A/N: My apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. I wrestled with this one and really wanted to get it right.

Part of the reason this chapter was delayed is that it's a rough ride. It was difficult to write and some of you might find it difficult to read. Fair warning that there is graphic violence ahead, some of it sexual in nature. If these things are triggers for you, or if you're just not feeling particularly strong today, you may want to pass on this chapter. I'll add a brief, toned down summary of this chapter in the Author's Note for chapter 23, so you won't miss anything if you don't want to read this one.

Thanks as always to those loveliest of ladies, MunkeeRajah and Evelyn-Shaye.

Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer and she'd never treat her characters the way I'm about to in this chapter!

Chapter 22 – Survive

Leah POV

I'd once read a bumper sticker that said: "The difficult we do at once. The impossible takes a bit longer."

Funny the stupid shit that rattles around in your brain during moments of extreme stress. Rationally, it made no sense at all for that bastardization of a Billie Holiday lyric to be on my mind as I charged over the crest that separated me from my imprint.

On the other hand, it made complete sense.

Since I first clapped eyes on Nahuel in the Cullens' living room two months ago, my life had been full of impossibilities turned into reality. Hell, we were impossible—a female, shape-shifting Quileute werewolf and her half-vampire, half-human imprint. We were two broken, miserable mythical creatures from opposite ends of the world who'd somehow come together and recognized the missing halves of our souls in each other.

What were the odds?

Probably better than the ones I was facing right now, trying to rescue Nahuel by myself.

The first time I remember my dad telling me that "nothing is impossible," I was six and crying my heart out because an older playmate had laughed at my dream of growing up to be the world's first Native American, tennis pro, rock star princess. The last time he said it to me was the night I found out that my then-fiancé could turn into a giant wolf.

By the time I began phasing, too, Dad wasn't around to remind me again that life is full of impossible realities. Until Nahuel crashed into my life, I'd all but convinced myself to forget the lesson.

Every single Quileute legend I'd ever heard about my shape-shifting forefathers claimed it was impossible for wolves to disobey an order from their Alpha. When Jake did exactly that six years ago, everyone assumed he was able to defy Sam because Jacob was Ephraim Black's rightful heir. No one—least of all me—would have imagined that any other pack member could have the strength of will to do it, too. Even when Seth and I defected from Sam's pack to Jake's, we'd done it behind Sam's back because we'd been certain he could have stopped us with a single command.

I shouldn't have been able to disobey Jake. Shouldn't have been able to sever our pack link and silence his demands that I wait for him before attempting to save Nahuel. I should be pinned to the forest floor, and under Jacob's control, right now.

Separated from the pack mind, I should be drowning in the oppressive quiet inside my head, not hearing the whispers of another mental voice—one I'd never heard before, but instantly recognized—slowly filling the silence.

The voice started out as an incoherent moan that rose and fell before it gained strength and speed. Abruptly, it resolved into two distinct, sobbing syllables that repeated over and over.

… leahleahleahleahleahleahleah …

It should be impossible for me to hear my suffering imprint's anguished mental plea. But it filled my head, reverberated down my spine, and rippled in waves of agony through every bone in my body.

Beneath that heartbreaking moan, I caught the faintest whisper of my father's voice, reminding me again that "nothing is impossible."

I sank my claws into that belief and held on for all I was worth.

And while it should also be impossible that hearing Nahuel's pain and fear would soothe me in any way, it did. This confirmation that he was not only alive, but calling for me, broke the cloud of panic that I'd been running under for hours.

Calm—as comforting and peaceful as an empty church—settled over me. For the first time since I'd found my imprint gone from my home, I began to actually think about what I needed to do to get him back.

Waiting for Jake was still not an option, especially given the urgency of Nahuel's mental plea. But I couldn't just go rushing into the ramshackle structure ahead of me, either. I slowed my run and halted in the scrubby underbrush where the forest gave way to a long, narrow clearing.

Looking. Listening. Sniffing the air.

Nothing.

I saw, heard and smelled nothing. Not even Renesmee pursuing me, which was pretty weird if I took the time to think about it. I didn't. I had more important things to consider.

