Pride's Run

by Cathryn Fox

  Not unless I can deceive him. The master. A coldblooded human who kept me under his strict control for seventeen long years. The same man who taught me to trick, to lure, to embrace my primal side in an effort to hunt the ruthless drug dealers who dared to cross him. But I’ll have to put on my best performance yet if I want to fool the soulless predator who uses both silver and abuse to dominate his wolves.

  And they call me the monster.

  The second I surrender and he slaps a collar around my throat, I know what I’ll have to do—convince him that I hadn’t run away from the compound and had only been following his orders to hunt down a rogue wolf.

  But showing no emotion in the face of an enemy who is as cunning as he is powerful might not be as easy as it once was. Not after everything I’ve been through. The fact that I’ve changed while running in Olympic National Park with the rogue wolf in question, however, is a point in my favor. The master no longer knows all my weaknesses.

  Or any of my strengths.

  I angle my head to see Logan, the boy/wolf who wound himself around my heart and helped me learn so much about the world, and about the girl inside me. When my eyes lock on his, my stomach punches into my throat and I swallow a cry of anguish.

  Emotions crowd me because I realize Logan’s fate is in my hands and I know what will happen to him once I turn him over to the master. I must abandon him like he’s nothing more than a tick on my ruff, like what happened between us in that cave two weeks ago during the full moon was nothing more than a diversionary tactic. Despite our bond, I understand it’s the only way we can get inside the fortified compound, the only option we have. But it still doesn’t make feeding him to the wolves, so to speak, any easier.

  I smile at my new mate but my expression slips when I turn away. The truth is I’m frightened. Frightened for Logan. Frightened for the pack of wolves at our backs, for the pack still trapped inside—what will happen if I can’t get them out? And I’m frightened for Stone, the alpha who pretended to be my enemy but who risked his very life to save mine.

  I can only hope that the boy I’ve known since childhood was able to use his wit and resourcefulness to stay alive. But what if I’m wrong? What if the master kills him because of me?

  I draw in a sharp breath and work to desensitize. I can’t let panic get the better of me. Not now. Not after I’ve come so far.

  Keeping to the shadows and camouflaging ourselves in the hostile night, my footsteps slow as we reach the long winding driveway leading up to my former master’s estate. With my sight unhindered by the darkness, I glance past the thick iron gate defending the perimeter and take in the sprawling mansion nestled at the foot of Mount Sirren.

  On the south ridge of the mountain, overlooking the estate, fields of grapevines provide a gorgeous backdrop to the majestic manor. As I inhale the familiar scents, I struggle to tame the wolf pacing restlessly inside me, but I can’t seem to marshal the unease seeping from my every pore.

  Even though our aim is to get in and out as quickly as possible—no one wants to be inside the compound any longer than necessary—it’s still a risky plan, dangerous, and the scars marring my body are a constant reminder that disobedience comes with a price. If I make one wrong move, one small mistake under the master’s watchful eye, not even the capable alpha beside me or the pack of werewolves who make up our small army will be able to step in and stop him.

  Something I long ago vowed to do.

  My ears perk for sound, and I note that the propane-fired cannons, a device used to scare birds from the vineyard, are quiet tonight. But come tomorrow they’ll blast again. At least they’d better blast, because my plan to get the others out alive hinges upon it.

  Floodlights sweep the area, splashing monstrous shadows over the manicured lawns and towering marble sculptures. As I take in the array of statues fringing the walkway I can’t help but think they resemble an armed band of soldiers ready to defend the empire, prepared to kill all those who threaten their leader. I look beyond them, and in the distance I spot the front door with its ornate, silver doorknocker.

  As I glare at it, my heart thunders and my blood pumps faster. The majestic entranceway might look welcoming to most, but I know it’s not. I know the cruelties that await us on the other side. But instead of heeding common sense and running in the opposite direction, we’re walking straight back in, simply because it’s the only way I can follow through with the vow I once made to myself.

