No Remorse (23 page)

Everything seemed to be going as planned and the boys were safe. When Blake and Amber returned, Adam remained in the shadows at the rear of the house while Blake and Marcello approached the front, allowing their scents to carry to those inside. In her mist form, Amber floated silently behind them. When they came around the corner the front door was jerked open. The old man stood inside the doorway with a rifle aimed at Blake.

“I can shoot you where you stand, Edwards,” hatred laced his voice, “You are trespassing on my lands.”

Marcello stepped in front of Blake. “You would have to kill me first, father.” He said the last word with contempt in his voice. Marcello was daring the man to shoot him.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

“Don't push your luck, boy!” the old man yelled, his face turning red in anger, “get your ass over here and quit playing these foolish games.”

Blake stepped out from behind Marcello. “You are holding a woman against her will. A human woman. We don’t involve humans in our battles,” Blake reminded him coldly.

Marcello tried to step back in front of his leader to protect him, but Blake would not have it and told him.
I appreciate your loyalty Marc, but I am not hiding behind you like a coward.

Marcello inclined his head slightly and remained where he was, behind Blake.

“You brought this on yourself, Edwards,” the old man growled hatefully, cutting his eyes from Blake, then back to the boy he had raised. “Return to the pack, Marcello, or his death will be on your hands.”

“Old man, there will be no death tonight. Your reign of tyranny comes to an end right here, right now,” Marcello growled his hands clenched in huge fists at his side.

Marc, you sure you want to do this?
Blake asked him in surprise.

I won’t have any more useless deaths.
Marcello responded, without flinching.

As you wish.
Blake responded in kind.

Blake? What’s happening?
Amber asked him quietly.

Marc is challenging for leadership of the Bloodsworth pack,
Blake informed her flatly.

Amber felt the tension emanating from the three men. The Bloodsworth pack members who had been inside the house felt it too and began streaming out the door when they heard the challenge.

This was not the plan.
Amber told them anxiously.
Doesn't challenge mean death to the loser?

What is done is done,
Marcello told her in a deadly calm voice.

Amber, go in and get the woman out.
Blake directed her as she resumed her human form and stood at the side of the house staring at them in fear. No one in the group paid her any attention, other than Blake who shook his head at her thought of surrounding the old man and knocking him out.
We can’t get involved now. Marcello has to handle this.

She had never seen a challenge, but knew that it could be very bloody and stared, worried for Marcello.

Amber, the woman,
Blake reminded her gently as he read her mind.
At his insistent reminder, she immediately dissolved again and made her way silently into the house.

There was a young werewolf guarding the human woman, resting with his arms crossed over his chest, one leg tossed carelessly over the other. Like the old man,
the young pup appeared to not
be expecting any trouble. She was puzzled at the lack of security. Clearly, the old man did not have a h
andle on how to protect its pack
from being invaded. A
mber silently slipped behind his still form
and enveloped him.

Startled, he jumped when his vision blurred and everything suddenly went black. He could see nothing, hear nothing. Amber allowed her molecules to invade his mind. The young wolf slumped against the chair into unconsciousness. Amber leaned him forward, resting his head on the table to keep him from falling out of the chair.

The woman was facing the doorway and didn’t see Amber quickly re-materialize behind the comatose wolf. Tapping her fingers lightly on the table to get the woman’s attention, Amber watched the door anxiously. The woman whipped her head around at the slight noise and Amber motioned for her to follow. The woman looked from the man’s head on the table, at Amber, then over her shoulder. Without hesitation, the woman jumped from her chair and ran towards Amber.

Adam met them at the back door.
Take her quickly to her husband,
Amber ordered before turning and running back towards the front yard. She heard the motors off in the distance that raced towards the house.

Adam took the woman by the arm and hurried her deeper into the woods, where two men waited on ATV’S. Helping the woman onto the back, Adam instructed her to hold on to Jonathan and not let go no matter what. Once they took off and were out of site, Adam turned and hurried as fast as his cracked ribs allowed, towards the old farmhouse, to where the real action was about to begin.

Everyone in the front yard heard the sounds of the four wheelers engines starting off in the distance, and as they sped off into the night, but paid them no heed. They watched anxiously for the long awaited fight between the JD Bloodsworth and Marcello.

Marcello stood with his legs slightly apart, looking relaxed, but ready for whatever the old man planned to do. JD stood on the porch with the gun
was
aimed towards Marcello’s chest rather than at Blake.

“You would really choose that mutt pack over your own flesh and blood?” Bloodsworth demanded, glaring at Marcello.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

“Any day,” Marcello responded immediately. “The world has changed. There are ways for us to cope with our changes without involving humans. They are not cattle and should not be slaughtered as such. To kidnap a human woman and her child is completely unacceptable. I expected more, even from you.”

“Don't talk down to me boy!” He lifted the rifle higher.

Blake was watching the trigger finger on the gun and knew that JD was reluctant to shoot Marcello. The old man couldn’t back down though, Marcello had called him out. If he backed down now, he may as well turn tail and run. Blake watched Bloodsworth’s finger begin moving from the side of the gun where he had placed it. The finger was sliding towards the trigger.

Before anyone realized what was happening, Blak
e was in motion. He leaped,
and in one bound landed on the porch that was a good six feet off the ground. Landing silently beside the old man, he knocked the gun up and away as his finger pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide, landing somewhere in the trees beyond the yard.

