Finding Chrissten: Legacy, Book 5 Read Online Free

Chrissten.
    Hank didn’t think, didn’t pause. He attacked.
    But this was no human he was fighting. This was a pureblooded werewolf, and he was more than ready to fight. Hank knew the other male wanted it. Craved it as much as Hank did.
    They ran at one another, fangs bared, hands tipped in claws as they both partially shifted into their wolf form.
    Hank went in low and swiped at Brian’s belly, but Brian turned at the last second and lashed out, catching Hank in the shoulder and raking away shirt and skin. The scent of blood, rich and coppery, mingled with the other pungent smells in the hallway. Hank could feel the warm liquid trickling down his arm.
    He shook off the minor injury. Nothing else mattered but rescuing Chrissten. Not even his own life.
    Hank allowed instinct to take over. He’d been a fighter all his life, long before he’d discovered his heritage. The other male might be a pureblood, but Hank fought mean and dirty, with no holds barred. He fought to win.
    He lashed out at Brian with claw-tipped hands. The other male jumped back, hitting the wall so hard it caused little flecks of dust to rain down upon them like fine snow. Hank blinked to clear his vision. He needed to get Brian away from the door with the locks, away from Chrissten.
    Hank roared his anger. No need to be quiet now. The others would have heard the beginnings of their fight. In the distance, Hank could hear the pounding of feet as the others hurried to join him.
    Brian heard them coming too. He snarled, exposing brutally sharp fangs. “This isn’t over.” Warning given, Brian turned and ran. Hank started to give chase but a faint female voice stopped him.
    “Is anyone there? Oh God, is there someone out there?”
    Everything inside him came to a standstill. Something deep within Hank’s soul shifted and realigned before locking into place. Chrissten.
    “Get away from there.” The male voice had him whirling around and instinct had him ducking. Something swooshed by his head and embedded itself into the wall behind him. A bullet. No, a tranquilizer dart. Hank’s nostrils flared at the sight of the man who had to be Dr. Phillip Morton.
    He prowled toward the doctor, determined to make him pay for what he’d done. The doctor raised the tranq gun again. Before he could fire it, Damek appeared in front of him, grabbing the weapon from the human’s hands.
    “Who do we have here?” The vampire’s expression was so feral that Hank almost felt sorry for the doctor. Almost. Damek shoved the doctor back into the room he’d stepped out of. The door slammed shut behind them.
    Quinn barreled down the hallway, shoved Hank aside and hurried to the locked room. Claws extended, he attacked the two locks. Hank hurried to help him and quickly realized they’d probably need a crowbar to get past the locks. Within a split second his brain had sorted through his options. “Pull on the door.” He grabbed the handle and yanked on it, using the full force of his big body.
    Quinn continued to beat at the locks, but in the end it was the wooden door that gave first under the strain. Hank fell back as the door flew toward him, scraping against the concrete floor as it was pulled back.
    Quinn pushed past him and called his sister’s name. “Chrissten?” The raw emotion in his voice brought tears to Hank’s eyes. He blinked several times and stepped back, angling his body so he could see into the room.
    He didn’t see her at first. There was nothing here except a bundle of rags on the floor in the far corner. He took a second look. The rags were moving.
    Quinn arrowed in on the mound and went straight to it. “Chrissten?” His voice was soft, almost fearful.
    The bundle moved slightly. Quinn swooped in and scooped her into his arms, burying his face against her. He stood slowly, took a deep breath and strode out of the room and into the hallway.
    As he passed by, Hank strained to get a better look. He wanted to reach out and touch a lock of dirty