HIS BABY TO BEAR - TWENTY THREE

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y T H R E E

He didn't seem to mind that he couldn't breathe. He didn't care that he couldn't see anything and that the smoke from that fucking grenade was clogging his nose. All he cared about was that he could smell wolves in the room and that he was going to fuck up every single one of them.

He noticed two wolves bounding up the stairs, their pelts perfectly white, out of the corner of his eye. He knew they weren't the only ones. As he charged forward, he could feel several sets of paws around him, light and impatient, waiting for him to slip and overpower him. But he wasn't just a bear on a mission; he had a mate and a cub in danger. Nothing was more ferocious than a bear enraged like that.

Jerome swiped behind him, feeling the satisfying sensation of his claws ripping through flesh and hair, without even seeing who was coming for him. The air was now tinged with the scent of copper, which he adored. Jerome inhaled it through his nose, growling as it rushed through him like a burst of energy.

The burning sensation in his lungs that grew stronger with each breath, as well as the fog from the grenade, threw him off balance, but he made sure to keep his back to Libby and face any enemy coming for him head on. He knew he had to make it through the first round so that someone from his team could make it into the house.

The explosion in the hallway had been staged as much as a distraction as it had been a warning to the rest of them that things were about to get dicey. Jerome knew that in a situation like this, where they were clearly the underdogs, there was a good chance that their communications would be tampered with. They were the ones fighting for survival on the enemy's turf, with only the ace in their sleeve of knowing they could handle it on their side.

But Jerome was well aware that neither he nor his men were infallible. And only a moron would underestimate the adversary. So he wasn't surprised when he felt the excruciating pain of a pair of powerful jaws clamping into the scruff of his neck. Jerome growled in terror, attempting to shake the snow-white wolf off of him. They all had the same appearance. In the smoke, where their white coats and limber, long bodies seemed to meld into one rabid demon coming at him from all sides, the only way to tell them apart was by their eye color.

When one of the wolves approached Jerome, he walked with a slight limp, attempting to grab him by the underjaw so that the wolf on his back and him could distract him long enough for the other two to rip out his stomach. When wolves worked together, it was the simplest way for them to overpower a werebear—a few of them distracting the bear while the others went for the most sensitive part of the grizzly.

Jerome, on the other hand, had far too much strength left in him to let that happen. He couldn't get the wolf off his back, so instead of waiting for the other to approach him, he went after the wolf. He charged forward, his teeth clenched in a growl, and slammed into the graceful body. Jerome's jaws tightened around the wolf's neck, and his nails scratched and scraped at his side, discovering the wound he had previously caused and causing blood to splatter all over.

When he finally let go, the wolf collapsed on the ground, whining pitifully, with only two of his legs still functional. Jerome spun around and charged back toward his starting point, blood dripping into his eyes from where the wolf on his back was doing its gruesome work. Jerome couldn't let them get too close to Libby because the pain was splitting. He charged right into the middle of the two other wolves, but they easily avoided him by looping around the thick wooden pillars with their superior speed and agility.

Jerome mumbled and pawed at the wolf that was gripping his back, a low growl coursing through him as he managed to land one blow on the damn beast. But as he stood up on two legs, attempting to reach the one causing him such agony, the other two wolves spotted an opportunity and dove in. Suddenly, Jerome felt the chilling sensation of jaws ripping at the skin on his belly. He yowled in agony and rose to his four feet, backing away.

But the wolves refused to give up. When he got one between his jaws and pressed down hard on him, the other just went for his stomach, long nails digging into Jerome's sides. His vision was blurring, and the air was thick with their growls, snarls, and yelps. The smoke from the grenade was clearing, allowing Jerome to see the wolves better, but he could barely see through the thick red streams of his blood.

He took a step back, clutching the wolf that had appeared as a distraction, and tripped over one of the boxes. He stumbled, disoriented, and the two wolves on him did their part to knock him over. Libby appeared from behind the boxes, just as he thought all three would rip his guts out. Her eyes were wild with fear and adrenaline, and she held the gun with shaky hands, but she aimed it exactly as he had taught her.