The building before me looked like it could have been someone's idea of a barn at some point in its existence. A huge, gaping opening in the near side of the building was apparently where the door had once been, but it was long gone. The roof above the door had partially collapsed into the structure, creating a dark, ragged hole that made me think of the cold black eyes of a dead animal. A series of smaller, tumbled piles of weathered wood surrounded the central structure, suggesting this might have been some kind of camp or compound. It looked like it had been decades since anyone inhabited this place, maybe decades since anyone else had even seen it.

Emanating from that beaten up barn was the only strong scent I could perceive: Nahuel. Buried under his cinnamon and spice scent was the revolting odor of vampire—one, maybe two. It was hard to tell since the scents were hours old, unfamiliar and masked by the earthy aromas of old, moldy wood and the surrounding forest. The faintness of the vampire stench was a pretty good indication that there were none in the immediate area.

Had his vampire kidnappers stashed Nahuel in that building and simply left him there? Why? Why take him and then leave him? It didn't make sense, unless it was a trap. It sure stank like a set-up, but that wouldn't keep me away. I'd just need to be even more cautious.

There was no way I was going to run in the open any longer than I had to, so I began moving just inside the tree line. By skirting the edge of the clearing, I could get closer to the building before I had to dash into the open toward the yawning maw of the doorway. I wanted to minimize my exposure as much as possible.

It took only a few minutes of quiet, measured movement to reach the narrowest point of the clearing, where the trees were just a few hundred feet from the side of the building. The surrounding forest was eerily quiet, and the air felt thick and charged with threat. Still, I couldn't detect any being—living or undead—other than Nahuel and me.

This close to the barn, I could actually hear his heartbeat, strong, steady and fast—and nearly loud enough to drown out the ceaseless whimper of my name. Overlaying his rich, sweet scent was the sharp, metallic odor of fresh blood.

Knowing he was hurt made me want to rip apart the first vampire I could find, but I was still less worried about his physical state than his mental one. Half-vamps were sturdy creatures, and I was confident Carlisle could patch up any physical injuries he might have. I was more worried about potential emotional wounds. My greatest fear now was that the trauma of being kidnapped would cause Nahuel to revert to the damaged, shut-down condition he'd been in when he first arrived in Forks.

After pausing a few more moments to listen and sniff the air, I plunged into the clearing, streaking across the unblemished snow. In seconds, I was pressed against the age-silvered wooden side of the building. I paused again, waiting to see if my mad dash had been noticed by anyone or anything. When no blood-thirsty vampires immediately appeared to rip my throat out, I began edging along the wall toward the door.

… leahleahleahleahleahleahleah …

By now, Nahuel should be able to hear and smell my presence from inside the building. Yet his prolonged mental moan never wavered in pitch, tone or persistence. There was no indication that he registered my nearness at all.

Biting cold seeped through my veins, and it had nothing at all to do with the snow I crouched in.

Soon, I reached the door, and the urge to simply leap inside and run to Nahuel was nearly overwhelming. I fought it down. My werewolf eyes would need only a few seconds to adjust to the transition from snow-bright outdoors to the barn's dimly lit interior, but in those moments I would be blind and vulnerable. I needed to be absolutely sure no one else was in there before I exposed myself to those seconds of helplessness.

I paused again, reaching out with all my wolf senses. When I'd assured myself that we were still alone, I slinked quickly around the corner of the door and immediately moved to put the wall at my back.

My heart pounded painfully while I waited for my eyes to adjust. One thunderous beat. Two. Three. On the fourth beat, my temporary blindness cleared.

Oh, God. Oh, my God. Oh, my fucking God.

They staked him.

Some sick fucker had staked him to the barn wall.

Nahuel's beautiful, battered body dangled against the far wall of the barn, his bare feet grazing the dirt floor below. His blood-covered arms were stretched wide, pulling the muscles in his chest and shoulders tight. A thick, long metal spike pierced through each muscled forearm close to the elbow joint, pinning him to the wall like an insect. The weight of his limp body had pulled on the wounds, causing flesh and muscle to tear and gap. Bright bone glistened through the blood and gore.

His head drooped so low on his naked, grime-streaked chest that I couldn't see his face, couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. He breathed in shallow, strained pants that must have pulled painfully on his arms, but he made not a sound. Not a whimper. And he gave no indication at all that he realized I was there.

