Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
LEON
Leon slunk through the undergrowth, paws silent on the mossy earth as he headed back to Karl.
He’d found no trace of any wolves’ scent.
Either the pup was simply restive, having been held still for so long, or whoever they were looking for was too well hidden to be found on such a time-limited search.
He lifted his nose to the breeze again, but it remained clean.
Maybe they’d already passed whatever pack the pup came from.
Maybe they were on the other side of the river.
Actually, that was sounding increasingly likely, and there was no way they could cross it with the way it was running.
Even if Karl hadn’t been hurt, Leon wouldn’t have wanted to try it with a pup to wrangle.
It was time to get back, not only because they’d found no lead, but because Karl had looked worse the farther they went.
He was covering it, of course, like the stubborn wolf he was.
But Leon had seen the minute shifts, the way he gritted his teeth when he thought Leon wasn’t looking, how his color was rising with the effort of walking, how he’d finally snapped at the pup when it wouldn’t lie still.
Yeah, it was probably better if Leon didn’t leave him alone again, not until they were back at the ranch where Karl would be taken care of. He never should have left in the first place, even just for ten minutes. He crested the small rise where he’d left them and stopped short.
Nothing. The boulder was bare. No Karl, no pup. The world dropped out from under him.
He prowled forward, each step deliberate, every muscle taut, his senses in overdrive.
But it wasn’t until he was almost at the boulder where Karl had been sitting that he scented anything—he’d been upwind.
And that was all the more chilling, to think someone had waited until he’d gone, and then made their move, knowing Leon wouldn’t scent them.
Not someone but someones. Scents of numerous strange wolf shifters mixed with those of Karl and the pup. Karl would never have left like this, with no sign to tell Leon where he’d gone. Not willingly.
A snarl built in his throat, fierce and fast. His chest felt too tight, like his ribs were shrinking. He was supposed to be watching Karl’s back, guarding him, and instead, he’d walked away. Left him.
Like he’d been left. Like he wasn’t worth the effort.
A constant low growl was rumbling in his chest as he untangled the different scents. He thought of that obstinate, defiant tilt to Karl’s chin, his absolute refusal to show weakness, even when he could barely stand, and he wondered how they’d gotten him to go with them.
He should have been here. He should have stopped it. If they’d hurt Karl—
Leon bared his teeth, then he moved. Downhill, fast but silent, veering wide to stay downwind. The wolves hadn’t bothered to cover their tracks, leaving a scent trail a mile wide. If they knew he was nearby, they didn’t care.
His cat wanted to attack, to tear someone open.
But going in without knowing what he was facing might just get them both killed, so he followed at a distance.
Listening, scanning the breeze and storing every scent, noting every sound or distant movement.
Filing it all away, building the map in his head.
And trying not to think about Karl being gone.
Leon had gotten used to him too fast, too easily.
He’d gone from wanting to punch his obstinate, bossy, stubborn face to…
He didn’t know what, actually. Just that something had shifted, like his center of gravity had changed without him noticing.
Until the person, the wolf at the center was gone, and now he couldn’t stop noticing his absence.
Leon didn’t let people close. He didn’t trust easily, and he didn’t need anyone. That had always been the point.
But Karl—he’d slipped under Leon’s guard with nothing more than his refusal to back down, competence so damn good it rivaled his own, and a goddamn soft voice for a wayward pup. And now he was gone.
The worst part? Leon had left him. Not for long, and not on purpose. But it had been enough. Guilt burned so hot in him he could taste it.
Leon lowered his head and kept moving. He’d find him. He’d get him back, no matter what it took.
KARL
Karl was stumbling now. He’d been hiding it as long as he could, keeping pace with the strange shifters surrounding him, but it was getting harder with every step.
Pain clawed at his leg, radiating up into his hip and down into his foot, like fire chasing along his nerves.
Sweat soaked his t-shirt and stuck it to his spine.
Still, he tried not to let it show. He kept his head up, gaze moving constantly, logging every movement. Counting how many wolves were ahead, how many behind. Clocking tells—posture, gait, the way one of them kept flexing his hands like he couldn’t wait for an excuse.
