Wolf Hunted

by Sadie Moss

  “Three men. Armed. The blond Terminator is definitely the leader. Two are in the office, one outside.”

  West rattled off the information in a clipped tone. At first I thought he was talking to me, but then Jackson’s wolf huffed a breath, and I realized West’s report was probably for their benefit.

  “Where’s Rhys?” I whispered. “Did you guys steal a car?”

  “Yeah.”

  West flashed me a look like he was surprised I was keeping my shit together. The truth was, my insides felt like ice water. But crying in a corner wouldn’t get us out of here.

  “The Strand hunters pulled into the parking lot right behind us, so he had to park on the far side.” He jerked his chin. “He’s got the engine running. We just need to get there.”

  “Okay.” My throat was dry, and I could feel my pulse everywhere.

  West narrowed his eyes at me, his dark gaze assessing. “You ever shot a gun, Scrubs?”

  “N-no.”

  He nodded decisively, then pulled another handgun from the back of his waistband and thrust it into my hands. “Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it. Shoot at anyone who tries to hurt you.”

  The weapon felt like a brick of ice in my grip, cold and heavy. I wrapped both hands around it as the metallic taste of fear danced across my tongue. West used his gun to edge the door open a little wider, peering in the direction of the office.

  “Go! Now!”

  His harsh whisper almost made me jump out of my skin, but my body instinctively obeyed his command. He flung the door open, and I was hot on his heels as he raced down the raised walkway that fronted the second story rooms. The two wolves ran behind me, their padded feet almost silent on the concrete slab. Just as we were about to reach the stairs that led down to the ground floor, shots rang out.

  There was a loud metallic ping as one of the bullets ricocheted off the balcony’s steel railing. I screamed and ducked, raising my arms to cover my head as best I could. I still clutched the gun, and I could feel the grip sliding between my sweaty palms.

  “Back! Go back!”

  West screeched to a stop and pointed behind him as a man in a black shirt and fatigues rounded the stairs. The man raised his gun, but before he could shoot, West fired several rounds at him.

  And then we were running again, back the way we came. This time the wolves were in front, and I could feel West close on my heels, shielding my body with his own. Heavy footsteps sounded behind us, and West wrapped an arm around me, pinning me to the side of the building with his massive frame while he raised his right arm and shot toward our pursuer.

  A pained cry rose up, but before I could look to see what had happened to the man, West hauled me away from the wall, shoving me forward. I stumbled as I ran, but managed to keep my feet. The second level balcony wrapped all the way around the building, and we turned the corner at a sprint. Another set of stairs led down on this side, and I put on an extra burst of speed when I saw them.

  Whoever had been behind us had been slowed—maybe stopped—by West’s shots. But there were still two more men unaccounted for.

  Jackson and Noah loped down the steps ahead of me. The old staircase rattled and shook as I ran after them.

  But before West could join us, the big, blond, scary-as-fuck man rounded the corner on the second level, coming from the back of the hotel. He broke into a graceful, powerful run, bearing down on the wolf shifter like a runaway train. West fired at him, but the bullet went wide, barely slowing him down at all.

  Shit!

  As I turned around and started to run back up the stairs, something dragged me to a stop. When I glanced back over my shoulder, Noah’s wolf had his jaws clamped around the back of my t-shirt.

  “No! We have to help him! Let go!”

  West and the Terminator were trading fire on the second level, and every loud gunshot made my stomach turn to ice. In the distance, I was vaguely aware of sirens wailing. Someone in the hotel must’ve called the cops.

  Noah’s wolfish gray eyes flashed, and if he could’ve spoken, I was sure he’d say something like, “Let us help him, you dummy.”

  Jackson’s white form raced up the steps past me as Noah tugged me backward. I slipped down a step, my movements clumsy and awkward, before I finally relented and turned around to run on my own. An engine revved, and tires squealed as Rhys whipped the stolen car through the parking lot, driving as close to our side of the building as possible.

  The wolf beside me howled, urging me on faster. I ran toward the burgundy Honda, my breath coming in short gasps. But as we neared it, a figure stepped around the side of the building.

