Chapter Seventeen
Sam
My eyes were now flowing with salty tears, filling my mouth and making my face itch. The only thing I could do was watch the man cut into the side of Mason’s neck as he cried out in pain, extracting his nails in pure agony.
Wait a minute.
Extracting… his nails?
“Off him, Jason,” Darius said with a casual wave of his hand. “He’s had enough time.”
EXTRACTING HIS NAILS!
Quickly I forced my own set of werewolf daggers out of my right hand and dug them into the five half-moon cravings into the top of the slender box.
Darius’ heart stopped beating when the box began to glow a very subtle blue. It shook on the concrete floor, rattling the walls and sending an echo throughout the steel box we were in.
And with a small click, the box popped open.
Mason stopped growling.
Darius stopped breathing.
Damien took in a labored breath.
I just stared at it.
It looked completely untouched yet so ancient and aged. There was nothing else inside.
The script was identical to the writing on the note Darius shoved at my chest five minutes ago.
All that was in the box was a letter. A letter from my father.
We were all so entranced and distracted by the dimming of the blue light, and the suspenseful build up to virtually nothing, that we didn’t even bother to acknowledge the pounding on the steel door that had been going on for quite a while behind us.
That is, until it clattered to the floor.
“NOBODY MOVE. NOBODY.”
My entire body relaxed at the familiar sound of Caspian’s British screams. But when I turned around, I tensed right up again at the sight of him with two silver-bullet revolvers in his hands.
~~
Caspian
I did a double take. A man stood in front of me, wide-eyed and twisted looking. He looked exactly like Damien—who was standing all too peacefully in the corner—and definitely was related to him some how. He began snarling at me while Sam’s eyes formed saucers, probably regarding the sight of me with two of the supernatural world’s deadliest weapon in my hands. But I took a deep breath out through my nose and began to canvas the room. I could have sworn I heard Mason’s growls before, but I couldn’t find him now.
There was a single old wired light hanging from the ceiling, illuminating only a small circle in the center of the room where the three were standing. I felt my heart rate rise at the thought of this being a dead end; Mason not here and Sam just involved in some psycho lovers spat.
But then I saw it.
In the deeper left hand corner of the room, a glistening piece of metal caught my attention. I zeroed my focus in on it, but I wished I hadn’t.
Mason was on his knees encompassed by darkness while being held in a chokehold by a knife at least a foot long and 10 inches wide. The man behind the blade was stoic; unremorseful. Completely unperturbed. It was the sharpest thing I had ever seen and it was a quarter of the way through my best friend’s neck as his head lulled to the side, eyelids fluttering with consciousness, blood cascading down his side like a waterfall.
Then, in that moment, that was the first time I killed someone.
He wavered, his body falling along with his grip on the dagger. Everything was slow. The movement of the blade as he let go of it so it cut even deeper into Mason’s skin before tumbling to the ground, the clattering of steel drowned out by Mason’s agonizing screams. I couldn’t even pay attention to the man as he fell dead, only on the contorting of Mason’s face as he writhed with pain.
I so badly wanted to run—to sprint—over to him, to wrap him up in my arms and carry him to safety or somewhere better then here, and I was about to if it wasn’t for the sneering orange-eyed freak that blocked my path.
“WHO THE FUCK IS THIS SAM?!” I shouted, pissed off at the world and at myself and at my rapidly beating heart and my gorgeous bleeding best friend and my overwhelming desire to kill someone else.
“He’s the one who kidnapped Mase,” Sam breathed out, his voice surprisingly calm for the situation. I heard myself growl, anger forming deep within the pit of my stomach as I subconsciously cocked the other revolver, pointing it at the now clearly frightened kidnapper. “DON’T!” Sam yelled from next to me, finally getting to his feet. “He’s the only family Damien has, Casp!”
I didn’t even flinch before I killed him. I put a bullet right between his eyes.
“And Mason’s the only family I have.”
So I leaped over the limp body of the writhing maniac, finally gaining access to Mason who was now curled up on the floor choking up what little blood he had left in him. I skidded to a stop, and threw myself on the floor next to him as I pulled him into my lap with my trembling arms. My fingers shook and my heart rate was unworldly as I clamped my hands over the slice in his neck, desperately, hopelessly trying to stop the bleeding.
“No, no, no, Mase,” I pleaded, his head nodding off into my arm as he couldn’t keep it up any longer, his strength decreasing by the second. “Please, please Mase, please.”
Quickly I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of Sam, hoping he would have something, anything to help me.
But he was too busy staring at Damien, tears in his eyes as he shook his head in disappointment.
