“Two black ones.”
Wolfrik snarled. “They must be Hawk’s watchdogs.”
Garrick frowned deeply. “The humans have shifters working with them?”
“Traitors.” Wolfrik spat.
Garrick cursed. “Just what we need.”
Justin, Zackary, and Dylan hovered nearby, casting furtive looks into the woods as though they expected the trees to attack them.
Aden lifted his chest, towering above them all—as steady as a fucking mountain. “What’s the plan?” he asked.
“Justin and Dylan will go alert the pack and send reinforcements,” Garrick said. “Are all the weapons in place?”
Aden nodded. “They’re hidden nearby.”
“Good,” Garrick said. “Get going, boys.” Justin and Dylan shifted and took off for the glade. They could still hear them crashing through the forest as Garrick continued strategizing. “We’ll wait for them to finish crossing the wasteland and mountain. We’ll let them enter the woods just outside our border to give ourselves cover. A second group will lay in wait with the weapons just north of the Manama in case any humans get past us and cross into our territory.”
“We’ll do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Aden said.
“Where’s the human?” Garrick asked.
Aden nodded at the cave.
“She comes with us,” Garrick commanded.
Aden’s body stiffened, but he made no comment.
“Wolfrik? You up for this?” Garrick asked next.
“I’m going to rip out every last one of their throats,” Wolfrik replied, “including the dogs.”
Garrick sucked his tongue against his front teeth. It made a wet slurping sound when he opened his mouth. “You can’t take them all out on your own.”
Wolfrik shrugged. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t rip all their throats out, even if they died by another pack member’s fangs. A month ago, Jordan had managed to kill his old handler, Jay, after he captured and attempted to breed her. Wolfrik had torn the heart out of the carcass. His wolf craved the blood of his enemies. He’d imagined the taste on his tongue every time he’d seen their faces during his captivity.
“Get the girl,” Garrick said.
Aden moved to the cave’s entrance and called in. “It’s time to come out.”
Sparrow emerged slowly. She’d put on the dress from the den and braided her hair back. When the light hit her face, she blinked rapidly and shielded her eyes. “Has my brother come?” she asked.
“Our lookouts spotted fourteen humans and two wolf shifters,” Wolfrik said. “If Hawk’s among them, he’s mine.”
A deep frown tugged at Sparrow’s lips. “He wouldn’t walk in blind. This is only the first group to test the waters.”
“How many more will he send?” Garrick demanded, taking a step toward her.
“I don’t know.”
Eyes locked on Sparrow, Garrick prowled up to her and sneered, inches from her face. Sparrow flinched and leaned back. Wolfrik and Aden kept their places, doing nothing to interfere with the elder’s intimidation tactics.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to come with us and keep your mouth shut until we tell you it’s time to yell for help,” Garrick told her. “If you try to warn your friends sooner, I’ll break your neck. Understand?”
Sparrow stiffened. Wolfrik expected her to correct Garrick about Hawk’s men being her friends, but she merely glared and nodded.
Garrick puffed out his chest, staring her down until she looked away. He lifted his chin and turned to face their small group. “We wait for reinforcements. I want one wolf per human. We’ll take them out fast and smart. They have guns, and I don’t want a single one of their bullets to find any of our pack members.”
“I’m not waiting,” Wolfrik said.
“Yes, you are. There’s time,” Garrick returned.
“We don’t all need to wait,” Wolfrik replied smoothly. “I’ll see if Hawk’s with them.”
“They’ll be closer by then and could spot you,” Garrick said.
“They won’t.”
“What about their wolves? Wind changes, they’ll smell you.”
Wolfrik snarled at Garrick. The elder folded his arms. “You gonna be a team player or run off?”
Wolfrik crossed his arms, mirroring his stance. “Fine. I’ll wait if it brings you comfort, Garrick.”
It would take several hours for the rest of the pack to get there. Garrick spent it retelling the story of his encounter with humans in the suburbs the month before and offering his opinions on how to deal with humans to an audience of one—Zackary.
