by Bethany Shaw
“I can understand why he does. My dad never showed any interest in teaching me anything. It was always about my brother Daniel, making him be the best alpha one day. Then there was Devon, my dad did everything he could think of to make his life hell. Guess I was the lucky one.” Vincent sucked in a deep breath his smile returning. “Anyway, enough about my tortured childhood. Tell me about all the different types of muffins you’re making today.”
Lark wanted to ask more, especially about Devon, but now wasn’t the time.
“Well, it’s Monday. The specials today are cranberry muffins, macadamia nut cookies, and peach pie.”
“Those sound good.”
Vincent slammed on the breaks. Lark propelled forward, grunting as the seatbelt locked and held her in a vice grip. She turned an inquisitive look to Vincent.
“I saw something.” Vincent opened the car door and got out to survey the tree line.
Lark inhaled as she looked around, her heart pounded in her ears. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. It would be nice to have a relaxing, normal day after all the craziness. However, it did not seem like today would be the day.
“I know you’re here,” Vincent called out.
Lark gasped as a man slowly came out of the woods and walked toward the car. He bore a striking similarity to Vincent and Emily. The only difference was his predatory gait and his firm set of solid shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Vincent snapped. His hands balled into fists at his side.
“You need to go now, Vincent.” The man said as his gaze moved to Lark.
“Are you attacking the ranch now?” Fear flooded Vincent’s voice. He recoiled back when the other man stepped toward him.
“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t.” The man grabbed Vincent’s arm. “Take her and get out of here now, Vincent. Our orders are to kill you on sight.”
“Get off me, Daniel!” Vincent pushed at Daniel but he didn’t release him.
Daniel slammed Vincent into the car. “You need to go! Now.”
“What about Devon? Emily?”
Lark felt her heart accelerate, she clung to the door handle as the silence stretched on. The ranch was under attack or going to be any moment. Sarah was there. Tears pricked her eyes. Rick, Gene, Preston, Devon, all of her friends and her family were there.
“Emily will be fine,” Daniel said quietly after a long moment.
“But Devon? You're okay with him getting killed? Our brother?” Vincent shoved Daniel away and punched him in the face. “I’m not going to leave while my brother gets murdered. I don’t leave family behind.”
Daniel stumbled away, but recovered and swung at Vincent. His right fist connected with Vincent’s jaw, shoving him back into the interior of the car. Vincent fell across the seat, his head landing on the center console, blood seeping from his lip.
“I’m not asking, Vincent,” Daniel growled. “Leave.”
Vincent kicked at his brother. Daniel backed away, as he climbed out of the car. “He’s our brother! How can you sit back and let father do that to Emily? What is wrong with you? Get out of my way, Daniel. I’m going back, and if you try to stop me again I will go through you.”
Lark undid her seat belt and climbed out of the car. She would do whatever she had to do to help Vincent. Her eyes drifted between the two brothers as a howl resounded throughout the woods.
Daniel withdrew with a sigh his eyes drifted to the ground.
“Just be careful, Vincent. Dad is the one that gave the order to kill. He sent all the elite members of the guard. You know these guys will follow it.”
Vincent tugged his shirt off. “Yeah, and you’re the one that followed through and brought them here. If something happens it’s on you, brother.”
Lark watched in horror as Vincent’s hand went to the button of his jeans. “What are you doing?”
“It’s quicker this way. Take the car, Lark, and get out of here.”
Lark’s chin jutted out defiantly. “No, Sarah’s back there. I’m not leaving her.”
Vincent paused, shimming out of his shoes. “For the love of god, Lark! You take that car and you drive it straight back and get in the house.”
Lark ran to the driver’s side and climbed in. She tossed the car in reverse and turned it around in the grass. As she put it in drive, she paused. Daniel and Vincent were gone. In their place, stood a lone wolf with a deep reddish brown coat. She assumed it was Vincent. He howled and motioned his head back toward the ranch before he blurred out of sight.
Her hands grasped the steering wheel so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms. Swallowing, she shoved the gas pedal down. The tires spun on the gravel before finding their grip as she sped back to the manor.