  Logan moves closer, sensing my discomfort. Unwilling to give in to my fears, I breathe in his comforting scents, pulling them deep into my lungs. The heady bouquet of clean earth—a fragrance that reminds me of cool, summer days—mingles with the fresh aroma of pine needles. The aroma seeps under my skin and as it travels through my veins I suddenly can’t help but wish I was facing the master alone. I hate the risk Logan is about to take. Hate that he’s so sure of me that he’s willing to put his life in my hands.

  Aware of the security cameras panning the area, I take a tentative step closer to the intercom outside the gate. But fear for Logan’s safety has my stomach rebelling as the bulging black button taunts me. I want to reach for it, but I can’t seem to move, my mind and body no longer functioning on the same wavelength.

  Logan curls his hand around my waist, and I jump at his touch. He slides me a look as those perceptive blue eyes of his slowly move over my face, a careful assessment that makes me uncomfortable.

  His voice is low, reassuring and I try not to fidget when he whispers, “It’s going to be okay, Pride.”

  I force a smile and my wolf bristles, but I no longer let her take comfort in his touch, or the warm strength of his body. Right now I need to draw on my anger, because it’s that anger that’s going to keep my wolf sharp and keep us alive.

  “Pride,” he says again in that soft tone that always gets to me, then he pauses to add depth to his words when he states, “We’ve all got your back. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

  “I know,” I respond and study his family as I work to keep my voice from sounding uncertain. Although Logan is smart, strong and skilled, we’re no longer playing in his territory. While his world might have dangerous black bears, birds of prey, and wild, feral animals, the king of my jungle is far more deadly.

  And we’d be wise to remember that.

  With life and death hanging in the balance, a dark shiver pulses in my blood. Ignoring the warning sign, I reach out and stab the security button. My mind takes that time to run through various scenarios. As I wonder how the master will receive us, knowing that the next few minutes will determine our fate, I pull a gun from my back pocket and aim it at Logan’s head.

  I turn to look at Logan’s uncle, Malcolm, the powerful leader of the handpicked group of wolves who make up our motley crew. Since I know very little about each wolf, their strengths and weaknesses, I had zero input into who came and who stayed back to oversee their small Canadian community near the border.

  But I do know that those who are with us now have risked their lives to help me free the others and for that I’ll always be grateful.

  Malcolm gives me a curt nod, bringing my attention back to the crisis at hand, and then his brown eyes take on a serious edge when he looks past my shoulders.

  I don’t need to turn to know what he’s looking at. I can hear the gears grinding on the security camera as it slowly pivots my way. Returning Malcolm’s signal with a stiff nod of my own, and summoning every ounce of courage I possess, I watch the team of eight retreat, losing themselves in the inky darkness surrounding the estate.

  Once they’ve disappeared, I draw a fueling breath to clear my thoughts and remember what my father taught me when I was just a pup, before he blew out of my life like a leaf caught in an updraft. Never let them see your fear.

  But thoughts of my father have my head spinning and fill me with a million questions. Mainly, could he still be alive?

  I square my shoulder and begin to turn, to face the firing squad about to descend
upon us, but moments before the camera lands on me, Logan’s cousin, Gem steps from the darkness to give me a brisk hug.

  “Grasshopper,” she whispers into my ear. I instantly remember Logan once calling me grasshopper, but before I can ask what she means, she’s gone, disappearing as quickly as she’d appeared, a bright shiny jewel dimmed by the ebony blackness owning the night.

  I shift my focus to Logan and I’m about to question him. I want to ask what Gem means, but I also want to know why Malcolm would bring a spirited, energetic girl like her along—one who would surely collapse in the heat of battle. But he squeezes my arm in a silent message, letting me know it’s time to focus.

  A look passes between us, and then he lowers his head like a broken puppy—one who was just brutally kicked. My heart misses a beat as I watch him put on his game face and execute our plan to perfection. This strong yet gentle alpha never fails to amaze me and everything about him touches me in places I never knew existed until we met.

  But I can’t think about that right now, can’t think about how he makes me feel so warm and secure when I’m with him. Right now I have to get my head in the game and focus on the task at hand, because once that gate opens we’ll be anything but safe.