Wolfrik had more knowledge of human behavior than any shifter present or in the pack, but he remained tight-lipped, pacing back and forth between the caves and river.
Sparrow sat on a rock, hugging her legs and resting her head against her knees, awaiting her fate like a bird with her wings torn off.
The first shifters to race in were Sasha and Tabor. As soon as Sasha shifted, she spoke breathlessly. “More packmates are on their way. I told Justin and Dylan to send patrol teams straight away.”
Shifters began arriving in pairs. As they emerged, Garrick organized them into one group that would lay in wait outside their territory, and another that would hold the line along the river.
Once Garrick had assembled his attack group, he instructed Raider to lead the second group and instruct the latecomers.
Wolfrik didn’t care that father and son were taking over. His focus was on killing, not leading. Let Garrick and Raider use up their breath giving orders. Wolfrik’s mission was simple. Hunt. Kill. Devour.
Sasha had assigned herself to the attack team before Garrick had a chance. Tabor was advancing, too. Wolfrik didn’t care so long as the half-wizard used his magic as a last resort. This would be a fight with fangs and claws. Hawk and his men deserved a grisly death—to be shredded and torn to bits—not knocked out by nonsense words spoken from the lips of a sorcerer. Wolfrik wanted them fully conscious when he tore into them. He wanted to hear their screams.
“Let’s move out. That includes you, girlie.” Garrick fixed a cold gaze on Sparrow.
When she lifted her head, the gathered shifters stared and grew silent. Sparrow got slowly to her feet and avoided eye contact with the wolf pack surrounding her. That didn’t leave many options besides the ground.
Wolfrik felt no sympathy for her. She’d chosen to come here, and whether or not she meant to, she’d led Hawk’s men to the hollow. Let her fidget and wring her fingers. She should have never come.
Wolfrik glanced around. He was relieved about Kallie’s absence, and he hoped she wouldn’t follow the rest of the pack to the Manama River. Her safety fired up his resolve to kill the humans before they had a chance to step one toenail in Wolf Hollow.
Garrick led the first group across the river. Water swished over their ankles as they spread out in a wide net through the forest on the other side, making their way to the base of the hill. They stopped before reaching it. Wolfrik wished there was more distance between the bottom of the hill and the river. They would just have to make sure the humans didn’t get far once they descended.
Garrick held up a hand for everyone to stop. The group closed in around him.
“We’ll spread out and wait,” Garrick said. “Remain hidden and silent. As soon as they’ve descended, I’ll release the girl. While she’s distracting them with her screams, we’ll attack.”
“I can watch the human,” Aden said.
“No, I need you to take down their shifters.”
Aden nodded once.
“Tabor can help,” Sasha spoke up. “He can use his spell to fling their wolves aside if they get too close.”
Garrick scowled. “We want to kill them, not push them away. And this isn’t the time
to be messing with magic.”
Sasha put her hands on her hips. “Oh, it absolutely is the time.”
“This isn’t a council meeting. We’re at war,” Garrick said.
Sasha locked eyes with him. “I’m aware.”
Wolfrik chuckled and jutted his chin up at Tabor. “Feel free to fling them my way. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Tabor took a step toward him. “Or maybe I’ll take out the whole lot of them, myself, like I did with the vulhena.”
“Yeah?” Wolfrik challenged, starting toward him. “And end up knocking the rest of us out while you’re at it. Isn’t that what you did to Sasha?”
Tabor narrowed his eyes.
“You lack control.” Wolfrik stopped and sniffed dismissively.
Sasha stomped over and planted herself between them. “Let’s focus on fighting the humans, not each other.”
“As long as your mate stays out of my way, I’m good,” Wolfrik answered.
“Certainly,” Tabor returned, green eyes lighting up. “And if you’re too busy wrestling down a human to see another sneaking up on you, I’ll just mind my own business.”
