His body broke, bones snapping, muscles stretching, bottom canines elongating into thick, sharp tusks as his body exploded into something monstrous. He hit the ground running on sure-footed hooves. He was fast in this form. Faster than a lightning strike as the trees blurred past him. Harrison and the others had cut them off in the firefly meadow. The raw violence of the bears, the tiger, the silverback, and all the boars pushed fury through his chest. There were too many.
Jamison’s giant red boar stood off to the side, eyes blazing the blue of his people. Mason wanted to gut him. Wanted to run his tusks through his belly and watch him die in his own entrails for trespassing in his mountains. Bash was in trouble, though, under a pile of four razorbacks. None of the boars could touch Mason or Jamison’s size, but frenzied by bloodlust, they had the numbers and single-minded killing instincts that made them bold and relentless. Mason shifted his stride and hit the back of a boar head on, gouging his thick hide with his long tusks.
He shook his powerful neck, stabbing, battling, protecting Bash’s weak side—his back. The air smelled like iron, and the boars grew in number, as if Jamison had called another wave. He lost his mind. Lost his thoughts other than kill. Other than defend them. Other than save them.
Flashes like photographs punctuated brief moments between battling. Kirk slamming a white boar against a tree trunk. Harrison’s massive grizzly clamping over the thick neck of another. Bash’s claws…too close. Audrey’s white tiger leaping onto a boar slashing at Harrison’s back, her canines open and ready, her claws out, her eyes full of fury. Ally, legs splayed over her four-wheeler, tattoos black against her pale skin, lips pulled back in a battle scream, she popped round after round at the boars that surrounded her.
Pain ripped up his back leg, and Mason went down hard, skidding in the dirt. The second he hit earth, Jamison charged him, the coward. He’d watched from the side until Mason was tired. Until he was down and wounded.
Adrenaline surged through his body, and he struggled to his feet, catching Jamison’s full force. The brawler boar had broken off one of his tusks since Mason had last seen him, but his brother was skilled at protecting his weak side, slashing the other like a long blade. Jamison wanted war? He could have his mother fucking war. Mason wasn’t the same broken shifter he was when he’d challenged Jamison before. He wasn’t depleted and weak. In his time away from his people, he’d spent his efforts logging, putting on muscle, and battling for these mountains beside Damon and the other crews. He wasn’t wishing for death anymore. Now, he had so much to survive for. So much to defend.
Jamison hit him like a wrecking ball, but Mason was ready. His legs braced, he skidded through the dirt, locked his tusks with Jamison’s and jerked his neck, throwing his brother off balance. Stupid fucker had been brawling with lesser boars, but Mason was a dominant Croy like him. He was a rip-roaring war machine.
Searing pain flashed up the nerve endings in his side as other boars joined Jamison. Assholes didn’t know how to fight with honor. They didn’t care if it took a hundred of them to kill one, so long as they won. So much ache, so much warmth, but Mason couldn’t unlock with Jamison, or his brother would have him gutted in an instant, just like the first time.
Something white blurred by, and the shriek of a pig sounded from behind him. The weight on Mason’s body lessened, and in an instant, another white streak dove and lifted. Beck. She was going for their faces, keeping the others off his back. Distracting them.
Clinton’s blond bear roared an oath of death and slapped another boar off the pile, then clamped his massive jaws on another. Crazy Clinton was buying him time.
A battle cry sounded as a set of long, curved, black talons raked across Jamison’s left eye. With a grunt of pain, Jamison stumbled, and Mason used his body weight to charge him against a tree.
A hurricane wind broke the trees around the clearing as something massive flew overhead, shadowing the meadow in the promise of flames. Damon.
Beck needed to get out of here because he was about to rain fire. Mason opened his mouth to roar, but Beck wasn’t watching him. She was engaged, clawing at Jamison’s face as he ran away, shaking his head, trying desperately to dislodge her. But she didn’t see what he did. She didn’t see the charging boar with his burning eyes on her. One blow full-stop, and she would be ground to dust. No!
Bullets were whizzing by him, so close he could feel the draft. “Mason!” Ally screamed.
