Hunting Season

by Kate Rudolph

  "There's a kit in the library. Grab it. Tell Em we're going. We'll take your car."

  "I'll call the surveillance team." He didn't know what to tell them, and he certainly didn't want them following to the farm, but he'd figure something out.

  Strangely, Stasia winced. "I was going to tell you. AR called them off. Apparently the threat's been handled."

  Owen was missing something there. Something important. But his thoughts were in a whirl, too focused on Vega's predicament to get a handle on it. For the moment he was just thankful for the good fortune. "I'll get your bag."

  They had to hurry. Vega didn't have much time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  This was wrong in about a thousand ways and Stasia could lose her medical license. But given the way that Owen was swerving through the streets and cutting through New York traffic like they were in a live action video game, it had to be serious. A man's life was in danger. She was the only one that could help.

  In the back seat, Em cursed. She'd piled in the car right behind them, and though Owen had glared, he hadn't wasted time arguing with her about coming. It was that serious.

  But why couldn't his co-worker go to the hospital? Was there a citizenship issue? An arrest warrant? Something else? Owen promised it wasn't illegal, but she couldn't think of a non-shady reason for someone to avoid the hospital for a life-threatening issue.

  They crossed over into Brooklyn and weaved through the streets until Owen pulled up in front of a warehouse. Stasia clutched her supply bag tight. This place wasn't going to be sterile, and infection was a threat she'd be fighting to the end.

  "Come on." Owen parked the car and led them through the door. It wasn't as bad inside as she feared; the building was set up with offices and it was brightly lit, almost pleasant. Or it would have been if she didn't hear someone moaning in pain.

  They started to run.

  Stasia burst through the door to one of the rooms and found a man lying on an exam table with another man holding him down and a woman holding a bloodied rag over his shoulder.

  The muscle could be fucked, but he was alive so his heart probably wasn't hit.

  She didn't waste time wondering why this office/warehouse had a medical exam room in it, nor did she bother with introductions. She went to the sink on the side of the room and washed her hands as best she could.

  "Wash your hands," she told Owen and Em, "I may need you." She didn't know about the other two people, but from the way her patient was squirming, they were trying to keep him from moving too much. The damage may have already been done.

  "What happened?" Stasia demanded of the woman applying pressure.

  She looked up and she couldn't have been more than twenty-five, bright blue eyes full of fear and confusion. Then she blinked and snapped out of it. "Gunshot. Right shoulder. Handgun, possibly nine millimeter. Bryan's been shot before, why isn't it closing up?" she demanded.

  "Willa!" snapped the man holding her patient down.

  "She needs to know, Andre."

  Willa. Andre. Bryan. Stasia filed those names away. "Any exit wound?" She didn't know what Willa meant about the wound closing, probably just panic, even though she'd given the report with poise. They didn't have time to worry. The t-shirt she was holding against the wound was soaked and, as far as she knew, she didn't have any blood to transfuse.

  "No," said Willa.

  "Okay." This was going to be quick and dirty. Stasia had a scalpel with her and she needed to see what she could do. Digging the bullet out would likely cause more harm than good, but she had to get her eyes on it, see what the situation was.

  She approached her patient. Bryan was moving, but his eyes were closed and he didn't seem aware of what was going on. "Bryan, can you hear me?" she asked.

  He moaned in pain.

  "Bryan," she tried again, "I'm going to help you. This may hurt." It would. No way around that. She wasn't in the habit of carrying around strong drugs, but they'd worry about the shock of pain later.

  Bryan kept moaning.

  No more time to waste. She met Willa's eyes. "Was there any blood spurting when you began applying pressure?"

  "No, just regular bleeding."

  "Good. I need you to remove that t-shirt and go to his feet. Hold them down. He's probably going to move when I start cutting." She hated to think it. Even on the darkest days in Bermeja she hadn't needed to cut into semi-conscious patients.