“Exactly,” Wolfrik growled.
“Excellent.” Tabor grinned. And the bastard looked happy about it, too.
Well, Wolfrik wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being outmaneuvered. It was just more motivation he was storing up for the fight to come.
Excitement buzzed through Wolfrik’s veins. This was the kind of battle he longed for—to face off against his enemies of his own free will.
This was his fight. His choice. His sweet revenge. It would be better than any dank city pit. Everyone present would participate. It would be one bloody free-for-all.
The grin on Wolfrik’s lips felt wide enough to split his cheeks.
The humans better hurry up before he lost all patience and went after them first.
No. That would be stupid. In the open they could shoot at him.
Patience, Cujo. Keep the leash on a little longer. I promise the reward will be worth the wait.
Tree bark ground against Sparrow’s skin. The older, mean shifter she’d heard Wolfrik call “Garrick” pushed her against a wide trunk at the edge of the forest. He was short, but he had wide shoulders, thick arms, and heavy muscles. He used his body to stonewall her against the tree. Sparrow tried to fuse herself to the vegetation, the way the other wolf shifters were doing. She didn’t want to have to touch or rub any part of the nasty brute. He was the oldest wolf shifter she’d ever seen—maybe mid- or late forties—which wasn’t terribly old, but Hawk had always gone after shifters in their prime.
“Not a peep, girlie. Not until I give you a push.”
Sparrow wrinkled her nose. That was the other thing she despised about this shifter. He kept calling her “girlie.” Other than the fact that he was a wolf shifter, he reminded her of the sadistic brutes back in the city.
She’d been wrong to come here. So very wrong.
The other packmates had shifted into their wolf forms before spreading out to lay hidden in wait.
Sparrow had become accustomed to the slow passage of time, but this was different. She no longer had to wonder when Hawk’s men would catch up to her. They were on their way now, and her heart felt ready to give out. She leaned against the tree for support. Her odds of survival were slim. Both sides wanted her dead. The wolf shifters had only kept her alive for bait. If Hawk’s men managed to recapture her, they would only lead her to a life of misery and torture. Either way, she was seriously screwed.
The sun idled above the treetops, suspended directly overhead. Even the shade couldn’t block the rising heat that coaxed beads of sweat from Sparrow’s clammy skin. She swiped her hand over her hairline and sagged against the tree. The heat and lack of exercise were dragging her down. Being stuck in a cave all the time hadn’t done her any favors.
Oh, she’d gotten out, too, but Aden had only given her a small area to roam from the cave to the river.
Stubborn animal, but at least he was familiar and didn’t act tough even though he looked like he could pull a tree out of the ground with his bare hands and snap it in two.
A shiver slid down Sparrow’s spine. She wished it was Aden brushing against her—guarding, protecting, and giving a damn about what became of her.
No one had ever protected Sparrow. Hawk liked to think he did. Eric had been the prisoner back in the city, and she had seen herself as his protector, the woman giving him purpose and hope. After they fell in love, she’d planned to be his liberator, to save them both.
Now she was the one in need of saving, but for that she needed a champion.
While Sparrow’s thoughts whirled around her head, the shifters made no further attempts at communication. The quiet was almost as excruciating as the man-beast’s foul breath. Then his breath abruptly ceased, and she felt his body stiffen. Her heart leaped into her throat. Something was happening. She felt him lean ever so slightly to the right. Before she could steal a look around the tree, his wide, sweaty hand clamped over her mouth. She sucked air in through her nose, nostrils flaring.
Damn him! It’s not as though she were going to call out to the men.
“Hey, boys. Over here. Sorry for running away. I can’t wait to get back and face my next punishment.”
Maybe Hawk was with them. She hoped so. She would like to see him bite the dust before she did. It would make death slightly easier to accept.
The hand over her mouth tightened, and another circled around her waist. Her first instinct was to fight her way out of his brutal hold, but her mind screamed at her to wait. One way or another, this would all be over soon.
