by Cathryn Fox
“Logan?” I say, looking at him.
A guttural sound rises from the depths of his throat and it’s clear he doesn’t like what I’m about to do, but he also knows it’s our only choice and nothing he does or says is going to stop me.
His warm palm cups my face. “The first sign of danger, you get yourself out,” he warns, and I give a quick nod. I’m about to move, but he captures my elbow and holds me for a moment. He gives an encouraging squeeze, and as he communicates silently with me, showing his belief in me, it fills me with bravado. “I’ve got your back, okay.”
“You have got to be kidding me?” Stone barks out, his voice rising in the sudden updraft rushing through the forest.
I put my hand to his chest to calm him. “Stone, it’s okay. I’ll get in and get to the front door as fast as I can and let the rest of you in.”
“It’s not okay,” he bites back. “You might not be able to make it to the front door.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Are you sure, Pride?” he asks, his back ramrod straight, his eyes drilling into me. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” As we glare at each other in strained silence, the air around us charges with volatile electricity, and I know in an instant what he’s really asking.
Before I can answer him, he changes tactics and I feel his voice inside my head, his words for my ears only. “You said yourself you didn’t trust Nova. What if she’s up to something? What if she led us here on purpose?”
I think about that for a minute and the longer I consider it the more ludicrous it begins to sound. Nova is just a young girl, one who has been completely sheltered from life’s harsh realities. I steal a sideways glance at Logan. With a frown on his face, his hands are fisted as he watches the silent exchange between destined mates. I can’t forget that Nova is a part of his pack, and she must want to find her missing family every bit as much as he does.
“Maybe we’re way off base, Stone. Maybe Logan is right and we have nothing to worry about.”
At the mention of Logan, Stone turns to stare at him and their gazes clash in a silent struggle.
The muscles along Logan’s jaw clench and there is real danger in his voice when he says, “I’m not going to let anything happen to her, Stone.”
Stone’s mood blackens and he gives a humorless bark of laughter. “Yeah, because you’ve been doing such a good job of that now, haven’t you? You don’t know how to take care of her, Logan. Not like I do.”
When they move toward one another, I press a palm to both their chests and try to defuse the situation before it escalates and gains the attention of hunters. There is a frantic edge to my voice when I say, “You two can stay out here and fight it out if you like, but I’m going in.”
With that I turn from them, and their voices fall off as I disappear from their line of sight. When I spot the small window, barely big enough for me to crawl through I take a deep breath to fuel my courage. I go up on my toes and inch the glass all the way open and still for a moment, listening for movement inside.
Stale air spills outside and I nearly choke on the bitter taste. I grip the window frame and hoist myself up on the sill until my knees are balanced on the rigid casing. I peer into the darkened room, committing every nook and groove in the tight space to memory as I slip my legs through the opening and shimmy forward until I’m halfway inside, then I drop to the floor, and brace myself.
Keeping deathly still, I glance around the cold, dank room, and using slow, careful movements I drop to my knees to look under the unmade bed, the headboard jammed against the wall beside me. After finding the space empty, I push to my feet and take one small step, determined to get to the front door to let the others inside.
The wood floor board groans beneath me, and I stop mid stride and hold my breath. I stay like that for a long time, but when I hear no sounds in response, no guns cocking, or the pounding of feet coming my way, I step around the mattress and move toward the closed door leading to the main room.
I listen for sounds outside, and can feel Stone trying to enter my thoughts. “I’m okay,” I say, and to ease his worries I let him hover on the outer edges of my mind as I quietly push open the door. Exercising caution, I slip into the next room and the second I do, my senses are assaulted with the coppery tang of death and my stomach revolts in protest.
Blood. Danger. A violence so brutal that it puts my former master’s cruelties to shame, swarms around me in a kaleidoscopic burst. Bile punches into my throat and when my knees falter, I grip the door handle to balance myself.
Knowing bad things have happened here, and in fact could still be happening here, I work to keep my emotions in check, work not to vomit as the bitter scent of brutality drowns out all the other smells in the small cabin.
Breathing through my mouth, I can almost feel the coldness of death seeping into my bones. I push forward and pad quietly toward the front door, but when a frightened whimper catches my attention, I spin in the direction of the sound. Dread takes hold because deep in the darkened shadows I spot an intruder. Tall. Powerful.
Armed.
When eyes as deadly as silver glare at me, survival instincts kick in and my wolf turns feral. Sharp canines puncture my gums, and as the figure emerges from the semi darkness, I turn and face him straight on. Except, I quickly realize, he’s not the intruder.
I am.
My nostrils flare and I suck in a quick, fuelling breath. The rush of oxygen in my bloodstream parts the fog clouding my rattled thoughts, and allows me to think with more clarity. A shudder moves through me because for the first time since we set out on this dangerous journey the tumblers all begin to fall into place, and I know at once why Lewis Lake sounds familiar.
But more importantly I know there is a traitor amongst us.
6
In the darkened cabin, I take a split second to size up my opponent, to determine what I’m up against and figure out the best course of action.
