by Anya Nowlan
“Yeah? That doesn’t look much like the cavalry,” Dice commented, blowing up a thick smoke ring.
The moment it got more than two feet up from their fox hole, a bullet whizzed through it. Price rolled his eyes. The wolves had been trying to make a point for the past few hours without making much of a dent in them.
Dice couldn’t be moved because of the gaping wound in his thigh. Price had fashioned a makeshift tourniquet high on Dice’s thigh, but considering that all of the Shifter Squad Nine guys were made of more muscle than anything else, it wasn’t like it had been very easy to make that thing hold. Also, the fact that Price could stare through the hole and see the earth below it wasn’t entirely promising either.
“Well, you gotta work with what you got, huh?” Price said, reaching his hand back as he kept a lookout on the edge of the foxhole.
“Guess so,” Dice agreed, planting the cigar in Price’s hand.
Neither one of them were smokers but they’d recently discovered that Ryker had a point about carrying those things around. There was nothing like a little bit of possible lung cancer to get a man’s mind off his impending death when bullets were whizzing over his head like a Fourth of July show.
Night was falling quickly. The mission was supposed to be quick and easy, as they all were, and as usual, it had been anything but. They were outnumbered, outgunned and outmaneuvered, and the longer they stayed in that god damn forest, the more annoyed Price was becoming. After all, he’d been stuck under fire before and he remembered far too well what happened with the men he’d been with then.
“I think I better go meet our friends.”
“Help me to the edge,” Dice said solemnly, his agreement clear from the fact that he wasn’t telling Price to sit down and shut up.
Rio needed to be moved fast unless Shifter Squad Nine wanted to know what they looked like in suits while standing around a burial site. Without any assistance, the new squad was bound to get shot up as badly as they had. Prowler was still out there somewhere as well and while Price knew his little brother was alive, he wasn’t sure what kind of a state he was in.
Another feeling that was too familiar and a bit too eerily reminiscent of horrible times past for him.
They kept low as Price hauled Dice over to the edge and set him up with a shooting position. Ryker was grumbling choice expletives and Price had learned not to ask for updates about Rio’s state. The amount of cursing that went into every sentence when Ryker replied was enough to note that things weren’t looking that great.
“Remember. Keep your fucking wolfy head down,” Dice said with a mild grin, one that was tinted with worry, when Price got his rifle and crept to the edge of the foxhole, furthest from where they figured The Arctics’ position to be.
“Aye, will do.”
Without having to discuss it, Dice opened up fire in a wide sweeping pattern across the area where they’d been shot at before to provide cover for Price. He hauled himself out of the hole and took off running, the crunch of the foliage below his boots sounding so different from what it had been eight years ago, and yet oh so fucking familiar.
It made a shudder of disgust traipse down his spine. Every fight they had with The Arctics, he had thrown himself into it 120 percent. And what did he get in return? Imminent death in the backwoods forests, being hunted down by the very same men that he’d spent almost a decade now trying to wipe off the globe.
It was getting on his nerves.
Price slowed down, listening intently for a moment. He’d seen where the chopper had headed when it flew in and he chose a path that would intersect with their movement pattern if they chose to go towards the gunfire, which they probably would. The sound of the helicopter engine was familiar enough to him to be sure that it was a Firm bird instead of The Arctics sending reinforcements.
It took about ten minutes of running before another gunshot and shouts forced him to slow down his steps and crouch down to listen. He could hear a female voice and then a barrage of shots, interspersed with more shouting.
Price frowned, shouldering his gun and looking through the scope to see if he could spot anyone. The underbrush was thick even though the trees were tall and one would assume that the path between them was clear. He couldn’t see a damn thing but her voice kept reverbing through him, making his wolf stir within him.
That hasn’t happened in a while.
Getting up, Price moved forward. He got about five steps in when a hand on his shoulder made him spin around violently. Prowler met his grappling grab with one of his own and they stopped mid move, with Prowler grinning wide.
“Brother! Fancy seeing you around here!”
“Shit, man,” Price growl. “That’s not cool. Where have you been?”
“Oh, you know. Chasing bad guys, kicking ass and taking names,” he said with a theatric roll of his eyes, bringing a hand up to his forehead.
Thick red blood snaked down his wrist in rivers. It was all his.
“Any luck?” Price asked, frowning as he glanced in the direction he’d heard the shouts from.
The gunfire was thick now, creating a backdrop for their conversation.
“Oh yeah. Thor was keeping a few steps ahead of them and I was a few steps behind. Between the two of us, I think we got most of them,” Prowler said with a shrug.
“Where’s Thor?”
“Fuck if I know. Probably carving his initials into their foreheads or something. What’s this shit all about?” Prowler asked idly, pointing a thumb at the tree-line that was now hopping with red and yellow as gunfire intermingled with the fire that was moving in closer.
It had been Rio’s idea to start the fire to begin with. Without it, they would have been dead a while ago. The explosion was Rio’s as well, and setting up both of them had been what had gotten him shot and almost killed. Price had almost managed to forget about both at this point, because they seemed to have happened so long ago.
