In fact, the entire pack joined us there within seconds, drawn together by a tug on the bond I no longer possessed. They worked in wordless synchrony, assembling enough unflattened tires to bring one of the pack’s SUVs back to life in short order. And since Mom was still full-on wolf at this point, Wolfie slid behind the steering wheel while a passel of cousins finished tightening lug nuts and getting the Blazer ready to roll.
“Dad,” I started, operating under the assumption that he—like Mom—had forgotten himself in the drama of the occasion. After all, everyone knew that Wolfie’s rampant inner animal made him a hazard on the roadways. Our alpha had grounded himself to the passenger seat quite willingly after a particularly harrowing near miss with a human toddler on a crosswalk twenty years earlier. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him behind a steering wheel.
But when I slid into Dad’s usual spot in the passenger seat in an effort to talk him down, my father turned to me with eyes eerily yellow within his human face. Meanwhile, the coldness of alpha dominance forced my shoulders to hunch down upon themselves while a whine of lupine apology emerged from my entirely human lips. Despite our lack of a pack bond, Wolfie was still my leader. And his gaze reminded me that I overstepped that subsidiary role at my own peril.
Then the moment broke as Wolfie began barking out orders to the other shifters assembled throughout the Pinnacle drive. “No one is to leave this property until I return,” he ordered, a whiplash of alpha compulsion that he rarely bothered with entering his voice. From the back of the crowd, a child too young to shift whimpered in distress, but my father didn’t moderate his tone as he continued. “Protect the pups above all else. Submit to stronger forces if you have to. I’ll find a way to free you when I return.”
It was a shifter promise, the sort of vow that changed lives and twisted souls. And I shivered, placing one hand atop my father’s arm even as a cousin opened the back door and ushered my mother’s lupine form inside. To my surprise, Sebastien slipped in after her, everyone far too shell-shocked to deny the professor’s right to ride along.
Then gravel was slinging out from beneath the Blazer’s tires as Wolfie drove like a madman back down the winding driveway and onto the paved road. He waited until we’d achieved the highway before powering up his cell phone, but then I cringed yet further as Dad proceeded to steer with his knees while 80% of his attention refocused on the device clenched within one white-knuckled fist.
“Dad,” I warned as a tractor trailer passed us on the right, air horn blaring when the other vehicle barely avoided scraping against the Blazer’s side. We weren’t really in any particular lane at the present moment. Instead, my father had given himself over to his inner animal entirely, the beast in question apparently having decided that an alpha werewolf possessed clear ownership of the entire road.
This was precisely why we didn’t allow Dad to drive a motor vehicle.
Rather than watching us crash into the side of the slow-moving VW van we were rapidly approaching, I reached over to turn the steering wheel in the opposite direction. And as I did so, I bowed my head, fully expecting a growl of reprimand to emerge from my alpha’s lips.
But it was almost as if he hadn’t even noticed my proximity. Instead, Wolfie tapped at his phone’s screen, then began speaking before anyone even had time to say hello.
“I’m calling in my favor,” Dad growled, his voice so deep and gravelly that I wasn’t entirely certain the person on the other end of the line would understand what he had to say. “I need a plane. Beavertown airstrip. Ten minutes or less.”
“Wolf Young?” asked a male voice. And something told me this was no shifter. Was likely one of the human clients for whom my father performed acts of computer-related wizardry on a regular basis. As such, the male likely expected at least a modicum of small talk, questions about his family, discussions of the weather. Anything other than this swan dive into the deep pool of demands and commitments urgently required by an alpha wolf.
Dad didn’t oblige. “Ten minutes,” he reiterated, turning his growl into a shifter warning that would have no effect upon the average human. Mom and I, however, cringed as spillover shivers ran down each of our spines.
Then the smartphone fell onto the floorboards as Dad ripped the steering wheel out of my unmoving fingers. We cut through two lanes of traffic, whipped into a turnaround, and were speeding back in the opposite direction before I even noticed the danger to which Wolfie was responding.
