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| Damon |
Kane's fifth punch to his face made Damon's ears ring. He spat blood to the cell floor and groaned irritably, and when Kane gripped his jaw and forced him to look up at him, Damon snarled angrily. He wasn't going to break.
"Tell me where that little fucker went!" Kane yelled furiously.
Damon growled at him and pulled his face from his grip. He glanced at his pack, who—like him—were beaten and wounded from their fight; they all had their arms held behind their backs by one of Kane's guards, and seeing their bloody, bruised faces made his guilt grow with every strained breath he took.
The right side of Lalo's face was so badly beaten that he was struggling to remain conscious. Sebastien had a profusely-bleeding gunshot wound in his shoulder, and Remus stared at his father with such fear in his eyes that it made Damon want to cave. But he couldn't. They had to protect Jackson.
"Tell me!" Kane shouted and hit Damon's face again.
As pain shot through his head and spiralled down his body, Damon grunted and slowly turned his head to look up at him again. He glared at Kane's aggravated face, and the longer he remained silent, the angrier Kane visibly became.
But Kane then laughed and backed off. "That one," he said, pointing to someone behind Damon.
Rachel started screaming and fighting as she was dragged towards the bars.
Kane snatched a fistful of Damon's hair and glared down into his eyes. "Either tell me where that pathetic wolf went, or this bitch becomes our latest source of entertainment."
Damon's guilty, worried eyes locked with Rachel's. She looked horrified, but she shook her head.
"Don't tell him!" she cried.
"Shut up!" the man holding her growled and slammed her down onto the ground.
Damon didn't want to let anyone get any more hurt than they already were, and he didn't want anyone to die. But if he told Kane where Jackson was heading, he'd no doubt send out hunting parties and find his mate before he got close to Silverlake.
But he couldn't let Rachel die.
He thought as fast as his racing mind would let him, and then he shook his head to disguise a quiet, deep exhale. "Farrydare," he lied, keeping himself as calm as he could.
Kane's scowl thickened—he was listening to Damon's heartbeat, wasn't he? "Why Farrydare?" he demanded, failing to detect that he wasn't telling the truth.
"Because he knows someone there," Damon growled.
"Who? Is that where the rest of your pack are holed up?"
"Yes. Let her go."
As he glanced at Rachel, Kane snickered and adorned an amused smirk. "Take her."
Panic shot through Damon. "What?"
"No!" Rachel shrieked.
Damon tried to get up—he tried to lunge at the guard who was dragging her out of the cage—but Kane snatched his throat, and the men who weren't holding his pack pointed their rifles at everyone.
"I told you what you wanted to know!" Damon growled.
Kane didn't respond. He kept hold of Damon's throat, and once his guard had dragged Rachel a small distance from the cage, he glared down at Damon. "You've killed a lot of my wolves, and I'm going to make you pay for every single one of them."
His guards let go of the pack and filed out of the cell, and once they were all outside, Kane harshly threw Damon back. The Alpha collided with his pack, but he immediately climbed to his feet and charged towards Kane, but he backed outside and pulled the bars shut with his bare hand. The silver melted his skin, but he didn't flinch or wince.
When Damon reached the bars, he stopped an inch from them and scowled at Kane. But he didn't know what to say. He was furious, and when he saw them dragging Rachel to the centre of the arena while it filled up with Kane's cheering, hollering pack, guilt and dismay shoved all his anger aside.
"Wait!" he pleaded.
But it was useless. Kane started walking away, and even if he did listen, Damon didn't have anything to bargain with. He was completely powerless; he couldn't stop it, and he couldn't save Rachel, just like he couldn't save Bly or Enola or Alastor. There was nothing he could do but sit around and wait for help to come...and the longer that took, the more of his packmates he'd have to see dragged out there and torn apart.
His pack moved closer to the bars and started crying Rachel's name. But everyone knew that there was nothing they could do. The guards removed Rachel's collar, beat her so that she wouldn't try to kill them, and once they left the arena, the massive door on the other side started opening, and the Amarok inside roared ferociously.
