by Angela White
“I rescued it.”
Everyone swung to find Marc staring steadily at his former best friend. Tall, dark, and handsome, Chad had gotten the team into several scrapes with his superior attitude and good looks. However, the base lizards hadn’t ever given him the time of day. “Remember that shepherd pup we fed the night Kenn blew up the still?” Marc distracted.
Chad leered widely. He was delighted that Marc knew who was behind his discomfort. “Yep. Did you know it died in the fire?”
“I was told you killed it,” Marc accused without rage. There would be time for that later.
“I tossed it in. The fire did the killing.” Chad knelt down in front of his captive. “Marcus Brady, badass Marine. I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”
Stalling, Marc acted as if he were trying to focus through the swelling of his face. “Huh?”
“Pay attention!” Chad slammed the butt of his knife against Marc’s knee.
Expecting something more painful, Marc only grunted. He needed more time to get himself under control. There were still three sneering shadows in front of him instead of just one.
“Tough bastard, but Eibar’s got plans for you,” Chad stated happily. He dug the tip of the knife into Marc’s jeans and sliced up the thigh. “He wants you castrated first. No chances of a repeat with the wife while you’re his guest.”
Racked with ugly chills, Marc felt the grayness coming. Too many hits had rattled his brain. There was only one thing he was capable of right now.
The knife sliced into his thigh as Chad ripped through another jean swatch. No longer being cautious, the mercenary reached forward to rip away that side of the pants.
Almost grinning through the disgust, Marc puked in his face.
The resulting chaos of Chad shouting and slinging, men groaning and yelling, and outside guards coming in gave Marc the rest of the time that he needed to form a crude, quick plan. He sucked in deep breaths to help finish clearing his mind. He would definitely need a little medical care when this was over.
“Move him to the floor! Get his clothes!” Chad shouted as he stripped his shirt off.
Three of Chad’s men reluctantly advanced through the mess toward Marc.
Marc let the anger come now, needing it to fuel his body. “How’s the new life, boys?”
Two of the men winced. Leon and Jim had both been discharged early, for reasons unknown. The squad had only been told they were moonlighting in ways they shouldn’t have been. “Chad came to you, right? And you sucked up his lies like dogs.”
Neither of them responded.
Marc’s face morphed into the furious team leader they both remembered so well. “I couldn’t be more ashamed of you.”
Marc’s disappointment was a curse to the two men, who refused to answer or even meet his eyes.
Marc knew it wouldn’t matter, though. When he ran, they would still try to kill him.
After the chair ropes were loosened, Marc was hauled up by the third, unknown man. He carefully staggered against his captor, hands reaching...
Leon and Jim hung back, ashamed of their choices.
“Grab him!” Chad shouted, detecting the trick too late.
Marc used his bound hands to grab the gun from an unprotected holster, and then slammed his weight into the surprised man, knocking him into Jim and Leon. The trio tangled and fell, as Marc had counted on. Neither of those former Marines had been gifted with grace or quick reactions.
“Shoot him!” Chad ordered, slippery fingers fumbling for the Colt in his waistband. “Watch the door!”
Marc ran for the window, leaping as hard as he could against the glass.
“No!”
Marc broke through the window easily, but he hit the ground hard and lost his grip on the gun. It slid across the dirt.
Sucking in air through the pain, Marc hurriedly brought his bound hands under his feet to have them in front. The bleeding Marine then grabbed the fallen weapon and stumbled into the woods behind the cabin.
“Get him!”
“Around the back!”
Chad and his men also hurried, but Marc was already out of sight by the time they cleared the side of the old caretaker home.
“Find him! Get everyone out here!”
Marc kept running, stolen M9 ready. He worked the ropes around his wrists as he went.
Heavy boots crunched after him, guns firing. It reminded Marc of his trek through the fire. The flames and the wolf were all that was missing from the moment.
