11. Havoc
Havoc
Fire is alive.
Anyone who tells you different has never stood close enough to feel one breathe.
This bastard has been breathing down our necks for four fucking days.
It started on the far side of the ridge, high in the mountains near Glacier National Park, Montana—the same wild, heavily forested territory A-Feral is contracted to protect.
Ember Hollow sits closest to our territory, down the winding mountain roads from our cabins, and keeping that little town safe is part of why we’re here in the first place.
And right now?
The fire wants Ember Hollow.
At least, that’s what it fucking feels like.
Wind screams through the timber, carrying sparks and burning needles ahead of the main fire line. Lodgepole pine and fir torch one after another, flames racing up trunks and exploding into the crowns with a roar loud enough to drown out everything else.
Smoke hangs so thick in the air the afternoon sun is nothing but a dirty orange smear overhead.
My eyes burn.
My lungs burn.
Every exposed inch of skin feels cooked.
Monster?
The crazy fuck is loving every second.
Fire.
“No shit.”
I drag the hose another ten feet uphill while Wreck works farther down the line with one of the local crews.
We’ve got engines positioned where the access roads allow, a water tender feeding the operation from below, and portable pumps helping us get water into terrain most equipment can’t reach.
But water alone isn’t stopping this thing.
Not out here.
Not with the wind.
The real battle is starving the motherfucker.
So we cut.
Dig.
Scrape.
Drop anything that can carry flame across our line.
We’ve been widening the break for hours, stripping the ground down wherever possible, cutting brush, clearing deadfall, and attacking hot spots before the fire can crawl through the fuel and get around us.
Justin is somewhere north of me.
I can smell the Dragon even through the smoke.
Wreck is south.
And me?
I’m standing in hell with a Pulaski in one hand, the blade covered in soot and ash from felling burned trees, soot up my ass, and one thought stuck in my head.
Gabriella Santos.
Gabby.
Fuck.
I haven't seen her all week. Not since the park. Not since she looked at me with those warm amber eyes and told me she couldn't play games.
Not since I told her I wasn't fucking playing.
Then this call came in. What should’ve been a manageable wildfire turned ugly when the weather shifted.
Dry fuels.
Steep terrain.
Wind.
The holy fucking trinity of fuck you when you’re trying to put out a mountain fire. And every time I get five goddamn minutes to think?
There she is.
Gabby.
Monster has been unbearable.
Mate.
“She’s not.”
Ours.
“She told us to fuck off.”
Scared.
“Yeah, well, smart woman.”
Monster growls.
I swing the Pulaski into the ground harder than necessary. The blade is merciless. Dirt and ash spray around my boots.
The fucked-up thing about my unhealthy obsession with a certain single mother?
I don't even know if she’s scared of me. I think Gabriella Santos is scared of something else. And I fucking hate that I don't know what.
I hate that she works herself half to death.
I hate that her car is a piece of shit—even if I did manage to sneak over and patch the damn thing up without her knowing after the last time I saw her.
I hate that Matteo carries his favorite toys around in a backpack like the kid expects someone to tell him to run at any fucking second.
And I really fucking hate that every time I ask a question, Gabby closes up tighter.
But I can't force her to trust me.
Don't want to.
I want her to choose to.
Which might be the most frustrating thing I've ever fucking wanted.
“Havoc!”
Wreck’s roar cuts through the fire. I look up.
“Yeah?”
“Wind shifted!”
I feel it a second later. A hard gust slams into my back.
Fuck.
The fire reacts instantly.
Flames bend.
Sparks whirl.
The canopy overhead groans.
Monster explodes to attention.
Move.
My head snaps up. A burning branch comes down twenty feet away.
“Shit!”
I jump sideways. The branch crashes into the dirt, throwing sparks everywhere.
“Spot!”
Someone shouts the warning. The fire has jumped our line. I see flames licking through brush thirty yards downslope.
Motherfucker.
I drop the tool, grab the hose, and run. Because if that spot grows? If it catches the slope and gets into the crowns? We lose ground.
A lot of it.
And below this ridge?
Roads.
Homes.
Ember Hollow.
Gabby.
Matteo.