Nausea slammed into me, driving the air from my lungs and forcing burning bile up my throat. The dark shadows in the barn began to spin slowly around me. My legs splayed, my body listed, and my paws skidded in the dirt and debris on the floor. I struggled to stay upright.

But my inner bitch wasn't going to let me escape this horror by slipping into unconsciousness.

Oh, no, you goddamn pussy! She growled at me. You are NOT going to pass out like some fucking high school girl who faints at the sight of blood. Nahuel needs you. Get your shit together!

When I wavered, still teetering on the edge of oblivion, that voice escalated to a shout.

NOW! Get your shit together NOW!

It was the bitch-slap I needed to reclaim my equilibrium.

I pulled my legs back under me, snorted the cloying smell of blood from my nostrils, and ruthlessly shoved the screaming, hysterical schoolgirl into a dark, tiny compartment in my mind. When Nahuel was free, when we were both away from here and safe, I'd have to let her out and deal with her bullshit. But for now, I needed to yield complete control to the cast iron, ice-cold she-wolf.

The human girl had wanted to phase and throw her arms around Nahuel the moment she saw him. While the wolf acknowledged that she would need human hands to free him, and a human voice to reach him in whatever isolated, remote place his mind had fled to, she wasn't eager to give up the protection of my animal shape. At least not without thoroughly assessing the situation first.

I forced my eyes away from my imprint. Holding my position near the barn doorway, I quickly inspected the interior of the barn. Dirt floor. Watery sunlight leaking in through cracks and holes in the weather-beaten wooden walls. Some unidentifiable bits of metal and splintered planks scattered on the floor. Rusted chains and mangle, misshapen masses of metal that might once have been some kind of hand tools hanging on three of the four walls.

Nahuel occupying the fourth.

Don't even think about fainting, you stupid cow.

The cavernous structure was silent, still and empty—save for Nahuel and me. I stepped away from the wall, closed my eyes and focused my awareness on coaxing my energy back into my body. It was always easier to go from human to wolf. Dropping the extra mass, shifting fur back to skin, and paws to hands and feet required a few seconds of actual concentration.

As I phased, Nahuel's mental cry faded into silence in my head.

When I was human again—naked, vulnerable, exposed—I moved quickly across the floor, unsure of how much time I had before his kidnappers might return. Two months ago, when I didn't really know him, I might have hesitated. I probably wouldn't have touched him or approached him at all, afraid that he might lash out at me. But he was my Nahuel, now, and I had no fear that he would ever hurt me, no matter what hell he'd gone through.

For all my confidence, my hands still trembled when I cupped them beneath his jaw. With gentle pressure, I raised his head so I could see his face. My strength and resolve wavered at what I saw there.

"Oh, baby …."

Bruises and lacerations—so brutal it hurt to look at them—marred his perfect face. His beautiful eyes were open but unfocused, hollow and blank. I didn't know what he was looking at, what he was seeing through those dead, empty eyes, but it wasn't me.

"Baby, look at me," I pleaded. I gave his head a gentle shake, but the movement stirred no ripple in the glassy flatness of his eyes. I kissed his cracked, bloodied lips, but his mouth remained slack and immobile.

"Nahuel, I'm here. Look at me!" A ragged sob tore from my throat. "Please, baby. I can't get you down alone. You need to help me. Please!"

Terror scampered up my spine. It was more intense than any fear I'd ever felt before, even when I'd stood in the doorway of my mother's home and realized Nahuel was missing. Then, I'd thought I had a good chance of finding him, and maybe saving him. I knew I could track him. Fight whoever had taken him. Bring him home.

But now I didn't know if I could find him, wherever he'd gone to hide inside himself. I could only think of one way to try, so I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on that precious, wonderful psychic cable. I found it immediately, pulsing strongly between us. Relief and the seeds of hope sent my awareness rushing down that connection.

It was like riding a roller coaster of pure light, dipping down between us and soaring up toward a crest … just before plummeting into complete blackness. I halted at the peak. If I plunged into that darkness with Nahuel, would I ever find my way back?

I didn't know. I wasted agonized seconds trying to decide what to do.

The decision was made for me when a hard, cold missile slammed into my back, ramming me full-length against Nahuel's bloodied form. My awareness snapped outward and it took my mind less than a second to realize what had happened.

