The Werewolf Academy Series Boxed Set

by Cheree Alsop

  “Drogan’s not there,” Jaze said in answer to Alex’s questioning gaze. “But we know he was there less than a week ago. He set up shop in an old water treatment facility and turned it into his own private laboratory.”

  “A lab for what?” Cassie asked.

  “For his own twisted experiments,” Jaze replied, his tone showing his distaste. “He’s trying to make something, but we don’t know what, yet.”

  Alex was grateful Siale had been assigned a permanent position with Brock. After all she had gone through as a victim in one of Drogan’s labs, he was glad she would be spared finding another of his half-brother’s lairs. Mercy wasn’t one of Drogan’s virtues. He had promised to shield his fiancé from such things; he hoped Brock would use discretion if what they found proved too difficult for her to see.

  “The Black Team’s arrived,” Mouse called over their headsets. “They say it’s dark. Do you want them to move in?”

  “How far away are we?” Jaze asked. The white of his knuckles from where he gripped the side of Mouse’s chair was the only sign of his anxiety.

  Alex realized his own fists were clenched and forced them to relax. He wasn’t going to find another body pit. Memories of mutilated bodies and a single hand reaching toward the sound of his voice swarmed him. He had held Siale close against his body, willing her heart to keep beating despite the potentially fatal wounds that lined her body. He couldn’t think of the corpses beneath them, nor the fact that after the explosion, their only hope of escape had been cut off. He concentrated on the sound of Siale’s heartbeat and attempted to keep her from slipping away by telling her about his life.

  “Alex, you ready?”

  Alex realized they were no longer moving. The helicopter had landed in an empty parking lot with unlit streetlights. The buildings around them were dark at the late hour. Alex looked up to see everyone watching him. Jericho and Terith were already outside. Cassie and Tennison exchanged a worried look from the other side of the helicopter.

  “Ready for this?” Trent repeated. He tried to hide the worry he felt, but it rounded his tone.

  Alex pushed up to his feet. “I’m ready,” he said.

  Trent ducked outside with a hand on Alex’s arm. Mouse and Jaze were busy conferring with Darian, the head of the Black Team. Alex was grateful Jaze hadn’t seen his lapse in attention.

  Mouse jogged back over to them. “Darian will take the Black Team through the back. He’s already got snipers on the roof. Heat signatures show a dozen guards, but there’s no sign of Drogan. We’re going in on three.”

  “You got this?” Trent asked quietly when the others fell into their usual pairs.

  Cassie and Tennison ghosted around the front of the building. Terith and Jericho followed close behind.

  “I’ve got this,” Alex replied. He jogged after his sister, careful to keep to the shadows in case there was anyone watching from the buildings around them. The fact that Mouse had landed them in the middle of the building’s parking lot said that they weren’t as concerned about the element of surprise as they were about rescuing whoever might be inside.

  In one of Professor Chet’s rants during combat training, the werewolf had explained how letting an enemy know an attacker was coming could put them into their standard defensive procedures; while the element of surprise was valuable, knowing how defenders reacted to an attack told valuable information about whoever was in charge.

  “Are we concerned about hostages?” Darian asked over their earpieces.

  “From what Mouse’s surveillance has shown, all warm bodies appear to be performing tasks. Be alert for armed guards.” Jaze paused, then said, “Mouse, the lights.”

  “Got it,” the small professor replied.

  A moment later, the lights went out in the building. Alex could hear the commotion inside. His muscles tensed and his senses strained, following the movements of the people they were about to confront.

  “Slow and steady,” Jaze said quietly over their earpieces. “Ready, go.”

  Jericho kicked the door open, then spun to the right in case anyone charged out.

  “Clear,” Alex said after a moment. He ducked inside.

  His wolven eyesight made out the empty first floor. By the sound of things, the men and women in the building were on the second and third floors. Alex led the way to the stairs.

  “Cassie, Tennison, sweep this floor in case we missed anyone,” Alex ordered.

