Revenge to the Alpha Mate - Chapter 223
Chapter 223: Chapter 223
Celena’s Perspective
The light was too bright, a harsh, sterile white that stabbed at my eyes. The air reeked of antiseptic and stale coffee. The two uniformed men across from me had faces carved from stone, expressionless, their gazes cold and dissecting, scraping over my skin like scalpels.
“Celena. Moonlight Pack.” I kept my voice as level as possible, giving my name and affiliation. By the rules, the Moonlight Pack was a registered, “compliant” werewolf community with the human authorities. This shouldn’t be causing such a severe reaction.
But not a single ripple of acknowledgment crossed their faces. The one on the left tapped his knuckles rhythmically against the table. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like a death knell. “Yesterday afternoon, you were involved in an altercation with two police officers near the ‘Quick-Stop Gas’ off Highway 76. The officers sustained serious injuries. Explain.”
His tone was flat, yet carried an undeniable accusation. My heartbeat spiraled out of control. This feeling… it was all too familiar. A dark basement. Similarly expressionless men in different uniforms. Cold instruments. Endless questions. And… pain.
No. Not here. Not again.
My breathing grew ragged, the edges of my vision beginning to darken. Fragments of deliberately forgotten memories surged forward, bringing with them the taste of rust and terror. My throat closed up. The walls of the interrogation room seemed to be pressing in on me.
“It… it wasn’t us… We only…” I tried to explain, but the words caught in my throat, fracturing into broken syllables. Fear, like strangling vines, tightened around my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs.
Then, I broke. A sharp, piercing scream—one I had no control over—ripped from my lips and exploded in the small, confined room.
Almost simultaneously, a deafening roar from Jacob erupted through the wall next door, followed by the crash of furniture, the sickening thud of impacts, and the pained groans of men.
I curled into a ball on the chair, hands clamped over my ears, my entire body shaking, trapped in that icy swamp of pure, visceral terror.
Until—”Celena!”
His voice, familiar, laced with urgency and fear, cut through my panic. A pair of strong, warm arms, spattered with fresh blood, wrapped around me, pulling me tightly against a solid chest that smelled of blood and that unmistakably familiar scent.
Jacob. It was him. The scent of forest, sunlight, and now, thickly, of blood.
I drank in the comforting smell, my trembling gradually subsiding, my rational mind slowly clawing its way back. Then I saw him clearly—the broken chain of the handcuffs still dangling from his wrists, the skin beneath torn and bloody from where he’d ripped them apart. His cheekbone was grotesquely swollen, a horrifying shade of purple and black, and his lip was split. Around him, the two officers who had been interrogating me, plus several more who had rushed in from next door, were strewn across the floor, either curled in agony or unconscious.
“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” he asked rapidly, his grey-blue eyes still blazing with feral rage and stark concern for me.
I shook my head, my throat too tight to form words.
He immediately pulled me to my feet, shielding me with his body, and barged through the now-warped door into the hallway. Moans and the sound of struggling men followed us. From both ends of the corridor came the chaotic thunder of footsteps and shouts: “Stop them!” “Over there!” “Use of force authorized!”
We were surrounded. This time, these human cops wouldn’t hold back. They would shoot to kill.
Jacob’s Perspective
Damn it! I knew we couldn’t trust those uniformed bastards! Their questions had started routine enough, but the underlying hostility and scrutiny set my teeth on edge. I was tolerating it, because the Moonlight Pack name usually smoothed things over.
But the moment I heard Celena’s scream from the next room—a sound of pure, unadulterated terror—my blood froze solid, then exploded into a boiling rage!
What had they done to her?!
The last thread of my control shattered. The wolf inside me roared, power flooding my veins. My muscles swelled, bones emitting faint cracks, my nails elongating into sharp points. With a guttural snarl, I heaved against the restraints—SNAP!—the hardened steel chain between the cuffs broke clean.
The cop in front of me, who tried to grab me, caught my fist square in the face and flew backward into the wall. The other one, fumbling for his sidearm, I grabbed by the collar and slammed headfirst into the floor. The door? To hell with it! I charged, my shoulder smashing through the flimsy wood connecting the two interrogation rooms, then barreled through the sturdier door into Celena’s room.
My girl was huddled in her chair, deathly pale, her eyes vacant and terrified, a frightened little animal, just like when I’d first found her all those years ago. The sight tore my heart to shreds. All I wanted was to get her out, away from this damned place!
But we were in the heart of the police station! Armed men were pouring into the hallway from both directions. What now? Shit!
My eyes landed on the window at the far end of the corridor. Outside was… the parking lot. About two stories down.
No better option.
“Hold on tight!” I growled to the trembling form in my arms, and with every ounce of my strength, I launched myself backward, crashing into the window!
The glass exploded outward, a thousand shards bursting around us like lethal ice. I felt a stinging pain across my back and arms. The sensation of weightlessness seized us, and we plummeted down.
WHUMP!
My back slammed into the hood of a parked police car with crushing force. The impact drove the air from my lungs, spots dancing before my eyes. The sound of buckling metal was deafening. Goddamn, that hurt!
“Jacob!” Celena’s voice was choked, but now sharp with panicked clarity. She scrambled out of my arms and, with surprising strength, hauled me off the mangled hood.
Her eyes scanned the area, locking onto another police car nearby—its door even hanging open! She moved like a sleek panther, yanking the door open and sliding inside—thank God, the keys were still in the ignition!
The engine roared to life. Gritting my teeth against the pain that screamed through my entire body, I stumbled into the passenger seat and collapsed inside.
“Hang on!” Celena shouted, her gaze fierce. She slammed her foot on the accelerator.
The stolen police car shot forward like a spooked stallion, smashing through the flimsy barrier arm at the parking lot exit and surging onto the town’s main street, quickly merging with the sparse traffic. The wail of sirens erupted behind us, but we already had a head start.
The running was starting again. And this time, we’d truly kicked the hornet’s nest.