A sliver of moonlight filters in through the small window and highlights a path across the cabin. As the light plays with my imagination and creates monstrous shadows on the walls, I can almost feel them closing in on me, taunting my wolf and encouraging her to rip clear of her restraints. I work to fill my lungs as icy shards of fear shoot through me, a violent, instinctive storm that urges me to shift.
Kill.
As that one word pounds through my head, I make a deep guttural sound and my wolf tears at my flesh, frothing, clawing, fighting to rip her way from my body. Howling, and in kill or be killed mode, I know my control is about to snap, my wolf about to take action.
Moments before she emerges and goes for the man’s throat, I call on every ounce of strength I have to stop her, because from somewhere down deep, another thought registers, warning me not to let her off her leash. Despite what my father told me, that sometimes we need to let our wolf rule, I know if I do I’ll never be able to prove we’re not soulless monsters.
I draw a quick breath and marshal my wolf into submission, being careful not to make any sudden movements in the process. As she hunkers low and whimpers from down deep, I keep motionless, my eyes trained on the dangerous hunter dwarfing me.
From my peripheral vision, I take in my surroundings, understanding I’m smack dab in the middle of a PTF safe house—a wolf caught in the lion’s den—and what I do next could help end the war on our kind, or forever put us at risk.
I use all my senses to assess the dangers before me, my mind working to defuse the situation so I can make this man understand who we are and want we want. But when my glance meets a set of dark, dangerous eyes, ones that are drilling into me with wild suspicion, I feel a seed of doubt, some small part of me warning that I just might be fooling myself, that this is a battle I can’t possibly win.
Refusing to let that stop me—unable to let that stop me—I open my mouth to speak, but my words die an abrupt death when the man stalks closer, his hard face coming into full view, and I don’t miss the w
ay those black eyes of his move over my face with careful regard.
A hunter sizing up its prey.
My wolf wails again, urging me to let her free but then suddenly the ruthless face glaring down at me softens around the edges, his expression morphing into something that resembles relief. Bewildered by this turn of events I pull in his scent. I catch hints of anxiety, but I get the strangest sensation that his nervousness isn’t because of me.
It’s for me.
As my pulse thrums in my throat I watch his posture change, and that’s when it hits me. I know who he is. I almost breathe a sigh of relief, but the small whimpering girl caged in the corner triggers alarm bells in my brain and warns me this hunter is no longer on my side.
Instinctively, fight or flight instincts kick in, and I widen my stance. Prepare.
“Easy there, Pride,” he warns, and I hear something desperate in his voice, something I wouldn’t expect from a PTF officer. He lifts one hand in the air, his large palm facing out in surrender while the other hand hovers over the gun slumbering in his holster.
While I know he’s packing silver and the odds are not in my favor, I know they’re not in his either. I bend my knees and maintain a combative stance while I work to keep my voice level.
“What’s going on?” I ask, and don’t dare take my eyes off him as the girl begins to whimper louder, her frightened cries echoing off the cabin’s bare walls.
Emotions gather in a knot inside my stomach, but I know better than to shift my focus and try to help her. I’m smart enough to know that I can’t afford to get distracted and any sudden movements on my part could be misinterpreted by this trained hunter and force him to reach for his gun. He might have spared my life once, but I have no reason to believe he’ll do it a second time.
“It’s not what you think.” he says with a frown, his disturbed glance flickering between me and the small metal cage.
As my mind visualizes the torture being carried out in this cabin, there is nothing I can do to keep my talons from elongating or my lips from peeling back to expose sharp canines. As my wolf zeroes in on the man’s jugular, one I’ve punctured before in a dirty alley way when a trio of hunters failed to slow me with their poison, I listen to the rapid flow of blood in his veins.
“We don’t have lot of time and you need to listen to me. You have to let me explain.”
The scent of his concern mingles with the girl’s fear. The fetid aroma saturates the room and there is nothing I can do to keep my wolf from feeding off the medley of emotions. As she pulls the tang into her lungs it makes it that much more difficult for me to keep her harnessed.
I watch the way his pulse jackhammers in his neck when he says, “I know what you’re thinking.”
I touch my tongue to the tip of a sharp canine. “If you knew what I was thinking, you probably would have drawn your gun already.”
His dark eyes study me and his voice is deceptively mild when he says, “I know you’re not a killer, Pride and you need to let me explain.” But beneath that calm façade I know he’s every bit as leery of me as I am of him.
He lowers his hands in a show of trust and as I watch him with suspicious eyes, studying his every move, I find nothing calculating in his actions, nothing to suggest he wants to hurt me.
My hackles settle, but my wolf stays on high alert, her guard firmly in place. Silver bullets or not, there is no way she is about to back down in the face of this hunter, not when there is a young, frightened shifter locked in a cage beside me.
While my wolf is ruled by instincts, I’m smart enough to know I need to listen to what he has to say before making my next move, so I quiet my heartbeat and offer him the chance to speak.
“Explain,” I say facing him straight on, my primal side angry and unafraid.
As I settle my thoughts, I can feel Stone inside my head, surfing around and sorting through the images in my mind, but before I can stop him, before I can tell him I have everything under control, the sound of the window smashing penetrates the quiet inside the cabin.
