The Werewolf Who Gave A Shift (Shift Faced #2)

Chapter 1

Macy had taken her day off from the bar to run errands and stocking up on things she couldn’t usually get during her late nights.

With her bags tucked away, she drove toward her Alpha’s compound in Assjacket.

She didn’t live there anymore, but showing her face and taking care of business with the Murder was something she had to do.

She hadn’t stayed with the Crow Shifters since her parents died.

Even back then, she’d known she didn’t fit.

The compound felt cold, more like a cage than a home.

Davey, owner of Shift Faced, had been the one to pull her out of that.

He had given her a cabin near the bar, steady work, and treated her like family when she had none.

Her throat tightened thinking about him. She missed him so much.

What made it worse was knowing how he died.

Frisco, one of her own, had killed him. The bastard thought he’d inherit the bar, but when it went to Davey’s stepdaughter, Billie Ann, instead, Frisco had lost his mind.

He’d even tried to kill her, too. The memory still made Macy’s hands grip the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened.

The compound came into view, tall fences and the dark wings of Crows gliding overhead.

As she pulled in, she caught the stares right away.

A few of the Crow Shifters lingered near the gate, their sharp eyes following her car with open suspicion.

They didn’t wave. They didn’t smile. They were not a trusting lot.

Macy frowned as she parked her car. Jack Crow always had guards near the gate, but they went unseen. Today was different. Opening the door, she stepped out and heard the commotion of voices coming from the woods that surrounded the compound.

Macy froze at the sound of thrashing just beyond the trees.

Squinting through the shadows, her breath caught.

Tangled in a thick rope trap was a man. Naked.

The cords bit deep into his skin as his muscles strained, twisting and jerking in a desperate attempt to rip himself free.

His eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, sharp and predatory, a low growl rumbling from his chest that raised goose bumps along her arms.

Heart hammering, she slammed her car door shut and marched toward the noise.

“What are you doing here?” Shepherd Wilks demanded, his tone sharp as his broad frame filled the narrow trail blocking her path.

“What’s going on?” Macy asked, ignoring his question with one of her own. She tried to peer around him, but he shifted deliberately, blocking her view.

“None of your business.” Shepherd crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

“Get out of my way, Shep.” Macy shoved at him, irritation sparking hotter than fear. He rocked back a step but didn’t move aside.

“You don’t understand,” he ground out, his voice low. “That’s not just some man. We saw him before he shifted.”

Macy blinked, the words catching her off guard. “Shifted?”

Shepherd’s gaze hardened, his mouth pressing into a grim line. “Werewolf.”

The word hit her like a strike of lightning, and suddenly the wild eyes, the growl, the sheer unnatural strength in the trapped man’s body made a terrifying kind of sense. “That’s impossible.” She whispered, but knew Shepherd had heard her. Werewolves were known to be extinct.

“Impossible or not, he’s a murdering Werewolf.” Shepherd spat in disgust.

“Has Jack called Mac?” Macy couldn’t take her eyes off the man who fought against his restraints. His threats were spoken with such a harsh, deep voice that shivers ran down her spine.

“Jack’s not here,” Shepherd informed her. “Griffin’s in charge.”

“Griffin?” Macy finally pulled her eyes from the man to look at Shep. “Since when has he been in charge of anything?” Griffin Miller was an egotistical jerk who didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Well, that was Davey’s description of Griffin, and she couldn’t agree more.

Shepherd just shrugged his shoulders, looking unhappy about Griffin being left in charge in Jack’s absence. “It’s not my place or anyone’s place to question Jack.”

Macy rolled her eyes. She respected her Alpha to a point.

Jack Crow did things she didn’t agree with, and neither had her parents.

Fear of being outcast, everyone kept their mouths shut and did as they were told.

Another reason she lived away from the compound.

She struggled to follow ridiculous rules and stay silent.

“He needs to contact Mac,” Macy said, her voice edged with steel. Her frown deepened when she caught sight of Griffin swaggering toward the trapped man, a heavy wooden club gripped in his hand. “What is he doing?”

“Huh?” Shepherd blinked, then followed her gaze.

Macy’s stomach dropped as Griffin swung the club lazily, taunting the bound man like he was some cornered animal. Without a second thought, she stormed forward. Behind her, Shepherd cursed, but she didn’t slow. “Dammit, Macy!”