Dismay and despair consumed Damon as each second passed. His racing heart hurt with every beat, and his body started feeling heavy. He turned his head away when Rachel shifted and tried to run from the beast. He didn't want to see another of his wolves getting torn apart. It filled him with shame and hopelessness. If only he'd been prepared when Kane showed up in that glade. If only he were smarter. If only he were the Alpha his pack needed—the Alpha they deserved.
"G-guys, we need help!" Julian called.
No one but Damon turned to look at them. He tried to drown out the noise of Rachel and the Amarok, setting his eyes on Julian, who was on their knees beside Sebastien. The white-haired demon lay on his back, paler than Damon had ever seen him, and Julian was holding their hands over Sebastien's gunshot wound with a terrified look on their face.
"I-I don't know what to do! He's bleeding too much!" Julian cried.
Wilson left the corner he'd been festering in since the guards left and kneeled beside Julian. He moved their hands to check the wound, and as blood burst out as if it were a breach in a pipe, Wilson grunted and slammed his hands over it. "If we don't close this wound, he's gonna fucking die," he exclaimed, looking at Damon.
Damon clenched his jaw as Rachel's screams and the horrified cries of his pack echoed around him. He tried to maintain his composure, but he could feel himself approaching a limit he didn't know he had. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to block it all out. But his thoughts were racing as fast as his heart. How many more of his pack was he going to have to watch die? Was he ever going to see Jackson again? Was his fifteen-year-old son going to die here in some pit?
His pack started calling his name. He felt their eyes on him, and someone put their hand on his shoulder. The noise was pushing him closer and closer...but he couldn't let it win. He couldn't give in. Jackson was free, and he'd come back with help. All he and his pack could do was wait. But how long would it take? How many more were going to die before help arrived?
"Chief?" came Tokala's worried voice.
Damon snapped out of it and opened his eyes. Most of his pack was trying to help Sebastien, and Tokala was standing in front of him with his hand on his shoulder. Remus was beside him, staring up at him with tears in his eyes, and when Damon looked down at him, Remus gripped his wrist and frowned despondently.
The Alpha shook his head. "We can't do anything," he uttered, holding back his dismay. "Jackson's out, so all we can do is wait for him to come back with help."
"Is Sebastien gonna die?" Remus asked worriedly as he took his eyes off Damon and looked over at the pack, who were trying to help the white-haired demon.
He wouldn't let anyone else die—not if he could help it. The Alpha hurried over to the pack, and when he reached them, he kneeled beside Sebastien. "Lance, you know what to do, right?" he asked the Iota; without Bly, Lance was their only healer.
"I-I...I don't...without Bly, I'm just...I'm not—"
"Pull yourself together!" Damon snapped.
Lance gawped at him.
"You're an Iota for a reason. Save his life," he ordered, nodding at Sebastien, who looked like he was moments from passing out.
Although he looked terrified, Lance nodded. "O-okay...uh...okay." He glanced around at everyone. "I need thread and something I can use as a needle. He's a demon, so it doesn't need to be sterile, right?"
Wilson nodded. "I think that's true, yeah. Demons can't get sick or infections or anything, right?"
"Sebastien?" Damon asked, looking at his pale face. "You're not going to get an infection, are you?"
Sebastien weakly shook his head.
"All right," Damon said as he took his shirt off. He tore it a little, and once he found a loose thread, he started gently pulling it from the fabric.
"What about a needle?" Tokala asked, looking around.
"Y-you gotta get the bullet out, too," Julian said.
"Not until I know I can close the wound," Lance replied.
"Everyone look around for something," Damon instructed.
The pack started searching the cage for something Lance could use as a needle. But it didn't seem like anyone could find anything.
"This is gonna sound a little insane, but what about his nails?" Wilson suggested as he lifted Sebastien's hand to display his claws. "Cut one in half...long and sharp enough, right?"