“How the fuck could you?” he asked, his lip wobbling, his voice breaking, and tears streaming.
Damien took a deep breath. “I can ex—“
“NO,” Sam cut him off, a sharp edge to his tone I could never summon in that state. “You better not fucking finish that sentence or I swear I will shoot you more times then you can count.”
And that was when I noticed the revolver in his hand. I guess I had dropped both of them as soon as Damien’s brother died.
“Sam,” I begged, my own voice cracking as I glanced back down at the immense loss of blood. “I need help.”
As he glanced at the blood pooling on the floor, and at the blood squirting through my hands, he realized the reality of the situation and quickly stood up in what we called his “beta stance.” Rapidly he dried his tears on the back of his hands, tossed the revolver as far away from Damien as he could, then proceeded to rip off his t-shirt and toss it at me, demanding me to wrap it around his neck.
I did so, with shaking hands, as Sam hurried up to us, grabbing Mase from my lap as soon as I finished and slung him over his shoulder.
“CAREFULLY!” I scolded him, one hand on Mason’s back as I followed Sam through the steel doors, making sure to grab the revolvers on the way out.
“SAMMY, WAIT!” Damien called after us, stopping Sam in his tracks. Slowly, with time Mason didn’t have, Sam turned around stone-faced and gave him the deathliest glare I had even seen.
“Don’t you EVER fucking call me that EVER again or I swear to god I will kill you. I will kill you and I will enjoy every fucking second of it.”
And without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, a steady grip on Mase as he wound his way through the rustic hallways and out the steel sliding warehouse door to his car with me on the backs of his shoes.
“Get in,” Sam ordered, and I did. I slid into the backseat quickly before Sam laid Mason down so his head was resting in my lap as I sat with my back against the door. I watched as Sam jumped the hood of the car, landing perfectly on the driver’s side, not wasting a moment before he floored the engine, leaving Damien and skidmarks behind us.
I took a deep breath in before looking down at how much more blood Mason had lost in the last minute. It was everywhere. I was covered in it.
“Holy shit Mase,” it was everywhere. All I saw was red and my beautiful best friend covered in it as it suddenly started coming, not only out of his neck, but out of his nose, and his mouth as well.
“SAAAM,” I screamed, my heart pumping so fast the only thing I could do was scream. “Blood,” I wheezed. “Everywhere.”
“I’M DRIVING AS FAST AS I CAN!”
“FUCK,” I swore, Mason’s coughs of DNA spraying all over the back seat. I took a deep breath in and began stroking the sides of his face, fisting his hair, rocking him back and forth with what limited space I had.
“It’s okay, It’s okay, It’s okay,” I chanted, more for myself then for him. With the amount of blood outside of his body, the harsh reality of the situation was setting in to my brain.
“Shh, Mase, shh, it’s okay Mason, god Mase! FUCK SAM DRIVE FASTER! Masey I’m here, okay? I’m right here Mason, ohhhh my god BLOODS COMING OUT OF HIS EARS SAM I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL FUCKING TAKE THE WHEEL IF YOU DON’T DRIVE ANY FASTER I SWEAR HE’S GONNA DIE—“
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! HE’S GOING TO BE FINE JUST SHUT THE HELL UP IM DOING 80 IN A FUCKING 25!”
“He’s gonna die, he’s gonna die, bloody fucking hell he’s dying! Oh my god Sam he’s dying, he’s dying and we haven’t had sex yet! We haven’t… MASON PULL IT TOGETHER SO WE CAN FUCK! HOLD ON JUST A LITTLE BIT PLEASE MASON, PLEASE!”
“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”
“Masey please, please, please, please Mason. Please, please, please, please. I’ll do anything. I’LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE!”
“I SAID SHUT UP!”
“HE’S DYING, MOTHERFUCKER THERE’S SO MUCH BLOOD, oh my god Mase hold on, please baby, please Mason! Please!”
“WE’RE HERE, LET’S GET HIM OUT!”
I could barely even register what he was saying I was crying so hard. He opened the door I was leaning against and I tumbled out and hit the pavement but I didn’t even feel it. I got up and sprinted alongside Sam who was piggy-backing Mason, gripping his hand and brushing away tears as Sam shouted desperately for help.
“SOMEBODY HELP US! WE NEED HELP, SOMEBODY PLEASE!” Sam was screaming as he ran towards the pack house clinic, people now opening doors and peaking heads out of windows to see what the noise was all about. One of them was the pack’s head doctor who had come sprinting out of the clinic, only to skid to a stop and gape at us.
