Born Wild

by Nikki Jefford

  Wolfrik sniffed dismissively. “Then he better get going.” The sooner the black wolf isolated himself in the woods, the sooner Aden could finish the job and kill the traitorous shifter. The werewolf had to be somewhere nearby. He’d probably heard or smelled Hawk and his men and moved Sparrow to a new location before they got to them.

  Rover remained at Hawk’s side, waiting for the command. The sight of the wolf shifter’s blind obedience made Wolfrik want to retch.

  Hawk’s eyes drilled into Wolfrik’s and narrowed. “Were you her lover, too? Is that why she freed you? I thought she did it out of spite, but now that I find she ran straight to you, it makes a brother wonder.” He stroked his chin.

  Wolfrik threw his head back and laughed. He bent forward, clutched his stomach, and wheezed with hilarity. When he straightened up, there were mirthful tears in his eyes.

  Seeing Hawk with his teeth clenched tighter than a mouse’s ass, he nearly began laughing anew.

  Wolfrik puffed his chest out and grinned. “Yeah, I fucked her. Got your sister on her hands and knees and took her from behind—the way she likes it. She said only a dog can make her come.”

  A metal click resounded inside his right ear. One of Hawk’s men aimed his gun at Wolfrik’s temple.

  “Want me to shoot him?”

  Wolfrik folded his arms across his chest as a smug smile settled over his lips. He locked his gaze on Hawk’s, ready for death and gratified by his last words, knowing the way they’d eat at Hawk long after he was gone. All he’d ever wanted was to return to the hollow, and he had. If he had to die, he wanted to do so here in his home where his body could be buried in the Forest of the Ancestors.

  Kallie, a voice wailed inside his head.

  She was his one regret. But she’d be better off without him. Hawk wouldn’t stick around after he killed Wolfrik. Why else had he started the fire, if not to distract the rest of the pack? He knew he couldn’t take them all down.

  Still smiling, Wolfrik took a step toward the man holding the gun. Four more guns were lifted and aimed at his face. They would leave one ugly mess, but none of that would matter once he entered the spirit world. The men’s fingers curled around their triggers.

  “Wait,” Hawk commanded. “He’s toying with us.”

  His men had scarcely drawn back when growls erupted from the trees. Garrick and Justin came charging at the group, their snarls booming as they neared. They circled around the group, keeping to the cover of the trees and brush. Rover snarled back but stuck beside his master.

  Hawk’s men formed a circle, facing the forest, their guns now pointed into the woods. As Wolfrik crept up behind one of them, he heard a click by his ear and looked sideways to see one of Hawk’s men shake his head.

  “Stay. Put.”

  Wolfrik’s upper lip curled in frustration and hatred.

  The growling swirled around them like a cyclone.

  A shot was fired, followed by another, followed by a yelp and a cry that ended abruptly. Wolfrik was all too familiar with the sound of death. It hollowed out his stomach, leaving behind an empty pit inside his gut like the one back at the compound.

  He threw his head back and bellowed, a wolf’s instinct. But the sound was all wrong—too human. Too short. All too soon his wail died off—swallowed, rather than spread, by the sky.

  The ensuing silence felt all wrong. Usually never one to get sick, Wolfrik felt his last meal rising up his throat. He swallowed it down. It burned like acid along his throat and festered like rot inside his stomach.

  He closed his eyes, wishing in that moment never to open them again. He’d failed to protect members of his pack. What would his parents say if they could see him now? He clenched his jaw. They couldn’t see him. They couldn’t speak. They were dead. Wolfrik’s heart sank. His parents had died alongside forty-one of their packmates—all elders. Life was full of ugly predators intent on wiping out all the good still left in the world.

  A howl nearby broke the silence. It bloomed like a cloud over their heads and echoed through the forest, into sky and space.

  A chorus of howls farther off answered the cry. The temperature seemed to drop and send shivers down Wolfrik’s spine. He opened his eyes and saw Hawk’s men shift uneasily.

  “We need to go,” one said.

  “Not without Sparrow,” Hawk answered. “We still have time.” He looked at Rover, who shifted just long enough to predict that the rest of the pack was an hour out at most. “But first things first.”