  “Got it,” Tennison replied. His sister nodded, her gaze searching the darkness.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “Will do,” Alex promised. He walked silently up the steps. Trent followed close behind, their footsteps soundless the way Professor Colleen and Professor Rafe had trained them to walk during their outdoor classes in the forest.

  “We’re taking the back stairs,” Jaze said into their earpieces. “Wait for my command.”

  “Four bodies on the second floor,” Brock told them from the surveillance equipment. “They’ve been walking set routes. Prepare for armed guards.”

  Alex slipped his gun from the holster. They avoided using firearms whenever possible, but if Jaze felt it was necessary, things could get out of hand.

  Jericho reached for the handle to the door at the top of the stairs. Alex waited on pins and needles.

  “Go,” Jaze said.

  Alex nodded and Jericho opened the door. Alex dove through. Two guards spun and shot from the end of the hallway. Bullets tore into the wall next to Alex’s head. Alex shot the one on the right and Trent took the left. Both guards fell with small paralyzing darts sticking from their necks.

  “Machine guns?” Terith noted quietly. “That’s a bit much.”

  Her brother gestured to the liquid silver that dripped from one of the bullet holes marring the beige wall. “They’re armed for werewolf.”

  “Is that silver?” Brock asked over their earpieces. “Terith, get a closer look.”

  She complied, angling her head so the camera attached to her earpiece could capture the view.

  “Get a sample,” Mouse said. “I’d like to know what concentration they’re using.”

  Terith dipped a swab in the liquid and put it in a bag in her pouch.

  “They definitely knew we were coming,” Jericho said quietly.

  “Be careful,” Alex told them. “Jaze?”

  “Clear,” the werewolf said. “Let’s move on. Brock?”

  “The other six are on the next floor,” the human told them.

  “There are some strange readings at the end of your floor, though,” Siale said. “Someone should check it out.”

  “Will do,” Alex replied. “Jericho, Terith, cover us.”

  He and Trent made their way down the wall to where the guards had fallen. Alex kicked the machine gun free from the closest guard’s hand even though the dose from the dart would keep him out for hours. It paid to be careful. He fought back a smile at the thought. Siale would be proud of him.

  “What is that smell?” Trent asked quietly.

  The door they stood in front of was made of thick metal and sealed all the way around. Alex stepped closer and took a sniff of the scent that shouldn’t have been able to make its way through, yet a faint smell touched the air. Alex’s stomach twisted.

  “This isn’t going to be good,” he said, his voice tight.

  “What did you find?” Siale asked.

  Alex touched the doorknob. Trent set a hand on his arm. “Maybe we should let someone else go first.”

  Alex shook his head. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Eight

  Alex tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He used his werewolf strength to force it to turn completely. A metallic pop sounded and the door swung inward.

  The smells rushed out, surrounding them in death and decay. Alex fought back the urge to stumble outside and never look back. Instead, he forced one foot in front of the other. Memories attempted to swarm him, but he pushed them down. Alex blinked in the dim l
ighting. His eyes focused and the knot in his stomach turned into a burning pain of dismay.

  Bodies strapped upright to tables lined the walls. I.V.s with empty bags protruded from withered limbs. The bodies looked mummified as if they had been drained completely of blood.

  “What is this?” Trent asked.

  “Alex, what did you find?” Siale demanded. Concern for her fiancé filled her voice.

  “Uh, I’m not sure yet,” Alex answered honestly, his voice rough.

  He steeled his nerves and made his way to the first body. Alex avoided looking at the hollow-cheeked face. Plugs had been removed from the human’s arms and legs where the major arteries ran. He could smell Drogan’s scent in the room. His half-brother had definitely drained their blood, but Alex couldn’t fathom why.

  Alex’s hands started to shake. He reached for a chart on a nearby table, but hit the side of it, sending both the chart and a tray of operating tools crashing to the floor.

  Trent was immediately at his side.

  “Steady,” his friend said quietly.

  “Are you guys okay?” Terith asked. “Oh my goodness!”

