Un.Breakable (Slayter Series Book 4) Read online

  Now that she knew of their presence, she held the upper hand.

  While keeping an eye out for the figure behind her, Hayden followed Asher’s scent, looping through the trees at breakneck speed. The beta’s pale figure suddenly appeared ahead in the maze of thick trees and Hayden pushed herself harder, closing in on him.

  Up ahead, two hulking figures circled the werewolves from Asher’s pack. One of the males hovered anxiously over his limp pack member, clutching the body hysterically.

  “Asher, no!” Hayden yelled as the beta charged recklessly at the two puppets.

  Just as she’d feared earlier, Asher assumed Celeste’s creations were similar to ordinary opponents. He sprang into their midst, swinging his sword.

  Though trained well, he was blind to the true danger of the situation and hardly stood a chance. One of the puppets caught the blade with his palm, not even flinching as it sliced open his skin.

  The puppet then punched Asher in the stomach with his opposite hand, the sound of breaking ribs echoing horribly across the clearing. The pale-haired beta gasped shallowly before the puppet tossed him through the air like a ragdoll.

  Asher’s back hit a tree and he slid down, disorientated.

  Coming to an abrupt halt, Hayden remained hidden within the trees, crouching and assessing the scene for her opening.

  Three of Asher’s pack members appeared dead and one had a missing arm. There would be no help coming from them or from Asher, who appeared utterly defeated and shell-shocked at the strength of his opponent.

  Possessing an indifferent and blank face, Celeste’s puppet closed in on Asher’s prone figure. On the other end, nearer to her, the second puppet set his sights on the last surviving member of Asher’s pack.

  Hayden twitched, grabbing hold of a thick twig and snapping it in half.

  The loud snap ensnared the closest puppet’s attention. Like a bloodthirsty hound, he charged at her concealed form in the woods, forgoing his attack on the bleeding werewolf.

  Dropping the branch and grabbing her sword, Hayden coiled around the clearing, cloaking herself within the selfish and embracing trees. Aligning herself perfectly, she charged from the woods and towards the puppet who reached for Asher’s fallen form.

  Hayden swung her sword and cut the puppet’s hands off at the wrists.

  Not taking any chances, she dropped down low, tumbled away from the spray of blood and leaped to her feet a good distance away.

  Hardly affected by the loss of his hands, the puppet turned his dead stare on her. With single-minded determination, he lunged as Hayden turned and ran toward a tree. She jumped, running up the side of the tree trunk and executing a flip over the puppet’s head.

  As she descended behind him, she swung her sword and sliced cleanly through his neck. Her boots hit the snow just as the puppet’s decapitated head thumped to the ground.

  “Hayden! Look out!”

  Asher reached toward her in warning, though he was too late.

  The puppet she’d distracted earlier with the broken branch charged into the clearing with unusual speed. As soon as she turned, he slugged her across the face, causing her vision to blacken.

  Disorientated, Hayden dropped heavily to the ground, struggling to breathe and steady herself.

  An unforgiving hand curled around her ankle and Hayden twisted her body around, slamming her free boot into the puppet’s face. Hardly deterred at the assault, the werewolf tugged her cleanly across the snow-covered ground.

  She reached determinedly for her fallen sword, her fingers just barely brushing against the cold metal before the puppet tugged her completely from reach.

  Hastily unbuttoning her shirt, she dug into the depths of her clothes and grabbed a throwing knife from her holster.

  Just as the man turned to look at her, she embedded the throwing knife into his eye socket. He growled low in his throat, not the sound of a wounded animal, but of a frustrated and irritated predator.

  Forsaking her ankle, he grabbed her throat and lifted her high in the air. He shook her, the tendons around her neck constricting and taking a horrible beating. The pressure around her throat made it difficult to breathe, and soon, the world turned dark and hazy.

  Suddenly, a blade cut off her captor’s head.

  Hayden blinked as the hand turned limp around her throat.