An icy hand gripped both my wrists, dragging them down to the small of my back. Rough cloth abraded the skin of my back, ass and thighs, and arctic breath slithered against the back of my neck. I was sandwiched in helpless human form between the hot, battered body of my imprint and the powerful, frigid form of the vampire behind me. Released from my hands, Nahuel's head lolled lifelessly again, dropping down to rest on my left shoulder.

I'd let my guard down and my attention wander like a yearling pup, and I'd had no idea that I was no longer alone with my imprint until it was far too late. Now, there was no way I could escape the vampire's powerful grip in my human form, and I couldn't phase to wolf form while my skin was in contact with Nahuel's.

Unless help miraculously appeared in the next few minutes, I was well and truly fucked.

"Well, what have we here?"

The lush tenor was as smooth as top shelf whiskey, with a bayou twang that reminded me of Dennis Quaid's character in "The Big Easy." It might have struck me as sexy—if I didn't know that it belonged to a stone-cold killer.

I couldn't do much but squirm desperately. Although the hand on my wrists tightened, he seemed more amused than concerned by my struggles. His other hand came up to drag my hair away from my face, in a revolting mockery of a tender caress.

I couldn't turn my head enough to see his face, but I was acutely aware of his long, muscular form crushing me so tightly that I could barely draw breath. For the first time since I'd become a werewolf, I felt small and helpless.

And I realized that if this vampire was who I thought he was … I was beyond fucked.

"What a succulent little morsel you are," he sniggered in my right ear. "You must be the shape-shifter bitch I've heard so much about. You stink worse than a flooded kennel full of dead dogs, but what a lovely ass you have."

Heard? About me? From who? I wondered wildly. This was why he was keeping me pressed up against Nahuel, I realized. He knew I couldn't risk phasing while in physical contact with my imprint. But how did he know?

I quit struggling to get away; it was fruitless and I would be better off conserving my energy. Now I was focused on craning my neck enough to get even a glimpse of my attacker.

"Nahuel said you'd come for him," he drawled, making my imprint's name sound like it rhymed with "y'all." His icy tongue licked the rim of my earlobe. My gorge rose in heaves that were dry and futile; I was grateful that my stomach had been empty for hours. "Imagine that! The pathetic half-breed loser was actually right about something for a change."

Fury scorched through my veins and a red haze clouded my vision. "Are you the fucker who did this to him?" I growled.

He laughed again. "Oh, no. Joham took care of that himself. He's really disappointed with his baby boy. And the big guy does not handle disappointment well, a'tall."

It was stupid to feel relief that this vampire was not Joham, but I allowed myself to savor the momentary feeling. I knew it was probably useless, but I couldn't halt the questions that spilled out of my trembling lips.

"Why did you take him? What are you going to do with him?"

With a deft move, he dragged my hands lower and rammed himself against me harder. Now my hands were pinned between my body and his—more specifically, a part of his body I did not want to think about. With his right hand, he continued to toy with my hair, while his newly liberated left hand went exploring. When it closed over my breast and squeezed painfully, I couldn't control my whimper.

"I wouldn't worry about him so much, sweet thing," he laughed, grinding something long, hard and horrible against my ass. "His daddy'll take care of him. I'm just hoping Joham won't mind if I take care of you. At least until he's ready for you."

Just my fucking luck that I would get the only vampire on the planet whose lust for human snatch outweighed his blood lust.

His right hand left my hair, and I felt it moving behind my ass, shifting rough fabric, pushing it out of the way.

"Don't worry, sweetness, I won't hurt ya much," he panted excitedly. "I got experience with you fragile types. I can control myself just fine, and I know just what to do to fill that pretty little belly of yours."

When he uttered the word "belly," the hand that had been pawing my breast moved south, gouging between Nahuel's limp body and mine. It dipped lower, until thick, icy fingers paused over my abdomen.

Where the fuck is Jake?

But I knew the answer, even as my mind shrieked the question. I'd cut my connection to Jacob, making it harder for him to find me. I'd disobeyed a direct order, one that the reasonable part of my brain had known made perfect sense, even as I'd defied him.