Marc staggered through the damp foliage, listening as well as he could. That last shot had been close enough to make his ear hurt. It made movement difficult and he stumbled against the trees as he ran. Without any of his gear or weapons, he would once again have to rely on training and wits.
Shoulda kept the boys with me, Marc thought, hitting the deck as boots came toward him. It wouldn’t be Chad, who was light on his feet, but that POS would be right behind, waiting to shoot whatever his goons flushed out.
Marc stayed still as the weeds and grass parted. Right as he felt his prone body being discovered, Marc rolled and flipped out a swift leg against the man’s ankle.
The merc fell with a loud, surprised shout that would draw attention. Marc lunged forward, using the ropes around the man’s throat to keep him from yelling. He didn’t want to shoot–it would bring too many people at once.
Marc only eased up on the man when the body slumped. He hadn’t used a sleeper. This was war.
Multiple voices in several languages implied there was more pursuit than he could handle in his condition. Marc followed the faint rumble of water as he fled. He again flashed to the fire run as he strode deep into the liquid and ducked under the rushing coldness in relief. He would stay here as long as he could, as he had before, but this time, he wasn’t leaving the area until all of them were dead.
2
Dog found the creek quickly and stayed for a while, drinking and soothing the pads of his feet. He’d been running for a long time and they were still sore. So was his side, where the human alpha had crushed him against the moving box.
Around the creek, small animals ducked out of sight, waiting for him to be gone. The breeze was wonderful, but the wolf reluctantly wondered if this was going to be his new home. He had followed the creek north, scenting the animals and people who’d come through here. He wasn’t in a hurry to meet any of them. Dog stuck to the cover of bushes and weeds as he began to explore.
The wolf found the property line a short time later. He pawed at the tall fence, hoping he could dig out. He quickly discovered the rock foundations and abandoned the effort. The cages he’d been in before were often made of the same material. He’d once tried to chew through those manmade rocks and broken part of a tooth that still sometimes hurt when he snapped the neck of a rabbit too hard.
Annoyed with this latest prison, the wolf began tracking along the wall.
A short time later, Dog caught the scent of another canine and followed it. Maybe he could get some information. Where he’d come from, there were smells of data everywhere, but this land seemed devoid of alphas or betas. This was the first sign of another animal like himself.
Dog followed the trail to a large, dead tree with a wide den dug out below it. He assumed the owner of the odor was inside. He whined lowly, once, to announce his presence.
Get lost!
Dog’s head tilted as he tried to peer under the thick stump. He gave another short whine. Come out.
No! I’m very busy. Eating my enemies.
Dog shoved his head into the dark hole. He spotted small piles of brittle bones that had been chewed down as far as weak teeth would allow, but there was no time for more as a tiny dog with matted brown fur ran up and bit him on the nose. Out, you brute! Out!
Dog withdrew, snout stinging. How do I get out of here?
Out?! Ha! There is no out! the small canine yelped. Deeper! Must go deeper to keep out the big brute! Bad neighbor! Bad neighbor!
The tiny canine continued to shout and complain, but didn’t come out from under the tree. Dog understood and reluctantly moved away without gaining any information. Small dogs bit because they were scared. Small wolves often did the same.
Dog pawed at his stinging nose, and then continued his exploration. There had to be a way out.
Dog found several other scents that he was tempted to track, but the reaction of the small canine implied the animals here weren’t any friendlier than the humans. Discouraged a bit, the wolf kept going until he found the next wall preventing his escape. He didn’t waste sore paws trying to dig under it. Instead, he decided to see if he could jump it.
Dog backed up a good distance, judging...
His leap was perfectly timed and high, but it still left him three feet short. He slapped against the warping wood and slid awkwardly down it to land in an ungainly heap on the ground.
Ha! Do it again! a voice brayed from the bushes. Please do it again! So funny.
Dog whirled around to find a large animal with antlers laughing at him. The wolf snorted, backing up for another attempt.
The female caribou, which had no trouble clearing the ten-foot fence, waited for the show to go on.