Big black SUVs. Three of them. And despite my father’s evasive maneuvers, our pursuers were currently located no more than a hundred feet beyond our tail lights.
DESPITE HER EARLIER descent into animalism, Mom was usually the rational force within our volatile and wolf-driven family. So I wasn’t surprised that she managed to ignore Wolfie’s terrifying driving long enough to force herself back into human form. Clambering forward to perch on the passenger seat between myself and my father, Terra pulled a shirt over her head before commenting on Dad’s plan.
“A plane is a good idea,” Mom murmured. “But where will that plane go? We have no idea where Sarah ended up.”
Rather than answering, Wolfie swung the wheel into another evasive maneuver that left me wondering where our pack had gotten the impression that he was such a terrible driver. Because, yeah, Dad was ignoring all rules of the road at the moment. But he was also swerving ably, managing not to smack into any vehicles, while remaining fully present for what was gearing up to be an emotionally charged conversation between myself and my soon-to-be-disappointed mom.
Do you want to tell Terra the additional unwelcome news or shall I? Dad seemed to ask with a twitch of his cheek and a lifting of his brows. And I blanched, realizing for the first time that my hacker father had, of course, been fully aware of the digital betrayal carried out by my fourteen-year-old self. Which raised the question—why hadn’t he done anything to rein me in at the time?
Of course, when I tracked Sarah down in secret all those years ago, I’d merely pored over photos and read a few news articles in an attempt to learn where the shifter who’d given birth to me had ended up. I’d never tried to contact her.
Full aware that I was crossing that line at last, I tugged on Mom’s hand until she faced me before admitting: “That’s the thing, Mom. We do know where Sarah ended up.”
In response, Terra gazed back and forth between mate and daughter, her nostrils flaring with deepening distress. She was barely human enough to keep hold of her temper, I noted. But, like Dad, Terra still had my back through both thick and thin.
In fact, I could suddenly tell from the tightening skin around my mother’s eyes that she’d resolved to travel right along with me if I insisted on continuing with this journey. She’d face down her arch-nemesis in person if that’s what it took to keep her daughter safe. Terra, in this moment, was more momma bear than mother wolf.
Disaster, my inner animal noted. And I couldn’t help but agree.
“Mom, no,” I argued without bothering to spell out the unspoken part of our conversation. “I never talked with her when I found her. It’s going to be hard enough arriving on Sarah’s doorstep today and saying, voila!, long-lost daughter here, let me in.”
Mom opened her mouth to argue. But before she could spit out a single word, Dad swerved so severely that Terra was slung over into my lap. Abruptly, I found myself smooshed against the window pane while peering backwards at trailing SUVs that were only slightly further away than they had been when Wolfie first began his emulation of a race-car driver.
“We don’t have time for this,” Dad growled, cutting through the haze of mother-daughter emotions that filled the SUV like a stifling cloud of burnt pie drippings. “We’ll be arriving at the airport in five minutes. Get ready. There may be trouble at the gate.”
Chapter 13
Dad turned the vehicle so abruptly that Mom fell back off my knees and onto the gear shift between the driver’s and passenger seats. And as she pulled herself out o
f the gap, our SUV straightened up as well and continued traversing a narrow lane that had been invisible from the highway. We were heading straight toward a chained entrance dead ahead, I saw, my father making no effort to slow as we approached the barrier at top speed.
Our trajectory wasn’t the only potential problem either. When Wolfie had mentioned the word “airport,” I’d hoped we could lose our pursuers amid throngs of harried travelers. But the area before us wasn’t a public airport like the ones I’d visited in the past. Instead, the landing strip was small enough that it required only one tall, human guard.
Well, one tall human...plus an even taller chain-link fence.
Despite the lack of high-tech security gadgets, I fully expected the guard to flag us down and delay matters until our pursuers could jump out of their SUVs and apprehend whoever they so desired. But the human male neither flinched nor shouted as Wolfie sped toward him without even attempting to reduce our speed. Instead, the official waited until the last possible second...then he swung the gate open in front of us before pushing it adamantly shut behind our backs.