  She dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch. Sluggishly, she struggled to collect herself. Whoever had killed the puppet lingered close behind her, his smothering proximity causing the hairs on Hayden’s neck to stand.

  She then remembered the dark figure following stealthily behind her earlier, waiting to attack until she was none the wisest.

  Despite the uninvited rescue, Hayden didn’t intend to be grateful.

  Lunging from the ground, she landed a perfect punch at the man behind her. Only, a leather glove caught her fist before it connected with his face. He held possession of her curled fist, hardly deterred at her strength.

  Hayden knew who stood opposite of her, but the sight of him caused her to continue her assault. She couldn’t explain the fevered reaction to his presence. She was upset with him for his absence, upset for his sudden reappearance in her life.

  Dropping low, she executed a powerful jab to his ribs, receiving repossession of her right hand.

  After that, he never permitted her to land another strike on his person. He dodged or blocked the majority of her attacks, though he truly had trouble landing his own blows. Hayden danced around him, countering his lethal grace with her own elegance.

  Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs at his intoxicating presence. She was upset with him, she hungered for him, and she wanted to dominate him.

  He easily took possession of her shoulders and pushed her harshly against a tree.

  Strong fingers curled around her wrists and pinned them above her head. His blue eyes were bright, excited, and he leaned closer to her. His breath entwined with hers, and while they barely spent much energy, they were both short of breath.

  “Foolish child,” Nicolas scolded, gradually releasing her wrists.

  His lashes lowered as he considered her open shirt and the exposed knife holster. He looked back up at her, his gaze hungry. Deliberately, his leather-clad hand plunged down her shirt and returned the bloody throwing knife she’d used on the puppet just minutes before.

  After securing the weapon back in her knife holster, Nicolas’ fingers brushed intentionally over her chest before he refastened her shirt.

  “What do you think you’re doing out here? Alone?”

  His smooth baritone voice sent a thrill down her spine and her knees grew weak. However, despite her body’s crumbling reaction to Nicolas’ sudden appearance, Hayden kept her features as hard as stone.

  “I wasn’t alone.”

  Nicolas’ aristocratic face darkened.

  He reached up and curled a gloved hand through her hair. Mercilessly, he turned her head in the direction of Asher and the others members of Eric’s pack.

  Or more appropriately, what was left of the others.

  “They are nothing but pups,” he hissed, his fingers tightening near her scalp. “Next time you want to go on an adventure, find better protection.”

  Instantly, Hayden noticed that he did not ban her from any future missions. It was an odd thing to hear, only because others usually prohibited her from doing dangerous trysts completely.

  “I couldn’t exactly ask you, could I?” Hayden countered angrily. “I haven’t seen you since you dropped me off.” Like a child. She paused, trying to bite her tongue, but it came out anyway. “You said you would check up on me, but…”

  She stopped herself, feeling the emotions swell and come to a head.

  He’d promised to check up on her frequently. She tried not to feel slighted at his absence, at his complete lack of interest, but after all this time, she realized how much Nicolas’ companionship truly meant to her.

  Despite his imperturbable persona, Nicolas al
ways had good intentions when it came to her safety. Up until Cole’s sacrifice, he’d never lied to her. Moreover, up until he dropped her off with the traditional wolves, he’d always kept his word.

  Unlike the rest of the pack, who felt the pain of Cole’s passing, Nicolas actually knew what Hayden was going through.

  He’d been there. He’d seen the things she’d seen.

  Besides the worth of his comradeship, Hayden stumbled upon a cold, hard truth. After long deliberation and longer denial, Hayden realized she was stronger with Nicolas nearby.

  Not dependable, but stronger.

  He exuded an aura of fierce indestructibility. While it would be easy to hide underneath his shelter, Hayden found herself standing taller, feeding off his indestructibility and making it her own.

  “I kept my word,” Nicolas replied quietly. “You’ve just never seen me.” He detangled his hand from her hair. “The last time I saw you, only a few days ago, you kept up with Adolf in your sparring lesson. You’ve grown leaps and bounds with the sword.”