  Willa moved. Stasia could feel Em and Owen standing behind her, but she ignored them. This was her element and she had to do her thing.

  She met Andre's eyes. "You ready?"

  He nodded.

  She assessed the wound and scowled at the way his skin had gone an almost impossible gray color, as if some of the dye from the shirt had soaked into it. She hoped that was it; she had no idea what could cause the issue otherwise.

  She wasn't a surgeon, but she had general training and she could do this.

  Stasia sliced deeper into her patient's wound and revealed the torn muscle underneath. "Give me light," she demanded, and a few seconds later a flashlight shined over her shoulder. It must have been either Owen or Em, but she didn't look back to check.

  It didn't take long to find the bullet. It wasn't lodged deep and she was distantly curious as to why it was causing her patient so much trouble. Sure, it should have hurt like a motherfucker, but it wasn't near anything vital and it wasn't that deep.

  "Forceps," she demanded.

  "What?" asked Em, who she could hear rooting around in her bag.

  "The giant tweezers. And I'll need the suture kit next."

  "Got it." They were shoved into Stasia's hand.

  She carefully extracted the piece of metal from the wound and dropped it into a container that Owen was holding. She only looked away for a second, but when she examined the wound again, it was smaller.

  Impossibly smaller.

  Her patient's eyes snapped open and he let out a bellowing roar.

  "Hold him!" Stasia demanded of Andre and Willa. The bullet was out, but he was far from safe.

  But Bryan was a man possessed and he struggled against them. The forceps went flying out of her hand as he surged up, and then the scalpel fell too, catching her forearm along the way with a bright, stinging stripe of red.

  His eyes were wide and shifted from blue to yellow as something began to happen to his face. Stasia didn't understand it. She couldn't figure it out. This wasn't medical. It wasn't possible. He shouldn't have that much energy to begin with, let alone be… changing.

  Fur started to spring up and his bones slid around with gross cracks. It couldn't have taken more than a few seconds and Stasia was rooted in place in fascination and fear.

  Someone put a hand on her shoulder, as if trying to pull her back. She could distantly hear someone saying something, but the roaring of the beast in front of her drowned it all out.

  Werewolf.

  It should have been shocking. Should have been impossible. But she was seeing it with her own two eyes. What was there to disbelieve? Her hands had just been in this man's flesh. There was no way this was a trick.

  The change took her patient and he was suddenly a huge wolf. Andre tried to grab for him and Willa must have fallen back, but nothing stopped the wolf from launching himself straight at her and digging his teeth into her shoulder.

  Stasia screamed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Owen was caught between the need to protect Stasia and the need to rip Bryan Vega's throat out for daring to come near his mate. His wolf roared to the surface and demanded he shift, but he fought the change. He'd be no help to anyone on paws.

  He got between Em and Bryan and pushed the woman back before rearing forward and grabbing Vega by the scruff of his neck and pulling him off of Stasia. Stasia showed more presence of mind than expected and kicked out with one foot until the wolf stumbled back.

  Andre took over then, leaping at Vega and tackling him to the floor.

  It all happe
ned in a handful of seconds.

  "What's going on in here?" Gibson burst into the room, Rowe and Jackson right behind him, and took in the scene: Stasia clutching her shoulder, Em backed in a corner, and Andre holding a shifted Vega to the ground while Willa stood frozen at the foot of the exam table.

  "Stasia!" Em got a good look at her sister and charged forward, not paying any attention to the werewolf on the ground or the army major in the doorway.

  Owen's wolf bristled at the thought of anyone getting close to his mate, but he could reason with the beast. Em was her sister; she wouldn't do anything to harm their mate. She could be trusted. Still, he let out a little growl and took a step closer.

  He didn't want anyone else near Stasia.

  "I'm fine," Stasia was saying. "This needs to be cleaned. Probably stitched too. And I think there's a wound on my arm." She didn't sound like a woman who had just discovered werewolves existed, but he had a feeling she was relying on her training. She had to take care of her problems before she could even think about breaking down.

