Callum
“Three round the back; the rest inside,” Lynx snarls as we all skid to a halt in Morgan’s driveway.
Beth, Flint, and Mal head inside. I follow Lynx and Morgan around the back. We’ve taken two steps when Jet’s guttural cry of pain freezes us in place for one drawn-out second.
“I told him to fucking wait!” Lynx breaks into a sprint, me and Morgan hot on his heels.
The gate splinters as Lynx barrels through it and we find . . . carnage.
Blood spatters the patio and the French doors, the air heavy with the scent of rust. One hunter lies dead on the ground, throat torn open. Another’s trying to crawl away, one hand on his torn stomach, holding his insides in place.
When my gaze lands on Jet, my heart fucking stops.
He’s got three hunters on him, all armed with silver-coated blades covered in aconite. I can smell it from here. He lets out another agonised roar as one of the blades finds its mark, but this time Lynx answers.
Three heads whip our way, colour draining from their faces as we attack.
An enraged alpha is bad enough, but add in his second in command and his mate? They don’t stand a fucking chance.
Especially when I can smell Ash all over them.
Smell his blood.
A red haze descends, my base instincts taking over as I slide into a half shift and let my wolf have the reins.
Yells and screams fill the air. I’m barely aware of Lynx and Morgan next to me as I haul one of Jet’s attackers back against my chest and rip his throat out. He’s dead in seconds.
Blood coats my teeth and my claws, and I turn to spit as I toss him onto the grass. Sudden quiet settles around us, and I look up to see both Lynx and Morgan standing over the dead bodies of what I presume are the ex-hunters from Fox’s old group.
“You good?” Lynx’s gaze travels over me, inspecting me for damage.
All I feel is rage.
They took Ash.
They hurt Jet.
And even through all the blood and chaos, I know Ash isn’t fucking here.
“Cal?” Lynx grabs my shoulders, claws piercing skin, and it’s that spike of pain that snaps me out of it.
I shake my head to clear the last of it and then nod. “He’s not here.”
“I know.”
Mal, Beth, and Flint rush out of the kitchen, their faces confirming what I already know.
Flint gestures over his shoulder. “They had him in a room upstairs, but there’s no sign of him now. No sign of Wilson or Stokes either.”
“Fuck.” I want to gut those bastards for taking Ash, but I can’t focus on that right now.
“He’s—” Jet coughs and spits out a mouthful of blood. There are flecks of black in it, and that kicks us all into action.
Flint darts back through the house, phone to his ear.
Lynx yanks the knife out of Jet’s shoulder, hissing as Jet screams. He tosses it on the ground, flexing his fingers, and I catch sight of his damaged palm. Silver on the hilt too.
“Here.” Flint bursts out of the kitchen and drops to his knees beside Jet. “I’ve got a shot of antidote. Corey says it’ll hold the aconite poisoning at bay until he can treat him back at the compound.”
Jet grabs Lynx’s wrist but looks at me. “Forest.” He points a shaky finger to the hedge behind us. “Told him . . . to run.”
Ash.
“Come on.” Morgan grabs my arm and breaks into a jog. “I know where he’s gone.”
“Wait.” Alpha power hits us hard, dragging us to a stop.
Morgan whirls, snarling.
“Call for backup if you need it.” Lynx hauls Jet to his feet and wraps an arm around his waist. “Be safe. And meet us back at the compound when you find him.”
Morgan gives him a quick nod, but I meet Lynx’s gaze. He hides it well, but I can see everything it’s taking for him to let Morgan go.
We don’t know if anyone followed Ash into the woods.
We don’t know what might be waiting for us.
I’ll keep him safe.
I don’t say it aloud, but I don’t have to. Lynx can read me just as easily. With a nod of my own, I turn and follow Morgan through a tight gap in the hedge.
Branches scrape at my clothes and my face, Ash’s scent so strong through here that my breath catches. I stumble forward, one hand pressed to my chest, and Morgan catches me on the other side.
The look he sends me is all too knowing. “We’ll get him back,” he says for the second time today, and I hope he’s right because the alternative will fucking break me.
“This way.” He turns and sets off running along an overgrown path. “We used to play in here all the time when we were younger.” He glances back over his shoulder. “Made a den and everything—”
I smell it a second after he does.
My snarl matches his.
“Birch.” Morgan whirls around, assessing. “Fuck, I can’t tell where they went.”
He’s not adept at using his senses yet, but I am.
Birch’s scent overlaps with Ash’s, and I have to grit my teeth against the urge to shift. “Call Lynx,” I order, tracking along the path and then turning back when Birch’s scent fades. “Tell him we’re going after Birch.”