  When I tear my gaze away from the boy who taught me how to trust, I remove all emotion from my face and look pointedly at the metal gate. Once again I remind myself that this risky plan needs to go down without a hitch, otherwise I might not ever feel Logan’s warm touch again.

  Shivers skitter down my spine at the sound of the oxidized hinges yawning open, yet I keep my face blank, my eyes vacant. Less than a split second later the sound of squealing tires reaches our ears. I brace myself for battle and blink against the glaring headlights aimed our way.

  It appears the firing squad has arrived.

  I peer into the darkened windows of the approaching vehicle and spot Lawrence, one of the handlers who takes pleasure in using a rough hand to restrain the wolves. I pan the inside of the vehicle and note that he’s brought two bodyguards as backup, the same ones I’d managed to ditch and elude at Olympic Park some three weeks ago.

  The bulletproof SUV they’re traveling in screeches to a halt just inside the gate. The three slowly emerge from the oversized luxury Blazer, and a crooked yet cautious smile curls Lawrence’s thin lips as his dark, beady eyes lock on mine.

  “Well, well,” he says, as he swirls a metal collar around his index finger. It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that he’s using the thick, steel plated driver’s side door to shield his body. That action speaks volumes and reminds me that while I’m the one they keep caged, he’s the one who’s truly afraid. “Would you look at what the cat dragged in?”

  He exposes ugly stained teeth as his spiteful glance goes from me, to Logan, back to me again. I hold his gaze unflinchingly, fully aware of the two guns pointed at my head. I dart a quick look at the guards who are wielding those weapons, evil men who’d love to pump me full of silver should I make one wrong move.

  As I take a moment to size them up my wolf stirs, but I calm her, warning her now is not the time to attack. She’ll have her chance soon enough, I remind her.

  Soon enough…

  Lawrence clicks his tongue and makes a tsking sound as his focus settles on our bedraggled states. Logan’s eyes inch up, but I shove my gun into his temple to stop him before he can challenge the handler. His head jerks and he growls deep and I can’t quite tell whether he’s simply playing along or if we’re in real danger of him shifting and attacking.

  As a protective wolf, and a boy who never goes down without a fight, I understand it’s hard for Logan to let someone mistreat his mate, but the last thing I want him to do is defy the handler. It’s much too soon for that.

  “Nice and easy, kitty cat,” Lawrence says and I hear the slight vibration in his voice when he crooks his finger. “Drop the gun and kick it my way.”

  I lower my weapon and let it fall to the pavement. It clangs on the ground, the sound puncturing the silence of the night. Using the inside of my foot I kick it toward him, giving a little more force than necessary. Despite having just warned Logan to behave, when it comes provoking Lawrence, I can’t seem to help myself. Perhaps it’s because of the hateful nicknames he calls me, or perhaps it’s because he takes such pleasure in bullying the elders—older wolves who’ve been beaten and broken. Either way, antagonizing him is worth the wounds that come with disobedience.

  The pistol skids past him, and I can feel the strain of Logan’s eyes on me, a silent warning. But, just like old times, that little stunt earns me a scowl from the handler and the familiarity of it all helps me regain my focus and concentrate on my next move in this deadly game of cat and mouse.

  The bodyguards watch the tense exchange between handler and wolf, and their heads bob back and forth like they’re waiting for some sort of signal. Lawrence nods toward the gun and grits his teeth.

  “Get it,” he orders the man directly behind him, and when the burly guard bends to retrieve the weapon, Lawrence hurls the collar at me, much harder than necessary.

  I know he’s hoping to catch me off guard, but when I snatch it out of the air with practiced ease, his beady eyes narrow and his lips tighten in annoyance.

  Glaring at me, he juts his chin toward Logan. “Leash him up, pet,” he says evenly, not wanting me to know how much I’ve rattled him, but his words belie his emotions. I can smell his anger: hot, gurgling rage bubbling to the surface like a cauldron brimming with decomposing flesh.