  Owen wanted to turn around and care for Stasia, but he had to protect her from any threats, and right now everything was a potential threat. He distantly knew that the others in the room were people he should be able to trust, but Vega had bit Stasia. Anyone could do her more harm.

  "What's going on here?" Gibson repeated, and from his tone he wasn't going to ask a third time.

  Vega made a sad sound, and Andre let him up once it was clear the wolf wasn't about to fly off into a rage.

  Owen growled. Vega needed to pay for what he'd done, but Willa put herself between him and Vega, stopping the fight from happening before it could start. Owen might have been grateful for that at another time, but now he just wanted to attack Willa too.

  "Dr. Nichols extracted something from Vega's shoulder," said Willa, finally answering Gibson's question when no one else would. "He immediately started to shift and he attacked her. I don't think he knew what was going on."

  "Take Vega out of here. Watch him. You too, Jackson," Gibson demanded. His face was dark with anger and Owen knew the blow up wouldn't be good.

  Willa, Jackson, and Vega left, which still left the rest of the pack. It should have been a happy family, but his mate was bleeding and she needed help.

  Gibson looked over his shoulder to Stasia. "We're—"

  She cut him off. "Tell me about werewolves later. One of you has to have some medic training. I need stitches. Unless you're willing to take me to a hospital?" He didn't look back at her, but he could imagine the challenge in his mate's eyes and pride suffused him. Not many people could stand up to Gibson, but Stasia did it without a thought.

  "Rowe." Gibson didn't need to say more. Rowe had the most medic training out of all of them and definitely knew how to clean a wound and give stitches.

  Owen stopped him.

  "Move aside," Leland Rowe said quietly.

  "No." He was fighting his wolf with all he had to keep from lashing out. He needed to keep Stasia safe and his wolf was certain that letting anyone near her would be a mistake. And given how the past hour had gone, he couldn't disagree.

  "Owen! He needs to look." Stasia sounded out of breath, and that was finally enough for him to move. She was pale—even paler than usual—and sweat beaded on her forehead. Em was holding gauze to her wound, but it was already starting to bleed through.

  And still his wolf wouldn't move. They needed to protect their mate.

  "Gordon," said Gibson. And Owen didn't know why, but a second later Andre barreled into him and charged until they were both out of the room. Gibson slammed the door and Owen heard him throw the lock.

  He howled and fought against Andre's grip.

  "I need to be in there. She needs me." His teeth were longer than they should have been and his vision was off in the way it sometimes got when he shifted to his other form. He was losing control of his human form as his wolf demanded to take over.

  Owen wanted to surrender to it; he wanted to take the power his wolf could give him and prevent anyone from touching Stasia ever again.

  "Calm down before I cuff you," Andre threatened.

  Not much could hold an enraged werewolf, but Gibson had found some old fashioned manacles that could do the trick. Owen had wondered why he thought he needed them, but the threat was enough to make him think that maybe Gibson had a point. And he knew Andre would tie him up without hesitation.

  "I'm calm," Owen promised, even though his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.

  "You're not." Andre glared at him, but he did loosen his grip. "Come on. I don't know what's going on, but you probably should get a little distance."

  "Try and move me." Owen was out of the room. He couldn't see his mate, but the scent of her blood still tickled his senses. "I can't stop Rowe from touching her, but I'm not moving another foot."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Leland Rowe had kind eyes and a steady hand, but that didn't make the stitches any less painful. Em was right beside her, gripping her uninjured arm in support while Rowe worked on her shoulder.

  But Stasia wanted Owen.

  She had to shove the thought as far back in her mind as she could. Owen had freaked out royally even though she was the one who'd been unknowingly operating on a freaking werewolf. If she was being reasonable, she'd probably agree with Owen's assessment that they couldn't take Vega to a hospital.

  Instead she wanted to yell. But if she yelled and flailed as much as she wanted, she was going to rip out the stitches that Rowe had already done and ruin whatever he had left to do.

