Chapter 40: Nick Comes Back – Harder & More Deadly
Wind off the night seared Sam's lungs as he stumbled from the factory's fire, Lisa trembling in his arm, Jake's breath—"You never will"—still searing his ears. The bond pulsed, a dim but insistent pull, a rope he could not let go even as the adrenaline high receded. Jake walked beside him, golden eyes scanning the shadows, his hand on Sam's elbow still hanging on from the rescue. Lisa's shallow breathing, bruised face pale, and Sam's chest thudding—relief that she'd survived struggling with the chaos of Jake's words and the blood still crusting his hands.
"We have to get her somewhere safe," Sam said to him, his voice rough, regarding Jake. "Rufus—his apartment. Now.".
Jake nodded, his jaw clamped shut, the connection synchronizing their desperation despite the tension. "Truck's close. Run." He paced ahead, long and purposeful strides, and Sam ran behind him, supporting Lisa, her weight a reminder of what he'd almost lost—again. The factory's blaze lit the sky behind them, a signal for anyone chasing, and Sam's claws stood on end, the wolf agitated under his skin.
They moved toward the truck, Jake yanking open the door, when a low growl pulsed in the shadows—a noise too low, too feral to be uttered by a man. Sam froze, shoving Lisa behind him, his gaze darting to the alleyway entrance. Jake tensed, claws glinting, the bond flaring with a shared urge—risk, close and real.
Figures materialized—five, then seven—hooded, moving with the quiet stealth of a predator, their eyes black gleaming in the light of the fire. Sam's stomach dropped as the leader stepped forward, hood dropping away to reveal a scarred face he'd never be able to forget—Nick, alive, his sneer sharper, crueller than before. His eyes were fully black, no whites to them, no humanity, an emptiness that consumed the light, and his body was wider, muscles coiled with a strength that hadn't been there in the alley.
“Miss me, little wolf?” Nick’s voice was a rasp, deeper, laced with something dark, amused. He flexed his hands, claws longer than Sam’s, gleaming like obsidian. “You’re not the only one with power, Sam.”
Sam’s breath hitched, the memory of Nick’s death—claws sinking into his chest, blood pooling—clashing with the reality before him. “I killed you,” he said, voice trembling, stepping back, Lisa clutching his arm. “You were dead.”
Nick laughed, a splintering sound that echoed off the warehouses. "Dead? No chance—just born again. You gave me a gift, Sam—opened me up and the Cobras stitched me back together again stronger."
He rested his head, black eyes glinting. "Better."
Jake snarled, moving in, claws out. "You're a dead man walking—stay back, or I finish what he started."
Nick's grin grew, unfazed, and he raised a hand. The other figures emerged—werewolves, their bodies stepping into transformation, fur on end, claws slicing through the air. But not right—roaring and out of control, crazier than Sam or Jake, movements stiff, eyes black holes like Nick's. One sprang, faster than thought, and Jake deflected it, claws tearing into its side, blood spouting dark and thick. Another charged Sam, and he shoved Lisa towards the truck, jumping away as its claws shredded the air where he had just stood.
Get her in!" Jake shouted, struggling with his attacker, hurling it to the ground with a thud. Sam yanked Lisa into the cab of the truck, slamming the door, then turned back, claws out, facing a third werewolf. Its strength was wild, knocking him back, but Sam's wolf burst forth—feral, instinctive—and he tore its throat, blood gushing as it crumpled.
Nick braced arms across his chest, a grin spreading as the Cobras' new strength tore across the darkness. "Like 'em?" he bellowed, voice cutting through the chaos. "Took a lesson from your book, Sam—found some previous blood, squeezed it around. They're like you—only hungrier.".
Sam's chest heaved, the connection singing in Jake's head as they fought back-to-back again, a rhythm that couldn't be abandoned. Jake ripped the arm off one of the werewolves and slammed it to the side, Sam knocking another to the ground, claws digging into its chest, a mirror to Nick's death—this one not staying down, stumbling upright, unblinking black eyes. "What the hell are they?" Sam bellowed, dodging a strike, his leg burning with the factory beam.
“Upgrades,” Nick said, stepping closer, untouched by the fray. “Cobras don’t mess around—found a ritual, some dark shit. You’re not special anymore, little wolf. Just the first.”
Jake snarled, attacking Nick, but two werewolves intervened, slapping him back, claws ripping his chest. Blood foamed up, and Sam's bond flared—Jake's pain bleeding into him—but he was unable to reach him, held by another feral beast, its claws digging into his side. He bellowed, shoving it off, ripping its face, and it fell, twitching but alive, a monster that would not die.
Nick advanced, slow and deliberate, his black eyes locked on Sam. “You thought you’d run off with your boyfriend, break that bond, leave Jake in the dust?” He laughed, claws flexing. “Doesn’t matter now—we’re not just enemies anymore. We’re the same.”
Sam stood back, gasping, Nick's words to the gut. The same—feral, bloody, a strength he couldn't control. His hands shook, Nick's death replaying—claws in, the rush—and now Nick stood, stronger, a dark mirror. The bond pulsed, Jake's snarl a lifeline as he shook off the attackers, stumbling to Sam's side, blood running.
Leave him alone," Jake snarled, throat raw, standing between Sam and Nick, paws flexed. But the grin on Nick's face didn't falter, black eyes flashing a warning—there's more, there's more where he came from.