Chapter 162 His last will
Chapter 162 His last will
What happened next occurred in a terrifying, kinetic blur of motion that completely defied the physical limitations of the old enforcer’s age.
Gideon did not step back from the glass. Instead, his body didn't pivot,it exploded.
With the legendary, supernatural speed that had made him the Head Executioner of the North, Gideon turned on his heel. His massive arm cut through the air like a silver sickle.
Before Rayder could even register the shift in the pack link, before the Southern Alpha's instincts could trigger his defensive posture, Gideon's hand slammed into Rayder’s shoulder with concussive, bone-shattering force.
The impact did not break the Alpha, but it broke his balance for a fraction of a millisecond.
In that single, microscopic window of time, Gideon’s other hand shot forward, his fingers hooking beneath the straps of the tactical carrier on Rayder’s chest. With a clean, terrifyingly efficient twist of his wrist, he snapped the high-tensile carbon buckles.
Winter was lifted out of the carrier before the boy could even scream.
"Gideon!" Rayder roared, his voice a subterranean explosion that shattered the glass lighting panels along the corridor ceiling, plunging the sub-level into a dim, terrifying red emergency glare.
The Alpha’s body expanded instantly, his silver-furred claws slashing forward to reclaim his son,but Gideon was already gone.
The old enforcer did not run toward the elevator. He didn't run toward the stairs. He lunged directly toward the open threshold of Cell 01.
Elias had bypassed the security field to allow the audio integration, and before the human's fingers could slam the emergency manual override switch, Gideon’s shoulder hit the heavy steel door. He didn't lock it behind him; he threw the door wide open and hurled the toddler directly into the emaciated, waiting arms of Thorne.
"No!" I screamed, my hand flying to the grip of my carbine, but the close-quarters geometry of the concrete corridor made a clean shot completely impossible.
By the time Rayder’s massive wolf form cleared the threshold of the cell, the trap had already closed.
Thorne sat on the concrete bench, his withered legs anchoring him, but his upper torso was alive with a manic, terrifying strength.
His skeletal arms were wrapped tightly around Winter’s small chest, pinning the toddler against his rotted ribs. And in his right hand,extracted from a hidden seam within the filthy, dried-yolk rags of his sleeve,was a jagged, three-inch shard of reinforced silver glass, its edge pressed directly against the soft, pulsing skin of the boy's throat.
Winter began to cry, a sharp, terrified wail that pierced the silence of the concrete tomb like a needle. He kicked his small legs frantically against Thorne’s chest, his tiny hands reaching out through the open door toward Rayder and me.
"Mama!" the boy sobbed, his golden eyes wide with an absolute, primitive terror as the sharp edge of the silver glass nicked his skin, drawing a tiny, bead-like drop of bright crimson blood. "Papa! Carry me! Carry me!"
"Stand down, Alpha!" Thorne screamed, his voice rising to a high, hysterical screech that echoed off the concrete ceiling.
He dug the silver shard a fraction of an inch deeper into the boy's throat. "One step! One single movement from your massive paws, and I will open his throat from ear to ear! I will paint this beautiful modern floor in the last drop of your line's future!"
Rayder froze mid-stride, his nine-foot wolf frame trembling with a violent, terrifying restraint. His claws dug into the concrete floorboards, carving deep, rough grooves into the surface as he forced his predatory instincts to a screeching halt. His golden eyes were wide, flashing with a mixture of raw, homicidal fury and absolute, paralyzing terror for his son.
Beside him, Amelia stood near the wall, her body coiled like a spring, her hand shielding Sapphire’s face as the infant began to whimpering from the sudden explosion of cortisol in the air.
Gideon stood in the corner of the cell, his hands dropping back to his sides, his face completely empty of emotion. He looked like a statue of an executioner that had been left out in the rain to rust.
BANG.
The sound was a deafening, metallic crack that didn't belong to the world of wolves.
It was a clean, human firearm report.
Before anyone in the room could formulate a tactical plan, before Thorne could even adjust his grip on the silver shard, Justin had stepped into the center of the cell threshold. His tactical glasses were steady, his arms extended in a perfect, competitive-grade human firing stance.
His standard-issue sidearm was smoking.
The nine-millimeter round had taken Gideon directly between the shoulder blades, shattering his upper spine and tearing through his heart with surgical precision.
The old enforcer didn't scream. He didn't look surprised. He simply let out a long, soft sigh, his knees buckling beneath his massive frame as he collapsed forward onto the concrete floor, his blood pooling rapidly around his slate-grey tunic.
He lay motionless in the corner, his eyes open, staring blankly at the polished marble partition he had spent his life defending.
The silence that followed the gunshot was absolute, broken only by the frantic, terrified sobbing of Winter and the low, heavy breathing of the adults.
Thorne did not flinch when Gideon hit the floor. Instead, as the blood from his cousin’s corpse began to reach the edge of his bench, the ex-Alpha let out a sudden, high-pitched, manic laugh that filled the concrete tomb with a horrific, theatrical glee.
"Beautiful!" Thorne screamed, his single eye rolling back in his head as he pulled Winter tighter against his chest, the silver shard remaining steady against the boy's throat.
"Oh, look at the modern heroes! Look at the gentle, peaceful democrats! You didn't even give him a trial, Justin! You didn't call his human law enforcers! You just put a piece of iron through his heart like a common butcher!"
"Shut your mouth, Thorne," Justin hissed, his gun remaining locked on Thorne’s forehead, his arms steady though his face was pale as death. "I have fourteen rounds left in this magazine. If that shard moves one millimeter, I will turn your skull into a permanent piece of wall art. Release the boy."
"Release him?" Thorne mocked, his cackle dropping into a dark, venomous purr as he looked down at Gideon’s body. "You think this was a betrayal, Selene? You think my beautiful cousin turned on you because he believed in my crown?"
I stepped into the cell, my hands held open, my carbine slung uselessly across my back. My eyes were fixed entirely on Winter's crying face, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces with every sob that escaped my son’s lips. "Why did he do it, Thorne? Why would he give you the boy?"
"Because he wanted to die, you stupid girl!" Thorne roared, his voice cracking with a manic triumph. "He told me in my ear! He whispered it through the grill! He looked at you every single day in your human sorcery of a home,he looked at the daughter of Marcus and Elena Thatcher and every time he saw your face, the skin on his arms burned! He was the one who signed the warrants, Selene! He wouldn't live with the guilt a day longer.”
Thorne leaned forward, his yellow teeth bared as he spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm onto the floor.