  Hawk cleared his throat, and his men reluctantly holstered their weapons. When Hawk nodded, they closed in on Wolfrik.

  Hawk stood just outside the circle, strolling along its edges until he reached a fallen log. He leaped onto it and grinned over the heads of his men, looking down at Wolfrik.

  “This isn’t the fighting pit, Cujo, and I’m not your opponent . . . I’m your master.”

  Red, blinding rage streaked across Wolfrik’s vision. He charged the fucker, bellowing as he did, but Hawk’s men were on him like flies on a corpse. They tackled him to the forest floor—their fists raining down over his naked body. A booted foot kicked him in the ribs, and pain exploded in his side.

  “You are not fully to blame,” Hawk’s voice drawled between blows. “A master must teach his dogs to obey. In the beginning I was diligent, but then I became lenient. I played favorites with you, Cujo. I instructed my men not to lay one finger, unless absolutely necessary, on my prizefighter.” He sighed. “I will not make the same mistake twice. No permanent damage, boys.”

  The next kick to Wolfrik’s ribs brought a howl of rage to his lips. It rose above him to the treetops and shook the branches overhead as though his pain and rage had caused an earthquake.

  The men pulled their arms away from Wolfrik as though he were a leper, and their eyes widened. But they were no longer looking at him. Their heads craned upward, staring into the treetops.

  Rover was on all fours, growling viciously at the sky. His ears went flat against his head, and his fur rose along the ridge of his back.

  “What is it? What’s up there?” Hawk demanded, his voice becoming shrill.

  “It can’t be a wolf,” one of the men said right before Aden came crashing down from the foliage—all two hundred and twenty-five pounds of werewolf. He took down three men as he landed. The others dove aside, kissing the dirt as Aden’s snarl reverberated through the clearing.

  During the momentary confusion, Wolfrik shifted. As his wolf form finished taking shape, the throbbing pain subsided. His wolf wasn’t hurt, but he was pissed off as hell. He snarled and went for the closest man, conveniently lying on the ground on his stomach, his weapon digging into the dirt where he’d thrown out his hand to catch himself. With a snarl, Wolfrik tore through the tendons on the man’s wrist before his trigger finger could so much as twitch. The man screamed.

  Yes, this was better. Much better.

  Wolfrik leaped on his back and tore through the back of his neck.

  A gunshot exploded beside him. He twisted around, snarling, expecting someone to be shooting at him, but one of Hawk’s men had gotten to his feet and taken aim at Aden—and missed.

  Aden bellowed in outrage. He got onto two legs and stormed toward the gunman, with his big, furry shoulders hunched as he closed in on his attacker. The gunman’s eyes widened in terror when Aden reached him and knocked his gun out of his hand with one swipe of his hairy arm.

  “What the fuck is that thing?” Hawk shrieked. “Don’t just stand there, shoot it.”

  A shot rang out, followed by another and another. But the blasts of the gunshots were drowned out by human screams—one after another. Rover snarled and growled but stayed with his master, guarding him as though he were a fresh deer kill.

  As Aden knocked the guns out of humans’ hands and threw Hawk’s men to the ground, Wolfrik leaped atop each one as though t
hey were mice popping up from underground. He ended their miserable lives quickly, tearing through throats as fast as he could to keep up with the falling bodies.

  He would have kept going if it hadn’t been for the female scream that hit him directly in the heart. Wolfrik’s head snapped up, bloody drool dripping in great globs from his lips to the blood-soaked ground.

  Two additional men had emerged from the forest and clustered around Hawk. They held Kallie, who struggled to pull away. One had a knife clutched in his hand.

  No. Not Kallie. She should be safe in the glade or the den. Instead she stood, wide-eyed and naked, in the hands of Hawk’s men.

  chapter twenty-three

  A roar burned up Wolfrik’s throat. He shifted and jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain as it returned and pecked at his bones like relentless buzzards.

  Kallie’s eyes expanded—a look of horror covering her entire face as she took in his bruised and bloody state.

  “Wolfrik!” Her voice sounded tortured. A moment later, her nostrils flared. She yanked her arms free and turned on one of the men. “How dare you hurt him?” she screamed. She threw a fist, but it glanced off the man’s face. He twisted her arm back, and she yelped.