  He pulled away completely, leaving her slumped against the tree.

  Surprise made her speechless, if only for a moment.

  “Why didn’t you approach me?”

  Nicolas exhaled softly, looking down and grabbing her abandoned sword. “I thought it was for the best. To give you and the others distance.”

  Her eyes traced over the thick, silver scar across his cheekbone, reminded of how he received it, of Cole, of his lie. “Because you lied about Cole,” Hayden accused sharply. Her elation at his presence abruptly crumbled and anger took its place. “You said he died.”

  “On the contrary,” he started sharply, turning towards her. “I never said he died.”

  “You led me to believe he was dead by not mentioning what really happened!”

  He leveled her with a dark look. “What does it matter?”

  Before she could respond, he continued.

  “Your wolf felt it, didn’t she? That your other half was no longer present? I was there when you came out of the tunnel, Hayden. You knew what happened without seeing it.” Nicolas offered her fallen sword. “You were already traumatized. I thought it was best not to burden you further. Your beta thought otherwise.”

  She sighed softly, her breath a visible cloud in the cold air.

  Her eyes dropped to the offered sword.

  “There could still be a way to save him.”

  “Maybe. Hopefully,” he agreed stiffly. “But this is not the way to go about it.”

  Across the clearing, a dry sob broke the frigid, stale night. Hayden tore her attention away from Nicolas, forcing herself back to reality.

  Asher attempted to comfort his trembling pack member, who insisted on embracing the prone pack member on the ground with his remaining arm. Where his right arm used to be was now a gaping wound of torn flesh.

  “This is your fault,” the werewolf accused sharply, catching Hayden’s attention. “Yours!”

  Hayden’s face tightened and she grabbed the sword from Nicolas’s outstretched hand. Though the words cut her deeply, she refused to let it show.

  “I warned all of you before we left. You just chose not to listen.”

  She ignored Asher’s look of disbelief.

  Even as she said the words, she felt guilt blossom and implode inside her. He was right. Though Hayden had practiced due diligence by explaining the danger they faced, she knew they hadn’t been ready. She knew they hadn’t taken her seriously.

  She should have turned back around once the realization occurred to her.

  “Putting the blame on everyone but yourself will not bring your pack members back from the dead,” Nicolas informed the boy callously. With slow, purposeful strides, he walked over to Asher and the grieving man. “She saved your life.”

  “You think I’m going to thank her?” he spat.

  Nicolas stared unblinkingly at the man. Hayden saw something shift in his eyes, a dangerous gleam brightening by the second.

  Before she could intervene, Asher’s pack member whimpered and his face paled further. In the face of Nicolas’ intimidation, he quickly lowered his head and shoulders in submission, making himself appear smaller.

  From a distance, Hayden surveyed the situation, oddly reminded of an untouchable king and his wayward servant.

  “Stop!” Asher stood up, anger flushing his face crimson.

  He probably noticed the same, twisted submission that Hayden did. He probably felt it too, though he refused to bend his neck to Nicolas.

  “We lost three members of our pack, it’s understandable he grieves.”

  “As long as he keeps his manners in check, he can grieve all he wants,” Nicolas responded eloquently, hardly phased as he stood amongst the three prone members of Asher’s pack. “I believe it’s time to head back. Your father needs to hear of this.”

  “He already knows, doesn’t he?” Asher asked quietly, subdued.

  Nicolas exhaled softly and readjusted his coat. “He was the one to ask me to fetch you and your pack members.” Pale eyes suddenly landed on Hayden. “And you.”

  Eric, the normally docile and lenient Alpha, would be livid when he found out what transpired tonight. It made Hayden feel more guilt, more shame for her foolhardy venture.

  She should have gone alone.

  She should have said no to Asher.

  Hayden pushed off from the tree and slowly started to make her way back to camp. They would reach the base before morning. That was if they didn’t encounter more of Celeste’s puppets on the way.

  * * * *

  He swooped upon them as soon as they broke through the tree line.