***
Devon stalked along the perimeter. His paws sunk into the wet mud causing it to slide between his toes. Snarls and yells filled the early morning air. So far the attack had stayed away from the house. He wanted to keep it that way.
The leaves rustled to his left. He ducked down on his haunches, hiding in the brush cover. His body poised to strike when the intruder stepped into sight.
Eyes narrowing, he took in a sharp breath, hackles raised. The scent hit him and he felt his stomach drop, apprehension churning. Daniel.
Daniel crept a few feet in front of him. Devon hesitated. They’d never been close, but they were brothers. With a snarl, he lunged at Daniel. They rolled across the slick ground, twigs snapped as they fought for dominance. Devon wasn’t going in for the kill; he couldn’t do it. Daniel, however, snapped his jaws with intent on biting Devon’s jugular as they both thrashed about in the dirt.
Devon used his back paws to shove Daniel away. His claws ripped into the tender skin of Daniel’s abdomen, causing him to yelp as they sliced through flesh. Retracting his claws, he flung his brother across the ground, sending up a cloud of dirt. Devon got up and lunged, rooting Daniel into the earth. Daniel fought back, desperate to regain control. Devon pushed down harder on Daniel’s rib cage. Bones crunched underneath the pressure, causing his brother to wince. A loud whine echoed through the woods.
Devon barked violently at his brother. He didn’t want to kill him. Finally, Daniel relented - his fighting ceased. Cautiously, Devon moved off of Daniel, and backed away. He had won the fight and could only hope his brother would be honorable. Devon crouched on his legs, ready to pounce again if needed.
Daniel whined as he climbed to his feet. Blood dripped from his belly, coating the ground beneath him. He limped as he backed away. Their eyes met and locked on each other. Devon stared his brother down, daring him to make another move.
A high pitched scream rang through the air. Devon cocked his head trying to hear more. After a final warning growl, Devon jumped and sprinted toward the manor.
Devon’s eyes narrowed, senses focused on his surroundings. Ears perked for other noises in his vicinity. The only thing he heard was a scuffle unfolding by the house. Devon came out of the tree line and froze, surveying the fight before him.
He recognized Vincent immediately. His eyes shifted to the lifeless black wolf on the ground. Rick. No, please be okay. There was nothing he could do for him until the fighting stopped. Swallowing, he surged forward to help his brother battle the three wolves he was taking on. Devon ground his teeth, a loud snarl tore through his throat as he saw Vincent get pinned to the ground.
The yard seemed to stretch on forever. Even though Devon was running at top speed, he would never get to Vincent in time. His heart clenched, legs and throat burning from the exhilaration. He had to save his brother.
Headlights swerved down the drive. The car accelerated toward the fight. His eyes shifted between the woman behind the wheel and his brother. As Lark approached, he realized her intent as the car took a swing to the left and pummeled into the two wolves that had been watching their companion.
Devon raced forward as the two wolves crunched against the metal of the car. The other wolf released his hold of
Vincent, confused by what was happening.
Devon used the distraction to his advantage and tackled the wolf to the ground. Canines bared, he tore into the soft flesh of the enemy’s neck. With a gurgle Devon watched the life leave the other wolf’s eyes. He should’ve felt guilty, but he knew this wolf, and knew what he was capable of.
He withdrew and turned his attention to Lark. She seemed rattled, her eyes glanced around her surroundings wildly. Satisfied she was okay for the moment, he moved to Vincent.
Devon whined as he nuzzled Vincent, he sniffed at the open wound on his chest, less than an inch from the sensitive flesh of the neck. Vincent’s breath was slow and uneven. His golden eyes looked dim and pained. His injury severe. He just hoped his brother was strong enough to pull through.
“Is he okay?”
Devon’s head popped up to look at Lark. He squinted his eyes at her and howled. If he could form words he would yell at her to get inside. What was she thinking? At least she had the good sense to step back when he snarled at her.