He craned his neck and turned back to where he came from, yelling: “WE’RE GONNA NEED A STRETCHER, PEOPLE!”
And barely even a second later did three nurses come jogging out with one. With a big gust of air, Sam placed Mason down on it, then began rubbing his eyes, tears spilling out everywhere as he choked up wails.
I watched Mase as he laid sprawled out on the stretcher, Sam bawling, Mason barely conscious as a nurse shot him with something before the entire team began to retreat back inside.
I had been temporarily frozen, not even able to cry as they examined him, shot him up with some drug or another, trying to determine if he was fixable. But when they started to take him away from me, I snapped right back.
“OH HELL NO, MASE I’M COMING!” I fisted my way past the crowd of people, rightfully shoving my way through men women and children who had now gathered in front of the hospital doors. “Move!”
A woman in a clinic uniform pressed her hands against my chest, temporarily halting my quest. “Sir, you’re not allowed in there right now.”
“Like bloody hell I’m not allowed in there! That’s my fucking BOYFRIEND!”
That was the first time I had ever called Mason my boyfriend and a sudden realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was about to lose the man I loved.
“SO GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!”
I didn’t even care that she fell ass-first on the ground. All I cared about was Mason. His name circled and circled my mind as I fought my way through the doors and down the hallway to the circulation desk, my heart beating rapidly and my chest heaving, everything around me spinning.
“Mason Steele,” I gasped to the secretary. “Where is he? I need him, I need to be there, please.”
The curly haired gray woman bit her lip and launched into a speech about protocol, but I was not fucking having it.
“Lady I could give two shits about your goddamn protocol. My boyfriend is about to die and you’re fucking lecturing me on protocol?! JUST LET ME IN HIS GOD DAMNED ROOM BEFORE—“
“OKAY! Okay, follow me,” she responded, beginning to jog down the hallway to one of our operating rooms on the end. She pushed open the swinging doors for me and I skidded to a stop before I crashed into Mason’s table. There were four doctors in uniform—something almost completely unheard of for werewolves. Our procedures were very informal and relaxed on account of the fact we could heal ourselves. My eyes scanned the room, the four of them becoming scrubbed blurs of fast moving objects as my mind spun, my body frozen in time. Everything around me was moving and it was moving fast. Bursts of short phrases entered my ears, but I was too paralyzed to react.
“Let’s go people.”
“… Infused with wolfs bane.”
“Poisonous.”
“Heart rate dropping.”
“Let’s get the paddles.”
They were all surrounding him, touching him and groping him like I was only a figment of their imagination. But when Mason eyes groggily pulled themselves open, my name escaping his soft lips, they knew that I wasn’t.
“Mase,” I whispered, then drove myself forward with all my might, latching my hand on to his and burying my face into the gross blue plastic they had on his chest as tears stung my face as I chanted his name over and over again until my throat was sore.
“Someone get this kid out of here!” one of them said pointing at my collapsed body on their patient.
“Let’s go kid,” another said, grabbing at my bicep forcefully. I wrenched myself out of her grip and squeezed Mason’s hand harder, sending a sharp growl her way.
“You’re gong wish you hadn’t done that, kid,” and with that, four more men were grabbing and pulling and yanking on me as I desperately tried to hold on to the one piece of Mason I had.
“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME, LET GO YOU BLOODY WANKERS THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND!” I screeched, kicking and jerking myself out of their grip hopelessly as they pulled me further and further away him.
“MASON, MASON PLEASE!”
“Will someone sedate that boy already?!”
“NO, MASEY, MASON PLEASE, MASON, THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND! YOU CAN’T FUCKING TAKE ME AWAY FROM HIM THAT’S MY BEST BLOODY FRIEND, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME! I said LET GO!” and with the driving force of my elbow I drove my arm back into one of their noses, releasing the vice like grip on the right half of my upper body. My heart beating controllably, sweat dripping into every corner of the pajamas I still had on, I burst through the brick wall of doctors to see my baby again. Mason’s chest was bare and his eyes had rolled back in his head and the foreign people surrounded him, scratching and stitching and mauling him.
“Mase,” I breathed out significantly more drowsy then I was a second ago.
“CLEAR!”
The last thing I saw was two defibrillator paddles striking Mason’s heart as his listless body jolted upwards begging for life.
And then everything was black.
~~
Holy gosh.
i'm sorry for the length but i couldnt leave you with a cliffhanger i just couldnt.
I HAVE TO GO TO WORK XOOXOXOXO I LOVE EVERYRONE