  Wolfrik wanted to bite off every finger that pressed into her naked flesh. Kallie wasn’t familiar with fighting in human form, and the men were armed.

  Wolfrik’s attention snapped to Hawk. “Let her go and I might let you walk out of here with both your legs still attached,” he growled.

  Hawk’s eyes lit up as he inched closer to Kallie. “Is this your mate?” he asked gleefully.

  Wolfrik ground his jaw into a tight scowl. “She’s a packmate, that’s all. Unlike humans, we protect our females.”

  “The way you’re protecting my sister?” Hawk challenged. “Isn’t this where you were keeping her?”

  Wolfrik shrugged. It was hard to pull off with all the tension digging into his shoulders and fear stabbing his gut.

  Hawk sneered. “For all I know, you’ve been hurting her as revenge on me.”

  Wolfrik gave a huff. “The way she tells it, you’re the one who hurt her—or, more accurately—you had your men beat her.” He looked Hawk up and down, lip curling in disgust. “Never could do your own dirty work, could you, Hawk?” Wolfrik spit the last word out as though it were mucus caught in the back of his throat.

  Storm clouds gathered in Hawk’s turbulent gaze. In one leaping stride, he took the knife from his man and grabbed Kallie. She yelped in surprise as Hawk pulled her against him and held the knife at her throat. “I came for my sister, but this is so much better,” Hawk hissed at Wolfrik from behind Kallie. “I’ve got your bitch and unborn child.”

  Wolfrik sucked in too much air at once and choked, coughing so hard his eyes watered. When they cleared, he stared in shock at Kallie’s stomach.

  Hawk chuckled. “You didn’t know your woman was pregnant? Congratulations on another fruitful full moon, and thank you for the gift. Once she pops the first one out, I’m going to breed your bitch and your baby, once it’s old enough. Who knows? Maybe she’ll give birth to a little Cujo junior.”

  Wolfrik bellowed. He roared. He raged.

  He started toward Hawk then stopped when he saw the knife dig into Kallie’s neck and a red bead of blood appear.

  Aden growled, and Rover answered with a snarl, but both beasts kept their places as though tethered to the ground.

  “Let her go,” Wolfrik snarled. “It’s me you want.”

  “No. It’s me.”

  Their heads all turned to watch Sparrow emerge from the trees, the hem of her dress flowing with the deliberate strides of her legs.

  Kallie scowled at her, and Hawk let up on her neck with the knife, his eyes focused on his sister. “Sparrow,” he said evenly.

  “Hello, Hawk. Come to get me? It took you boys long enough.” Sparrow drifted to his side, looking the calmest Wolfrik had ever seen her. “Can we go home now?”

  Hawk tightened his hold on Kallie, making no move toward Sparrow. His eyes narrowed. “Nice try, sister.”

  Sparrow folded her arms over her chest. “I should have never run away, but you had me beaten—your own sister.” She scowled at Hawk.

  Hawk’s eyebrows arched over his forehead. “And now you want to come home?”

  Sparrow wrinkled her nose and looked around the campsite. “Anywhere is better than this place.”

  “Then why didn’t you return on your own?”

  “Because they kept me hostage. They wanted to kill me. The only reason they didn’t was so they could use me as bait.” Sparrow uncrossed her arms. They shook as she spoke.

  Hawk pursed his lips. He plainly didn’t know whether to believe her, nor did Wolfrik. She was playing one of them, and he couldn’t be certain which side she’d chosen. He knew only one thing with certainty—never trust a human.

  “Don’t believe me? Ask your prized pet over there.” Sparrow glared at Wolfrik.

  His grin was one of pure hatred as he locked eyes with Sparrow. It didn’t matter whose side she was on. She’d endangered Kallie’s life and every packmate in the hollow. The damned fortune-telling crone had been right. The birds had flown north and doomed them all.

  “I do want to kill you, Sparrow,” Wolfrik said in a low, dangerous voice. “I’ve always wanted to kill you, even after you let me go. You endangered my pack by coming here. You’re a danger to all wolf shifters. You’re the reason Eric died.”

