Baddest Bear Dad: A Fated Mate Romance Page 16

  First you have to get out, though. What are you going to do, hop the chair out of here?

  She snorted. Of course not. She’d walk. Once she’d freed her legs…and her arms. Elle tried to push down on the floor with her feet, but all that happened was the rope slid down her leg until her foot hit the floor. Then she was stuck once again.

  Something about that statement bothered her. Elle leaned forward as best she could, looking at the legs of the chair.

  Of course! She bounced on the chair slightly, until the teacher’s desk that she’d been seated at was behind her. Then, with a violent hurl of her body, Elle pushed herself backward, rocking up onto the two rear legs of the chair, resting her head on the desk itself. The pressure on her neck muscles to keep herself balanced was less than pleasant, but with the front two legs in the air, it was child’s play to extend her legs and slip the ropes off.

  Coming back down into a seated position, Elle took a moment to rest, sucking air into her lungs while she wiggled her feet back and forth. Now that she could move, things were looking up. She was proud of herself for being so resourceful, but the ordeal wasn’t over. Her hands were still tied to the chair, and the arms curved around and were welded to the rest of the frame. There was no easy way out here. She had to cut them.

  Then there was still the fact that she would need to escape the school itself. But for now, the more immediate problem that needed solving was freeing her forearms. That would require something sharp.

  You’re in a schoolroom. There must be something you can use.

  Elle scanned the room, looking at everything, but it wasn’t until her eyes reached the teacher’s desk that she saw what she needed. A grin spread across her face. The kidnappers, whoever they were, had clearly underestimated both her and the types of things stored in a classroom. She stood up, forced into a sort of hunchback waddle with the chair still attached to her body, and shuffled around to the front of the desk. There, standing upright in a cute little mug, were a bunch of pencils, pens, coloring sticks, and one pair of classic orange-handled school scissors.

  She knocked over the mug with her head, suffering some scratches in the process, spilling the contents out onto the desk. Moving carefully since she would only have one chance at it, Elle pushed everything else aside with her nose, until there was nothing between the scissors and the edge of the desk. Then she used her nose to grab the scissors, pushing it flat to the desk between one of the fingerholes and pulling them across the desk until they sat on the edge.

  Careful now. Very, very careful. If you drop these, you’re screwed.

  Thanks, brain. Shut up.

  Mercifully her inner dialogue cut off, allowing her to stay on task. Standing up once more, she shoved her hand up onto the desk, half hunched over it, and started working with the scissors. Eventually she got them fully opened, and gripped in her hand the way she wanted.

  Elle sat down heavily with a sigh of relief. The blades were now spread as far apart as she could make them. Cautiously she curled her wrist in on itself, slipping one of the blades between her skin and the rope. Elle pushed it in as far as she could, then uncurled her wrist. Not much seemed to happen, but she knew it was working against the rope now.

  Unfortunately, it was also working against her skin. Each “slice” with her wrist cut the skin on her arm, until the blood started to flow more freely. The rope started to grow softer, and the fibers began to part. It was working! Her blood was actually helping it. As long as she didn’t open any of the vulnerable arteries she’d be okay.

  It took ten minutes of hard work, but the rope finally parted and started to uncoil, freeing her wrist!

  Elle worked furiously, the second rope parting in a minute or two. After that she managed to slip her gag free. Part of her wanted to sit and relax for a minute, but instead she stood up and away from the chair, needing to be far from it. Her arm was still bleeding, the blood dripping down her fingers and onto the floor, slowly starting to form a pool.

  Working quickly, she found some paper towels in the teacher’s desk. She wrapped those around her arm, and then with one hand and her teeth, re-tied one of the ropes to keep them in place.

  “Okay.” Her voice, even whispered as it was, sounded shockingly loud to her ears.

  And shifters have excellent hearing. Don’t forget that!

  Now it was time to plot her escape. She looked around. The door was the obvious choice, but she was scared to test the hallway. There could easily be guards posted out there who would capture her again. No, she needed another way out. Her eyes were once again drawn to the air duct. It was small, but someone of her size could probably fit.

  She set to work on it, her face composed, her emotions calm. The situation was fucked beyond belief, but she could do this if she didn’t lose control of herself. The key was to concentrate, and to not overreact.

  In the silence as she worked at the screws with the scissors, the boots echoing in the hallway may as well have been gunshots.

  Elle looked up, hating herself for gasping in terror like a stereotypical female stuck in this sort of situation. She was better than that! It didn’t change what she heard though.

  Someone was coming.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Braden

  He’d almost made it to the door when a tall shape flew by him like he was standing still and blocked his path.

  Braden came skidding to a halt as Andrew held up a hand to stop him.

  “Get out of my way,” he growled.

  Andrew didn’t acknowledge the threat as he spoke. “Think about what you are doing.”

  “I am thinking! I’m thinking I’m going to go get my mate back. I’m thinking I’m going to rip the spine from anyone who stands in my way.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Andrew said in response to the double meaning of Braden’s threat. “Now, my turn. You have no idea where she is, or who’s holding her. Charging outside and hoping to beat it out of anyone who may or may not be watching the embassy is not a sound strategy.”