  Alex rushed to the doorway the same second that Siale’s gasp of dismay sounded through his earpiece. He covered the camera at the side of Terith’s head and turned her back to the hallway.

  “Wait outside,” he demanded, his voice words gruffer than he meant them to be.

  “O-okay,” Terith replied quickly. Jericho took her arm and steered her down the hall.

  “We’ve reached the third floor,” Jaze said over their earpieces. “Hold up. We’ll take care of things and call you if we need you.”

  “Ten-four,” Alex replied.

  Spots showed in his vision. He barely heard Trent retreat from the room. Alex pulled the door shut and leaned against the heavy metal. His legs gave out and he slid to a sitting position.

  “Guards are down,” Jaze said.

  Alex barely heard him. He buried his face in his hands. “Siale,” he said, his words quiet. “Siale, are you okay?”

  It was a moment before she answered, “I-I don’t know. Are you?”

  Alex shook his head, but couldn’t make himself respond. A hand touched his shoulder. Alex jumped at the contact. The world around him spun. He felt as though he was back in the room and one of the corpses was after him. He knocked the hand away and drew his gun within the space of a heartbeat.

  His eyes focused and he found himself staring down the Glock’s barrel at Trent.

  His best friend’s hands were raised and eyes wide. “Alex, it’s okay. Lower your gun. It’s just me!”

  Alex’s vision warred between memories, nightmares, and reality. The scent of the room clung to his clothes and his nose, refusing to leave him in peace. He kept seeing withered hands reaching for him. He told himself it had been Trent’s hand on his shoulder, but he wasn’t sure if he believed his own words.

  “Alex, give me the gun.” Trent’s voice was calm. He crouched slowly so that he was eye-level with Alex. If he felt any anxiety at the gun that followed him down, he didn’t show it. “Come on, man. We need to get out of here. Let’s go get some fresh air. Hand me your gun, okay?”

  Trent was a pack mate. He had told Alex he would follow him no matter what he did. The voice in the back of Alex’s mind noted that aiming a gun at his best friend’s face might change that. His hand shook. He lowered his arm.

  “That’s it,” Trent said.

  Alex’s training took over. Instead of handing his friend the gun, he slid it back into his holster and attempted to stand. Trent grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet.

  “Third floor’s clear,” Jaze said. “Alex, get your team outside. We’ll sweep for leads and meet you there.”

  Jericho led the way down the stairs. Alex barely saw the stars shining down from outside. His back stung slightly beneath the blanket of moonlight.

  “Alex, you’re bleeding,” Trent said.

  Alex nodded. “Bear,” he said numbly.

  Trent gave him a strange look, but didn’t ask questions as he led Alex to the helicopter.

  Alex vaguely remembered giving his gun back to Caden when they returned to the Wolf Den. Siale held him as if she knew just how much he needed to know she was alright. He kept looking down at her to reassure himself that she hadn’t been left strapped to a table in the room of corpses. Siale and Trent walked with him back to his quarters and he fell into a dazed sleep on the couch with Siale under his arm.

  ***

  When Alex awoke, the faintest gray of dawn showed through the window. He wanted to go back to sleep, but the things that had happened flooded his mind so stark and real that rest evaded him. He slipped his arm from beneath Siale’s head at the same time that scents touched his nose. He looked down at Trent’s familiar form on the floor.

  His friend was awake. When Trent met Alex’s eyes, he tipped his head to the left. Alex followed his gaze. His heart slowed at the sight of Jordan, Terith, Von, Cassie, and Tennison sleeping on the floor wrapped in their own blankets.

  Baffled, Alex whispered, “What’s going on?”

  Trent put a finger to his lips and motioned toward the hallway. Alex nodded. Both werewolves made their silent way outside Alex’s lone wolf quarters.

  “Why is everyone in there?” Alex asked quietly as soon as Trent shut the door.

  “They’ve chosen you, Alex,” his friend replied.

  Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “It does in real life,” Trent replied. At Alex’s questioning look, the werewolf made a sweep with his hand. “Out there, in the real world, wolves choose their Alpha just as much as their Alpha chooses them. Your pack has chosen you.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Alex replied. “I’m not an Alpha.”