Dog ran faster this time, leaping harder, but he didn’t make it as far as the first attempt. As he slid down the wall, scraping fur off, the mocking sounds of amusement rang out again.
Funny! The caribou was braying so hard that spittle flew from her huge lips.
Dog’s lips drew up in embarrassment and anger, but he didn’t think he wanted to challenge the animal just for laughing at his failure. The wolf chose to try once more.
Don’t do it! another voice chirped from the top of the wall. You’ll be sorry!
Dog glanced up at the cackling goose that was hopping to a lower place on the warped fence. Be quiet!
The caribou and the goose obeyed, eager for the entertainment.
Knowing he shouldn’t, Dog ran toward the fence.
“Look at him falling!” The caribou pawed the ground in uncontrollable fits of laughter, while the goose shouted of his amusement in shrill gasps that echoed like a bullet.
Dog picked himself up, getting angry. How about some help!
Both animals continued to mock him.
Now furiously embarrassed, Dog backed up again.
Here he goes! the goose cackled from its lower perch. Wait for it…
Dog lunged up the wall and grabbed the goose by its foot. As he slid down the fence, goose pecking him and screaming, Dog opened his jaws and snapped down on the annoying bird’s neck.
The caribous took off running, certain she was next.
Dog dropped the dead bird, not liking the smell. He’d eaten enough in the barn to let this meal go by.
Dog started to head for the wall again, but stopped. He’d met a fellow canine that could use a good meal, hadn’t he?
It only took the wolf a few minutes of running to get back to the large tree den. He heard the small dog still digging below.
The wolf dropped the goose and nosed it into the hole, whining at the fresh, shrill yapping.
Not another intruder! I will bite you! I will claw out your... Food! We have food! A fine goose!
Dog quickly got away from the happy little mutt. He didn’t know why he was helping it, but the wolf didn’t waste energy worrying over his intentions. He’d often hunted for the pack. This was hardly different.
Dog tracked back to the fence, but headed toward the barn once he reached it. He wanted to go home. This land was unfriendly. The woods in this cell didn’t feel right. They weren’t welcoming. These trees were harsh–tall and mostly bare–and they didn’t speak. The bushes were pointed and cruel to run through, unlike the soft, fern-like plants that he’d enjoyed all his life. He had to convince his human alpha to leave this place.
Dog continued to parallel the widening stream as he made his way back toward the barn. He sniffed and marked as he traveled, vaguely aware of gunshots in the distance. He could also hear shouting, but it was moving away...
The wolf stopped, hearing splashing that was unusual to him even for his newness to the area. Dog stared at the water in amazement as his alpha rose out of the water, gasping.
Marc labored on the ropes, popping up to catch air and study his surroundings. He spotted a wolf by the bank, along with shadows of thin trees, and let the water yank him back under. Almost free, the Marine stayed submerged, using his teeth to tug the loosened rope through. This was honestly the only place he felt safe.
Lungs and eyes burning, Marc felt his feet brush the bottom. He pushed off, ready for oxygen. Too many hits, he thought.
As he broke the surface, Marc bumped into a furry body. He recognized his wolf in surprise.
Dog latched onto Marc’s shirt, near the shoulder. Snapping closer for a better hold, the wolf’s teeth didn’t puncture the skin as he began pulling.
Not too shocked to use it to his advantage, Marc finished freeing himself while the wolf dragged him toward the shore. The rope dropped off as his knee scraped the sandy bottom.
“Good boy!” Marc praised, drawing in beautiful, painful air. “Good, Dog.”
The wolf let go, but didn’t retreat. Marc reacted out of character as well. He plopped down in the shallows near the wolf to wipe at his face. Being rescued from the water by a wild wolf wasn’t a sign that Marc was willing to ignore.
Am I sure, though? Marc asked himself. Maybe it’s someone’s pet that I’m confusing for a wolf.
Marc snorted wearily, spotting singed fur to prove that the wolf was his. “Part two, huh?”
