Mated To The Cold Hearted Alpha
Chapter 127

Tommy (our FIRST chapter in Tommy’s POV! Remember: he thinks of Hycinth as Abby and Luca as Whiskey)

Abby’s screams continued…

Whiskey cringed, his shoulders rolling in together. With great effort, he pushed his chest out to straighten his big frame. Pupils blown, his eyes roved sporadically from point-to-point, looking as if his very soul was being jerked from his chest.

But I didn’t have time to comfort him because in the next second, they were running.

And shit, they were fast.

Even with the thick underbrush and hundreds of trees in front of us, they navigated like a sleek machine, barely missing an obstacle before swerving deftly in the opposite direction. Careening masterfully, there was a nimbleness to their movement. It reminded me of something…I wasn’t sure what.

It didn’t take more than a minute for me to fall to the back of the group, but I didn’t mind being the tailend. Still in sight, my position allowed me to study their movements. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but from the moment I first laid eyes on those bastards who kidnapped Abby, I’d known there was something different about them. And every second with them only confirmed my suspicions.

Not to mention the big motherfucker who was clearly in charge. He did something to them back at the house. Somehow, he caused them so much pain that every damn one of them hit to the ground. I’d never seen anything like it. The thought was crazy, but there was no other explanation. He was the only one left standing, so he had to be the one.

I’d even felt a strange pressure in my chest. Obviously nothing compared to what they had experienced, but there had been something. And I wasn’t into self-denial. I hadn’t survived this long as an outlaw biker by ignoring clues right in front of my face, even if none of them made sense.

Abruptly, my attention radically changed focus. Two people were coming from their right fast! From my exterior position, I could see the action clearly.

Where they our reinforcements or part of the jackasses? I’d gotten a look at the rest of Whiskey’s friends if you could call them that back at the house but couldn’t necessarily pick them out of the crowd now. My instincts kicked in. Both of the men’s expressions were curled into snarls. No matter who they were, I recognized that expression. They came to kill.

I withdrew my Glock in one smooth movement just as chaos exploded around me. The lil’ filly, leading the group, spun around to face the attackers, her blonde hair flying in a crazy mess. Whiskey, Samuel and the other three turned as well, I hadn’t learned their names yet, although I was pretty sure which one was Aiden. Collectively, growls and shouts rang out.

Veering hard to the left to keep from running smack dab into the middle of the fray, I fired off a shot without even slowing down. The shot rang true. One of the fuckers cursed loudly as he dropped to the ground, hands clutching his knee. Unfortunately, four more jackasses emerged from the trees and moved in behind them.

F*****g great.

My peripheral vision zeroed in on a thick oak tree I could use for protection. Five more steps and I dove behind it just as bullets ricocheted around me, the thick trunk taking the brunt of the lethal impact.

I wasn’t stupid. I had no desire for hand-to-hand combat if I could avoid it. I’d seen the way they fought when they abducted Whiskey and Abby several months ago.

Dropping low to take advantage of the climbing foliage, I took a quick peek around the tree, looking for a target. I was shocked to see Sydney fight with the best of them. The lil’ filly dove and weaved to avoid their assault. At the same time, her smaller stature allowed her to maneuver faster. And she took full advantage of every inch they gave, throwing punch after punch. Fully engaged now, the mass of bodies in constant motion, it was too difficult to isolate who was who. I waited.

The noise of the fight increased. Guttural and raw. It wasn’t normal. Something about the feral sound caused the hair to raise on the back of my neck and arms.

Several bodies went down and didn’t come back up, three of theirs and two of ours.

B***d pumped through my body at a furious rate, my pulse resounding in my head as I watched for my opportunity.

And then there was a break. Samuel spun his body, planting a roundhouse kick directly in the chest of one of the jackasses, causing him to fly back several feet. It was all I needed. Ready, I eased the trigger. The bullet hit exactly where I wanted it, the side of his head. He fell to the side with a thud.

One of the two remaining jackasses snapped his head in my direction. I smirked. Guess the stupid fuckers forgot about me and my little gun.

He only took one step toward me before his body folded in on itself and he dropped to the ground. Whiskey stood behind him, a bloody eight inch blade in his hand. His eyes were razor-sharp focused but his hand trembled. I knew that feeling, more adrenaline than a body could take. But other than that, he looked to be in one piece.

Changing focus, I looked for the last target but found he was already down as well. Samuel lifted off of him, covered in b***d. I didn’t know how much was his or the jackass. B***d dripping down his chin. Samuel spat more b***d from his mouth.

Stepping out from behind the tree, my attention sharpened on Sydney. She knelt on one knee to support her weight. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Whiskey extended his hand to her. She gripped it tightly as he pulled her to her feet.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she grunted.

She’d said yes, but she definitely hadn’t come out of it unscathed. Stumbling a step forward before catching herself, it looked like she was favoring her right leg.

I inhaled sharply when she turned around. Beyond the obvious hits she had taken, the back of her vest had four evenly spaced slices through the fabric. A knife couldn’t have achieved the evenness of the strokes. There was only one weapon I knew capable of inflicting that particular shape -claws!

As my attention drifted outward, taking in the remaining standing men, all of which had similar shaped wounds, both in their clothing and etched into their skin. Who the hell were these people?

I didn’t have time to dwell on it.