Then she heard it—movement. Once her ears caught the sound, she began to home in on the footsteps as though she’d developed heightened senses.
A low growl rippled over the air, followed by a second.
At first, she thought a couple of the wolf shifters had broken their silence to issue warnings, but human voices soon confirmed that it was shifters from Hawk’s group.
“What is it, boys?”
The voice boomed through the forest after hours of silence.
“Hold up. I don’t like the way Clifford and Rover are looking into the woods.”
Sparrow’s heart pounded up her throat and into her ears. She needed more air. It came at her in a rush—right along with the ground. Her captor had yanked her away from the tree and shoved her forward before diving into the shrubbery. Sparrow landed on her knees and accidently bit her tongue. Blood filled her mouth. A bad omen.
A soft grunt left her lips on impact, but she didn’t cry out or yell. She wouldn’t scream hysterically. Neither side would get that out of her.
She got to her feet and swiped the dirt off her knees.
“Sparrow?” It was Hawk’s man, Jackson, staring wide-eyed at her.
Clifford and Rover immediately snarled, baring their fangs, malignant eyes fastened upon her.
“Boys, hush,” Jackson said, swatting the air by his hip.
The two black wolves kept on growling.
Jackson took a step closer, thirteen of his men following three steps behind, guns in hand. They gripped pistols, revolvers, and rifles. She recognized the men from the compound. They were strong, but Hawk had hundreds more back in the city. Her brother wasn’t among them. Coward. Of course, he would remain behind at the safety of his compound and expect his men to risk their lives to drag her back.
The black wolves prowled ahead, snarling at the trees.
Jackson’s brows furrowed as he took in Sparrow’s thin dress and her bare feet. “What are you doing out here in the wild all by yourself? Hawk’s been out of his mind with worry.”
She leveled an icy gaze on him. “Where is my brother?”
“Praying for your safe return in the city.”
S
parrow snorted.
While Jackson kept his eyes focused on her, his men craned their heads around, scanning the trees that edged the woods at her back. She didn’t know where the black wolves had gone, only that they were somewhere behind her. Perhaps they were trying to herd her back to the city.
She balled her fingers into fists. “He should save his prayers,” she answered bitterly. “We’re all going to die.”
One of the wolves cried out in alarm. Its whimper died off just as abruptly. A brief silence followed before all hell broke loose. Vicious snarls erupted inside the forest, mixed with yelps that were quickly drowned out by louder and more ferocious growls.
“What the—” Jackson’s eyes widened. He took a step back, then seemed to remember the prize he’d been sent after, and came forward, hand grasping at Sparrow’s arm.
Howls arose. The treetops seemed to rustle at her back. Jackson momentarily froze, eyes darting around his sockets. Sparrow took that moment to make a sprint for the forest. She wasn’t worried about bullets. Hawk’s men wouldn’t shoot her. But one of the Wolf Hollow shifters might mistake her for a hostile and rip her apart. Hell, they might do it regardless.
She flung herself at the nearest tree, practically hugging the trunk as wolves shot out of the forest and lunged at the nearest men. As long as she didn’t run or make any sudden movements, maybe she’d make it through this.
Human screams careened through the forest. Jackson was the first to go down, arms and legs flailing. Three men behind him were knocked off their feet in a flash of fur and fury. A gunshot cracked through the sky, and the wolves dove back into the forest as though they’d come crashing in on an ocean tide that drew them back into its belly. Like the ocean, the forest was teeming with life and filled with both peril and tranquility, predators and prey.
A bearded man ran forward and crouched beside Jackson. A low groan sounded from the ground.
“He’s still alive!”
“And the others?” Sparrow recognized the man who spoke as Bailey, a personal friend of Hawk’s. He was in his late twenties and cleanly shaven, brown hair always kept short and tidy.
The man beside Jackson looked at the bodies and shook his head, his bushy beard swiping the air in front of him.
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