  The primal side of me howls at the putrid scent and my skin itches in response, my thin flesh burning like a thousand angry bee stings as my wolf cries to break free and go for Lawrence’s throat.

  Working diligently to fight off the change in the face of my enemy, I turn to Logan. My fingers brush along his neck as I snap the collar around his throat. When his gaze flickers to mine there is nothing I can do to ignore the sick feeling mushrooming in the pit of my gut.

  This boy has come to mean so much to me—everything to me—and I can’t stomach the thoughts of the abuse he’s bound to endure at the hands of my brutal master. Our eyes meet and I can feel him reaching out to me, wrapping himself around my soul in a gesture meant to soothe, calm. Reassure.

  “No. Run!” A hard, angry voice thunders inside my head, only I quickly realize it’s not my voice frantically yelling at me to flee.

  Caught by surprise I gasp out loud, my stomach cramping so hard I stagger forward. I clamp my hands over my ears to block the piercing noise, completely unprepared for the violent intrusion.

  The sounds of guns cocking quickly pull me back and I struggle to compose myself. Dying now would simply interfere with my mission. And I refuse to let that happen. I take a deep fortifying breath, desperate not to blow our plan.

  Knowing what I need to do to regain my focus, I think of my mother, my father, the elders, the puppies, and all the others who were killed or tortured by the master’s hands. Anger erupts inside me and I use it to smother the confusion rattling my brain.

  Unaware of the voice in my head, Lawrence challenges, “Are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?”

  As Lawrence’s question hovers like a loaded bullet, the voice barks again, although this time it’s louder and much more insistent. “Run, Pride! It’s not safe for you here.”

  Violent, chaotic images flash through my mind and I swallow the saliva coating my tongue, suddenly uncertain as alarm bells jangle, urging me to heed the warning.

  “Stone, don’t!” I bark back. “It’s okay,” I hurry to explain. “It’s not what you think. I’ve come with a plan.”

  Feeling disoriented, I widen my stance and from my peripheral vision I catch the way Logan is watching me, his blue eyes darkening in distress as they lock on mine. That’s when it occurs to me that he knows.

  He knows Stone is in my head. Connecting with me in a way my own mate can’t.

  I shake the buzz from my brain to clear it and that’s when I rea
lize what this all means. Stone is alive! He hadn’t been killed by the master because I ran away and he failed to bring me back. I’d spent the last couple weeks agonizing over his safety, knowing I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him because of me. I exhale a relieved breath and inside my wolf wails with joy at that small, unexpected surprise. Not only am I ecstatic to learn that Stone is alive, we can use all the help we can get to pull off our risky plan.

  As I focus in on Logan and take in the dark, troubled shadows beneath his eyes I can’t help but feel an odd sense of betrayal for allowing another alpha into my thoughts. But it’s not my fault that Stone and I defy nature and can mentally communicate when in human form. I realize it’s not something the other wolves can do, and I can’t explain why the two of us are an exception to the rule. All I know is that we are.

  “Well,” Lawrence probes as he tosses me another leash, the air between us crackling with volatile electricity as he waits for my answer. “Is it the hard way or the easy way, kitten?” he asks again.

  With no choice but to block Stone from my thoughts so I can fully concentrate on this current crisis, I catch the collar with a hand that bears deep purple scars—whip wounds received from doing things the hard way. But lessons learned have taught me when to push and when to back off.

  Without averting my gaze in a show of submission like I’m supposed to, I continue to glare at Lawrence. After all, the handler wouldn’t expect anything less from me. The cold metal collar sends chills scurrying down my spine as I secure the restraint around my neck and snap it in place, my compliance answering his question.

  When metal grinds metal, the lock sliding home, Lawrence visibly relaxes because he knows once I’m leashed, shifting is impossible. Not unless I want to put breaking my neck at the top of my to-do list. And right now those top spots are reserved for a select few.

  Lawrence steps away from the vehicle and I can’t help but bare my teeth as he hooks a heavy chain to my collar and gives it a good hard tug. I jerk forward, my neck nearly snapping like a dry twig, and I can feel Logan’s tension spreading like an unleashed virus.