  The third man.

  He wore a dark shirt and cargo pants like his compatriots, but my brain hardly registered that fact. It was too focused on the gun he held in his hand.

  A wave of emotions crashed over me. Images of my mother flashed through my mind. Of the way she’d stood—her feet braced, her shoulders squared. Of the look on her face as she aimed and fired at me.

  The new man raised his gun, and I brought up my own weapon at the same time, pointing it at his chest. Only a few yards separated us. At this distance, even an amateur marksman like me had a good chance of hitting their target.

  But my finger resting on the trigger wouldn’t move. It felt frozen, as if my hand—hell, maybe my entire body—belonged to someone else. My arm shook. All I could look at was the shiny black barrel of his gun. All I could hear was my mother’s voice, rushing in my ears in a torrent of whispered promises and lies.

  The man sneered, reading my expression and sensing his victory. His trigger finger twitched as he took a half-step forward.

  But before his foot hit the ground, a flash of white streaked past me.

  A shot rang out, and a splash of red stained the wolf’s snowy fur as he leapt for the man.

  The two of them went down heavily. The wolf’s huge paws pinned the man’s shoulders as he snarled down at our attacker. The man tried to leverage his arm up to get another clear shot, but in a flash, sharp teeth closed around his neck.

  A harsh, gurgling cry split the air before cutting off abruptly. The wolf’s jaws snapped together loudly as he tore out the man’s throat. Blood sprayed, large droplets raining over the dirty cement. Some of it hit me, warm and wet.

  I froze, staring at the man in the cargo pants and the wolf standing over him. The animal’s white snout and black nose were covered in blood, the red so bright it almost looked fake.

  Another shot rang out, and my body jerked. I ducked instinctively, throwing my hands over my head.

  “Move!” West yelled from behind us.

  He and the other white wolf tore down the stairs from the second level. They both sprinted flat out, overtaking us in a few seconds. Jackson shifted as he ran, hardly breaking stride as he transformed from a wolf back into a man. I barely had a chance to register the fact that he was naked before a hand locked onto my arm, dragging me toward the car. Noah shoved me roughly inside, diving in after me. Jackson leapt in after him and West yanked open the front passenger door, slamming his hand down on the dash.

  “Go, go, go!”

  Rhys was already peeling out, driving over the curb as he turned the car sharply and sped toward the main road. West leaned out the window and fired behind us, catching the blond Terminator in the shoulder as he raced across the parking lot. The man spun sideways, his momentum thrown off. He clutched at his arm and straightened, glaring after us.

  “I clipped him.” West pulled back inside the window, leaning back in the seat and keeping one eye on the rearview mirror. “And the other two are dead. Get us the fuck out of here, Rhys.”

  “On it.”

  Trees whipped by as Rhys rode the accelerator hard, driving us out of town.

  My heart pounded so hard I swore it rattled my rib cage. I clutched the edge of the seat, turning to face the two naked men who sat in the back with me. They were both breathing hard too, their powerful, muscled chests rising and falling. Jackson
had a light dusting of hair across his chest, while Noah’s was smooth. Their abs contracted with each harsh breath, and a sheen of sweat covered their skin.

  And Noah…

  I forced my gaze up from his body to his face, and my stomach tightened. The lower half of his face was wet with blood. It dripped down his chin, splitting into small pink rivulets when it met with the sweat on his chest. The blood-covered muzzle had been disconcerting on his beautiful white wolf form, but the effect now was truly chilling.

  He looked feral. Bloodthirsty.

  My stare must not have been subtle, because he glanced down at me. His gray-blue eyes shuttered, the first time I’d ever seen them be anything but open and warm. West dug into one of the packs nestled on the floor by the front seat before chucking a piece of cloth back at Noah.

  Noah snatched it out of the air silently and used it to wipe away the blood covering his face. A slightly pinkish tinge remained, but at least he didn’t look like Hannibal Lecter anymore.