They’d covered a shitload of ground to get away from the initial conflict site, but the path of destruction and death was marked behind them clearly. Now, the fire was just coming to check up on them, it seemed.
“The cavalry, I think,” Price commented, scratching the back of his head as if they were discussing the weather.
He felt a hell of a lot calmer now that he was sure that Prowler was alive and relatively well. Sure, both of them had wounds and cuts and bruises, but that was nothing new. At least he didn’t have a clear view of Prowler’s lungs and heart like Ryker currently did with Rio.
“Should we go help?” Prowler asked, arching his brows in question, though a small smirk splayed across his lips.
“That’s why they pay us the big bucks, don’t they?” Price said, stifling the sigh that wanted to bubble up in his throat.
“That’s a crock of shit and you know it,” Prowler remarked with a chuckle, the hyena-like laughter echoing across the woods.
As if controlled by the same hand, the two of them crouched down and split up, taking off in a run towards the battle. They chose completely different approach vectors, Prowler going left and Price right, but Price knew his brother well enough to assume that they were going to reach the area at just about the same time.
Price couldn’t help but look up when he heard the telltale sounds of the helicopter again, either heading out or looping back in. At least this time, he wasn’t sitting in one, flying himself and his brother into another massacre. He took a calming breath, forcing the mental image of the time eight years past out of his head.
No time to get all sentimental, he thought, remembering the way that Jackson’s head practically exploded on his shoulders.
The gruesome mental images were wiped away as soon as he hit the ground and crawled the last couple of feet needed to get a solid view of what was going on. Six operatives, dressed in the telltale black of the clean-up squad, were placed in a diamond pattern, taking cover as they returned fire with a pack of wolves further down the clearing.
It to
ok one glance to understand what was going on. The Firm people – he couldn’t tell which squad because they had their visors down, but he could smell a lynx in the mix so that cut down on the options – had probably started out with a slight upper hand but had now been overrun.
I know how that feels.
Price was trying to decide how best to help when a flash of movement almost right ahead of him caught his attention. Another matching flash was across the opening in the woods, on the other side of the clean-up squad.
They’re trying to flank them.
Irritation boiled up in Price. He was going to be real pissed if The Arctics were going to win another goddamn battle and he had to end up flipping his shit and going all Nightmare on Elm Street on everyone’s asses. He could barely remember what had happened after he’d gotten in that helicopter the last time and it wasn’t exactly a memory he needed rekindled.
All he could recall was a lot of blood.
He bit down on his lower lip as he brought up his gun, tracking the first man’s movement he’d caught. It turned out to be two soldiers instead of one. As he was lining up his shot on the first one, his attention was torn away from the kill by the sound of that voice again.
“Move forward!” she yelled.
The Arctics had some sort of a comm-scrambler in place over the area so the only means of communications were the old-school ones. Shouting at the top of your lungs. Or, well, maybe smoke signals were an option at this point as well, seeing as the roar of the fire was getting damn close.
Price was starting to feel hot in his combat fatigues. That was never a good sign, unless you were in a jungle, in which case it was just normal to feel like you were about to drown in your own sweat.
He finally caught a glimpse of the woman who had been speaking and his heart skipped a beat. The green of his eyes flashed deep gold immediately as he took in her form. She was dressed in the same black uniform as everyone else, but it didn’t seem to matter to either Price or his wolf.
The snarl that rose in his throat surprised him, a frown crossing over his features. She moved and it was pure artistry, her steps fast and sure, keeping low and limber even when bullets were raining down around her like hellfire. Her long ponytail swung out from underneath her helmet, the caramel-brown locks lapping over her back. Her hold on her rifle was sure and careful.
Price saw the moment when she squeezed the trigger and followed the bullet blowing out of the barrel as if it were moving in slow motion. He watched in quiet awe as it traversed across the emptiness separating her from The Arctics and then dug straight through the visor of one of the enemy combatants, embedding itself into the man’s brain.
He dropped down like a tree, chopped at the base.
When Price looked back, he could see the two men he’d been tracking before both shouldering their guns and taking aim on her.
At that moment then and there, Price thought he could really sense what hell would feel like. For some reason, if she died, he was certain that he’d get the firsthand experience of what it felt like to lose almost everything that was important in his life.
No fucking way. You’re not going to touch her.
Three
Prowler
The easy grin he wore as a mask clung to Prowler’s expression as he snuck through the forest, his steps fast, hurried, but not rushed. He looped as close to the back positions of The Arctics as he could, quickly assessing the situation.
If only he hadn’t used up his grenades hours ago, this would have been great fun. He could count about five guys who he could wipe out with one well-placed throw. Yet as things stood, if he tried to take aim and mow them down with the assault rifle, their six buddies would spin around and fill him so full of lead that he could be used as an anchor by the time they were done.
So he moved on.
