AMIDST THE CATS' CRADLE - 24

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R - - - - M I T C H

Before Mitch could see his children, his brother, or Gwen once more, a full day had passed.

He was being brought along the lengthy halls at The Firm's main office by guys he had worked and served with as his wrists were being shackled behind him. He was boiling with fury.

He continued looking about in hopes of spotting Jordan coming down the opposite direction, but to no avail.

He strained to see through the tiny plastic viewport as he came to a stop at the door leading into the room where Duncan and Dawson were. When he saw Gwen seated between Duncan's and Dawson's beds and Jordan standing behind her with a hand on her shoulder, he took a deep breath and felt himself relax just a little.

One of the guards, a ferret-faced man whose nose Mitch recalled smashing once during training, yelled at him, "Behave, Allen."

Or are you going to call your mother and cry about it?

Mitch questioned with a scowl on his face.

“Maybe. If Ace's my mom, and by 'tear,' you meant 'have you put into the Crypts for a few weeks more,'" the guy continued, releasing Mitch's handcuffs with a grimace that could have been mistaken for a grin.

"Fuck off," Mitch yelled as he pushed through the door, unable to stop himself from breaking the fucker's nose again.

“Mitch! " Gwen said, a smile on her face. From across the room, she leapt up and raced into his arms. "Jordan told me you were alive and well, but I didn't believe it until I saw you," she whispered as she nuzzled into his neck.

Mitch let out a low groan of anguish as she wrapped her arms over his damaged ribs from the explosion's impact. But he pressed her even tighter against his body, clutching her shoulders as he kissed the top of her head, drinking in her delicious aroma.

"Fuck, it's wonderful to see you, sweetie," he grumbled, staying a little too long in the embrace.

Mitch couldn't help but kiss her as she relaxed her grasp on him slightly, tipping up her chin. But this time it was gentle, tender, and cautious. Like she'd shatter if he kissed her too hard... or maybe it was Mitch who was afraid of breaking.

“How are the boys?” he asked as he pulled back, releasing her from his hold.

The shimmer in her eyes told him that it was good news. He looked up at Jordan, finding his brother looking rather pleased with himself as well, nodding at him slightly.

“They’ll pull through,” Jordan said. “We made it in time.”

There was a weight lifted from Mitch’s shoulders, and for the first time in days he felt like he could keep on living. Like he was Atlas and he was holding up the world and now he wasn’t doing it alone anymore. For a while, it had seemed entirely impossible that his existence could continue in any kind of a reasonable, believable way. It was now that he realized that if he’d lost Duncan, Dawson, Jordan, or Gwen, he would have never been the same.

It was even more surprising that he knew now that with them, himself, and Jordan having survived, he had also changed, but it was a positive change. Something that he could grow from, become better and stronger because of.

Funny how pain builds a man instead of breaking him down…

Mitch took Gwen’s hand in his and walked over to Duncan’s and Dawson’s beds, his steps slowing as he saw them. They were both still bandaged, but their arms and legs were now undone. The skin on their faces was pinking up, and though they were still breathing through tubes, their eyes weren’t scooting back and forth behind the lids anymore, signaling a more restful sleep.

Softly, Mitch reached out his hand, touching Duncan’s fingers and he let out a little gasp as the boy caught onto them, his grip surprisingly strong. Well, not surprisingly, actually. He was an Allen after all.

“Fighters,” Gwen said, extending her hand to Jordan and taking it in hers. “Just like their daddies. But do you two want to tell me what the hell’s been going on now or do I need to beat it out of you? Looking at you two, I think I could take you right now.”

Mitch grinned darkly, glancing at Jordan. Ace had allowed them to see their kids and Gwen looked like she hadn’t been in the Crypts with the rest of the squad, so things could definitely be worse. But there was no doubt that they could also be a lot better.

When Mitch opened his mouth to reply to Gwen, a familiar-looking med tech stepped in, carrying a tray of medication and small, dosed shots that would go into Duncan’s and Dawson’s IVs.

“Does anyone know where Tom is? I’d like to see how he’s doing,” Mitch said quietly, nodding to the tech as she scurried past them and began her process of dosing the medication.

“I know where he is. Mellie, will you be here?” Gwen asked, turning to the tech.

“Yes! I will wait with the boys, don’t you worry,” the tech said, looking a lot more cheerful than last time.