We made it, I sighed in relief.
It was easy to spot our plane, the puddle jumper the only one currently present on the small runway. Fan-like blades were already whirring to life while a jump-suited employee waved urgently from the top of a rickety set of metal steps. But I ignored the male’s beckoning motions and squeezed Wolfie’s shoulder until his attention returned to me instead.
“What about Becca?” I demanded, staring into my father’s yellow, lupine eyes. This issue had been gnawing at me ever since we embarked on our mad rush for the airport. Because, sure, a Tribunal employee like Dakota should have been bound by strict rules of conduct and unwilling to harm a defenseless child. But—“What will happen if I can’t find Derek in time?”
“Becca is the first thing on my agenda as soon as you step onto that plane,” Dad promised. His eyes met mine, his wolf so rampant I could actually see fur pushing its way through the skin of his face. Like me, Wolfie clearly didn’t trust Dakota to toe the line of either law or ethical responsibility...
...So it was a good thing he had a backup plan in place. “If arm twisting doesn’t work,” my father growled, “I’ll start tearing off legs. Becca will be safer than any of us. You know I always take care of my pack.”
It was true. Wolfie would move mountains to ensure we were all safe. Which was, perhaps, why I found it so hard to leave him behind now.
“Dad...” I started.
Then Sebastien was opening my door and pulling me with him across the tarmac. The pursuing SUVs, I realized, were nearing the gate, our time to talk having abruptly run out. And in the face of that danger, the professor had decided to ignore the hazards involved in binding himself to a werewolf. Instead of choosing the safe and easy path, he was willingly joining me on this cross-country flight into the unknown.
Sebastien was taking a chance on me. How could I be any less brave?
So I didn’t look back as we ran together toward the roaring engines of the small airplane, me just a little in front while Sebastien angled his body so subtly I didn’t realize until I was halfway through the small doorway that he was shielding me from potential attack. We stumbled down the aisle together, a heavy metal door slamming shut behind our backs.
Together, we slid into a pair of seats, Sebastien’s fingers finding their way between my own. Only then did I risk a glance out the window at the parents who were my pack mates no longer.
Sebastien and I were hunting my brother. And to do so, I’d left the rest of my family behind.
WE TOOK OFF FAR MORE precipitously than I’d expected. Apparently Dad’s client had been able to throw his weight around with air traffic control as well as with the guard at the gate, because there was no delay while we filed a flight plan. So it was only seconds before we were safely in the air, at which point I finally possessed the breathing room to peer out the window at the scene below.
The three vehicles that had arrived while the plane taxied down the runway looked even larger from above than they had from the ground. If the SUVs contained werewolves, there might be dozens packed inside. This time, though, I was actually hoping for the supernatural. Because if government agents were in charge of those steering wheels...well, Mom and Dad definitely weren’t in the proper frame of mind to protect themselves without blowing the veil of shifter secrecy sky high.
Proving my worries correct, Dad barely shielded himself from view behind the Blazer before shifting into his favorite form—the body of a wolf. One moment he was a big burly man barely lessened by age. The next, my father had become a gray-muzzled wolf bristling with testosterone and ready to take on the world.
I craned my neck to peer through the clouded plastic of the window, trying to decide whether the human gate guard had seen more than he’d bargained for when it came to Dad’s transformation. I thought not. I hoped not. No need for Dad to join me on the slate of rogues that made up the Tribunal’s shit list.
Whoever rode in the enemy SUVs would have enjoyed a perfect view of the exhibition though. And despite the fact that the plane’s wide arc threatened to cut off my line of sight within seconds, I had time to fully take in Dad’s response to the approaching danger.
