broken windows and bashed-in front door, even if Micah hadn’t possessed a wolf shifter’s enhanced hearing.

Pouring on the speed, Nick cleared the threshold of the front door ahead of them, Micah right behind him.

The sight that greeted them should’ve terrified him, but there was no time to be afraid. The demon standing in the living room splintering the sofa like a matchstick whirled to face them, a grin full of yellowed teeth spreading across its broad gray face. It took up the whole space at nearly seven feet tall, leathery wings spanning some twenty feet wide. Long, razor-sharp claws tipped the big, almost-humanlike hands and feet, and its chest was broad.

“Greetings, fools,” it said pleasantly. Then it tossed the sofa aside and launched itself at Nick. The fight was on.

More demons materialized seemingly from nowhere, and the team had all they could handle.

“Micah, look out!”

John’s shout came just in time to keep Micah from losing his head. Turning, he ducked, avoiding the demon’s claws but losing a tuft of fur in the process. Shit, that was close!

Snarling, Micah rushed the creature, going straight for the throat. The demon wasn’t going down so easily, however.

Though it stumbled backward, it managed to grab him and fling his body across the room and into the wall. He hit hard enough to crack the plaster, which rained on him as he fell to the floor. Stunned for a moment, he shook himself off and went in for round two.

On this second charge, he changed tactics. The demon was prepared for him to jump again and go for the throat. Instead, he hurtled himself at the creature’s legs. In a flash, he sank his fangs into the vulnerable thigh muscle—and ripped out the demon’s hamstring. Screeching in pain, the bastard fell hard, writhing.

Got you now, f*cker. Micah swiftly tore out its throat, and as the demon gurgled helplessly, Micah shifted into his half-man, half-wolf form. Then he used his own sharp claws like knives, plunging them into the creature’s chest and ripping out its black heart. The beast died, eyes glazing, surprise still etched on its ugly mug.

He didn’t get to savor his victory. A hard blow took him in the side, and he rolled a few feet. A new demon attacked, and he used the hamstringing method again, with success. Dispatched the enemy. And again, on another.

The Pack was winning the battle, and hopefully they’d find the family—who’d stopped screaming—alive, safe, and barricaded in the basement. Just as he finished taking the heart of another demon beneath him, Rowan screamed from somewhere behind him. “Micah!”

Still in half-form, he turned—“Ungh.” Blinking, breath stolen away, it took him a couple of heartbeats to register the demon towering over him, smirking in triumph.

“Die, wolf.”

The claws of one of the beast’s hands were buried in Micah’s chest. The strange, cold burn of the venom was spreading through his limbs, his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He tried to lift his arm, to swipe his claws at the creature, but couldn’t. The demon laughed and dug the talons deeper.

“Micah! No!”

A loud bang sounded. And the demon fell away in a shower of blood, brain matter, and bone. The claws were torn from Micah’s chest, and he sank to his knees, gasping. Unable to retain his shift, he returned to human form and stared at the blood gushing from the grisly wound to stream down his abdomen.

“Shit,” he wheezed.

The instant he toppled to the floor, hands were on him. The noise of the waning battle faded into the background. Suddenly he was on his back with Zander Cole, the Pack’s Healer, beside him dressed in fatigues and a dark T-shirt.

Tucking his gun into his waist band, Zan placed a hand over the bleeding wound.

“Steady,” he said in a quiet, soothing voice. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Micah’s next breath was strangled in his chest, as though a fist was crushing the life out of him. “Hurry.”

Zan closed his eyes and stilled. Micah was in too much pain to look down and watch what he was doing, but a warm glow began to seep into his chest. Gentle waves lapped at the agony, wearing it away gradually. His breath came easier, and he began to relax. Thank God for the Healer, or he might not have survived the trip back to the compound.

“I want you to stay still, okay?” Zan was frowning slightly, trying not to show his worry.

“Why? I feel a lot better.”

“I’d just rather you take it easy until we get you back and let the doctors examine you.”

Nick crouched at Micah’s side, back in human form, a borrowed coat wrapped around him. “House is secure.

Family is safe. Kalen is wiping the demons from their memories and replacing them with poachers who broke in, looking for money and weapons.”