  Color drained from Sparrow’s face.

  “You killed Eric,” she sputtered.

  “No,” Wolfrik said firmly. “You got him killed.”

  Sparrow jerked back as though he’d slapped her. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

  Hawk nodded. “Cujo makes a good point.”

  Sparrow’s upper lip curled, and she glared at Hawk. He chuckled. “Still want to come home, sister?”

  Before she could answer, Kallie leaned forward and spit on her. The burning hatred in her eyes looked deeper than Wolfrik’s own, yet she hadn’t met the human until now.

  Hawk chuckled. “Wolfrik’s bitch really doesn’t like you.”

  Sparrow wiped her cheeks and avoided Kallie’s scorching glare. “No one here likes me. Why do you think I want to come home?”

  One of Hawk’s men cleared his throat. “We should go before more shifters come.”

  Hawk nodded. “Benny, Luke, I want you on the she-wolf,” he said, nodding at Kallie. “Carson, Tim, and Derrick, you stay on Cujo. Paul and Jeffry . . . Take care of Sasquatch.”

  “He’s gone!”

  “What?”

  “He just disappeared.”

  Wolfrik confirmed what the other men had reported. Aden had vanished into thin air—impressive for a large shifter who usually made a lot of noise. While everyone was focused on Sparrow, he must have slipped away.

  “Keep your eyes open. We need to leave now,” Hawk said.

  Three of his men moved toward Wolfrik. When he growled, they pulled their guns out.

  “Start walking,” one of them said, gun aimed at his face.

  Wolfrik lifted his chin. “No.”

  “Give him until the count of three,” Hawk said.

  “One. Two.”

  Wolfrik raised his eyebrows in challenge.

  “Thr—”

  “Wolfrik, please,” Kallie cried. “Don’t leave me alone with these barbarians.”

  Wolfrik’s head jerked. He blinked and met her stare. There was fear and anguish in that look, but something that went deeper. In the shine of her eyes, he saw her resolve and belief in him. They would make it out of this together.

  Wolfrik sighed and took a step forward. The three men flanking him led the way with Kallie and her two guards behind them. Hawk followed behind them, Rover walking at his side, and the last two men at the end o
f the procession looking over their shoulders behind them and to either side. Every time Rover growled, they whipped around. Sometimes they looked into the treetops as though expecting Aden to make another crash landing over them.

  After all the talking, the silence sounded unnatural. Every rustle and scrape made Hawk and his men jerk.

  “Hurry up,” Hawk said.

  Wolfrik shuffled past the cave, glaring at the three men flanking him. He looked back at the two walking on either side of Kallie and lifted his lip, making all kinds of silent promises that ended with violence and death. Kallie glanced at the cave and then him, her brows pulling together atop a tight frown.

  Wolfrik had to get her away from Hawk and his men without getting her shot or knifed in the process. He had to be ready for Aden’s next attack.

  He flexed his muscles and inhaled deeply, looking and listening for any signs of the werewolf. A gunshot went off behind him, and he spun around, taking two leaping steps to jump in front of Kallie.

  There was a second gunshot, followed by a man’s scream.

  That’s when Wolfrik noticed Sparrow holding a gun on one of the men in back. His partner lay on the ground, not moving. The second one held his arm as blood seeped out. Sparrow fired again, this time hitting the man in the chest. He went down with a look of shock.

  Sparrow aimed at her brother next. Rover’s ears went back, and he snarled viciously. Through the growls, Hawk bellowed, “You unfaithful bitch!”

  “Fuck you, Hawk!” Sparrow yelled back.

  The two men who had been guarding Kallie rushed to Hawk’s side, lifting their guns. They didn’t fire—wisely waiting for Hawk’s permission to kill his sister. There wasn’t much time.

  Ever so lightly, Wolfrik pushed Kallie toward the cave. “Get inside,” he whispered, his mouth barely moving. “Protect yourself and the baby.”

  Kallie gave the barest nod. She inched her way toward the cave.

  “Hey!” As soon as one of the men noticed, Wolfrik clocked him in the jaw, and Kallie sprinted the rest of the way, disappearing into the shadows.