Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(54)

She’d never witnessed such raw power or raw beauty as Mason blasted across the firefly clearing these animals had stolen from them. Mason was violence in motion, a promise of agony, a bringer of destruction. The red boar must be Jamison, Mason’s brother. Their shape was the same, much bigger than the other boar-warriors. She would bet her flight feathers he was the Croy who had destroyed Mason’s life.

She didn’t regret taking his eye.

Her heart pounded against her breastbone as they neared each other. Faster and faster they ran, and when they clashed, a wave of power pulsed from their collision, causing Ally to stagger backward and clutch Beck harder against her chest, hands tight on her wings.

“Oh my gosh,” Ally whispered in awe as the boars battled, slicing, ripping, shredding each other mercilessly in a fight that would end in one of their deaths. There was no other way.

Behind them, Damon landed in front of the flames and roared a deafening, prehistoric roar that rattled the earth.

And with one last blurred, flurry of ferocity, it was done.

Mason stood over Jamison’s limp body, swaying on his hooves, but victorious. And all around them, chaos reigned as the boars disengaged from their battles and fled. Animals rushed by them with their giant, bloody tusks low as they escaped. Kirk blocked them with his body, shielding Ally and Beck from the panicked boar shifters.

Mason blasted a snort and dragged his feral gaze away from the dead, red boar. How gutted he must’ve felt in the moment he locked eyes with her. He’d just killed his brother to end the war and save them all.

Beck cried out and tested her wings, but her left one wouldn’t work right. She needed to be with him, to touch and reassure him that everything was going to be all right. Someday, everything would be okay again.

“Give her to me,” Willa’s mate, Matt, said. He pulled a struggling Beck from Ally’s arms and pressed her onto the ground, then felt around her wing. He was naked and covered in soot and blood. His bright blue eyes got a faraway look as he pressed around the blindingly painful part of her outstretched wing. “Gray Backs fight all the damned time. We could set bones for a living. This is going to”—crack—“hurt.”

Beck shrieked in agony. Where was Mason? He wouldn’t let her feel pain like this. Mason!

She turned her head to the side and forced her eyes open. Smoke and fire billowed behind Mason as he went to his knees with a grunt. No. No, no, no. He was going to be okay. He had to be.

But his wounds didn’t make sense. She couldn’t comprehend how she could see so much injury yet he still looked at her, resolve pooling in his eyes.

“Oh shit,” Matt said. “Damon! We need help!” Matt bolted for Mason, skidded on his knees in the dirt next to him as Mason fell to his side. Dust rose around him with the force. Matt was working on him, and then Beaston was there, and Harrison and Bash. As they covered Mason completely from her sight, Clinton appeared through the smog, covered in streaks of ash and long, seeping gashes. He was gripping the back of his hair, and his bright gray eyes were rimmed with moisture. He paced tightly, eyes never leaving Mason.

“Come on, you mother f*cker,” he screamed. “Live!”

A sick hollowness filled Beck’s chest. If she lost him, she would never be okay. It wasn’t like with Robbie. Mason was really hers. Hers to love, hers to protect, and she’d failed him. If she’d have been stronger, more thorough raking her talons down Jamison’s face, Mason wouldn’t be in the dirt now.

Desperate to be with him, she struggled out of Ally’s grasp and hopped through the grass.

“Keep her back,” Harrison ordered, pointing a blood-soaked finger at her. “She doesn’t need to see this.”

His eyes were scared. She’d never seen Harrison scared, and Bash was pressing all his weight on his hands, holding together the skin on Mason’s ribs. A tear streaked down the soot on Bash’s face.

Ally scooped her up before she could reach him, and Beck went mad. Just…insane, trying to escape her hold. She clawed and beat her wings against the woman, shrieking out in fury because Mason was hers. Hers!

And then Damon was there, human, holding a giant bag of first-aid supplies, and the Ashe Crew and the Gray Backs formed a loose circle. Clinton was screaming curses at Mason, and Harrison’s voice was panicked as he gave the others orders.

Beck tried so hard to Change back, but she couldn’t. She was stuck and helpless, and Ally was carrying her toward the four-wheeler now. Kirk was blocking the others from her sight with his massive shoulders, and Beck hated everything. A long, mournful cry left her beak, followed by another and another. Her broken wing had been nothing compared to the agony that stabbed at her heart.

For the rest of her life, this moment would be etched into her mind. The sadness in Kirk’s eyes as he watched her cry out. The glimpses of the crews trying to save Mason. The fire and the smoke. The way her lungs burned and her chest constricted with the first thoughts of how dark her life would be if she lost her mate.

She stopped fighting Ally. What was the use? Beck was nothing but a weak and broken shell now.

She needed to go to Ryder. If Mason was really gone, the heartache would resonate through her son’s life, too.

She needed to hold him and reassure herself she still had purpose because, right now, she felt as if her heart had been plucked from her chest.

Beck closed her eyes against the unending pain in her middle.