  Behind them the others all filed into the lobby, remaining silent while watching the confrontation.

  Braden snarled. “I do know where she is.” He snatched the phone from his pocket and brought up the picture of Elle, trying not to lose control at the sight of her unconscious and tied to a chair.

  “This,” he said, pointing to something in the background. “Is a chalkboard. This is a teacher’s desk. And these,” he finished angrily, “are the school colors of Cloud Lake Elementary. The same school where his mate teaches her mother-daughter fitness classes.” As he spoke Braden jabbed a finger behind him at Noah.

  Andrew beckoned him forward. Noah looked at the picture, his nostrils flaring with anger. “That’s the same one,” he confirmed.

  “Thank you,” Braden said furiously, shoving the phone back in his pocket and stepping around Andrew.

  The gryphon shifter moved with him. “You can’t do this alone,” he cautioned.

  “Then help me!” he roared plaintively.

  “That’s what we’re trying to do,” Andrew replied. “You need to listen to me.”

  “You have thirty seconds. Then I’m out of here one way or another. My mate is in trouble, and every second I waste here, is one that they could be hurting, or even killing her.”

  His bear went nuts inside of him at the idea that he might lose his mate because of a delay.

  “They wouldn’t taunt you if they weren’t expecting this sort of reaction,” Kassian said, coming up behind Braden.

  “We need to formulate a plan,” Andrew said.

  “No,” Kassian and Braden said at the same moment.

  He glanced at the Koche brother.

  “The plan is simple,” Kassian said. “We all go out together. They’re out there, Andrew. You know it. I know it. Hell, we all know it. Just waiting for us. We go out as one. A big, huge blob of attackers.”

  Andrew nodded. “And during the melee Braden escapes and goes to the sch
ool. Yes, I agree. We will buy you time.”

  “Thank you,” he said as the other shifters all moved up and around him, looking straight ahead through the glass, wondering just what they were going to encounter out there.

  A musical ringtone sounded in the crowd. All the eyes swiveled to Gray as he sheepishly pulled out his cellphone. The look on his face died as he saw what was on the phone however.

  “I’m going with you,” he said, looking directly at Braden.

  “Uh, what?”

  The phone reached him and he looked at it. There was a picture of Gray’s mate, Kelly, unconscious and hoisted over the shoulder of a shadowy figure, clearly unconscious.

  Braden snarled, nodding as he handed the phone back.

  “No quarter. No mercy,” he said silently.

  “And may God have mercy on their souls,” Gray returned. “For we shall not.”

  He and Gray stood looking at each other for one final moment. Around them the other shifters, the Embassy Guards, the Koche brothers, and even Andrew himself surged forward and out the doors.

  Almost immediately there were shouts.

  “Let’s go,” Braden said, leading the way as they emerged into a scene right out of a nightmare.

  Here and there shifters fought and rolled, exchanging blows and bellowing with pain as they missed a block. It appeared the enemy had been waiting across the street on the roof of the buildings there. The last stragglers were still jumping down to the street level to engage with them. He wanted to slow down and take stock of what was going on, but he couldn’t.

  “Fastest route there is around those buildings and then straight down Jefferson until Memorial,” Gray said, heading to the left.

  But Braden had a better idea.

  “No, this is the fastest way there,” he growled, picking up speed as he went forward.

  One of the enemy shifters moved to intercept him, but Braden lowered his shoulder like a football player and just kept building up speed. Too late the shifter realized what was going on, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Braden hit him like a wrecking ball, picking him up and using him as a cushion while he plowed through the front door of the building, then an interior wall, then a second, and finally out the rear. He tossed the beaten tackling dummy to the side and lowered his head as he quickly crossed the alley space behind the building.

  The next shop wall was solid brick, but by the time Braden hit that he was no longer human. Instead of six foot eight of muscle hitting the wall, nearly twenty-five hundred pounds of absolutely enraged grizzly bear hit the wall and kept on going. Brick dust exploded everywhere as he went right through. More interior walls crumbled, covering his fur in a light grayish-white layer of drywall as it settled onto him.

  He could hear Gray coming after him, following his path. The final obstacle was a four-story tall office building. Braden wasn’t worried. The entire lower level was all glass. He was back into his human form and simply plowed through the glass, the tinted panes opening numerous cuts all over his body as it shattered under his impact, but all he did was grunt and continue on.

  They were on to Jefferson now, and running as fast as they could. A human Olympic sprinter would be hard-pressed to keep up with them as their legs pumped, the scenery flying by, everything tinged with red from the fury building inside of him. How dare they threaten Elle! She had done nothing to hurt them. Braden was going to make them pay.

  He had been deadly serious about giving no quarter. Any who opposed him were going to die that night. This time he would make no mistakes. There would be no survivors.

  The two shifters made the turn at Memorial while barely slowing. Their objective was through a park on the left, but as they approached both of them slowed. The park was dotted with little stands of trees, and would be the perfect place to ambush them.

  “Plan?” Braden asked.

  “We go right through them,” Gray answered and kept running. “Don’t stop.”

