Sebastien and I slid down the steep slope together, my legs so weary I could barely force them to take another step. Still, the knowledge that we’d achieved our escape pod at last provided enough energy so I managed to join my mate in pulling boughs aside in an effort to reveal the vehicle underneath.
Soon enough, our hard work paid off. A gassed-up and ready-to-go vehicle was sitting at our fingertips, complete with a stash of much-needed supplies lining the spacious back seats. Meanwhile, behind the left rear tire, the key sat just where my cousin had promised.
I picked up the small metal object that still smelled very faintly of Malachi...then abruptly lost the second wind that had lifted my lagging feet into a mile-eating trot. “Be safe and be smart and you’ll be alright,” my cousin had told me seconds before running back into the compound...and into the face of imminent danger. Had Malachi ever meant to escape with us, or had he given up the moment I told him Sebastien was my mate? Did that mean his death, at its heart, was all my own fault?
My head spun as I rose back to my feet, and Sebastien reached out to steady me. “You can sleep as we go,” he offered. “I’ll drive.”
And while my mate’s words were seductive, I found myself unable to accept the offer to tune out and allow someone else to guide the next step of my life. Because, unlike my recently deceased cousin, I wanted to survive...and that meant rising to the occasion and continuing to fight.
Already, the deep rumble of approaching motorcycle engines carried ever so faintly to my wolf-assisted ears. Dakota’s pack was out patrolling the roads in human form, which meant dodging their pursuit wouldn’t be easy. No, we’d need to use every tool at our disposal if we hoped to ensure our escape.
“How are you with that rifle?” I asked at last, my gaze meeting Sebastien’s solidly for the first time in what felt like hours. I figured marksmanship was an unlikely skill for a professor to possess. Still, I’d already proven my complete inability to kill a sentient being, so I might as well give someone else a stab at the task.
In response, my companion raised both eyebrows and paused with mouth parted for one long moment. Sebastien was considering lying. But why? And about what?
Then his scent transitioned back to solid, protective granite before I had time to delve into the surprising reaction. “I’m pretty good,” my mate admitted with a sigh, gripping the rifle tighter. For the first time, I realized that he held the weapon very much like the soldiers had, in stark contrast to my own lax and awkward grip.
“Then I guess you just called shotgun,” I responded, slipping behind the wheel at last. It was time to hit the road and figure out how well a human and a werewolf could work as a team.
Chapter 32
Dakota’s pack caught up before we’d traveled a single mile, the massive trees that had appeared so inspiring yesterday shielding our pursuers from view until it was nearly too late. In fact, I’d almost started to believe I was overreacting and that we’d make it out of the woods without further incident when Sebastien murmured, “Oh shit,” so quietly the exclamation wouldn’t have been audible to one-body ears.
“Trouble?” I answered, pushing down yet harder on the gas pedal before risking a glance in the rear-view mirror. Sure enough, a motorcycle-riding shifter was fast approaching our left flank. And as I watched, others popped out of the woodwork one by one until a flock of four enemies sat as tight on our tails as chicks trailing behind a mother hen.
Wind whipped hair into my face as Sebastien’s window rolled down, his rifle pushing out the gap until the barrel rested against the door frame. “How serious do you think they are about stopping us?” my mate asked quietly. And between his words I heard the real question—should he shoot to injure or shoot to kill?
So today is the day when I cross the line. I swallowed down hard regret, knowing this step more than any other turned me into a renegade against my own kind...and also into an adult willing to make hard choices for the sake of those she loved.
Because, really, there was no bloodless path out of our predicament. Dakota had proven herself my enemy when she murdered dozens of humans whose crime consisted of existing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Meanwhile, the female had made it abundantly clear that Sebastien wouldn’t be allowed to live if our SUV was captured on our mad dash away from the SHRITA home base.
Given those two pieces of data, I found it surprisingly easy to add a bitter dose of coffee to my own sugary personality when I responded to my mate. “Kill them if you can,” I answered, glancing in the mirror a second time. I somehow wasn’t surprised that the eyes in my reflection were now as cold and hard as those of my deceased cousin. “Dakota’s pack won’t leave us alone unless they’re stopped permanently.”
I expected disagreement. In fact, I would have been the one arguing against cold-blooded murder on any other day. But Sebastien didn’t second-guess my words. Instead, the SUV rocked ever so gently as he pulled the trigger, the explosion of sound surprising me into stomping down yet harder on the gas pedal and jolting our vehicle into a higher gear.
My own surprise, though, was nothing compared to the reaction that unfolded behind our backs. For a moment, it appeared that nothing had happened. But then the lead male swayed as gently as a sawn-through sapling before plummeting gracefully toward the ground.
One down, three to go.
Vaguely, I pondered the realization that my mate was an astonishingly good shot. That he’d hit a moving target from a moving vehicle—something I suspected few civilians could do.
But that issue would have to be considered at a later date, because our pursuers were unwilling to take the fatal warning at face value. Instead, the three remaining motorcycles split apart, two speeding up and angling toward the sides of our fleeing vehicle while the third dropped behind, bringing one hand up to his ear while cocking his head in the universal gesture of a listener.
