Wolf Rising

by Paige Tyler

  Her body’s reaction to the aggressive move was startling. First, the hair on the back of her neck and her arms stood up, then her whole body tingled like electricity was running through it. Most shocking of all, her hands clenched into fists so tightly, they hurt.

  “Who the fuck are you, bitch?” the guy demanded. “His mommy?”

  In his late twenties at least, with tattoos covering his neck and arms, he was probably the leader of this little group and undoubtedly the one Ruben was here trying to impress. She bit down on her rising anger, ready to tell him that Ruben wasn’t in his gang yet and could go anywhere he wanted. But before she could get the words out, one of the girls she knew from school spoke.

  “This ain’t his mom, Aaron.” The girl smirked. “This is the teacher from Terrace Grove that got Wheels shot and arrested. The one always putting her nose into other people’s business.”

  Aaron looked stunned, maybe expecting someone bigger or tougher looking, but then his face took on a dark, determined look, and Selena knew she was in trouble. But for some crazy reason, she wasn’t as scared as she probably should have been. In fact, other than the fury flowing through her blood like acid, she felt incredibly calm.

  “So, you’re the crazy chica who thinks she can go up against my Locos, poking my boys in the eye day after day, and keep breathing?” he sneered. “Now you come here to my corner, trying to take Big Rube home to his granny? Bitch, you must be even dumber than everyone says.”

  He lunged for her, swinging his fist at her face.

  Selena’s first instinct was to back up and lift her hands in a useless effort to protect herself. But for reasons she couldn’t explain, she met the gangbanger head on, anger rumbling from her throat in a low sound as she threw up her left arm and blocked the incoming punch. She barely had time to marvel at how easy the move had been before her right fist whipped out in a straight jab.

  The shot connected, and Aaron stumbled back a good five feet, jaw bones crunching and teeth clacking together with an audible sound. Selena waited for pain to explode through her small hand. She’d never punched anyone in her life and feared she’d done it horribly wrong. But as blood dripped from a gash near Aaron’s mouth, she realized her hand didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt fine. Like she hadn’t hit anything at all.

  Some part of her took note of the fact that absolutely nobody was moving, that everyone, including Ruben, was standing there staring at her like she was some kind of strange creature they’d never seen before.

  Then Aaron was mumbling an endless stream of mostly unintelligible curse words as he charged at her. At the same time, another guy—a few years younger than Aaron—moved toward her back. There was a third one slightly off to the side headed her way, too.

  The low growl that had slipped out when she’d punched Aaron escaped her lips again, louder and harsher this time.

  Selena ducked under Aaron’s first wild blow like he was moving in slow motion, growling again as she grabbed the front of his jacket and jerked him off his feet, spinning him around like he was nothing more than a bag of laundry and slinging him at the man behind her. Both gangbangers went down hard.

  A tiny part of her wondered how she’d been able to move, much less throw a man who weighed so much more than she did. But then the third man—the one who had been moving slower—jumped over his two friends and came at her, and she had no more time to wonder about anything.

  Selena rushed forward to meet the man even as she screamed at herself that this was insane. The man’s fist grazed the side of her head, but she didn’t slow down. Instead, she put her hands on his chest and shoved as hard as she could. He flew backward over his friends like he’d been hit by a truck, bouncing off the tall privacy fence and collapsing to the ground.

  Even though the man hadn’t even come close to hitting her jaw, her gums suddenly felt like they were on fire, and she tasted blood. She snarled, the metallic tang turning her anger into blazing white-hot rage as she turned to see if any of the other gang members were coming at her.

  But they were all running away.

  Selena started after them, stunned at how badly she wanted to chase them. The desire to drag them down from behind was like a physical need, but she stopped herself, teeth grinding together so hard, she heard them crunch.

  Ruben looked over his shoulder at her, like he was thinking twice about leaving. But ultimately, he kept running, choosing to stay with his new friends. It tore at Selena to realize that, but at the moment, there was nothing she could do about it. Hopefully, she’d be able to find him later when his friends weren’t around and talk some sense into him. But she couldn’t help worrying it was already too late for that.

  Noise from behind spun her around, and she saw two of the men who’d attacked her half running, half limping toward the street.

  Selena glanced at Aaron, watching disinterestedly as he stumbled to his feet. He looked a little unsteady, and his chin and neck were covered in blood.

  His face was stiff with barely controlled fury, but Selena found she had very little interest in continuing the fight. It was like something inside had already decided going up against Aaron by himself was boring. Eyes never leaving hers, he yanked down the zipper of his coat and reached inside. Selena knew what he was going for, and while there was a part of her that wanted to run, the part in charge propelled her feet once more toward the threat. Suddenly, she wasn’t bored anymore.

  The taste of blood flooded her mouth again, but that only fueled her fire. She growled louder as excitement coursed through her body. She didn’t know why, but she was almost eager for Aaron to pull out a weapon. An image suddenly popped into her head, of her leaping across the ten feet that separated them and crushing him to the ground, then taking the weapon from his hand and using it to beat the crap out of him.

