HIS BABY TO BEAR - TWENTY FOUR

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

He didn't appear to be bothered by the fact that he couldn't breathe. He didn't mind that he couldn't see anything and that the smoke from the grenade was clogging his nose. He was only concerned with the fact that he could smell wolves in the room and that he was going to fuck up every single one of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two wolves bounding up the stairs, their pelts perfectly white. He was well aware that they were not the only ones. He could feel several sets of paws around him as he charged forward, light and impatient, waiting for him to slip and overpower him. But he wasn't just a bear on a mission; he was protecting a mate and a cub. Nothing was more ferocious than a bear in this state of rage.

Jerome swung his claws behind him, enjoying the satisfying sensation of his claws ripping through flesh and hair, without even looking behind him to see who was coming for him. The air was now scented with copper, which he adored. Jerome breathed it in through his nose, growling as it rushed through him like a burst of energy.

The burning sensation in his lungs, which became stronger with each breath, and 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 needed to get through the first round so that someone from his team could enter the house.

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

Jerome, on the other hand, was well aware that neither he nor his men were infallible. Only a moron would underestimate the opponent. So he wasn't surprised when a pair of powerful jaws clamped into the scruff of his neck, causing excruciating pain. Jerome screamed in terror as he tried to shake the snow-white wolf off of him. They all appeared to be the same. The only way to tell them apart in the smoke, where their white coats and limber, long bodies seemed to meld into one rabid demon coming at him from all sides, 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 his stomach out. It was the simplest way for wolves to overpower a werebear when they worked together, with a few of them distracting the bear while the others went for the most sensitive part of the grizzly.

Jerome, on the other hand, still had far too much strength in him to allow that to happen. He couldn't get the wolf off his back, so instead of waiting for the other to approach, he pursued the wolf. He slammed into the graceful body, his teeth clenched in a growl. Jerome's jaws tightened around the wolf's neck, and his nails scratched and scraped at his side, revealing the wound he'd previously caused and causing blood to splatter everywhere.

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

Jerome mumbled and pawed at the wolf on 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 who was causing him such pain, the other two wolves spotted an opening and dove in. Jerome was startled to feel the chilling sensation of jaws ripping at the skin on his belly. In pain, he yowled and rose to his four feet, backing away.

The wolves, however, refused to give up. When he got one between his jaws and pressed down hard on him, the other went straight for his stomach, his long nails digging into Jerome's sides. The air was thick with their growls, snarls, and yelps, and his vision was blurring. The smoke from the grenade was clearing, allowing Jerome to see the wolves more clearly, but he couldn't see much through the thick red streams of his blood.

He tripped over one of the boxes as he took a step back, clutching the wolf that had appeared as a distraction. He stumbled, disoriented, and the two wolves on him helped knock him over. Just as he thought all three would rip his guts out, Libby appeared from behind the boxes. Her eyes were wild with fear and adrenaline, and she held the gun shakily, 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, and three times until the wolf slumped in pain, tumbling off of Jerome. Taking advantage of the confusion, the big bear got to his feet and took a firm stance in front of Libby's hiding spot. When he heard more footsteps coming up the stairs, Jerome braced himself for one last fight before losing everything he cared about.

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

Jerome fixed his gaze on the thug he'd previously imprisoned between his jaws. The wolf could be seen looking for a way out, attempting to back away into the stairwell, but Jerome would not let him. When the wolf turned to flee, Jerome was on him like a swarm of locusts, his jaws mercilessly ripping and tearing. Soon after, he became limp and lifeless, 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 fulfilling things he'd seen in a long time.

Mitch rose to his feet, dusting himself off in human form, and turned around just in time. He was known for his knowing grin, which Jerome took as a sign of safety and let the shift take him. His body groaned and heaved as a result of the stress of the shift, but he didn't fight it. When he regained human form, he almost stumbled and fell to his knees.

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

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

“Yeah. They were successful in luring Jordan into one of his secondary nests. They knew exactly where we'd put them, as we'd predicted. "He's fine, just a bullet to the knee," Mitch chuckled. "Alvin is repairing him, and you appear to need some help as well."

"There's nothing wrong with me," he said, his heart skipping a beat as he waited for her.

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

What a lovely lady...

"Are you alright?"

she inquired, sprinting up to him

"Don't worry, I'll be fine; let's get out of here as soon as possible."

The four wolves who had come to get them had all reverted to lifeless corpses on the ground. Jerome didn't need to check their pulses to know they weren't alive. He wasn't going to let it happen, and Mitch wasn't going to let it happen either.

They stumbled down the stairs, Mitch assisting Jerome in some ways. The situation was no better downstairs. In addition to the men Jerome had dropped, he could see two more bodies with obvious cougar mauling marks.

"Didn't you have a good time?"

"With a smirk on his face, Jerome inquired.

"Just a little. "You know how it goes," the man chuckled, smiling.

"Unfortunately, I do. Do we know where Reid Andrew is?" Jerome asked, releasing Mitch and grabbing Libby's hand.

As she waited for an answer, he could feel her grip on his palm tightening. They made their way down the corridor, or what was left of it.

"I'm not sure, lieutenant," Mitch admitted, his cheerful demeanor fading slightly.

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

"I'm glad to hear you're okay; we need to get out of 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, reminding him that 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.