Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 206

Chapter 206

Nicolai

I’m certain I’ve found the right room. The one where my mate and the love of my life is being held as a pawn in a game she never signed up for. My mind is trying to drag me down the path of despair, force me to think about what I might find behind the locked door. But I don’t have time for that right now.

Without deciding to do so, I’ve already pulled out the key-the type our intelligence identified these doors use He better fucking be right!

To my relief, the door swings open. But it wasn’t my key that opened it. The door was already unlocked.

I don’t have time to think about why. Because she’s there. On the floor, hands behind her back, working at something with focused intensity-and then she sees me and the expression on her face is relief and fury and something else that I file for later because there’s no time now.

Her wrists. I see them for one second before I look away, because I need to be functional and what I see on her

wrists will interfere with functional if I let it.

I get to her in three steps. “I’m here.” I’m not sure why that’s what I say considering it’s obvious.

“I know.” Her voice is cracked and raw. “Where’s Jaxon?”

“Coming.” I say confidently, though I’m feeling anything but. That won’t help her right now.

I get the restraints off. The knots are tight-someone re-tied these recently, I can tell from the multiple bruises on her wrists. I work through them in seconds and help her up, moving us both towards the door while she tests her legs and finds her footing.

Her scent is overpowering in the enclosed space. I’ve been trying to breathe through my mouth since I hit the stairs, the urgency of the situation helping, minimally, to calm the raging need her heat stirs in me. It does nothing to stop my dick from trying to punch through my zipper unfortunately.

My wolf responds before my mind does-the immediate, involuntary recognition of my mate in heat, the surge of instinct that has nothing to do with the situation we’re in. It’s his sole purpose, to help his mate and, in his mind, we’re failing.

I grit my teeth and breathe through it.

“Can you move on your own?” I ask as I’m dragging her through the door.

“Yes.” Her tone is firm, certain.

“Are you injured?” I can’t help the need to know.

Her eyes flick away for a half-second. “Nothing that will slow us down.”

“Good enough.” I nod sharply. “The plan is currently improvised.”

Something almost like a smile. “Can you run?” She challenges.

“I was going to ask you that.” I return her smirk.

“Yes,” she says, taking my hand. “Let’s go.”

We make it back to the stairs before we encounter our next obstacle. Four men at the top, about to make their way down.

1/3

I count them in the half-second before they see us-four, positioned well, the specific stance of men who have been told to hold a position rather than engage. They have no intention of letting us through.

Behind them, the sound of more. The corridor above has been secured. The northwest exit is blocked-I can hear Mikhail’s team engaging on the exterior, which means the perimeter has been breached and the extraction point is no longer clean.

Jaxon’s voice in my earpiece-cutting in and out.

“-eastern side-“Static. “-compromised-” More static. “-two down but-” Signal cuts. Silence. Then: ” working on-” Gone.

The signal is dying. The property is using something to interfere-someting I should have anticipated. I didn’t. We’re below ground and they’ve activated whatever suppression they use and I’ve lost all contact with my team

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Roars through my head but I don’t let Skye hear.

Four men at the top of the stairs. Skye behind me. No clean exit visible. And no way to call for help. I go through the remaining options in the three seconds I have before the men at the top decide to stop holding their position. and start moving down.

Northwest exit: compromised. Eastern service entrance: Jaxon last reported it taken. The door we came through: one other direction I haven’t assessed, a corridor running east from the bottom of the stairs that wasn’t on our primary intelligence. The man who talked didn’t mention it. Might be nothing. Might be another exit. Might be a room with no way out.

The four men start down the stairs.

“Woolf,” Skye says quietly behind me.

“I know. I’m thinking.” I whisper back.

“Think faster.” She growls. A sound I’d usually find adorable if we weren’t in our current predicament.

Then Jaxon’s voice comes through again-fractured, breaking up: “Nicolai.” Static. “-found another-“More static.”-coming from the-”

The signal dies. Completely.

Four men, eight steps above me, and they’ve stopped being careful about their descent. Skye’s heat scent in the enclosed space actually seems to be working in our favor, their movements becoming uncoordinated. But it’s not enough.

I only have one viable weapon against all of theirs and no clean exit. I look at the four men. I look at Skye. I look at the corridor running east from the bottom of the stairs-the one not on our blueprints, the one that might be 1 anything.

“Stay behind me,” I instruct.

“Nicolai-” Her voice is shaky, questioning.

“Stay behind me.” I bark this time, an order not to be defied.

I move toward the stairs.

2/3

+15 Bonus