Her eyes darted around frantically as howls erupted around them. Devon let out a long huff; the attack over for the moment. His body slowly twisted to the sight he did not want to see. Head hung low, he padded to the lifeless wolf on the ground and his heart sunk lower in his chest a yowl of sorrow escaped his throat as he gently nudged the body. Rick was dead.
Chapter 12
Lark stood stiff, the sorrow in Devon’s howl echoing all around them. His black coat was smeared with blood and dirt. She could only imagine what he was feeling. The pain was evident over the loss of his pack mate.
Her bottom lip trembled, unsure who the fallen wolf was, but she could guess it was someone close to Devon. Howls filled the morning air, she spun, eyes searching wildly. Is it over or are more coming?
The front screen door slammed shut and Lark whirled around to see a bloodied Marcus standing there.
“They…they took them,” Marcus stammered.
Lark froze, breath caught in her throat. “They took who?”
“Emily and Sarah.” Marcus gasped. He took a step falling on his knees, his entire body trembled violently.
Swallowing down the bile in her throat, Lark felt the earth begin to shift. Her vision wavered as her head spun. Tears pricked her eyes. She sunk to the ground and hung her head.
This couldn’t be happening. She’d seen what they did to her and knew what they planned to do with Emily. Revolted, she choked down a sob. Searching wildly for any traces of her sister, her eyes zeroed in on the blood coating the white cement of the porch.
The trance she was under broke. Her eyes trained on the gaping wound that sliced across Marcus’ stomach.
“Oh my god,” Lark cried, rushing forward, her hands pressed firmly to the wound. Blood seeped between her fingers and she fought desperately to control her rising panic.
Sarah was gone, taken, and Marcus was on the verge of bleeding to death. Someone else was dead, and Vincent looked like he was in bad shape as well. In an attempt to calm down, Lark tried to force herself to take even breaths. Her mind was swirling and her ears roared. Nausea overcame her. She was going to lose it.
“Let me see.” A male voice whispered. Warm shaky hands covered hers. Startled, she turned to see Devon. Blood and dirt smeared across his torso and face, plaid pants that looked too big to be his, covered his lower half.
Lark locked onto Devon’s hazel eyes. He appeared calm, but she could see the emotion raging in his irises. She removed her hands from Marcus’ belly realizing Devon’s hands weren’t the ones shaking but her own. She clasped her fingers together in hopes of making the tremors stop.
“Marcus,” Devon gripped Marcus’ shoulder. “Listen to me. I want you to shift if you can. The wound is deep and we need to stop the bleeding.”
Marcus mumbled and fell forward onto the palms of his hands. His whole body trembled violently.
Devon’s hand wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her away.
“Stay back, he’s hurt. He can’t control his shift as well.”
“Sarah’s gone.”
“Hey,” Devon said softly, his hands cupped her cheeks. His face mere inches from hers. She focused on his eyes. “I know. We have to help the injured first. I promise you we will get Sarah back.”
Lark closed her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. Unable to speak, she nodded.
“Are you hurt?” Devon asked. She shook her head. “Good. I need your help. There are a lot of injured wolves.”
“Who is that?” Lark whispered, her eyes opened, and drifted to the dead wolf.
Devon’s calm demeanor faltered, his eyes glistened for a moment. With a blink it was gone.
“Rick.” His voice remained even.
A raw painful sob erupted from her throat. The sensation of floating overwhelmed her. Warm tears slid down her face, her heart clenched painfully.
Devon shook her shoulders lightly. “Lark, you need to focus. I need you to get my medical bag. We will mourn later. Right now, we need to help the injured. Can you do that?”
Lark jumped, a pain filled yelp from Marcus sliced through the air followed by crunching and snapping. Her head spun, producing a gut wrenching wave of nausea. She needed to stay strong for Sarah.
“Lark, look at me!” Devon urged, his voice calling out to her.
Lark focused her eyes to his and sucked in a deep breath.
“I need you to go to the infirmary and get my medical bag,” he repeated. “Grab as many supplies as you can: gauze, syringes, and in the cabinet there’s morphine. Get that.”