  "You're not too bad at that," she said. She wanted to ask if he was a werewolf too. Were they all?

  Was Owen?

  Or were they all just keeping Vega's secret.

  Which was worse?

  "Medic field training," Rowe responded.

  "Army?" asked Em after giving Stasia's fingers a squeeze. She had to be freaking out nearly as much as Stasia, but she seemed calm enough for now.

  "Yes." Rowe finished off the stitch and bandaged the wound, which was right at the bend of her shoulder and was bound to hurt every time Stasia shifted.

  She twisted her arm and winced at the pull of the stitches, but she had to see the damage the scalpel had done to her forearm. Except there wasn't a wound there. The skin was unblemished.

  How?

  She remembered the stinging pain as the blade sliced her and there was blood on her shirt from where she'd pressed her arm tight against it to stem the flow. But now it looked like nothing had happened. Had she been mistaken? It was easy to get confused when an angry werewolf was lunging at you.

  It had to be that. Stasia poked at her arm to make sure the wound wasn't somehow hiding, but that didn't do anything.

  "Something wrong?" Em asked quietly as Rowe backed away.

  "I thought…" Stasia didn't want to say, afraid it would make her sound crazy, as if anything could sound crazy after what just happened. "I'm fine."

  Em scoffed. "You just got bit by a fucking werewolf." She shuddered and her expression slipped, but she pasted on her best smile, the kind she flashed at audiences every night on tour. Em could pretend everything was okay and Stasia was going to follow her example.

  Rowe stood next to Gibson and they were both looking at her like she was about to grow a second head… or fur. She wanted Owen there. Em could hold her hand like a champ, but there was something about Owen's presence that made her feel safe. Protected.

  Loved.

  It was too soon for that. She could barely stand to think it. And pretty soon her mind was going to catch up to this whole situation and she was going to be pissed as fuck at Owen and the rest of them. He knew what Vega was. He'd put her at risk.

  Oh. Well, there was the anger. It burned away the pain of the stitches and Stasia stood up from where she'd been sitting.

  The door opened behind Gibson and Owen came rushing back in. He didn't stop until he was right in front of her, those soulf
ul eyes of his roving over her, making sure she was alright. He snagged on the stitches on her shoulder where her shirt had been ripped away, and she swore she heard him growl.

  Werewolf?

  Man?

  "What's going on, Owen?" She wanted to throw herself in his arms and demand that he make everything okay. He was her bodyguard, even if the main threat was taken care of. But that didn't matter. She didn't want him to leave ever, even if she was mad at him.

  "Let's take this somewhere a little less bloody," Gibson said, interrupting their reunion.

  Owen did reach out and touch her then, careful to avoid the stitches, and holding her like she was precious. After a second he laced their fingers together and led her out of the room to wherever Gibson was taking them. Em followed closely behind.

  The new location turned out to be something like a large break room with a few couches and chairs and a huge TV hanging on one wall.

  "This is a nice place," said Em with a bit of surprise as she sank down onto one of the plush chairs.

  Stasia wanted to stand, but between the rush of treating Vega and the adrenaline from the bite, she was about to crash. She sank down onto the nearest couch and didn't complain when Owen sat next to her.

  It only took another few minutes for the rest of the team—pack?—to join them. Andre Gordon, Willa Hunter, Leland Rowe, Erin Jackson, and even Bryan Vega, who had managed to shift back to his human form and only had a bit of bruised and reddened skin on his naked shoulder to show for the bullet wound.

  "Am I going to turn into a werewolf?" Stasia's heart was beating madly, but she sounded cool. She wasn't exactly sure how she was dealing, but unless she started screaming she was going to hold to the equilibrium as long as she could. She looked directly at Owen and asked again. "Am I?"

  His mouth opened and closed a few times and his eyes widened.

  "We don't know." It was Gibson who answered. "No one's ever bit another person before." He glared at Vega.