She trained the gun on the wolf chewing through Jerome's neck and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times until the wolf slumped with a hiss of pain, tumbling off of Jerome. Taking advantage of the confusion, the big bear hauled himself to his feet and took a firm stance in front of Libby's hiding place. When he heard the bloodcurdling sound of more footsteps coming up the stairs, Jerome braced himself for one last fight before losing everything he loved.

The body that bounded up the stairs, however, was not that of another white wolf. Mitch's sleek brown body was there, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Without hesitation, he dove for the wolf that was still unharmed, sending both of them into a flurry of hair, teeth, and snarls. When the element of surprise was removed, the werecougar's claws were a perfect match for the wolf.

Jerome focused his attention on the thug he'd previously trapped between his jaws. The wolf could be seen looking for an exit, trying to back away into the stairwell, but Jerome wouldn't let him. When the wolf turned to flee, Jerome was on him like a swarm of locusts, his jaws ripping and tearing mercilessly. He fell limp and lifeless soon after, and Jerome let the wolf go, watching him tumble down the stairs with dull thuds. Jerome had to admit that it was one of the most satisfying things he'd witnessed in a long time.

Mitch stood up, dusting himself off in his human form, and he turned around just in time. He wore that knowing grin he was known for, and Jerome took it as a sign of safety and let the shift take him. The stress of the shift made his body groan and heave, but he didn't fight it. He almost stumbled and fell to his knees when he regained human form.

"Fuck," he hissed as Mitch approached and gently propped him up, returning the rifle to Jerome. "Those fuckers were serious," he said, gingerly touching the gaping wounds in his shoulders and rips in his neck and back.

They appeared to be infected, but as a werebear, he knew they would heal quickly.

“Yeah. They managed to get Jordan into one of his secondary nests. They knew exactly where we'd placed them, just as we had predicted. "He's fine, just a bullet to the knee, as things go," Mitch chuckled. "Alvin is repairing him. And you appear to be in need of some assistance as well."

"Nothing's wrong with me. "Libby, honey, come out," he said, his heart skipping a beat as he waited for her.

Libby stood up, her eyes red from inhaling so much smoke, and he could see her shuddering like a leaf from a distance. She was, however, safe. She'd also saved his life.

What a lady...

"Are you all right?"

she asked, sprinting up to him.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Let's get the hell out of here."

The four wolves who had come to get them had all changed back into lifeless corpses on the ground. Jerome didn't need to check their pulses to know that none of them were alive. He wouldn't let it happen, and Mitch wouldn't either.

They stumbled down the stairs, Mitch helping Jerome a little. The situation downstairs was no better. In addition to the men Jerome had dropped, he could see two more bodies with clear signs of cougar mauling.

"You had a good time, didn't you?"

" Jerome inquired, a smirk on his face.

"Only a little. "You know how it goes," the man said jokingly, smiling.

"Unfortunately, I do. Do we have any idea where Reid Andrew is? " Jerome inquired, releasing Mitch and grabbing Libby's hand.

He could feel her grip on his palm tightening as she waited for the answer. They walked down the corridor, or what remained of it.

"I'm not certain, lieutenant. "Tim would know," Mitch said, his cheerful demeanor fading slightly.

After all, the mission wasn't over until the boy was safely returned. For none of them. Tom emerged from the living room, looking a little ragged and worn, his gun trained on them as he rounded the corner. He quickly dropped it and nodded sharply to Jerome and the others.

"I'm glad to hear you're all right. We have to get out of here. "The entire fucking Batangas armed forces is on their way here," Tom said, ushering them out the living room window. "We also have a bear cub to save."

When Tom said that, a stone dropped from Jerome's heart. There was still hope. Jerome noticed that when Tim said that, Libby clenched her gun in her hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Never get in the way of a mama bear and her cub.