My eyes snap up and briefly connect with the officer’s before we both turn in the direction of the sound. My heart lurches as the hunter draws his gun and takes aim at the boy/wolf about to attack.
In a fierce possessive rage, Stone shifts mid air and dives for the man’s throat. The officer peels off a shot, but it goes wayward and lodges in the ceiling as Stone pins him beneath his big, beefy paws. Stone presses down on the man’s chest and the weight of the wolf forces the gun from the hunter’s hands.
Ruled by his primal side, Stone’s roar echoes in the stillness of the black night, and his large, deadly canines flash in the thin column of moonlight as animal bloodlust takes over.
“Stone, no!” I cry out, but there is nothing I can do to calm him, nothing I can do to stop the feral wolf bent on his own agenda.
Fear propels me forward and I let loose a loud howl as I prepare to pounce, but Logan steps in front of me to shield me from danger. Looking hard and dangerous as shards of silver bleed into a storm of blue within his eyes, I gulp air and wonder if he, too, is going to go wild on me. But when I look at him, really consider the boys standing over me, I see him for what he is. Strong. Steady.
In complete control of his wolf.
“Don’t go near him, Pride,” he warns. “Not when he’s like this.”
With that, Logan tears off his clothes and shifts. Despite having just warned me, he flies through the air, his beautiful streamlined body catching lift before he clamps down on the back of Stone’s neck. An explosion of violence erupts in my ears as he gives a savage shake of his head. Stone yelps, his jaws unhinging as the powerful alpha tears him clear off the hunter’s body.
Panting hard, the officer lets loose a cry and scrambles backward. He swipes the blood from his neck and reaches for his gun, but even in the middle of a deadly battle Logan has enough foresight to kick it my way before the officer can grab it. It scuttles across the wood floor, out of my reach.
As the situation goes from bad to worse, my glance locks with the officer’s, and I know our thoughts are running in the same direction. We both dive for the gun at the same time, but I manage to reach it seconds before he does. He lands with a hard thud, and I quickly tuck the weapon into the back of my jeans then grab hold of his shoulders to drag him away before he gets caught in the crossfire.
With my breath coming in ragged bursts, I turn my attention to the two alphas. While neither is packing silver, they’re both packing deadly fangs, and even though we have regenerative abilities, there is no way a wolf can come back from a torn and shredded jugular.
In an untamed fight that could end in death, Logan and Stone roll across the floor, and the fresh scent of blood fills the air as they rip into each other’s flesh. Frantic, and knowing I need to neutralize the situation before one of them ends up dead, I give the officer a deadly glare.
“When I’m done with these two, you have some explaining to do,” I warn between gritted teeth, then pull the gun from my waistband.
I hold it over my head, but the officer jumps me, his large palm wrapping around my wrist. As he shackles my arm, I call on all my wolf strength and prepare to break free from his death grip.
I jerk away, but when he says, “Don’t, they’ll hear it,” my brain comes to a screeching halt.
As I digest his words, my eyes study him and when I see real worry lingering in the depths of his gaze, I understand what he’s saying, what he’s warning me about. It also becomes glaringly apparent that if he was really working against me, he surely would have let me fire and signal his team.
Taking that as a good sign, I announce, “They already heard one shot.” A shiver moves through me as I look out the smashed window and listen for signs of his comrades’ approach.
The two wolves crash against the cabin wall and the floor below me shakes violently. Blood smears on the wooden slats, and I have no idea how this fight will end, because while both wolves know each other’s st
rengths they also know each other’s weaknesses.
The man gives a fast shake of his head and the action draws my attention. “One shot lets them know someone is out here, two shots will give away our location.”
As I think about that a loud, painful yelp stabs through my thoughts, and I know things have gotten completely out of hand. I turn the gun over in my palm, and consider my next move. If a second shot brings the officers, could this be the opportunity I’ve been waiting for? The opportunity to reason with them.
“Don’t,” he says, impatience sharpening his words. He narrows his eyes and when he sucks in a sharp breath, I realize he knows what I’m thinking. In a low warning voice, he says, “Don’t take on more than you can chew, kid. You’re not prepared.”
Before I can explain what I’m trying to accomplish, my father comes bursting through the front door. Wood splinters and hinges twist as he tears his way into the cabin. The sound echoes in the night and while a single gunshot might not give away our bearings, I realize the noise of a crashing door surely will.
The look on my father’s face is terrifying, and when I glance past his shoulders to see Gem and Sandy huddled beneath a tree, Gem trying to soothe a stricken Sandy while Nova runs away like a scalded cat, I realize how desperate things have become. I tuck the gun back inside my waistband for safe keeping and turn my attention to my father.
“Enough,” he bellows, the bite in his command stopping the other wolves cold. He walks up to them, and grabs both alphas by the scruffs of their necks. They snarl back as his angry glance goes from Stone to Logan back to Stone again and his voice lacks any sort of tolerance for their antics when he says, “Shift.”
A second later both boys return to their human form, and as they pull their clothes back on, my father’s glance takes in the girl caged in the corner before he turns his focus to the officer braced against the wall.
