those humans had begun calling in to DarkRiver the instant they’d seen the deliberate collision. At that point, they hadn’t even realized the man inside the crushed vehicle was a leopard—they’d simply seen danger and reached for DarkRiver.
It said a lot about what the pack had become to this city.
The human residents had helped tie up three of the downed attackers when DarkRiver descended on the scene. So did Drew and Indigo. The SnowDancer couple had been in the city when they’d received the emergency alert through DarkRiver’s network of local contacts.
Teijan also arrived on a high-speed jetcycle, as did Max Shannon. Sascha hadn’t even known the ex-cop—and Sophia Russo’s husband—was in the alert network, though she should have. He was Nikita’s security chief, and for all Nikita’s flaws, she’d already proven she’d protect her child and grandchild.
“We’re fine.” She scrambled out of the car when Lucas ran to them. She’d stayed locked inside until then, both so Dorian wouldn’t worry when he had other matters to handle and so she could keep tailoring her broadcast to keep it clear of any rescuers. “We’re fine,” she repeated as his arms locked around her.
“Naya?”
“She didn’t hear or see anything. Just got a little worried about Dorian.” Her heart thumped against her rib cage, her body starting to shake. “He’s hurt.”
“Jason’s doing some first aid.” Pulling back so he could scan her for injuries, Lucas said, “After that, he’ll take Dorian straight to an ER for deep scans to ensure there are no internal injuries. Tamsyn’s been alerted.”
“Papa!”
Lucas flexed his fisted hand and took a deep, steadying breath. Then, one hand firm around Sascha’s, he leaned down to smile at Naya through the open driver’s side door. “Hello, princess. What are you doing? I thought you were heading home?”
Naya’s response was earnest and largely incomprehensible.
“Yes,” Lucas said, clearly responding more to her tone than her words. “Papa’s going to take care of it. Don’t worry.”
Naya smiled.
Lucas reached in and over to tap her on the nose before rising to his full height beside the car again. “I’ll drive you home.” It was a growl, his panther prowling behind his eyes. “Don’t argue, all right?”
“I won’t.” Sascha’s throat was dry. Her muscles felt like jelly all at once. She needed to have him close as much as he needed to be close. But before she could surrender to the need to bury herself in her mate’s arms, there was one other thing she had to do. “I have to see Dorian.”
“Go.” Lucas stayed by the car, so Naya could see and hear him as he oversaw the retrieval operation.
While Sascha had stopped her broadcast the instant there were enough people on scene to disarm and restrain the attackers, the mercenaries remained disoriented and shaky on their feet as they were thrown into DarkRiver vehicles for transport. Dorian, meanwhile, was seated in the very back of an SUV, the trunk door lifted to block out the sun while Jason patched him up.
Tamsyn had taken the young male on as an assistant after he showed an interest in studying medicine. He didn’t have a changeling healing ability but that didn’t matter if he proved himself suited to be a medic. Another doctor in the pack would take the weight off Tamsyn when it came to a number of injuries that didn’t need her specialist attention.
The interesting thing was that Jason showed no inclination to go roaming anytime soon. It was similar behavior to that of most healers—they loved being near pack too much. If they did travel, it was for short bursts only.
“Even though he doesn’t have the healing ability,” Tamsyn had told Sascha, “I think he’s a healer at heart; he’s just going to practice the drive a different way. His grades are more than good enough to get him into medical school.”
Calm and collected, the twenty-one-year-old had stopped the blood flowing from Dorian’s head wound. He hadn’t, however, had the chance to wipe away the rust red that had already run down the side of Dorian’s face. He was too busy checking the sentinel for broken bones and internal injuries using a handheld scanner.
Dorian already had visible heavy bruising on one side of his face and no doubt his body. The colors were vivid against the surfer-gold of his skin. And his white-blond hair, it was matted dark red on the side with the wound.
“Dorian.” Close to tears, she touched her fingers to the undamaged side of the sentinel’s face.
Taking hold of her