  “You know you are,” Trent shot back.

  Alex shook his head. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, unable to meet Trent’s gaze. “You know very well I’m not fit to lead anyone, let alone my own pack.”

  Trent was quiet for a moment before he asked, “You mean what happened on the mission?”

  Alex nodded. He glanced at his friend. “I could have shot you.”

  “But I’m still here,” Trent replied with forced humor. His smile fell when Alex refused to smile back. “Okay, so you flipped out. It happens.”

  “Not like that,” Alex argued. “I was supposed to lead my team, and what did I do? I freaked out at the sight of a few bodies and almost shot my best friend. What kind of a leader is that?”

  Trent sat on the carpeted floor and motioned for Alex to join him. When Alex kept standing, Trent patted the carpet. “Come on. You might be tough, but I’m tired. Humor me.”

  Alex gave in and sat. The pressure of his back against the wall hurt far less than he thought it should have. Despite the whirlwind of his mind, his body was healing the way it was supposed to.

  “Okay, what?” he asked into the silence.

  “Alex, you have PTSD.”

  “What?” Alex asked to confirm Trent’s proclamation.

  Trent gave him a steady look. “PTSD. It’s short for Post-Traumatic—”

  “I know what it is,” Alex replied. “We’ve talked about this before. But I think you’re wrong.”

  “Really?” Trent asked. “Did the sight of dead bodies take you back to the night you rescued Siale? It sure seemed like you were looking at something other than me when you were pointing the gun at my head.” He paused, then said, “Please tell me I’m right so I don’t think my best friend really was trying to kill me.”

  The hint of worry in his voice made Alex give in. “Fine. You’re right.” He shook his head without looking at Trent. “I couldn’t control it. The memories took over and I felt like I was trapped. I was on the verge of a meltdown.”

  “I think you had a meltdown,” Trent replied, his voice gentle. “You couldn’t control what was happening. Shutting down and running on instinct alone is a meltdown. You were in su
rvival mode.”

  “Yeah, but survival mode shouldn’t account for aiming a gun at you.”

  Trent gave a small shrug. “So. It’s different for everyone, I hear.”

  Alex looked at him. “You hear? From who?”

  “From whom,” Trent corrected. At Alex’s exasperated look, he explained with a hint of trepidation, “From Meredith.”

  “You told my mom?” Alex asked with dismay.

  Trent stiffened slightly at the sound of frustration in Alex’s voice. “Yes, I did. I know you think I have all the answers, but sometimes I don’t. It helps to have someone else to talk to.” He paused, then said, “It’s the same thing I keep encouraging you to do.”

  Alex wasn’t thrilled with the fact that his mom knew what was going on. She had been through enough without having to worry about him. The voice in the back of his mind answered that mothers were supposed to worry. It came with the title.

  Alex let out a slow breath. He could feel Trent’s worried gaze on him. His best friend was obviously afraid that he had crossed an unspoken line. By his expression, the small werewolf wondered if he had damaged their friendship. Alex felt bad for the fact that apparently everyone around him was worried and it was his fault.

  Alex forced a small smile. “I think you have all the answers?”

  The relieved answering smile that crossed Trent’s face eased Alex’s stress.

  “Yes, you do, and no, I don’t. Sorry to take that away from you,” Trent replied.

  A chuckle escaped Alex. “I guess I’ll recover. It’ll be hard, though.”

  Trent nodded with mock solemnity. “Just understand that once in a while, once in a very rare while, I might have to go to someone else for an answer. In this case, it was your mother. She said she’s noticed the same symptoms, but thought you would come talk to her if it got too bad.” He watched Alex closely. “She asked if I would send you to her.”

  As tempted as Alex was to let himself vent everything to his mother, he shook his head. “I can’t.” At Trent’s fallen look, he rushed on to explain, “Not yet. There’s so much counting on me. I have control of it, if only a little bit. If I open that box, I may not be able to close it again.”