  He passed the rag back up to West, exchanging the bloodied cloth for a change of clothes. West handed Jackson some clothes too, and the two men awkwardly slipped them on. I tried not to stare, but in the tiny confines of the car, there was hardly anywhere else to look.

  “You okay, Scrubs?” Noah asked softly, lifting his ass to slide his pants up.

  He was going commando, I realized. West had only given him pants and a shirt. As soon as he tucked himself away and tugged the zipper up, I was able to breathe again.

  But that breath stuttered in my chest when I tried to answer him. Leftover adrenaline made me shake. I looked up into Noah’s soft, sweet eyes, unable to believe that less than ten minutes ago, he’d killed a man. Murdered him in one of the most savage ways possible.

  And he’d done it to save me.

  I nodded shakily. “Yes. I’m sorry. I should’ve shot him. I tried to, but I—”

  “You’re not a killer.” He dropped the shirt he’d been about to pull over his head, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ears. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of that, Alexis. That’s a good thing. We do what we have to to survive. But what this world has turned me into? I’m not always proud of it.”

  “Pride and survival don’t always go hand in hand,” Jackson added, darkness tainting his usually cheery voice.

  For a moment, I let myself be stupid and give in to my impulse. I leaned into Noah’s touch, letting the tips of his fingers skim my cheekbones as his large palm cradled my chin.

  I shouldn’t be turning to him for comfort. Not when he was also the same feral beast who’d terrified me. But my body didn’t seem to understand that. It craved his strength and power, the protection he could offer in a dangerous world I wasn’t equipped to survive on my own.

  Reaching up, I grabbed Noah’s forearm—whether to push him away or pull him closer, I wasn’t sure. His eyes locked with mine, and the fingers brushing the side of my face slipped over to tangle in my hair.

  He’d missed a spot with the towel. A smear of blood marred one of his cheeks, and my gaze zeroed in on it, trying to reconcile the two sides of him.

  I’d seen the beauty of his wolf. And I’d seen the ugliness of it.

  Both sides existed inside this sweet, kind man.

  “Fuck. Strand isn’t joking around.”

  West’s voice from the front seat drew our attention, and Noah finally pulled his hand away, slipping his shirt over his head. As he did, I noticed the red line along his ribs leaking slow rivulets of blood.

  Oh shit. The bullet the man had fired as Noah leapt for him. It’d just grazed his side, but another inch or two to the right and…

  Panic welled up in my chest, and I forced myself not to finish that thought, focusing on the conversation going on around me.

  “Strand never jokes around. They want to kill us for breaking into their fucking complex, and they want her”—Rhys’s bright blue eyes glared at me through the rearview mirror—“back.”

  “That blond asshole is named Nils. I heard his buddy call him that. And he’s a fucking lap dog. I’m sure of it.” Jackson’s lip curled.

  “Did you see him shift?” Rhys asked sharply, dragging his gaze away from me.

  “Nah. I bet he’s under orders not to in case of witnesses. But I’d bet my last fucking dollar on it.”

  “What’s a… a lap dog?” I asked.

  Jackson shook his head in disgust. He still hadn’t put his shirt on, and the muscles of his arms bunched as he pressed his fists together. “Almost every test subject in the Strand Corporation’s shifter initiative was brought in against their will. Kids stolen from the foster system, homeless people swiped off the street. But there are a select few who volunteered. Who gave up their human lives to become enforcers for Strand. Ex-military, mercenary types, mostly.”

  “And the Terminator guy—he’s one of those? He’s a shifter too?”

  “Yeah. Which makes him dangerous as fuck.”

  I shivered, picturing the huge, thick-necked man. All the guys in the car with me were big, but he towered over even them. And if he could shift too? What must his wolf look like? What would it be capable of?

  “How did they know where we were? How did they find us so quickly?” I glanced out the rear window again, watching the highway disappear into the distance. I half expected to see Nils back there, gunning for us, but we’d left him behind. For the moment, at least.

  “I don’t know,” Noah said softly. “Maybe they put out an alert for us. Maybe they’re doing a broader sweep than we thought.”

  “The clerk could’ve reported us. He was eyeballing Alexis, and when I shut that shit down, he got testy.”