Lark swallowed and nodded slowly. Marcus cried out again in agony. Lark cringed at the crackle of his bones breaking. The sickening pop bringing her out of her trance. Gritting her teeth, she pulled away, rushing into the manor and towards the infirmary.
***
Devon dropped down to his knees next to Marcus. Sweat beaded on Marcus’ brow, his face eerily pale as his body fought to complete the transformation. The transition going much slower with the injuries. Blood gushed from the wound on his stomach. If he didn’t complete the shift he would die. The depth of the laceration was deep enough to have hit his organs. At this point, shifting was the only thing that may save his life.
Marcus let out a grunt as his back broke; grey and white fur erupted out as his blue shirt shredded and fell to the ground.
“You’re doing good, keep going.” Devon encouraged, taking a step back. Marcus was now far enough in his transition it was no longer safe to be close. Marcus wouldn’t be able to control his movements and could lash out. Not wanting to be a distraction either, he moved back to Vincent.
Vincent lay quietly on the ground. The fur around his neck was dark and sticky. Vincent whined at him as he pressed his fingers along the torn flesh.
“Is that Vincent?” Lark asked dropping the bag next to him.
“Yes.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Lark’s voice quivered and he looked up at her. She chewed on her lip nervously.
“He should be. It’s just a deep laceration and broken front leg. There are no organs or anything that could be ruptured in this area and his jugular was not compromised.” Devon pulled out some antiseptic cleaner and gauze. He needed to stop the bleeding first.
“Where are Gene and Preston?” Lark asked, as she turned to scan the area.
“I’m not sure. The fighting has stopped. Those howls earlier were calls of retreat.” Devon focused his attention on Vincent. At the moment he needed to concentrate on saving lives, not what may have happened. He needed to stay in control.
“Is Marcus still in transition?” Devon asked.
“He is,” Lark paused. “I think so. He looks like he is struggling. Is he going to be okay?”
“I don’t know,” Devon whispered. Vincent whined and Devon gave his brother a sorrow filled look. “The transition is the only thing that can save him. We only do it when there is no other medical choice.”
“So if that doesn’
t work he will-”
“Keep your voice down,” Devon hissed. He knew Marcus knew what was going on, but he didn’t need to hear it.
“Why doesn’t Vincent just transition?” Lark questioned.
Devon sighed. “The shift knits the flesh back together. New skin is formed and becomes thicker with each transition. The downfall, is the shift puts a lot of stress on the body. When you get hurt your blood pressure elevates, adrenaline and certain chemicals are released. The shift already triggers all these things and can put the body into overdrive, which may cause heart failure or seizures. It’s dangerous to shift too soon after getting hurt. It can cause permanent damage to your limbs, soft tissue, and organs if they were affected.”
Devon patted his brother on the head, rubbing his scruff.
“This is going to hurt,” he warned sorrowful. Maneuvering the broken leg, he placed his hands carefully and yanked, pulling the bones back into their rightful position. Vincent howled in pain as he flinched away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered scratching him behind the ears. “Vincent should be able to safely shift into his human form in around twelve hours. The important thing is waiting for your blood pressure to return to normal. It help takes a little stress off the body. His injuries will heal cleaner by waiting.”
“There is nothing we can do to help Marcus?”
“Not at the moment.” Devon turned his attention to Marcus. He had almost completed the shift. “He needs to focus. Distractions will only make it worse. He wouldn’t want us coddling him. I’ll give him a shot of morphine when he transitions all the way. Can you get me the shears and the clippers from the bag?”
Vincent growled when the clippers came into view. Devon glared at his brother. “I need to go help Marcus. He’s finished the shift. Lark’s going to shave the area. You’ll behave?” He raised his eyebrow at Vincent.
“Wait, what?” Lark grasped the clippers tightly, her face white, and eyes wide.
“You can do this, he won’t bite you. I promise. He’s in control and coherent,” Devon assured her. “Just shave along the laceration, so I can stitch it up. Marcus is in a lot of pain and this will help take the edge off for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