“Thank you,” Gwen said, her warm hand slipping into Mitch’s as she tugged both of the Allen twins along with her. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

Mitch gave one more look to the babies before taking the step to move along with Gwen. He didn’t miss the fact that Jordan gave a hard look at the medication on the tray before he was willing to move at all. She led them out of the room and then down the hall. Mitch’s and Jordan’s guards peeled off their spots and followed them as grouchy shadows.

She moved down a few doors and peeked in through the viewport before letting go of Mitch’s and Jordan’s hands, opening the door for them and inclining her head for them to step in. Mitch hated having her let go of him. An irrational voice inside his head was screaming at him to never let her go again. But he had to concede that sometimes they would have to be physically apart. As much as it entirely sucked.Mitch took a breath and walked in first, though he got maybe three steps in before he stopped, staring at the scene rolled out before him. Tom was propped up on a couple of pillows, Tim sitting at his side, with Jerome and Shaun standing. Shaun obviously looked the best out of them because he’d never gotten hit by the blast, and Tom was the one who was roughed up the worst. No surprises there.

The rest of the squad looked a lot like Mitch himself—bruised ribs, slight concussions, burns, cuts, and healing bullet wounds. But at that moment, every single one of them looked like they were seconds from shifting and throwing themselves with all they got at Ace, who was standing in the middle of the room like the fucking Angel of Death.

Ace’s arms were crossed over his chest and it was the closest Mitch had ever seen the man look really fucking angry. His face was a barely concealed mask of fury, the muscles in his cheeks twitching and his brow furrowed. Mitch couldn’t help but grin. He loved pissing that guy off. It seemed to be a bit of a sport with the men of Shifter Squad Six.

“Are we crashing a party?” Mitch asked, sincerely hoping they were.

Gwen closed the door behind them. From the look Ace gave her, Mitch and Jordan were damn near close enough to making the ground beneath their feet open up and gobble them up.

Fuck this guy.

“We were just discussing whether or not I should have all of you shot now or in a few days,” Ace said, the faintest waver in his voice. “You know, to give you a bit of time to think about what you’ve done.”

“No, man, you must have gotten hit in the head with something in Cebu. That’s the only reason that I can see why you’d want to get rid of your best squad,” Mitch snorted with a smirk, walking over to Tom and bumping fists with him. The werewolf looked as pissed off about Ace’s presence as the rest of them, even if he was hopped up on meds and probably missing half a rib from that point-blank range shot he’d taken to the chest.

“Yeah, Ace? Regale us with your tales. What have we done other than take out another terrorist cell and ridding the world of some insanity?” Shaun asked, quirking a brow, his lips pressed thin.

“I don’t think you jarheads understand what the fuck you’ve done,” Ace said, seething. “That research was priceless. Not only to The Arctics, but to us.”

Mitch glanced at Jordan, who was breathing in slow and hard, obviously willing himself to be calm and not rip Ace’s throat out where he stood.

“We have one jarhead here,” Jordan said, glancing at Gwen. “But the rest of us are SEALs and you should address us as such, spook.”

“Watch it, Allen,” Ace growled, evidently either not caring or not realizing that he was staring down six shifters with more reasons to hate his guts than there were days in a year.

“No. You fucking watch it. You know why I blew that lab up? Because they had a room of fucking dead babies in there. A room of dead babies that was only going to get bigger because of the shit they were doing,” Tim hissed, hands rolled into fists.“Whatever that shit was and whatever it was going to do for shifters, the good doesn’t outweigh the bad,” Jordan said solemnly. “No way in hell.”

“Don’t think that we didn’t realize what was going on the moment your fucking convoy showed up, Ace. You knew exactly what we were doing there. You had eyes on us, or that place. Or both. No fucking way you would have been that fast otherwise,” Tim said, eyes narrowed, his arms crossed over his wide chest.

“What the fuck were you going to do with that shit, Ace? Build your own fucking super soldiers? That’s what you were trying to do with Duncan and Dawson, wasn’t it, you sick fuck?” Mitch asked, feeling irritation blooming in his chest.

Ace’s eyes flashed gold and that quieted the whole room. Through all the years they’d known the guy, fought with him and against him, none of them had ever seen him shift or even come so close to revealing what the hell he was to begin with. He was always cool, centered, unflappable. And now he was finally showing them that he was in fact something other than a man in an expensive suit.

The moment passed as quickly as it had been offered to them, and a second later, Ace had smoothed his expression to that of indifferent disgust directed at each and every one of them equally.

