Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Peyton
Peyton drove with the windows down to better focus on the local scents. Once he was outside town, the area took on a desolate feel that made his corner of rural Idaho look positively overcrowded in comparison. He didn’t bother turning on the radio because he didn’t want any distractions.
He wanted to focus on this mission and not let his mind drift to the troubles he faced at home, regardless of how this situation resolved itself.
I owe Gillian a lifetime’s worth of apologies.
He knew without a doubt that Ken was right—if Peyton didn’t have a mate bond with Gillian, he would already be on his way to a divorce.
And that didn’t sit well with him, that the only reason Gillian might not leave him was due to their mate bond. Some wolves might feel relieved about having that “safety net” in place.
Not Peyton.
Their father had instilled in him and Trent, from a young age, to never abuse the trust of their mates, but especially hammered that home to Peyton.
Because their father had seen much in his life before arriving in America—as had Badger and Duncan—and the three men never wanted wolves in their pack to abuse that bond. And they definitely never wanted Primes to abuse their power.
Fucking Endquist.
Now he wished Duncan or their father had killed the man all those years ago as soon as he’d expressed an interest in their mother.
It was a horrific reminder that kindness must be tempered with common sense and have limits to preserve the balance between equity and abuse.
Any wolf—much less a Prime—who came sniffing around Adair or Lyssa or any of Trent’s daughters without reciprocal feelings on the girls’ parts, Peyton would ruthlessly settle the matter, either by immediate banishment or a more…permanent solution.
Not just Bleacke kids, obviously. And not only females, although with Dewi being the only known female Prime Alpha, it was unlikely the threat would come from anyone other than a male Prime.
While it had been made clear in their pack from the start that forcing a mating without a mate bond was considered rape and punishable by death, it was time for them to update the terminology and reiterate to all their newest and youngest members how seriously Peyton and the Targhee Pack at large took this matter.
Thankfully, in Dewi’s case, Ken had been willing and was happy with the result, even if it had been rushed and chaotic.
It’s also time to mandate martial arts training for all our pups, especially nonshifters, as well as any other kids or adults who want it.
Dewi’s Enforcer training had been appropriately brutal for her abilities.
When Dewi was still in her early teens, countless times Badger and Beck had reported to Peyton and Trent that they honestly weren’t sure if they could continue training her because she easily beat the crap out of them on a routine basis while sparring, and it was impossible to find a human teacher who could match her skills and strength.
While they carefully kept track of all Primes in their pack, Peyton would sit down with Trevor and Dewi on the other side of this business to figure out a system to keep track of all Prime Alpha wolves, even in other packs, along with shifters from other races with similar abilities to their Primes.
He knew some of the big cat shifter races had a few, and unconfirmed rumors said some of the ursine shifters did as well.
But, until recently, he hadn’t worked closely enough with those folks to investigate further without risking ruffling fur and egos.
Now, with all of them at risk, it was far more likely he and Trevor could convince the other packs and groups of shifters that banding together—in this way, at least—was mutually beneficial to protect all of them.
Peyton deeply breathed in the cool, unfamiliar air as he drove.
He scented pines and other trees, but it smelled different than his familiar Idaho wilderness.
With the frigid ocean waters so close and the mountains with their cold streams and waterfalls, it provided Peyton with a scent profile that would help him better track his quarry once he was on foot.
He located the parking area without any issues and was relieved to see that his was the only car there.
After exiting, he locked the rental, leaving his burner cell and hotel room key card in the glove box.
Then he stood there for a moment with his eyes closed, deeply breathing, listening, acclimating, settling himself.
Around him, he heard nothing but the sounds of nature—a light breeze rippling through the treetops, birds, insects, a trickle of water nearby. No vehicles, no people, not even the sounds of dogs or livestock.
But while he scented old human trails he also didn’t scent any shifters, much less Faegan Lewis.
Opening his eyes, he walked the perimeter of the parking area to check it out. Reportedly, Fredrik had not approached from this location but had said it was closer to the place of the sighting than the trail he’d used when he hiked in.
Satisfied no one had passed through the area recently, Peyton walked several yards into the woods and stepped off the trail to tuck the rental’s keys into the crook of a tree branch where a human wouldn’t spot them.
He didn’t know if he’d have to shift, but he didn’t want to worry about leaving the keys where Faegan Lewis might double back and find them and steal his car, or that he might lose Faegan Lewis because he couldn’t get into the car to give chase, if needed.
Dewi would never let me live it down if that happened. And neither would Gillian.
Which, considering how much shit he was in with Gillian right now, would be worse.
Infinitely worse.
While overcast at least the day wasn’t too wet, which would have made tracking difficult if not impossible. Peyton crossed paths with several faint human scent trails as he hiked, but none of them appeared fresh.
No shifter scents, unfortunately. And no tracks, either.
He hiked for the better part of an hour, starting to wonder if he’d perhaps gone the wrong way—or worse, was on yet another fruitless quest—when he scented a whiff of smoke, like from a campfire.