Something inside me changes.
The fatigue disappears. The pain disappears. Everything narrows.
Protect.
“Yeah.”
I open the nozzle. Water blasts across the burning brush. Steam erupts.
A firefighter from the next town comes in beside me.
We work the edges first, keeping the spot contained while another crew starts cutting around it.
Monster pushes strength through my limbs. This is what we're good at.
Chaos.
Violence.
Fire.
The humans have no fucking clue how much harder a Shifter can work.
How much smoke we can tolerate.
How quickly we recover.
How far we can push before our bodies quit.
Doesn't mean we're invincible. Not even fucking close.
“Havoc, watch your—”
CRACK.
Every instinct inside me screams.
I turn. Too late.
A fire-weakened tree comes down.
Not a branch.
A whole fucking tree.
I throw myself sideways, but the trunk catches my shoulder and upper back. Pain detonates through me.
“FUCK!”
The impact drives me into the ground.
For a second? Nothing exists.
Not the fire.
Not the shouting.
Not even Monster.
Just pain.
White.
Blinding.
Absolute.
Then heat.
The trunk isn't fully burning, but parts of it are still hot enough that the bark sears through my protective gear where it shifted on impact.
I smell scorched fabric. Then flesh.
Mine.
Monster roars.
I shove against the trunk. It moves an inch.
Fuck.
I shove it again.
My claws punch through the ends of my gloves. Not good.
“Havoc!”
It’s Justin. Thank fuck. I hear boots pounding toward me.
“I fucking got it!”
“You've got a tree on you, asshole!”
“No fucking shit!”
I brace both hands beneath the trunk.
Monster surges.
Muscle thickens. Bones threaten to Shift.
“Not here,” I snarl through gritted teeth.
MOVE.
“I'M FUCKING TRYING.”
I shove. The trunk rolls enough for Justin and another male to wrench me free. I hit the ground on my hands and knees.
“Havoc.”
“I'm fine.”
Justin stares at me.
“You're smoking.”
I look at my shoulder.
Well.
Fuck.
Parts of my shirt beneath my gear are blackened. Skin underneath is blistered and raw. My back feels worse.
Monster is already working.
Shifter healing is fast.
But burns?
Deep burns take time. A couple days, probably. Maybe longer if I keep being a dumbass.
So, naturally—I stand.
Justin grabs my arm.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Working.”
“You just got flattened by a tree.”
“And?”
“And you're burned.”
“It'll heal.”
“Havoc—”
“Is the spot contained?”
His jaw tightens.
“Almost.”
“Then we're not fucking done.”
Wreck reaches us. As the official incident commander on our end, he takes one look at the situation and orders the human crew to fall back and handle the line farther downslope.
Smart.
The last thing we need is a bunch of humans standing around while three pissed-off Alpha Shifters start using strength no ordinary firefighter should possess.
He waits until they’re safely out of sight before turning back to me.
His mismatched eyes sweep over my injuries. His Bear flashes close to the surface.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Havoc.”
“Don't fucking Alpha me right now, Yogi.”
His nostrils flare. For one second, dominance crashes into the space between us.
Monster rises.
My teeth sharpen. Then Wreck reins it back. And that’s what makes him different. He looks toward the ridge. Then at me.
“You functional?”
“Yes.”
“Head clear?”
“Yes.”
“Anything broken?”
I roll my shoulder. Agony shoots down my arm.
“Don't think so.”
Justin mutters something about fucking idiots. Wreck ignores him.
“Then get your ass on the hose. No cutting. No falling trees. And if you get dizzy, you tell me.”
I nod.
“Fine.”
“That's an order.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I turn back toward the fire. Justin stares at Wreck.
“You're both fucking insane.”
“Dragon,” Wreck says.
“What?”
“Fire.”
Justin curses and gets back to work.
Despite everything?
I grin.
This is my Pack now.
Pack. Crew. Whatever the fuck we are.
And somewhere down that mountain is a female who doesn't know what she is to me yet.
Hell.
I don't know either. But I know one thing. I'm putting this fucking fire out.
Because this motherfucker doesn't get anywhere near her.
Not on my watch.