Karl didn’t know where they were taking him, but he knew he couldn’t beat them when it came to the inevitable fight. He’d do his damn best to make it cost them, though.
A hard shove from behind knocked him off-balance. The stick Leon had found for him snagged against a tree root, and Karl went down hard on his good knee. The jolt of pain that lit up his ribs nearly blacked him out, and he couldn’t stop the sound that tore from his throat.
“What’s wrong with him?”
The voice came from somewhere behind him. No one answered.
Karl braced his hand against the ground, reaching for the stick again, trying to lever himself upright. Someone crouched at his side. “Let me help.”
It was the woman who the pup had run to. Her grip was firm, with the easy strength of a shifter, as she helped him upright and turned toward the others.
“Let him go at his own pace.”
Her voice had authority and, surprisingly, they listened. The group’s pace eased until it was more manageable.
Karl didn’t thank her. He was too busy focusing on staying upright.
His world narrowed to one foot in front of the other and the pain of each step.
He didn’t know how long they walked—just that when they stopped, he nearly bumped into the back of the shifter in front of him, so focused on keeping going, he hadn’t noticed the rest of the group coming to a standstill.
The ground beneath his feet was now flat, the trees sparser, and between the trees, log cabins huddled. Cabins that were weathered enough to have been here several years, and he’d had no idea they were here, a couple of days’ hard run from the ranch.
He was desperate to get back to Matt and warn him about these shifters, but it was all he could do to keep his eyes open and stay upright. Soon. He’d sit down for a minute, and then everything would be better.
“Cormack,” someone ordered. “Take him. I’ll brief Michael.”
A new wolf stepped up beside Karl and took his arm, not gently, but not rough either. He led Karl to a nearby cabin. Inside was dim and utilitarian, with a bed, a couple of chairs, and a table—a mix of homemade furniture and camping gear. The windows were shuttered tight.
“Sit,” Cormack said, lighting a lantern and closing the door behind them.
Karl obeyed, not because he was told but because he didn’t think his leg would take another minute of standing. He eased into the chair, muscles trembling with fatigue.
“You need water?” Cormack asked.
Karl shook his head and instantly regretted it. Black spots swam in his vision, and his stomach lurched. He knew he should eat and drink to fuel his healing, but if he swallowed anything now, he didn’t think it would stay down.
Instead, he leaned back slightly, trying to focus. He needed to plan.
“Any particular reason you’ve decided to abduct a shifter who was minding his own business?” he asked, voice rough.
Cormack returned his stare. “Any particular reason you were poking around near our camp?”
“Trying to return a lost pup,” Karl said flatly. “Yours, I assume.”
That got a flicker of something from Cormack—surprise, maybe. Or regret.
“Michael will sort it out.”
Presumably their alpha. Karl filed that name away, before leaning forward slightly, keeping his tone easy. “Look, I didn’t come here to cause trouble. I found the pup. If he’s yours, great. You’ve got him back. That’s all I came to do.”
Cormack’s eyes stayed steady. “You shouldn’t have come alone.”
Karl didn’t reply. He wasn’t going to admit that he hadn’t been, that Leon was out there, and if Karl was lucky, still free and tracking him.
He trusted Leon to do that. That realization hit harder than expected. Not just trust in his skills—he’d never doubted those—but in the fact that Leon wouldn’t quit until he found him.
LEON
Leon paused near the crest of a ridge, breath low and steady, ears straining for any sounds. He’d taken a couple of wide detours to stay downwind, and it had cost him time, but he’d rather be cautious than dead.
Below him, the forest opened into a shallow basin, with figures moving among the trees at the bottom.
He could see their movement, but something was impeding the detail.
The canopy was thicker than it should be at this time of year.
And then he saw it—netting strung between trunks, sprinkled with leaves and twigs. Camouflage.
Well, shit. Whoever these wolves were, they were deadly serious about hiding from outsiders.
And Karl, hurt and outnumbered, was in the middle of it.
Guilt stabbed through him, so strong he almost gasped.
He’d done this. He’d left Karl alone, knowing he couldn’t fight, and not even thinking he could be in danger.