Prowler snuck forth, staying true to his name. Though tech was his first love, he always thought he’d missed part of his calling as a damn decent recon operative. The only problem was that self-control was not exactly something he considered high on his list of skills. The thought of just gathering information and returning made him gag.
No, if he was going to go into some bullshit, he was going to kill someone for his trouble.
With a sigh, he moved forward, when he caught a sudden burst of motion ahead of him. He slowed his steps and stalked after it, keeping it clearly in his view. It was two Arctics soldiers. Thankfully, the woods were so thick with smoke that no one could track anyone by scent at this point, so he could follow behind them without detection.
His step faltered for a moment when he heard a woman’s voice bark orders. Prowler glanced at The Firm squad, being flanked without them even knowing – not that he could blame them, they were dealing with at least two squads’ worth of enemies right in front of them. Staying down and alive was hard enough work.
And, hell, Shifter Squad Nine had gotten flanked pretty much the same way earlier that day. Not that they were ever going to admit to it, of course.
Who the hell is that? he wondered, feeling his wolf spring to the forefront of his mind.
There was something in her voice that got his engine running immediately and Prowler wasn’t entirely sure what it was. He caught sight of her through the foliage and he damn near stopped altogether. Somehow, he was certain that the woman he was looking at was the one he had heard speak. Why he knew this, he couldn’t quite say, but there was no doubt in his head about it.
He slicked his tongue over his lips and forced himself to move on.
Make eyes at the badass chick later, kill Arctics now.
The mantra did its trick. But when Prowler caught sight of his targets again, they’d both taken up shooting positions and Prowler’s stomach dropped.
It looked like both of them were taking aim on the woman he’d just noticed. It made perfect sense from a tactical standpoint – she was clearly the lead and there was nothing quite as damaging as taking out the commanding officer of any squad. But somehow, the thought of seeing her take a bullet was the worst thing Prowler could imagine.
He scowled at the realization even as he quickly shouldered his gun and took aim. His hand was shaking a little – something that never fucking happened.
A split-second before the Arctics soldiers could take their shots, Prowler squeezed the trigger twice in a row. At the exact same moment, he could hear mirroring shots from across the clearing, exactly on the other side.
Price.
Prowler watched both of the men drop like flies and for some reason, he was damn near certain that Price was currently being treated to the same kind of view. Though their connection had always been strong, even for twins, for the first time Prowler experienced something that he had only heard about.
It was like a vision shooting through his mind, the perfect copy of what his brother was seeing. For one indescribable moment, he saw what Price saw and it was enough to ground him on his spot.
Prowler was thrown out of his trance when The Firm’s squad shot at his position and he had to drop down on his belly.
“Werewolves totally suck, okay?” he yelled, mentally rolling his eyes at the little informal call that had developed in The Firm for just these occasions.
The Arctics had gotten far too good at scrambling comms and The Firm wasn’t keeping up with technology that could combat it. There had been a few unfortunate situations as of late where The Firm’s squads would end up opening fire on one another in especially dicey situations because they simply didn’t know that the other side were friendlies.
The call changed every now and then, but the gist was the same. The firm rules and werewolves drool. It wasn’t that surprising that The Firm’s werewolf operatives didn’t exactly approve of the call but what were you going to do, right?
“If only they wouldn’t stink so bad,” a gruff male voice called back, making Prowler smirk.
Yeah, yeah. You guys would be lost without us, he mused as he hiked himself back up and turned arou
nd, satisfied that there was no one left trying to outflank the squad sent to get him and his guys out of trouble.
But for all his bravado and high and mighty attitude, Prowler found himself made somehow more careful now that he felt the presence of that fascinating woman so close. It was like every step he took was more calculated and somehow sharper than before, because the thought of fucking up somehow and not seeing her again was unbearable to him.
Prowler wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew one thing – he wasn’t alone in this. His brother was feeling the exact same way.
Weird, he thought, frowning to himself as he shouldered his gun.
Four
Prowler
It took another two hours before they were reasonably well-assured that there weren’t any Arctics wolves left in the area who could wield a gun. They’d managed to catch one of them alive, but the fucker had bit down on his suicide pill the moment he came to.
Prowler’s body-count had jumped up another six kills and Price claimed he had added seven to his. It was classic one-upmanship between the two of them, but at this point, Prowler wasn’t even sure if his brother was lying to him. He hadn’t felt quite so alive and invigorated by a battle in… well, eight years.
There had been something about hearing her voice and catching sight of her that had changed everything for Prowler. The exhaustion had left his bones, his senses were sharpened and that moment that happened between him and Price kept replaying in his mind.
Better talk to him about it when I can.
Prowler pursed his lips at that mental note as he grabbed the other end of Rio’s stretcher, opposite of Ryker, and walked him swiftly onto the recovery chopper that had been flown in. He set it down as gently as he could, with Ryker jumping into the helicopter and pulling the stretcher in completely while two medics hovered around Rio, discussing something between the two of them.