He pulls his phone out and does it.
“Where does this lead?” I glance back at him, halfway down a path in the opposite direction.
Morgan frowns. “Towards the road.”
“Fuck.” That’s where he’s gone.
I hear Lynx yell, “Go, I’ll track your phone and meet you there on bikes.”
We set off at a run.
It’s less of a path this way and more like someone forced their way through. There are signs of it everywhere—broken branches, trampled grass, and undergrowth.
It looks like he fucking dragged him.
Their scent sits heavy on the air, and each breath in feels like a knife in my chest. It hurts.
The forest goes on for fucking ever. At least that’s how it feels. I let Morgan take the lead, since this is his territory, but there’s no sign of them up ahead, and I can’t hear anything other than the sound of us crashing through the forest.
Where are you, Ash?
I pull Morgan to a stop when we reach a fallen tree trunk blocking our way. My nostrils flare. Ash’s scent’s heavier here.
I scan the ground, turning in a circle, then back to the fallen tree. “There.” I bend to pluck a scrap of fabric off the ground.
It’s bright blue.
I hold it to my nose and growl at the faint trace of blood on it. “It’s Ash’s.”
Morgan takes it off me. “It’s from his work shirt.”
We climb over the tree and examine the ground on the other side. The difference is noticeable. “He carried him from here on out.”
“That fucker,” Morgan spits as we both draw the same conclusion.
We run.
As fast as we fucking can towards the road.
No one followed Ash.
Birch must’ve been waiting in the forest and took him. I don’t know if it was planned or coincidence, and it doesn’t matter at this point, I just want him back.
The trees suddenly thin out, and I can finally make out the road.
I pull Morgan to a halt at the edge of the tree line because there’s a fucking car parked on the side of the road.
He glares at me until I point at it.
The engine’s not running.
It’s just sat there.
I stare at it, letting my wolf rise to the surface.
Surely, if Birch had a car here, he’d be long gone by now?
There’s a nagging feeling in my gut that tells me otherwise. And I always trust my gut.
I grab Morgan’s arm when he starts towards it, shaking my head when he looks at me.
He cocks an eyebrow, and I might not be able to read him like I can Lynx, but I’m pretty sure we’re on the same page. I nod and pull my phone out. Holding the screen so he can see it, I send Lynx a text.
Cal: Parked car, approx thirty feet from this location.
Lynx: Birch?
Cal: Can’t be sure. Gut says yes
Lynx: Wait for us. We’re on our way
If Birch is in the forest, he’ll have heard our approach.
He’ll know we’re here.
The forest is eerily quiet, the way it gets when predators are around. I just don’t know if it’s from us or him.
I strain to hear anything that might give him away. A shuffle of leaves, the snap of a branch, but there’s nothing.
Unsurprising.
The forest is his home as much as it is mine.
We should wait for Lynx and whoever he’s got with him. Even though Birch isn’t alpha any longer, that doesn’t mean his pack aren’t still helping him. He might not be working alone.
So we wait.
The sound of a car door opening filters through the trees, and the hairs raise on the back of my neck.
It’s him.
“I was hoping for Morgan and Lynx.” Birch’s voice carries easily through the trees. “But under the circumstances, maybe this is even better. Come on out.”
My fingers curl around Morgan’s wrist in case he’s thinking about doing something stupid.
We stay quiet and don’t move a muscle.
“Really?” Birch laughs. “I heard you coming a mile off. Like fucking elephants.”
Morgan tenses, whole body rigid. He’s about thirty seconds from ripping free of my grip and going after Birch, and then I’ll be forced to go with him.
Come on, Lynx. Don’t make me go against your orders.
“Clearly you need some fucking incentive,” he snarls, all pretence gone.
My heart stops.
I glance at Morgan, and this time I’m fucking sure we’re on the same page. We both know what that incentive will be, and no way are we waiting around for confirmation.
We run, eating up the distance between us and Birch in seconds, only to come to a grinding halt as we break the tree line.
However fast we were, Birch was faster.
He’s got an unconscious Ash against his body. One arm wrapped around his waist, holding him up, the other hand pressed against his throat, claws out.
I never heard another car door open, so he must’ve dragged him out with him.
This close, I can feel him again.
The hollow ache in my chest fades into a soft warmth, and I could cry at how good it feels. But with it comes pain and fear and I curl my hands into fists to stop it from showing on my face because that’s what he wants.
My gaze skims over Ash, and a growl escapes when I see the bruises on his face, and his shoulder sitting wrong. “I’m going to kill you.”
He laughs. Fucking laughs.
“Get in line.”
Morgan snarls and takes a step forward.