The gate guard had refused to let Wolfie’s pursuers through when they sped toward him just as Dad had done. But Wolfie didn’t appear willing to accept the human official as the unassailable barrier he appeared to be. Instead, my intrepid father was now marking his territory...quite literally. He stalked up to the fence on four stiff legs then began peeing on it right out there in the open, one leg cocked high to guide his stream of urine while the smirk on his face carried over even into lupine form.
Despite myself, I laughed aloud. Because as absurd as I found Wolfie’s weapon of choice, his methodology definitely did the trick. The SUVs were turning around now, were heading back the way they’d come. As quickly as they’d arrived in the Blazer’s rear-view mirror, our enemies sped off into the distance and out of sight.
“Could you tell who they were?” Sebastien asked from beside me, our endless refrain—wolf or human?—hanging in the air between us. Meanwhile, his fingers squeezed against mine. And despite everything that had come before, my inner wolf hummed her approval before leaning in closer to allow more contact with his human skin.
“They were wolves,” I murmured even though I hadn’t caught sight of a single furry face. Based on how quickly our pursuers had fled in the face of an alpha werewolf’s pee, I could be pretty certain the SUV’s inhabitants were merely low-level shifters in search of an easy reward. Presumably my official pardon hadn’t yet filtered down to the lowest levels of society quite yet.
“Dad showed them who was boss,” I added. “I don’t think they’ll be a problem again.”
Then I straightened up and peered forward into the clear blue sky. Wolfie had adeptly turned the tables on his pursuers and sent them scurrying home with tails between their legs. He’d promised to use every tool at his disposal to track down my kidnapped uncle and cousin too. So the only question left was—could I be equally steadfast when the time came to capture my brother and stand up to a birth mother I’d never before met?
Chapter 14
“Are you sure you gave me the right address?” Sebastien asked hours later. We’d flown clear across the country to San Francisco then leapfrogged through three taxis and two different subway lines before finally renting a car in an effort to evade further pursuit. Now, our rental was rolling up into the hills on the far side of the bay, houses growing larger and bolder the further we progressed.
Given the tales of my mother’s fly-by-night nature that I’d passed along while we were in transit, I didn’t blame my mate for second-guessing our current location. And yet—“Wolfie checked the address out. I’m certain,” I answered, peering out the window at a mansion so large it could have housed an entire werewolf pack.
We drove uphill for several more minutes aft
er that, squeezing around parked cars as a massive delivery truck rolled past in the opposite direction, then hanging a sharp right turn to follow the path laid out by the GPS. And, eventually, Sebastien broke the silence yet again, this time with a question about the parts of the story I’d carefully skated over while stringing together anecdotes in an effort to shorten our flight.
“You’ve never met your mother, so she must have put you up for adoption,” my mate rumbled, bringing my attention back to the issue I’d been doing my best to ignore. “When did she do that? And why?”
To my surprise, it was my wolf who answered the professor’s query. She’d never spoken directly to Sebastien in the past, but now my inner beast carefully formed human words, lisping only slightly as she bit out a reply. “You make it sound so official,” the wolf grumbled. “It was more like literally kicking us away on the delivery-room floor so Sarah could reunite with her sadistic mate.”
Which, unfortunately, was far too true. Well, mostly—my biological father was the one whose foot had connected with my furry behind. But Sarah had done nothing to stop the abuse either. In retrospect, I guess I should have felt lucky that I’d even survived.
That said, within the world of werewolves, my ejection had been at least moderately understandable. I’d been born furry rather than shaped like a human baby, a second-class citizen and not at all what my high-born parents had hoped to raise up. Or at least so I’d gathered from the stories my pack mates had let slip over the years. Terra and Wolfie had certainly never mentioned Sarah in my presence—she was the one topic the three of us never discussed.
Rather than trying to explain away parental heartlessness that sat even less well with my own inner wolf than it did with my human half, I instead filled in the gaps for my attentive companion. “Sarah was a kid when she had me,” I offered. “Nineteen years old. It’s possible that she’s different now.”
Rogue Huntress Page 5