  The long, blond-haired Alpha stopped short when he caught sight of the wounded male and the lack of three more bodies behind Asher. Hayden hadn’t seen Eric so vulnerable since the day he charged onto Cole’s property and demanded to know the whereabouts of his missing son.

  Whether it was Nicolas’ looming presence or his previous experience with war casualties, Eric recovered quickly and continued his advance towards Asher.

  The vulnerability was gone.

  He was livid.

  In turn, Hayden straightened her shoulders and stood next to Asher.

  Though Asher received the brunt of Eric’s hostility, Hayden accepted the burden as if it were her own. Much to her dismay, she saw Blake slowly emerge from the surrounding cabins, standing authoritatively behind Eric and assessing the situation with a stern eye.

  “How could you be…?” Eric started, evidently trailing off when he noticed his pack member’s missing arm. “Johnson, get medical attention. Now.”

  The hostility abandoned Eric’s eyes and genuine concern took precedence. He reached for his pack member, curling a reassuring hand around the nape of the man’s neck. He ushered him towards another werewolf, who’d been hovering in the background.

  Hayden watched the exchange.

  She always thought Eric made a good Alpha. Seeing how quickly he tamed his anger to care for a pack member only reinforced her perceptions. Typically, it took male werewolves a great deal of effort to control their anger once harnessed.

  Eric abruptly turned back to them, his anger prevalent once again.

  He stopped inches from Asher’s schooled face, gazing at his beta—his son— with a turbulent of emotion.

  Father and son stared at one another, one accepting his fate with an impressive mask, the other angrily disappointed. It was early morning and the silent and unmoving environment brought the tension to an uncomfortable peak.

  Without warning, Eric reached out and backhanded Asher across the face. Hayden stiffened, watching Asher stumble to the ground from the corner of her eye. As Eric turned to her, his hand raised and ready, she only lifted her chin, accepting the punishment.

  She deserved it.

  Only, Eric stilled.

  His gaze raked carefully over her upturned face, particularly her eyes.

  The blond-haired Alpha lowered his striking
hand and grabbed Hayden around her coat collar. He brought her close, so very close, and shook her harshly.

  Not once, but twice.

  “Why?” he demanded. “Why do you look so unaffected when three are dead?”

  Hayden frowned, not realizing her face conveyed callousness. She certainly didn’t feel callous. Not when there was a soul-consuming darkness inside her. She carried guilt and remorse; she carried the pain of her mistakes and losses.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Asher defended, straightening besides her. “I was the one who made the decision. I was the one who brought members of the pack. I couldn’t defend them. I made the mistakes.” He reached for Eric, intent to separate him from Hayden. “She saved our lives, dad!”

  The admission did not sway Eric. “She knew better,” he countered calmly with a hint of menace. He kept his gaze on her. Only her. “She agreed to accept your involvement.”

  “Next time,” she promised quietly. “I will go alone.”

  “There won’t be a next time!” Blake and Eric chorused at the same time, though their orders went in one ear and out the other.

  Eric released her and Hayden took a step back to steady herself. She could feel Nicolas’ persisting stare boring holes in the back of her head. He kept his distance and his silence, though his observation was steadfast.

  “Go see if they need your help healing Johnson,” Eric ordered Asher. “I will deal with you later.” He pointed towards the cabins where his pack settled, raising an expectant eyebrow when Asher hesitated.

  “Now!”

  Unable to resist the Alpha persuasion, Asher jerked into action, sending a sympathetic look in Hayden’s direction. She didn’t return it. Despite Asher’s insistence of defending her, she knew he harbored mixed feelings about the recent tragedy.

  When Asher was out of sight, Blake advanced until he was standing next to Eric.

  His face was hard, as it had been since she’d come back. His shoulders remained proud despite the added weight of the Slayter pack.

  Though he was unofficially the next Slayter Alpha, the other werewolves didn’t quite see it that way. There’d been no actions to deter the general impression of his new title, but Hayden had a feeling the passiveness from the other werewolves wouldn’t last much longer.