The laggard had a cell phone, and apparently we’d traveled far enough from the base for him to use it. I could just barely see the device cupped between his gloved fingers. Could imagine the conversation on the other end of the line as Dakota learned we’d brought a rifle to a shifter battle, had eschewed the unwritten rule that said werewolf disagreements were to be settled with claws and fangs...or perhaps with bladed weapons if we had to push a particularly hard line.
I didn’t need to listen in on the ensuing discussion to know what Dakota would answer. Her exact words might vary, but the sentiment was predictable. “This,” she must currently be saying, “means war.”
Then I lost track of the bigger picture as a bullet pinged against the side of our own vehicle. Shit. I guess we weren’t the only ones well armed and willing to break unwritten rules for immediate gain.
Good thing Dad was the one who’d taught me how to drive.
“Swerving,” my wolf warned aloud, our shared voice as calm as an automaton’s as we zigzagged so dramatically we almost clipped the trunk of nearby tree. Meanwhile, our mate’s gun exploded into action yet again, and I expected to smell frustration on the air as my evasive maneuver turned this second attempt into a miss.
But Sebastien’s scent was instead redolent without success. Even without glancing backwards and risking the small amount of ground we’d recently gained, I could tell my mate had hit the mark. Sebastien wasn’t only a good shot, he was an excellent one.
“Left turn twenty yards ahead,” Sebastien said then, his voice just as calm as mine had been when I warned him about my upcoming evasive action. In between shots, he’d apparently powered up the GPS, and now he was busy navigating through the mess of tiny country roads that made up the backside of the SHRITA compound. Good thing Malachi had parked on the base’s southwest corner or the signal blockers would have made it doubly difficult to evade capture....
I took all of this in during the time it took to travel ten short feet. Then: “Turning,” I replied, even though I kept the wheel pointed straight ahead. No reason to signal our upcoming move to pursuers until the la
st possible second....
As the intersection loomed on our left without apparent reaction on my part, Sebastien’s hand stretched slightly forward as if to take over the wheel. But he trusted me to do my job. Didn’t argue as I breezed past the beginning of the turnoff...before screeching into a curve so tight it lifted two tires off the ground and threatened to topple the entire SUV onto its crown.
“Now,” I yelled, reminding Sebastien of his primary duty. Two fast gunshots erupted in quick succession from the passenger seat. And when I glanced in the rear-view mirror at last, I saw nothing but capsized vehicles and mangled bodies strewn across the pavement in our wake.
We’d taken four lives and named ourselves rogues. But for now, we could breathe easy. Because we’d evaded the enemy wolves.
Chapter 33
By mutual consent, Sebastien and I didn’t congratulate each other for the impressive feats of driving and marksmanship that had come before. It was hard to celebrate when we both knew we’d crossed an ethical line from which we couldn’t return.
Still, when the last tree faded away behind us and we slipped onto the highway without sighting another member of Dakota’s pack, the tension in the cab gradually eased. The sun had risen high enough in the sky so it didn’t blind me as I glanced in the rear-view mirror, and my adrenaline levels were letting up sufficiently so I could start thinking about the future as well.
Sebastien’s mind was apparently following a similar track. “Where are we going?” my companion asked after I’d driven for fifteen endless minutes in the opposite direction from the one that would have led us back to his home town. It was an excellent question...and one I hadn’t quite figured out how to answer yet.
Because despite the moral ambiguity of her recent actions, Dakota was backed up by the full authority of shifter law. Sebastien was technically a human who’d learned more than he ever should have about werewolves. And I was the werewolf guilty of making the relevant slip. As such, Dakota and her boss had every right to send out the shifter version of an all-point’s bulletin mandating our arrest.
Or rather, mandating our execution. Because it was time to call a spade a spade. The first time we saw another shifter, Sebastien and I would both be dead.
The obvious solution was to travel until we’d evaded werewolf lands altogether. Too bad there was no such thing as outpack territory—the shifter version of the Wild West—any longer.
With no bright ideas on possible refuges coming to mind, I merely shrugged and let my wolf take command of our exhausted body. Together, we guided the SUV into the passing lane and gunned the engine before cutting in front of a tractor trailer and swooping toward the nearest exit. While we might appear to be eluding pursuit, my inner predator wasn’t so sure....
However, no one trickled down the exit ramp behind us as we sat waiting by the stop sign at the bottom. And after a moment of intense concentration, my exhausted brain finally lost track of where we were and why we were rushing dauntlessly into the day.
Malachi should be here beside us, my wolf whispered. Malachi would know what to do.
You’re right, I agreed, my head drifting down onto the steering wheel as the first tang of bitter regret welled behind my eyelids. Malachi’s loss so soon after we’d been reunited stung like crazy, and I could barely imagine carrying the news home to our pack...or to what used to be our pack.
For a long moment, I lost myself to the darkness. Then Sebastien’s hand settled comfortingly atop my nearest shoulder. “Malachi would have wanted you to move forward,” my mate said, proving that our half-formed bond was operational, in this instance at least. “Your cousin loved you. He’d want to see you safe.”