  West glanced back at me, and I remembered how he’d wrapped his arms around me possessively. Remembered the anger in the desk clerk’s eyes. Would he really have called the cops out of spite?

  Then I remembered the way the grungy man’s lip had curled when he looked at West, and my stomach twisted. Yeah, he probably would have. And even though they hadn’t come, if the Strand lap dog was monitoring police radios, he’d have heard it called in.

  How could people be so awful?

  I pulled my legs up to my chest, wrapping my shaking arms around my knees.

  “It doesn’t matter how they fucking found us. It matters that they did. And we can’t let it happen again.” Rhys scowled. “We need to ditch this car fast.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I half expected Rhys to pull over immediately after making that ominous statement. But instead, we drove for a while longer, tension filling the car as everyone kept glancing out the windows.

  As Noah pointed out to me in a low voice, the one thing we had on our side was the fact that Strand likely wouldn’t want to involve the police. That wasn’t necessarily great news, because it meant that when they found us, they probably planned to kill us—or at least the guys. If I was truly the prized experiment they all thought I was, Strand would want me alive. But without the help of law enforcement, the corporation had fewer resources with which to hunt us.

  So, definitely good news/bad news.

  Noah probably thought his words would comfort me, but he must’ve seen my panic rising, because he trailed off into silence after that. His large hand rested gently on my knee, his fingers trailing little circles over the fabric of my pants. And that, surprisingly, did comfort me.

  Despite the worry eating at my brain, my eyelids drooped, and after a while, I drifted off to sleep.

  When a change in the momentum of the car woke me, my head was resting against Noah’s shoulder. I blinked groggily, sitting up and trying to wipe away the little drool spot on his shirt. Oh shit.

  His storm-gray eyes slanted down at me. Humor danced in their depths. “I’ve suffered worse,” he whispered conspiratorially.

  I grinned sheepishly, still embarrassed I’d drooled on him, but glad to see he wasn’t totally grossed out by it.

  “Where are we?” I queried, sitting up and stretching my cramped mus
cles as I peered out the windows. The scenery had changed, becoming more sparse and desert-like. The sun was low in the sky, and Rhys slowed the car as we pulled into a small roadside rest area.

  “New Mexico,” he said shortly.

  I catalogued everything I saw, fascinated in spite of myself. I’d spent my whole life—or all the parts I could remember, anyway—locked inside the Strand complex. And now, in the space of a few days, I’d visited two states. Not that the trip had been all sunshine and roses, but still. I was getting a chance to experience more than I had in years.

  We passed by a fast food place, and I had to restrain myself from pressing my face to the glass like a two-year-old. I was starving. Those donuts were the last thing I’d eaten, and that had been hours ago.

  “I’ll drive next,” Jackson offered, as Rhys pulled into a dingy gas station.

  “Be my guest.”

  We piled out of the car and split up. West and Noah took me to McDonalds and watched in amusement as I stared up at the menu in breathless awe. They finally ordered what seemed like one of everything on the menu, including a McFlurry for me.

  As Noah paid in cash, West glanced out the large front windows.

  “Here we go,” he murmured.

  I followed his gaze, my heart leaping into my throat. Was Nils here? Had he found us again already?

  But it was just Rhys and Jackson, pulling up outside in a large gray minivan. Oh, right. The new ride we needed. I almost laughed at the sight of Jackson, with his broad shoulders, slightly crooked nose, and devilish amber eyes, sitting behind the wheel of a car more suited to a soccer-mom. But I zipped my lips shut, not wanting to draw attention from the pale-faced kid behind the counter.

  We stepped outside and hustled to the van. Rhys popped the back door open for us when we approached, and we piled inside before Jackson sped off. I got the entire back seat to myself while Noah and West took the middle seats.

  “Next stop, Vegas!” Jackson called out, as if he were the guide on some kind of fucked up tour.

  “We’ve got a ways to go, so sleep more if you want.” Noah handed me a bag containing several burgers and a container of fries. As if that was becoming my usual order.