I see her. Mason bunched his muscles and bolted for the spotted boar bearing down on his Beck. She was focused on holding onto Jamison’s face as he shook his neck and hit a tree, trying to dislodge her. The charging boar was so fast Mason wasn’t going to make it on time. Beck! He pushed his legs harder, faster, desperate to reach her. The sound of a gunshot connecting with the charging boar echoed, and the animal stumbled. It still wasn’t enough—he was already on top of her. Mason hit him hard on the back end, spinning him, but the boar slammed into Beck with the side of his face.
Time slowed to a crawl. His mate spread her snow white wings wide on the impact. Blasting backward in slow motion, she locked her round yellow eyes on Mason and said a million things with a look. I couldn’t keep away. I couldn’t leave you to fight alone. I’m sorry. A tiny dot of red spread onto her white chest feathers, and she opened her beak wide and screamed out a fierce noise.
Behind Beck, the Boarlander woods were alive with roaring, battling bears, and fire. Tagan, Creed, Willa, Beaston, Jason, Matt, Bruiser, Kellen…even Everly’s snow-white grizzly shredded boars beside her mate, Brighton. Skyler’s falcon dive-bombed into the fight, talons outstretched. They were pure power and fury, but his entire life flickered as Beck twisted around and landed hard in the dirt, skidding several feet before she came to a stop.
Mason ran for her, but was barreled into by a boar with fur as black as his.
His ears rang with the sound of the boar war, and as he spun sideways from the force of his attacker, Ally’s voice came over the blaring sirens in his ears. “I’ve got her,” she yelled, running for Beck’s limp body. Kirk was behind her, covering his mate as she risked herself to protect Beck. Was it too late? Was she already gone?
Panic seized Mason. He ran his tusks up the black boar’s neck, and he was down, giving Mason time to search frantically for Jamison. His brother stood off to the side, shaking his head and squealing in pain. Beck had ruined the left side of his face. Mason could stop this if only he could reach Jamison. If he could end him, cut off the life of the alpha, the boar-people would stop the attack. Why? Because then Mason would lead them. By boar law, they wouldn’t be allowed to attack him anymore. It was why Jamison was here. Mason’s existence would always threaten his position with his people. Mason was the only one who could rival him.
Rip, slash, pain, charge, repeat until he was full of fury and bloodlust. Until he was full of hatred for his brother. Jamison had come here to take his life. To take the life of the people he loved. He came knowing this land was protected by Damon. He came knowing he would sacrifice so many of his people to hurt one—his own brother.
Jamison locked eyes on him from the shadows of the tree line. The enormous red boar lifted his head in a challenge, his broken tusk gleaming red in the fading light, blood streaming down the gouge marks that had taken his left eye. Good Beck. Good mate. She’d known just how to stall his brother and buy him time. Beck, Beck, Beck. He would never be okay again if she didn’t survive. Jamison’s fault. His people had hurt Essie, and now Beck?
Mason dragged a hoof slowly through the dirt and gnashed his teeth. Fuck you, brother.
Jamison huffed an enraged roar and charged, and this was it. Mason hadn’t ever really escaped his destiny. Hadn’t escaped this battle to the death with his brother. Hiding in Damon’s mountains hadn’t saved him from this moment, when he would accept his fate, whether it brought him victory or death. Mason forced himself to forget about the pain in his body as he pushed off the earth and bolted for Jamison, tusks high and proud. Behind Jamison, a line of boars ran toward Mason, but Damon’s massive blue dragon blew a wall of fire across the clearing, cutting them off. The dragon was giving the Croy boars a fair fight this time around. The glow of the flames reflected off Jamison’s coarse red fur and his flexing muscles as he charged, eyes full of hatred.
Mason lowered his head, tusks angled for the monster who had encouraged his people to treat Esmerelda like a pariah and pushed her into that rope. For the monster who had deemed him The Barrow and stripped his pride. For the monster who was trying to take this happy life Mason had eked out. For the monster who brought pain to Damon’s mountains. For the monster who had taken Beck from him.
Tonight, he wasn’t hiding anymore.
Tonight, he wasn’t The Barrow anymore.
He. Was. Beast Boar.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beck forced her eyes open and then winced at the resonating pain that filled her entire body. Someone was talking to her low, begging her to be okay. Ally? She was hugging Beck too tight.
Every bone in Beck’s body was broken. They had to be to cause this much pain.