Surprising Marc again, the wolf glared unhappily and sat down on the bank. Those golden eyes asked why he couldn’t be shaken.
“Because, I am not a flea,” Marc joked. “A sucker sometimes, but not a parasite.”
Marc got up to wash some of the dirt from his hands, confident that he’d lost his pursuers for at least an hour. He needed that time to get food and water into his abused body, so that he would have the stamina to handle what was coming. These woods would be flooded with trucks and lights when the sun faded. Hopefully, they wouldn’t use dogs as well. That noise might alert neighbors if it went on too long.
Marc scanned the landscape, narrowing in on the frame of a tall building in the distance to the north. The sun was going down fast and he needed a place to hole up. Unfortunately, Chad would expect him to go to high ground. If he followed his training now, he was dead.
Marc traveled in the opposite direction of what he assumed was the water tower, staying under the cover of the tall aspen and lodgepole pine trees. Chad might already have a sniper up there doing recon for human movement. With that thought in mind, Marc dropped to his hands and knees, and pawed at the ground. Then he ambled into the denser woods to vanish.
Marc regained his feet, hiding from the tower. He would have to be careful of the assumed sniper as he headed to the ranch. He wanted to get his… Marc stopped. Chad would also plan for that. He couldn’t go to the main house. Marc suddenly realized that he was alone and injured in the middle of an isolated forest. They would squeeze inward and have him covered from all sides. They were likely already doing it.
Marc felt the cold glaze of battle fall over his skin, hatred boiling his guts again. It was like before, except that he’d learned from those mistakes. If Chad knew him well, he might account for that too, but Marc was certain that his old friend didn’t. Following through on the loose ends wasn’t something the former grunt was capable of. In fact, it was part of what the team had all assumed had gotten Chad killed.
Marc slowly, quietly explored the small thicket he was in, examining the natural supplies. There were many ways to handle his problems, but the anger inside would only let him pick one. When it was over, Chad would really be dead, and Julia would be dead to him. Innocent or not, she hadn’t found the courage to do the right thing. She’d betrayed him for the first and last time. He had no tolerance for that, something Kenn was also goi
ng to find out when this was all over. He let me be trimmed, Marc thought, using the adrenaline to help regain his composure. I know he did. I can’t remove him from the team, but I can take a pound of flesh for that and I will. I’m going to work him until he quits or finally understands that I’m no one to screw with.
Behind Marc, the wolf slowly got to his feet and followed.
Chapter Seven
1
The wolf followed his new alpha faithfully, happy enough to be on the move. He watched the man examine plants, snapping some off to shove into his fur. He also drank from some of them, making the wolf pant until they came back to the creek. Dog drank his fill, but the man did not. The man also dug in the ground for a long time, getting the wolf’s interest. Digging was fun!
Circling around to make sure that he’d been noticed by his alpha, when it drew no reaction, the wolf edged closer to the dirt that the man was running his big paws through. The wolf sniffed the ground, smelling carrots and bugs, and then started to dig. He got lost for a moment, worries forgotten as the feel of a kind, loving earth bunched up between his toes.
Marc’s chuckle snapped the wolf into a flight position, ears low.
“Easy, boy,” Marc soothed, resuming his actions. He observed from the corner of his eye, delighted when the animal also went back to digging. He had no idea if the wolf was playing or copying, but it was entertaining to observe.
Marc piled the wild carrots together, wiping one off to munch on as he scouted for another patch of white flowers. There were two very common types, but they did extremely different things. One was a natural food source. The other caused death.
Marc found a splattered, purple and green stem holding up a wide bunch of white flowers, and noted the location. That was hemlock. The purple stems were a clear warning from nature. The Queen Anne’s lace stems were solid green and safe, though the leaves could cause a toxic rash. The carrot tubers from the lace were sweet.
Marc found a rock with a sharp edge and then chose a tall aspen tree. On the way up the thick, white trunk, Marc found a place where it had been damaged. He happily used his rock knife to carve out thin strips of the inner bark.