  Maybe Aaron sensed her anticipation, because his face suddenly paled. Pulling his empty hand out of his jacket, he held both of them up and slowly backed away.

  “There’s something wrong with you, chica,” he said. “You’re crazy.” Turning, he ran after his two friends.

  Selena watched him go, fighting that same urge to chase after him like he was some kind of prey.

  The moment he was out of sight, it was as if all the adrenaline that had been holding her upright drained away at once, leaving her shaking and wrung out. She could barely stand, much less be sure if she could walk back to her car. That’s when what she’d just done and how insane it had been finally hit her.

  Selena replayed the last few minutes through her head, trying to understand how any of it had been possible. She’d beaten up three men bigger than she was, had thrown them around in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. It seemed like a dream, making her wonder if any of the stuff she remembered had truly happened at all.

  But the exhaustion in her arms and legs, along with the taste of blood in her mouth, confirmed she hadn’t been dreaming. She’d gotten furious and gone crazy on those men like some kind of animal. She instinctively knew it was tied to the shooting in her classroom in some way but didn’t understand how.

  Turning, Selena slowly walked toward her car. She needed to talk to someone about everything that had happened. She just wasn’t sure who.

  Chapter 9

  “Why the hell is Curtis here?” Brooks muttered as the Dallas chief of police joined Gage, who was standing with the prison warden, the Anderson County sheriff, and a collection of state troopers and U.S. Marshals by a large map board. There were mug shots of the seven escapees—Frasheri, Engler, Oliver, three omegas, and the truck driver—attached to the perimeter of the board, but at the moment, the group seemed more interested in the map itself, mulling over checkpoints and roadblocks the police had established around the prison and at nearly every major intersection connecting to roads leading south. Everyone except Gage assumed the escaped prisoners were heading for Mexico.

  Th
e board, along with a bewildering array of radios and computers, had been set up under a large pop-up shelter in the middle of the field where the prison truck had crashed earlier. The human driver, a contracted employee of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, had been pretty messed up. He hadn’t been wearing his seat belt when the vehicle flipped, so the guy was going to be in the hospital for a while before starting his prison sentence.

  On the other hand, the two omegas who’d been in the back of the truck appeared to have come through the crash with hardly a scratch. Not true of course, but how was anyone to know their broken bones and wounds had essentially healed themselves before EMS arrived?

  “I think the chief showed up because they’re here,” Zane said, motioning to the state and local reporters being herded into an area outside the crash site, a good fifty yards away from the command post. Most of the newsies were jockeying for space near the front where the microphones were set up. The rest were either doing sound bites in front of video cameras or taking photos of the overturned truck.

  There was a snort from behind Zane, and Brooks turned to see Becker standing there, a sarcastic look on his face. “I’m disappointed you think so little of our esteemed chief. I’m sure he has a better reason for being here than getting his face on camera.”

  “Like what?” Zane asked. “It’s not like he has any jurisdiction outside the Dallas city limits or even any valuable insights that might help with the apprehension.”

  Becker made a show of thinking about it for a second, then shrugged. “Okay, you’re right. He’s here for the photo op.”

  As if on cue, Curtis turned and headed for the press pool, a single U.S. Marshal accompanying him while everyone else stayed by the map board.

  Brooks crossed the field to the pop-up shelter, Zane and Becker at his side. Zane grumbled under his breath as he stepped over the divots he’d made in his tumble when the bad guys had been shooting at them. He was still stewing over the way things had gone down, even if no one outside the Pack would ever know about it. As far as everyone else knew, the nearby truck had crashed on its own, and Brooks and Zane had barely gotten there in time to watch the other vehicle disappear after popping off a few shots. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed how fast—or how far—they’d run.

  “And you have no idea who gave the order to transfer Oliver from administrative separation into the general population?” Gage asked the prison warden as Brooks and the other guys walked up.

  The warden, an older man with more salt than pepper in his gray hair, shrugged as he flipped through a folder. “That’s the problem. As far as I can tell, no one did. Everything in his record indicates he was still in solitary, but the guards told me he’d been in a cell in North Block for almost a week.”

  “The same cell block as Frasheri and Engler,” Brooks observed.

  The warden nodded, glancing his way. “Exactly.”

  “Have you figured out how they escaped?” Becker asked.

  Another shake of the head from the warden. “We’re still digging into it, but right now, it looks like the escapees got themselves transferred to the Trusty status. How, I have no idea, but it’s possible someone hacked the prison record system to facilitate the change. Regardless, once their status was changed from G5 high-security offender to G1 Trusty, they had unfettered access to the minimum-security areas and the laundry trucks they used to escape.”

  Trusty status meant Oliver, Frasheri, and Engler were allowed even more freedom than prisoners in the general population. It wasn’t like they could come and go from the prison when they pleased, but they didn’t have to spend the majority of the day locked up in a cell.

  Brooks crossed his arms over his chest. “Even if they were able to change their security status in the prison system, surely one of the guards would have caught on that something was screwed up. Prison guards know who the worst offenders are, and Engler and Oliver are both known killers. Nobody wondered why they were put on laundry duty?”

  The warden’s mouth tightened. “We’re still looking into that.”