“The Firm’s higher goals are of no concern to you. I do not have to explain myself to you, but you most certainly have to explain yourself to me, and Hemingway. I trust you’ve been enjoying your stay in the Crypts, because I get the feeling you’re going to be spending a lot more time down there. I’m sure your wives and children will enjoy the breather from you,” the tall man said, his voice bland, dead, lifeless.

Before Mitch knew what he was doing, he was launching himself toward Ace, fists ready to pound his face in. The bastard didn’t move an inch or do a single thing to protect himself, and about two feet before Mitch reached him, Shaun collided into him like a fucking tank. Mitch sucked in a breath as his friend averted his course, two arms on his shoulders, spinning him away from the dangerous intel officer.

Jordan was by his side a second later, giving a look of unfiltered hate at the serene façade of the man who’d come to plague the existence of every single person in the room.

“He’s not fucking worth it, Mitch,” Shaun hissed. “I know. Your kids need you and he’s not above leaving you in those Crypts. Think about Duncan and Dawson.”

Jordan clapped his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and between the two of them, Mitch relaxed only slightly, but enough for his brother and friend to let go. His chest was heaving up and down, honest anger coiled so tight he didn’t know what to do with it. Shaun Henley should have been the first guy in the room pounding Ace into the dirt, but if he could control himself, could Mitch be any worse?

It was at that moment that Jerome peeled himself away from the wall he’d been leaning on. It dawned on Mitch that their squad commander and lieutenant hadn’t said a word during the whole exchange. So when he strode up to Ace, stopping right in front of him, all eyes were on the two great men.

“What do you want, Lieutenant McLaughlin?” Ace asked, his voice icy cold.

Jerome grinned, a vicious looking smile that tugged the corners of his mouth up. When he punched Ace square in the face, making the man stumble back and clutch his jaw with one hand, the room went so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Blood dripped from Ace’s split lip and mouth, painting his teeth crimson red. But his eyes didn’t flash gold again and he straightened himself up, not even moving to wipe the blood away as it dribbled down his chin.

He stepped up to Jerome again and every member of Jerome’s squad, Mitch most of all, was waiting for a signal to allow them to beat the spook to a bloody pulp on the floor.

“What do you want, Lieutenant McLaughlin?” Ace asked again.

“I just wanted to look you in the eye when I gave you a taste of what’s to come. You fuck with my crew, you get fucked with back. We’ve been putting up with your bullshit for too fucking long, Ace. One more thing and I won’t hesitate to track you down like the cockroach you are and exterminate you, just like we do with every fucking Arctic we meet.”

Jerome’s tone was light, conversational even. One by one, the men in his squad smiled, snarling sneers that were expecting blood to spill. Mitch kept his gaze firmly on Ace, waiting for a reaction, something to justify what he wanted to do. But the intel officer just smirked, looking every bit the bloodsucking fiend Mitch thought him to be.

“Big words for a man looking forward to a few months of solitary confinement in the Crypts.”

“The darkness never bothered us,” Jordan said, stepping forward. “If it did, we would have had to shoot you the first day we met you.”

Ace smiled at that, looking almost pleasant. He inclined his head, finally wiping his chin with the sleeve of his shirt, smearing the blood as much as he was wiping it away. Mitch understood then that at that very moment, Ace looked like everything he’d always subconsciously thought him to be. And the urge to rid the world of him had never been greater.

“I’ll send my regards when you’re back in the Crypts. Enjoy the sunshine while you can,” Ace said, inclining his head toward the window and the blaze of light shining in from there.

Then he pushed away from Jerome, pressing between Shaun, Mitch, and Jordan on his way out. Mitch’s hands twitched to reach for his neck and snap it before he ever made it to the door, but his eyes met Gwen’s just in time. The look in them made him stop, made him gather himself.

He couldn’t leave that woman alone again. Not now, not ever.

“Does anyone want to tell me what happened now?” Gwen asked as the door had closed behind Ace and brooding silence had lingered over the room for a few seconds.

“What’s there to tell?” Tom asked with a grimace. “We’re working for a bunch of assholes and said assholes delight in fucking us over.”

“I always thought it should be the other way around,” Mitch said with an audible sigh.

“As in?” Tom queried.

“Us fucking over the assholes, obviously,” Jordan added dryly.

It was entirely stupid, but all seven of them started laughing. Loud, healthy sounds, a moment shared between people who could trust one another with everything, including their lives.

It was then that Mitch thought that there was hope. That everything could turn out okay.