  He growled, and together they plunged into the park. The sky was starting to lighten, but under the fir trees it was still quite dark, their needle-filled branches blocking the light even in winter. His eyes adjusted easily, picking out the shapes that moved to intercept them.

  “I’m going right,” he announced, not wanting to catch Gray off guard.

  Gray just nodded, immediately understanding the plan. Braden was going right, but he was currently running on the left of the senior Embassy Guard. The hope was that by switching sides they would momentarily throw off the shifters coming to try and stop them.

  Braden waited until he judged the distance, then accelerated and cut in front of Gray even as the other shifter slowed and cut behind him. It all happened in an instant, and Braden saw the momentary hesitation in his foe before he switched his brain over to acknowledging Braden as the new threat.

  By then though he’d closed another fifteen feet, and two seconds later slammed into the shifter. Braden hit hard, using his momentum to his advantage. They hit the ground, bounced once, and then came to their feet, closing once more. Braden ducked the first punch, dropping to a knee. His hand shot out, palm raised as he slammed it into the flexed kneecap right in front of him.

  The enemy shifter howled in pain as he hit it twice more in quick succession. Braden stood, his fist catching the shifter in the jaw and lifting him from his feet as bone broke and teeth flew everywhere. He pulled a knife from his waist with the other hand, spun, and jammed it up to the hilt in the shifter’s stomach before he’d even started to fall.

  One vicious sideways cut, and he ripped the shifter open, exposing entrails and intestines. There was a horrific gurgling sound as blood exploded from the man’s mouth and stomach all at once. He flopped to the floor, spasmed once, and then began to shudder as his lifeblood left him, spilling out and coating the white ground in red.

  Braden spun, but Gray had already finished off his opponent by the simple expedient of picking him up and impaling him on a broken tree branch protruding from a nearby trunk. The other shifter looked down at him, shaking his head as Braden wiped his knife clean.

  “Tsk. Messy,” he admonished, then jerked his head toward the school, indicating they should get a move on.

  Braden rose and crossed the distance swiftly. The school wasn’t overly large. It was a single-story feature with perhaps twenty classrooms in it. The metal door tore from its hinges as he slammed it open.

  “ELLE!” he bellowed, his thunderous call filling the small hallway that was in front of him.

  He stormed inside like the apocalypse, ready to destroy anything in his path. Nothing could stop him now; no shifter in the world would be able to withstand the tempest that was he.

  But it was empty.

  “ELLE!” he called again. The farther inside they wandered without resistance, the more apprehensive he grew.

  Could they have moved her already? If they’d done that though, why leave the sentries outside?

  “Where is everyone?” he muttered to Gray.

  “I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”

  Braden didn’t either. They started opening the doors and checking the classrooms, but one after another came up empty.

  “Here!”

  He darted across the hallway as Gray shouted that he’d found something. On the floor was some rope, along with a trail of blood. Braden immediately lifted his nose to the ceiling and tested the air.

  “Elle,” he hissed. He’d recognize her scent anywhere. “She was here.”

  “But where did she go?”

  To that Braden had no answer. The room was quite obviously empty. A quick check of the cabinets and under the desk proved that. But it did reveal something else.

  “Ow,” he muttered, having stabbed something into his hand as he dropped to all fours to check under everything just in case she’d passed out somewhere.

  Turning his hand palm up, he pulled a screw from it. “What the hell?” He looked around for something that might need a screw. The cut on his ha
nd stung as air blew over it while he waited.

  Air? Braden followed the current to the air duct just to his left. A grin spread across his face.

  Clever girl.

  “Elle?” he called, reaching out and pulling the screen out. Unsurprisingly it wasn’t fastened, but simply pulled into place, likely by desperate fingers. “Elle it’s me. Braden.”

  “Braden?”

  He froze as a tired, fearful-sounding voice echoed down the ventilation pipe.

  “Elle, Elle it’s me. I’m here. Come on out. We need to go.”

  As soon as he said it Braden realized it was true. They needed to get a move on, as fast as possible.

  “Come on, honey. It’s okay now. You need to come out of there.”

  Seven or eight feet down the darkened shaft he suddenly saw movement. First a foot, and then a second. Eventually Elle herself was visible as she wriggled her way feet first toward him, unable to turn in the tight confines.

  “Elle, are you okay?” he asked. “Are you hurt at all?”

  “No,” she answered, trying to sound brave. “At least, nothing that will slow me down, if that’s what you mean.”

  “She’s tough,” Gray muttered from beside him, his voice tight.

  “We’ll find her,” he promised, knowing the other shifter must be worried sick about his own mate.

  “I know.”

  Braden hovered over the shaft, trying not to interfere with his mate as she extricated herself, but wanting nothing more than to reach down and simply drag her free so that she could be in his arms. There were plenty of sharp edges that made doing that a bad idea, but he had to fight off the urge nonetheless.

  “Braden!” she said, the instant she was clear of the metal shaft. He swooped in and lifted her from the floor, noting a makeshift bandage on her one arm and being careful not to hit it.

  “My love,” he whispered fiercely, holding her as tight as he dared. “I came. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said as they kissed repeatedly.

  Beside them Gray cleared his throat.