Just as Griffin lifted the club high, Macy planted herself between him and the trapped man.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her glare cut to the raised weapon now frozen in mid-swing, then snapped back to Griffin’s face.

“Getting rid of a threat,” Griffin growled, his grip tightening on the wood. “Get out of the way, Macy.”

She turned, looking down at the man tangled in ropes. His massive chest rose and fell with each labored breath, but he’d stilled. His golden eyes flicked from Griffin to her, and for a moment—just a heartbeat—the raw fury in them softened.

“Only you would find a man tangled in a rope trap a threat.” Macy’s voice dripped with contempt as she looked back at Griffin.

A few in the crowd chuckled, the sound rippling through the tense air. Griffin’s face flushed red, his jaw tightening as he shifted the club back onto his shoulder.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped, bellowing at the onlookers. Then he leaned forward, his face inches from hers, and hissed, “Last chance, Macy. Move, or I’ll move you.” He lifted the club as if he was going to swing it toward her.

The crowd gasped, but Macy didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted, defiance burning bright in her eyes. “Do it!” Macy dared him, sick of his twisted games he played with others. Not many people liked him, except for a few of his followers.

“I warned you,” Griffin said with a sneer, his threat clear in his voice.

And that was when it happened.

The ropes gave way with a sharp crack, the fibers snapping like gunfire.

Gasps and shouts erupted as the man shifted in an instant, then surged forward, free from the ropes.

His body trembled with raw power, golden eyes blazing, but instead of lunging at the crowd or escaping, he moved in one swift, furious motion, planting himself between Griffin and Macy.

The club Griffin had raised faltered midair, his bravado draining under the lethal snarl that shook the ground itself. The Werewolf’s massive frame loomed over Griffin, muscles coiled and ready, his voice a guttural threat that silenced the clearing.

Macy’s breath caught. He was protecting her.

The way his body shielded hers made her pulse race in ways she didn’t dare name. Holy shit, a full-blooded Werewolf stood in front of her, protecting her. He grabbed the club from Griffin, throwing it into the woods. The crowd that had gathered scattered, some screaming for their lives.

The Werewolf took a step toward Griffin and roared into his face, sending him sprawling on his ass before he scrambled to his feet and took off, leaving Macy alone with a creature who many thought, her included, had been wiped from the face of the earth.

The clearing had gone deathly silent.

Macy’s breath caught as the Werewolf turned toward her. He was massive, with his fur bristling and his golden eyes burning with wild intensity. He was a nightmare pulled straight from the stories told around firelight, and yet, standing here, she couldn’t look away.

For one suspended moment, they faced each other.

His chest heaved, each breath a growl in itself as the raw power of him vibrated through the ground.

She should’ve run. Every instinct screamed at her to get as far away as possible.

But she didn’t. She held his gaze with her heart racing in her throat.

His snarl faded into something else, his head tilting just slightly as though he were… studying her. But not as prey, nor a threat, but something else.

Macy’s pulse thundered as she realized, without knowing the reasoning, that she had to help him. “We need to get out of here,” she whispered, her voice rough with urgency.

Without thinking, she moved closer and reached out. Her fingers brushed against his thick, coarse fur that was hot and damp from his struggles. The contact jolted through her like fire, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, she gripped tighter, her hand buried against the solid strength of him.

“Do you hear me?” she urged, her voice low and desperate. “They are going to come back, and this time they will kill you. We have to go...now!”

The Werewolf’s golden eyes flared as they locked on hers. A low rumble rolled through his chest, deep enough to vibrate her bones. For a breathless heartbeat, she didn’t know if he’d snap and kill her on the spot and eat her or follow.

“I swear you better not eat me,” Macy mumbled as she stared at him, not sure what he was going to do and wondering if she had lost her damn mind. There was no wondering to it. She had most definitely lost her damn mind.

With a sharp, deliberate exhale, he stepped toward her, towering and protective, his massive frame shadowing hers. “Go,” The word was a garbled growl.

Macy took off at a run, heading toward the car. Glancing over her shoulder, she checked to make sure he was following. He was, and at that moment, Macy didn’t know if she was relieved or scared to death.