I was naked, defenseless, alone and totally at the mercy of an insane, horny vampire. And I had no one to blame but myself.

I clamped my jaws down on my scream, knowing it would only arouse him more. My every instinct howled at me to struggle, to fight back. But with that hand hovering inches above my crotch and his vile dick pressing against my ass, any movement at all meant I'd just be playing into his hands.

I couldn't do anything to resist him physically, but damned if I'd give in to his attempts at mind-fuckery. I made the only move I could, the only one that could help me. I buried my face in the curve of Nahuel's neck and gulped in huge, desperate breaths of his spicy, sweet scent, ordering my brain to shut down so that I wouldn't feel whatever the horndog parasite was about to do to me.

But what happened next was not at all what I'd been expecting.

The vampire's cold, hard shape went impossibly still behind me. He exhaled sharply, then leaned into me and dragged in a long, loud breath. Sniffing me. The hand on my gut pressed inward painfully.

"Well, fuck me," he muttered, surprise and annoyance clashing in his bedroom voice. "Looks like I'm not the only one who knows what he's doing. Who'da thought the loser half-breed had it in 'im?"

I had no clue what made him pause, but whatever the reason, I was grateful for the reprieve. I dragged my lips along the scorching skin of Nahuel's neck and sobbed in his ear.

"Baby, wake the fuck up! I need you. Now!"

Of course, the fucker behind me heard every word as clearly as if I'd babbled them into his foul ear. He roared with laughter.

Abruptly, he gripped the hair at the top of my scalp and wrenched my head backward. I felt something pop at the base of my neck where it bent over his shoulder, and intense, burning pain sizzled down my spine. I gasped, my eyes wide with pain and shock, and finally caught a glimpse of my tormenter. I had a vague impression of pale, freckled skin and a shock of strawberry-blond hair.

"S'okay, sweetness." His dead, frozen lips caressed my cheek. "I ain't too proud to take sloppy seconds. I'll enjoy a fruitless fuck just as much as I would planting one in you."

What the FUCK is he talking about? What the fuck is he TALKING about?

He licked down my cheek toward my throat, leaving a burning trail of ice-cold venom. "Maybe I'll have a little sip while I'm at it."

The shivering, terrified high school girl who'd been cowering in her dark corner until now picked that moment to open her mouth and scream.

Maybe I'd have been able to hold it together if I'd thought all he was going to do was rape me. But I totally lost it at the realization that he intended to violate me in every possible way.

I was screaming now. Shrilly, carelessly.

His thighs shoved between mine from behind. I was struggling, squirming, trying desperately to pull away from the icy hardness that was pressing between my spread thighs.

"Nahuel! Help me! Wake the fuck up!"

I'd lived through enough horrible shit to know that the moments in life we would most wish to have pass in a blur are the ones most likely to play out in slow motion. This was definitely one of those moments.

My frantic thrashing dislodged Nahuel's head from my shoulder. I watched, transfixed, as his head lolled back against the wall of the barn. My attacker's teeth grazed the skin of my neck in the exact same moment that I felt his icy dick find its mark and start to push home. It was the same instant in which Nahuel's lifeless, unseeing eyes snapped into blazing focus.

He looked right at me and opened his mouth wide, as if to mirror my screams. Soundlessly, as fast as a striking viper, his head whipped toward me … and he sank his gleaming, perfect teeth into my attacker's face.

I was intimately familiar with the harsh, metallic sound vampire flesh made when it was being ripped apart, but I'd never actually heard a vampire scream in pain before. This one was shrieking louder than my inner school girl. He sounded like he'd be pissing his pants if such a thing were possible for the undead fucker.

Nahuel snarled, shaking his head like a wolf with a jack rabbit in its teeth. Maybe it was the sheer shock of actually facing any resistance at all, or maybe it was the animalistic savagery of the attack itself, but the leech was losing it. He wasn't even trying to fight Nahuel off. Instead, he frantically pulled against my imprint's bite.

And he let go of me.

Thank. You. Jesus.

I dropped straight to the floor between his legs, curled into a ball and somersaulted away from him. Before my body stopped rolling, I'd phased to wolf form. I sprang up onto my hind legs, clamped my jaws around the back of his neck and ripped the bloodsucker away from Nahuel. I tossed his flailing body across the barn, and he slammed into the far wall, bringing down a shower of debris around him.