And despite grief’s seductive urge to give in and give up, I raised my head and cocked it to one side in question. It was rare that Malachi and I didn’t receive the third degree whenever we introduced the other as family. Rarer still for people outside Haven to take our relationship at face value and understand its true worth. “I tell you he’s my cousin and you accept it just like that?” I prodded. “Even though we look nothing alike?”
“Of course you look alike,” Sebastien replied readily. “The similarity might as well be tattooed across your foreheads. Your cousin was brave and strong and relentless when it came to protecting his family....” My mate paused, index finger rising to stroke across the spot on my brow where this connection to Malachi was supposedly marked. “And,” he finished, “so are you.”
The ice in my soul thawed a trifle as I realized that Sebastien meant every word. I could feel the sincerity in his scent and in his stance, the proof that he wasn’t simply placating me with meaningless condolences. Instead, he understood how tremendous Malachi’s loss truly was and how long it would take for me to fully bounce back from my recent bereavement. Despite being human, my mate was as empathic as any wolf.
And as I took in Sebastien’s reaction, I finally relinquished the fear that my over-protective cousin—who had been right about so many things—had also nailed my motive for mating. No, I hadn’t been grasping at the first available straw to fill the packless emptiness in my belly when I’d chosen my mate. After all, that void hadn’t even existed when an alpha had bade me select a life partner under the assumption that I’d tie myself to his nearby son.
Instead, there’d been a multitude of reasons to bond myself to Sebastien. The professor’s well-formed features and enticing scent definitely worked in his favor, as did the strength with which he walked through a werewolf world not of his choosing. And yet, none of those externalities would have been a strong enough foundation upon which to build a mating that would last for the rest of both of our lives.
No, it had been Sebastien’s devotion to family—to my family—that made us fit together like a key into a lock. Someone who went to such extremes to hunt down Derek, who understood that Malachi really was my cousin...that human was the life partner I was truly seeking. We might not yet be official mates...but we would be if I had anything to say about the matter.
And as if that simple recognition had burned through the malaise fogging my aching brain, I suddenly knew where we needed to turn for refuge. The Alphas’ Pinnacle. The idea was just crazy enough to work....
Because there was no such thing as outpack territory any longer. But there was one spot in the United States that wasn’t home to any shifters.
The retreat house where regional leaders convened to decide on nationwide shifter business remained vacant for 99% of the year. After all, despite the fact that the land in question was technically neutral and fair game for anyone to visit, no squatter would dare risk his scent coating the premises when the biggest, baddest alphas of all returned for their annual assemblage.
No one ever dared travel to the Alphas’ Pinnacle uninvited...so perhaps that was exactly where Sebastien and I needed to go now. Perhaps that was the one spot where we could lick our wounds in peace while figuring out what to do next.
Thanks, Malachi, I thought as I typed a long-remembered address into the GPS screen. Because my cousin had been the one to mention the retreat house the day before, jiggling loose a memory that might otherwise have been lost to the mists of time. Maybe he’d just meant the conversation as a warning, but I somehow imagined that even in death my cousin was still guiding my fumbling footsteps.
Task completed, I glanced across the console at my current companion...and finally accepted that I’d lost both my cousin and my home pack. And yet, while I might no longer be able to return to the close-knit family in which I’d grown up, I had another home now. It was right there in front of me—a mate ready and willing to let me relax into his strength.
Of course, I couldn’t forget the family I’d left behind, couldn’t let Haven relatives fall under the ax due to my father’s precipitous actions on my behalf. “Think you could drive for a while?” I asked my not-quite-mate. “I have a call to make.”
Chapter 34
Malachi’s SUV came supplied with enough equipment to support
a military op. So I wasn’t surprised to find half a dozen burner phones packed away among the MREs. Powering the first one up, I held my breath and waited to see if Dad would answer despite the rumors he must have already heard via the relentless shifter gossip chain.
“Buttercup.” Wolfie’s rich, deep voice was so warm, it tingled against my skin. “Are you safe?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “But Malachi....”
“I know.”
For two long seconds, we shared a commemorative silence to acknowledge my cousin’s passing. Without a pack bond, I couldn’t tell whether Dad was remembering the same funny moments I was—like the day when a two-year-old wolf pup had fallen in a vat of pancake syrup and refused to paddle to shore so he could be pulled back out. Or perhaps my father was instead looking back upon how valiantly my cousin had helped rout a band of rogues when the latter took advantage of a snow storm to attempt invasion of our home turf.
Dad and I could no longer share every memory that flitted through our respective brains without speaking. But we could breathe in tandem and support the other with our presence alone.
Unfortunately, our time together was fleeting, and we both knew it. After all, Scary Guy’s hackers would have begun hunting me the moment Dakota reported the deaths of her gunned-down pack mates. Chances were good, those same hackers would have found a way to tap into Dad’s communications despite grade-A security measures. As such, I had to assume our words would be overheard and that I lacked the leeway to spend as long on the phone as I would have liked.
And despite our missing pack bond, Wolfie might as well have read my thoughts the instant they materialized in my head. “I’m working on granting you safe passage back to Haven,” my father started even as I opened with, “I don’t want you starting any fights on my behalf.”
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