From the direction of the scent, Peyton had to leave the main trail and head downhill again. Over the next several minutes the scent grew stronger, but he’d yet to come across any shifter or human trails.
The landscape grew rockier, more treacherous, and began resembling the type of terrain Wilford reported had been described by Fredrik.
Pausing, Peyton scanned the landscape, even holding his breath as he listened.
Still nothing.
He was about to head uphill again, to find a better vantage point, when he thought he heard a noise.
A single, metallic clang. Not loud, but also not a noise he expected to hear out in the wild.
Turning back downhill, he resumed his trek at a faster pace, trying to stay concealed among trees and other vegetation as he homed in on the scent of the campfire and the origin of the noise.
He approached the edge of a thick copse of trees at the crest of a drop.
Beyond that, he spotted a rocky section downslope from him that exactly matched what he was looking for.
He hadn’t smelled smoke for a while, but he was now also upwind due to the landscape.
Which could put him at a disadvantage if Faegan scented him.
Crouching, he watched and listened for ten minutes.
He didn’t want to cross the open area, especially while upwind, in case this was his quarry.
That could easily make him a target or alert Faegan to his presence.
He’d circle back and work his way further downslope, emerging closer to his destination and downwind of it.
What would Dewi do?
She’d probably call him a dumbass for not having a weapon on him, much less backup.
Scratch that—she totally would call him a dumbass. Rightfully so.
Because he’d chew her a new asshole if she did exactly what he was doing right now.
He still hadn’t seen, heard, or scented further signs of a person or the campfire.
Fuck it. He didn’t feel like being shot in the middle of nowhere. He’d retreat and circle around.
Standing, he turned to leave when he heard the metallic clang again. Closer this time, definitely coming from that area. Almost like someone bumped a metal pot or pan against a rock.
Hmm.
He resumed his position, keenly aware that he was wasting time. But if he’d found his prey he didn’t want to risk losing him, either.
There was also the possibility that there was a clueless human down there simply minding their own business. Another reason he didn’t want to shift yet, because he didn’t want to get shot by a clueless human thinking he was a wild wolf.
The wind briefly shifted, and Peyton’s nostrils flared at the faintest hints of smoke, like a campfire had been recently doused.
But then the wind changed yet again.
Peyton made his choice. He stood, turned, and before he could process it, he felt two stabbing pains hit him in his back and a third in his ass.
Sinking to his knees, his vision swam as he tried to process this turn of events.
He had just enough time to hear what sounded like someone keying and speaking into a radio mic before he fell forward and into darkness.
Trevor
Trevor’s pulse spiked as they parked next to Peyton’s rental. The men who’d arrived ahead of him and Garrison had already circled the parking area, located Peyton’s trail, and even found where he’d hidden his rental car keys.
“All right,” Trevor said. “Teams of two—one shifted, one not. The better tracker will shift, but stick together, right? Take your mobiles. We might not have coverage out here, but if we’re not together and you locate Peyton, try to call me and immediately return here.”
“And if we locate Faegan?” one asked.
“Kill him,” Trevor growled. “Immediately. No quarter given.” He glanced at his watch.
“Peyton doesn’t have much of a head start.
” He pointed to two men, neither of whom could shift.
“You two remain here. Send the others out after us with those instructions. If Peyton returns before me, fill him in and defer to him about what to do, and try to contact us. The rest of you, if we get separated, return here no later than four hours from now. That’s two hours out, two back. Garrison, you’re with me. Move out.”
He didn’t let Garrison shift. The two of them followed the team with their best tracker shifted and in pursuit of Peyton’s fresh scent trail. They were all moving at a full run behind the two leads.
Trevor didn’t like this. It felt too…wrong.
Like a set-up.
Perhaps even a betrayal, although Peyton had used his Prime powers and verified every man with them was loyal.
Still…
They’d run for about twenty minutes when Trevor heard something that made him softly whistle for everyone to stop.
Now able to listen, as one, they all looked up.
“Helicopter?” Garrison asked.
“Sounds like it’s inbound,” Trevor said, pushing to the front and now taking the lead. Because at no other time had they heard vehicles, much less aircraft.
Running, they heard the helicopter approach and then set down not too far away. The engine never shut off, though. And as they raced toward the edge of the thick copse of trees, Trevor pulled up short, holding out his arms for everyone to freeze.
Approximately two hundred yards in the distance, they spotted four men dressed in black paramilitary gear and with rifles slung on their shoulders.
They unceremoniously hauled a limp Peyton Bleacke into the helo, climbing in behind him and immediately lifting off.
“Fuck!” Trevor backed deeper into the trees, to avoid being spotted. “What direction is it heading?”
“Looks to be northeast,” one man said.
Garrison stepped forward as if to give chase, but Trevor grabbed his arm. “No.”
“We can’t let them take him!” Garrison protested.
“Can you shift into a dragon, sprout wings, and spit fire or bullets at them?”
That shut him up.
“Right,” Trevor grimly said. He pulled out his mobile and, of course, didn’t have service. “Everyone, back to the parking area. Now. And stay sharp. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”