  The man didn’t have to say what was on everyone’s mind. This escape couldn’t have happened without help from the inside, along with lots of people looking the other way.

  “I’m more interested in the connection the escapees have to the Dallas SWAT team,” one of the marshals said. A tall, wiry guy, he wore his hair military regulation short and had a slight New England accent. “It can’t be a coincidence they ended up together in prison after getting arrested by Sergeant Dixon’s team.”

  Brooks silently agreed. To say Frasheri and Engler came from two completely different worlds was an understatement. One was a wealthy mob boss, the other a cop from Oregon. Well, a deranged cop, but still law enforcement. They had nothing in common except their hatred for certain members of the Dallas SWAT team. If you threw Oliver into the mix, that angle made even more sense. They all hated SWAT and werewolves. Why not put aside their differences and work together?

  The only thing Brooks couldn’t figure out was where the omega werewolves who’d escaped fit in. The omegas had worked for Frasheri on the outside, so they would have been willing to work with him on the inside, too, especially to escape. But why agree to join forces with Engler and Oliver, men who despised werewolves with a passion? And why would Engler and Oliver be down with that? It made no sense at all.

  They couldn’t tell the marshal that, though. So Gage disclosed as much as he could about the men who’d escaped together—who they were, what their crimes had been, and how SWAT had taken them down.

  The marshal frowned. “I know we’re assuming the escapees are headed to Mexico, Sergeant Dixon, but it’s entirely possible they could go after you and members of your team.”

  “That’s very unlikely,” Curtis said, stepping into the pop-up shelter.

  Brooks resisted the urge to growl. Apparently, the chief was done posing for the cameras.

  Curtis pointed at an area of the map on the board that was well south of Dallas. “We have confirmed sightings of the escapees in Round Rock and San Marcos. It’s obvious they’re making a beeline down the I-35 corridor straight for the border. I have no doubt we’ll have them back in custody by nightfall.”

  Brooks wanted to point out those confirmed sightings could have easily been faked, especially considering Oliver and the others had outside help, but he bit his tongue. Curtis might have been a cop at one point in his past, but these days, he was a politician with aspirations for a higher office. He didn’t care about facts. He wanted this situation cleared quickly simply because it would make him look good. Of course, if that didn’t happen, Brooks had no doubt the man would make sure to point out this was actually a state and federal responsibility and had nothing to do with the DPD whatsoever.

  A man in a suit whom Brooks recognized from DPD public affairs joined them then, a reporter in tow, asking Curtis if they could get some photos of the command center in operation. Nobody except Curtis looked thrilled with that idea, but no one complained.

  Gage caught Brooks’s eye and gestured to the side with his head, walking out of the tent. Brooks and his pack mates followed. Once they were too far away to be overheard, Gage spoke.

  “Let’s assume Curtis doesn’t know what he’s talking about when it comes to Frasheri and the others.”

  “Safe bet,” Becker muttered.

  “I’m not buying those convenient—and no doubt anonymous—sightings along I-35,” Gage continued. “Engler’s a former cop. He’s too smart to let people see him that easily. Which is why we’re going with the theory that Oliver and the other escapees might still be in the area and that they might be coming after us until we have real proof to the contrary.”

  “We need to put extra security on Jayna and her beta pack,” Becker said, his face clouding with worry. “Khaki, too.”

  Brooks cursed silently. Becker’s mate, Jayna Winston
, and her small pack of devoted betas had been the ones who’d helped put Frasheri in jail. Likewise, Khaki was the reason Engler had been there. If those assholes came after anyone in the Pack, it would be them.

  “I agree,” Gage said. “But with Oliver involved, every werewolf in the city is a potential target. I don’t want anyone going anywhere by themselves.” He glanced at Becker. “Start snooping into the warden’s investigation any way you have to. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but I want to know what the hell happened in there, since there’s a good chance that whoever helped these guys break out of prison is also the man inside the DPD helping the hunters.”

  “I’m on it,” Becker said, heading for the SWAT SUV he and Gage had driven and the computer inside it.

  Brooks looked at Gage. “Do you think I have to worry about them going after Selena? We’re supposed to go out tonight, but now I’m wondering if I should keep my distance from her for a while.” His inner wolf rebelled at the notion even as he said the words. He wasn’t a big fan of it, either. “I hate the idea of leaving her out there on her own, but at the same time, I don’t want to put her in danger. If the hunters see me with her, they might realize she’s one of us and go after her. I don’t want to be the reason that happens.”

  Gage regarded him thoughtfully. “If I said yes, could you do it?”

  Brooks automatically opened his mouth to say he’d stay away if it would make her safer but then stopped himself. The mere thought of not seeing Selena tonight twisted his gut into a knot. For a minute there, he could barely breathe. If there had been any doubts Selena was The One for him, they were gone now.

  “Probably not,” he admitted. “She’s getting to me—fast.”

  “Trust me, I get it. It was the same with Mackenzie and me,” Gage said with a smile. “Luckily, Selena just started going through her change two days ago. She won’t show outward signs she’s a werewolf for a while, so the hunters won’t know she’s not human.”