Credit where it's due, but the fucker recovered quickly. By the time I'd bounded across the barn floor, he was back on his feet and I got my first good look at him. He was tall, lean and built like a swimmer, with a crown of curly red-blond hair and a face that would have been at home on a runway—if half of it hadn't been ripped away by my imprint's bite.

Even if the bastard managed to survive this battle—and I was determined that he wouldn't—that smooth, whisky voice of his would never be heard again. It would be hard for him to call me or anyone else "sweet thing" with half of his jaw torn away. Nahuel's bite had obliterated the right side of the fucker's face from just below one blood-red eye all the way down to his throat.

I launched myself at him, striking the center of his chest with both front paws. I knew I was giving him an opportunity to get his arms around me, but I just couldn't care. And I was certain I had the advantage now that he was injured and afraid.

But the bloodsucker surprised me again, deflecting my blow at the last second and twisting in a serpentine blur. I tumbled snout-first onto the dirt floor, and in the next instant, he was on my back, his arms and legs wound around my body. There was no way he could bite me with half his face missing, but he could still crush my bones and rip my hide—and that's exactly what he intended to do.

I was back in the shit again, and he knew it. Snarling and yelping, I twisted my spine, trying to snap at the hands that were slowly crushing me. I threw my weight backward, rolling him beneath me. We tumbled across the floor, slamming against the same patch of wall where I'd tossed him before. The wall gave way and we bashed through it, out into the snow.

Somehow, I ended up beneath him again, and this time he had one arm wrapped tight around my throat. With the other hand, he forced my head forward. He was either going to crush my windpipe or pop my head off.

NOW you're fucked, my inner bitch snapped, disgusted that I'd apparently seized defeat from the jaws of victory.

Yeah, I know, but at least he's not going to stick his dick into me while I'm a wolf. Death before dishonor.

Distantly, behind me, I heard Nahuel's pain-filled roar.

I'm so sorry, baby. I fucked up.

Darkness curled up the edges of my vision.

Suddenly the pressure on my neck and head released. A high-pitched squeal pierced my brain from behind. Something hard, heavy and roughly the size of a large cantaloupe bounced off my shoulder and tumbled to the ground in front of me.

For a moment, I couldn't process what I was seeing. Couldn't explain what was in the snow in front of me: The disfigured face and wide, shocked eyes of the rapist vampire stared up at me sightlessly.

Pain screaming down my spine, I whipped around.

Nahuel stood over the decapitated body of his kidnapper. His bloodied, mangled arms dangled at his sides. His entire body shook so violently that I'd have called it a seizure if it weren't for the fact that he was on his feet and his eyes were wide open. His head jerked repeatedly to the left in tiny, heartbreaking circles, like the involuntary movements a toddler makes coming down off the end of a core-dump tantrum.

He swayed on his feet for a few seconds before his knees suddenly buckled.

I was in human form, catching him in my arms, before his body hit the ground.

I knew Nahuel's trembling was caused by a combination of shock and pain, and that there wasn't a whole hell of a lot I could do about either without Carlisle's help. Remembering the ominous pop I'd felt when the leech had yanked my head back, I realized I probably needed to see the doc pronto, too. The adrenalin still pounding through my veins was masking the worst of my pain, but the tingling numbness spreading through my fingers and toes was worrisome.

It must have hurt like hell, but Nahuel wrapped his battered, blood-slicked arms around me in a crushing grip. Clearly, he had no plans to let go any time soon, and I was fine with that.

"Ñi piuque," he breathed into my hair, his voice amazingly calm. "I knew you would come."

My heart leaped joyfully that he was still capable of speech, that his mind had survived the torture and terror of this day.

I pulled back enough to see his face. Beneath the blood and bruises, his expression was serene, his eyes free of fear. Stroking a few blood-tipped strands of dark hair away from his face, I gently kissed his bruised and split lips.

My dad, who'd been right about so many things, had been fundamentally wrong about just one. There was one thing that I now knew was completely, irrevocably beyond the realm of possibility.

It was simply impossible that I could ever again live without Nahuel.

"Of course," I whispered against his lips. "I'll always come for you. You are my heart."