Bloodsworth lost his grip on the rifle and it flew off the porch when Blake shoved him away. JD was fast though, quickly regaining his balance, turning on Blake. His eyes were swirling with unreleased frustration while he stood snarling at Blake.

“You are not al
lowed to be a part of this!”
JD spat out in anger, sidestepping towards the edge of the porch while glaring at Blake.

Blake shifted with him, but made sure to keep the entire Bloodsworth pack in his view as they gathered just outside the front door.

“The rules are only convenient when it suits you, Bloodsworth. I am evening the odds. You don't bring a gun to a wolf fight,” Blake told him, standing his ground.

The old man began swearing and jumped, landing hard in a crouching position on the ground a few feet in front of Marcello.

Amber rounded the corner in time to see the old man lunge at Marcello, snarling, with his canines snapping. She watched Blake's large frame land lightly on the ground and made his way cautiously to where she stood. He kept an eye on the men on the porch; they appeared to be respecting pack law, staying on the porch and not getting involved.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Is the woman safe?
Blake asked her, worriedly watching his friend and pack mate.

Yes, she’s safe, on the four wheelers heading back to Zach now.
She said absently; too busy watching the men circling each other in the yard.
Blake, is this a good idea?
She was concerned for Marcello.

The thought that she was worried made him happy,
she cared for the member of their
pack, yet it also raised his wolf's head in a bit of jealousy. He pushed for his wolf to be quiet and continued communicating with her.

He made the challenge. If he doesn’t go through with this, he will be dishonored.

Movement in the front yard drew their attention and they remained quiet, watching what was happening in front of them.

The old man was fast, darting repeatedly at Marcello, his lighter frame allowing him to move swiftly. But he was not quick enough when throwing punches, Marcello blocked each blow, knocking it aside as if swatting at a nagging fly, side stepping the lunges.

Amber was amazed at how Marcello moved, his hulking frame twisting and turning his body, like he was a ninety-pound ballerina instead of two hundred fifty pounds of rock solid muscles.

Amber had seen men fighting, but had never watched a male werewolf fighting another. If she hadn’t had the keen werewolf's vision, she would have not been able to watch the fight, the men moved in almost a blur of motion.

The fight was not over quickly. The old man had more stamina than Marcello had given him credit for. So he continued to avoid the blows that his stepfather kept throwing at him. Never once did Marcello strike, only blocking and moving out of the way.

Why's he not fighting back?
Amber frowned, turning to Blake.

He doesn't want to hurt the bastard. Wearing him down,
Blake mumbled in response. His wolf wanted him to take Bloodsworth out and have it be over with, but he didn’t allow his wolf to emerge.

I thought this was a fight to the death?
Amber continued to ask questions when nothing was really happening. Since she had never been part of a pack like this, she didn't know the rules of engagement. .

In the past, this would have been true. But, like Marcello said, the world has changed and there are better ways of handling things. Unless Bloodsworth forces him to, Marcello won't kill him.

Marcello sidestepped another punch that was aimed at his face. He sensed the old man weakening from his continued, but failed efforts. Using his own momentum against him, Marcello pushed his arm away, twisted and spun the man around and grabbed him from behind in a bear hug. Marcello towered over Bloodsworth by a good nine inches. Bloodsworth flailed like a fish out of water while Marcello's massive arms squeezed him enough to keep from escaping.

“I could break you in half if I wanted to, old man,” Marcello told him softly, but in a deadly voice. “Don't force me to kill you.”

Bloodsworth was humiliated, out of breath and red faced, but he stopped struggling. Even though he was defeated and still locked in Marcello's arms, he continued ranting.

“You may be strong as an ox, but you are weak in mind, boy!” He snarled between clenched teeth, taunting Marcello.

“I'm not the own who is weak,” Marcello knew he shouldn't have responded to the insult, but did anyway. “Strength comes with being able to change. You are not capable of seeing the world as it has evolved. I will not kill you unless you force me to. But you are to gather your belongings and leave. If you don't, I
will
hunt you down.” Marcello loosened his arms, but did not quite let go, in anticipation of Bloodsworth continuing to fight.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T
his property is mine. I earned it marrying that sorry bitch you call a mother and raising your sorry ass,” Bloodsworth exclaimed rudely.

Marcello was finally pissed. Insult him all you want, but leave his mother out of it. “Never read the will did you?” Marcello snarled, enjoying the startled look on Bloodsworth's face. “That's right; you were too stupid to learn to read! The land, the house and all the money my mother saved will never be touched by your filthy hands. My mother had her will revised when I left for Iraq, and was very specific. Remember that paper you put your x on when you joined my mother?”

At Bloodsworth's frown, Marcello continued, “You signed a pre-nup. My mother’s father insisted on it, listing everything you brought into the bond. Even though my grandfather didn’t agree with it, she generously added the things she bought you throughout the years. Not out of respect, but out of guilt for never loving you. You and your sons have your belongings.”

Marcello let that sink in for a few seconds, looking at his younger brother standing on the porch, then over to his older stepbrothers who were staring at him in disbelief. There had never been any love lost for his stepbrothers; they weren't as bad as their father, but they had no backbone. They should have been working with him, trying to straighten things out. Instead they supported their father’s drunken, out of control behavior.