Several of the pack cringed.
"It could work," Lance said with a nod. "It's not like we have any other options."
"You're just gonna rip his nail off?" Dustu exclaimed.
"It's either his nail or his life, dude," Brando said.
Damon nodded in agreement. "Do it."
Lance gripped one of Sebastien's claw-like nails while Wilson held his hand straight. "This is gonna suck," he told the white-haired demon.
But Sebastien didn't protest. He rolled his eyes and groaned quietly.
With no time to waste, Lance ripped Sebastien's nail off; he snapped it in half, wrapped the thread Damon had given him around its end, and then looked at Sebastien. "I gotta get the bullet out, okay?"
He grunted and nodded.
Lance pushed his fingers into Sebastien's wound and started fishing around for the bullet, and once he removed it, the wound started bleeding a whole lot faster. And Lance started panicking.
"Oh, God...okay," Lance breathed, his hands shaking as he edged the makeshift needle closer. "There's so much blood, I...I can't see, I—"
"You got this," Wilson said as he placed his hand on Lance's shoulder.
"Bly wouldn't have chosen you as an Iota if she thought otherwise," Damon added.
Lance took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay," he mumbled and eased the makeshift needle through Sebastien's skin.
Damon watched him work, and once Lance sewed the wound shut, he tore what was left of Damon's shirt and used it to wrap around Sebastien's shoulder. "Is he going to be all right?" the Alpha asked.
With a deep sigh, Lance sat with his legs crossed. "I think so. But he's lost a lot of blood. I don't know if he needs more or what."
Sebastien shook his head. "No," he uttered weakly. "I just...need rest."
"Give him some space," Tokala said as he backed off.
Everyone else moved away.
Damon stood up, too, and let out a heavy sigh.
"How long is it gonna take for Jackson to get...there?" Lalo asked quietly.
"I don't know," Damon replied. "But he will make it."
"I hope so," Ezhno said sadly. "Bly and Rachel deserve burials."
The Alpha turned to face the arena as the weight of his despair and sorrow returned. He'd lost two wolves in the space of twenty-four hours, and it made him feel so useless and powerless. He couldn't do anything to save them—he couldn't even try to help. And Kane was going to keep doing it; he was going to come back and make another of his wolves face that Amarok...and Damon was going to have to stand there and watch.
He scowled angrily as he clenched his fists. What if he faced the beast? What if he could kill it? No...that was stupid. That Amarok was not only nearly twice the size of his Prime form, but it was also going to be a lot stronger, and he might not be able to beat it.
But what if he could? If he killed Kane's strongest asset—if he killed this barbaric pack's source of entertainment—then he wouldn't have to watch any more of his packmates get torn apart.
Tokala stood beside him and quietly asked, "What are you thinking, chief?"
"I'm thinking that if I face the Amarok next, I could kill it and save the rest of you—"
"Forgive my interruption, but you can't do that. You can't take that risk."
Damon frowned and turned his head to look at him.
"We all need you, chief. If we lose you, everyone will fall apart; they'll give up, and if that happens, then...well, that would truly be the end of us."
"My ancestors have faced worse. I come from a line of wolves who have fought demons and vampires and armies of humans—humans who manifested divine beings. An Amarok is nothing next to that," Damon said firmly.
Tokala nodded and said, "That may be so, chief, but as your Zeta, I can't let you take the risk. Jackson will make it. He'll come back, and we'll get out of here."
Damon huffed irritably and glared out at the arena again. "I can't just stand around and let that psycho put any more of you out there to get torn apart by that thing!" he exclaimed quietly.
"There's nothing else any of us can do," Wesley then said as he stood on Damon's other side. "We can't try another escape; there's too many of them. Waiting for Jackson was the plan, and it should still be the plan, chief."
The Alpha shook his head. But he knew that his advisers were right. There was nothing any of them could do but wait for Jackson to return with the Venaticus.
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