Chapter 279 The Beta's Burden
Jax stood perfectly still at the gaping, rusted maw of the subterranean bunker, the freezing mountain wind whipping violently through his hair as he watched Fennigan’s massive silhouette completely disappear into the unforgiving tree line.
The heavy, suffocating silence left in the Alpha King's wake was deafening. The sharp, metallic stench of Damon's synthetic blood and the bitter, acrid tang of gunpowder from Jax's own weapon still hung thick in the bitter air, a visceral reminder of the apocalyptic execution that had just taken place below their boots.
Jax forced his glowing, golden eyes to tear away from the shadows of the forest. He slowly turned his head, his exhausted but fiercely authoritative gaze locking onto Marcus.
The Head Warrior was already on his feet, his massive frame completely coiled and ready for his Beta's command.
"Fill the hole," Jax rasped. His deep, gravelly voice was entirely stripped of emotion, leaving behind only a cold, lethal absolute. He gestured dismissively toward the pitch-black tunnel leading down to the medical bay. "Use whatever we have in the armory. Grenades, C4, incendiaries... I don't give a shit. Collapse this entire bunker into dust. Destroy it, and utterly incinerate whatever pieces remain of my father down there."
Marcus physically froze. The absolute certainty of his Beta's command clashed violently with known history. The massive Lycan stared at Jax, his heavily scarred brow deeply furrowing in pure confusion.
"Your father?" Marcus rumbled, his deep voice carrying a rare trace of disbelief. "But... he's dead."
Jax slowly looked back at him. The Beta's golden eyes were completely hollowed out, carrying the fresh, traumatic weight of the horrific execution he and his brother had just carried out in the dark.
"Well," Jax replied, his voice a flat, dead gravel. "He is now."
Marcus didn't ask another question. The Head Warrior gave a single, sharp nod, his heavily scarred face instantly turning to unyielding stone. He didn't waste a second, his eyes glazing over slightly as he immediately opened a tactical mind-link to his second-in-command, Xander, barking the absolute orders to mobilize the demolition squad and bring the heaviest ordnance they had to the coordinates.
As Marcus coordinated the strike, Jax’s heavy gaze shifted downward.
The Weaver was still huddled in the churned, freezing mud. The human hacker was violently trembling, his face the color of dirty snow, looking absolutely ready to soil his pants after witnessing the sheer, feral brutality of the Blackwood royals. He looked like a fragile, terrified ghost entirely out of his depth.
"But first," Jax sighed, heavily rubbing a blood-stained hand over his exhausted face. "Get him the hell out of here before he freezes to death or has a heart attack."
Marcus cut the mind-link and stepped forward. Without a single word of warning, the towering Lycan warrior unceremoniously hauled the trembling human up by the scruff of his heavy jacket and effortlessly tossed him over one massive shoulder like a sack of flour. With his free hand, Marcus casually snatched up the Weaver's heavy, reinforced duffel bags full of encrypted tech equipment, lifting the staggering weight as if it were absolutely nothing.
With the bunker securely handed over for complete demolition, Jax finally turned away from the blast doors and looked toward the distant, heavily fortified silhouette of the packhouse.
The crushing, suffocating weight of his title violently settled onto his broad shoulders. As the Beta, it was his sworn duty to hold the entire world together while his Alpha King was falling apart. He had to somehow walk back into that territory and establish a semblance of order. He still had a packhouse currently swarming with visiting Alphas and dignitaries who were undoubtedly growing restless, anxious, and deeply suspicious in the wake of the night's unexplained chaos.
But the brutal politics and diplomacy of the Lycan world could wait a few more minutes.
Right now, the only thing keeping Jax tethered to his own sanity was the desperate, burning, biological need to see his mate. He needed to breathe in Ginny's scent and feel her fragile human heartbeat against his chest just to prove to his wolf that there was still light in the world. He needed to step into the Alpha wing and face the terrified family waiting by the hearth—Elana, Sarah, and Toby—and finally tell them the absolute truth about the nightmare they had just survived.
Jax broke into a heavy, ground-eating run, his massive tactical boots tearing through the snow as he raced his King back to the packhouse.
In the suffocating, sweltering heat of the Alpha wing nursery, the absolute terror that had gripped the room finally, miraculously, began to break.
Toby and Sarah were still sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, enduring the blistering heat of the roaring stone fireplace, when the shift happened. It wasn't gradual; it was a sudden, physical snap in the supernatural ether.
The phantom, bone-deep frost that had been ruthlessly invading the ten-month-old twins violently vanished.
Sarah gasped, her tear-stained face dropping to look at Caspian. The rigid, terrifyingly tight ball the baby had curled himself into suddenly relaxed. The tiny pup let out a soft, normal sigh, his little arms and legs physically uncoiling and stretching out against her chest as the unnatural tension completely drained from his muscles.
Beside her, Toby let out a heavy, shuddering breath. He looked down at his massive arms. Little Briar had entirely stopped her violent, erratic shivering. The terrifying, bruised shade of blue that had stained her delicate lips was rapidly fading, replaced by a healthy, warm flush of pink as her natural Lycan circulation roared back to life.
The phantom chill of the bunker was gone.
"Toby..." Sarah whispered, her voice cracking with an overwhelming, desperate surge of hope. She hurriedly touched the back of her hand to Caspian's forehead. Underneath the three thick layers of heavy wool and cedar-scented down, the baby's skin was no longer like ice. He was burning up, finally reacting normally to the blistering heat of the massive fire Toby had built. "They're sweating."
The elite guard closed his eyes, his heavy jaw trembling for a fraction of a second before he locked it down. He let out a low, deeply resonant rumble from his chest—a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. The Alpha King had done it. Fennigan had shattered whatever nightmare was holding their Queen in the dark.
"Let's get these off them," Toby rumbled gently, his calloused hands moving with surprising tenderness as he quickly began peeling the heavy layers of quilts off Briar's overheated little body.
Sarah frantically mirrored his movements, unswaddling Caspian until both toddlers were free of their heavy wool cocoons. Toby reached behind him, pulling a single, soft fleece blanket from the sofa, and carefully spread it out flat on the rug directly between him and his mate.
With profound reverence, Sarah gently laid Caspian down onto the fleece. Toby leaned over and softly placed Briar right beside her brother.