Written in the Stars: Wolffe Peak Book 3

by Knight, Gwen

  Wells sighed and pinched his brow. “I hear you bitching and whining about something completely out of your control, and the whir of the air conditioning. What of it?”

  “Do you know what I can hear?” When Wells didn’t respond, Harley scoped the room, pointedly staring at every man present. “I can hear each and every one of your heartbeats. On top of the air conditioning, I can hear every single breath you all take. I can hear the five men waiting out in the hall impatiently scuffling their feet. I can hear the secretary typing away on her keyboard out in the lobby. I can smell your individual deodorants and shampoos, smell the brand you use to wash your clothes. Hell, I can even smell what you had for lunch.”

  Wells’s eyes slowly widened.

  “Can you shift into an animal?” Harley pressed.

  “Of course not.”

  “I can. I’m sure you’d agree that’s a huge benefit when sneaking in somewhere. An even bigger benefit when that somewhere is located deep in a jungle. Animals go unnoticed. I’ll be able to tell you exactly how many men there are in proximity and sniff out Jasmine’s precise location—no drones or satellite imagery required. So don’t sit there and tell me I’m not qualified. I’m the only qualified one here on the team. Why do you think the senator came looking for me? He wants his daughter home safe, and he trusts me to accomplish that.”

  Wells’s jaw tightened, but thankfully, he didn’t argue further.

  Harley turned back to the senator. “I’m in charge. I’ll get her out and bring her home.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, Fulton,” Pierce grumbled. “You better be as good as you say. Because if you aren’t—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Harley waved a dismissive hand. “Save your threats for someone who gives a shit.”

  He turned and stared at the nearby computer monitor, the one they’d used to show him Jasmine’s last known location. Apparently, they’d tracked her through her FitBit before losing the signal—a miracle considering they’d found her phone abandoned in her car back in Denver. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to secure a visual of her since, not through the surrounding copse of jungle. And that unnerved Harley. Even a glimpse would have put his wolf at ease.

  A quick study of the topography showed him how close her position was to the Lacandon Jungle and the Guatemalan border. What he hadn’t mentioned to the team was that southern Mexico wasn’t an ideal travel spot for werewolves. Not when the area was almost completely inhabited by militant jaguar-shifters.

  Fuck it.

  Nothing would keep him from tracking down Jasmine, not even a tribe of pissed-off kitty cats.

  3

  Jasmine stirred when a gust of hot, sticky air brushed her face. They had to be keeping her somewhere tropical, considering the humidity never wavered and the temperature only cooled at nighttime. Worse, her captors refused to give her more than a single gulp of water every hour. Even now, dehydration cramped her stomach and a desert had taken up residence in her mouth. But none of that compared to the endless pounding in her head. These men liked her weak, powerless—a means of controlling her, obviously. Hard to summon enough strength to fight back when you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

  At least they hadn’t drugged her recently. Probably figured they didn’t need to anymore, the way she hung there, body sagging against the ropes.

  “Look who’s awake,” a gravelly voice heckled near her ear.

  Jasmine gasped and jerked back, the ropes scraping her flesh. She hadn’t realized someone was in the room with her.

  “Have a good nap, princess?” her captor demanded as he stepped in front of her.

  She instantly recognized him. This was the man who’d handed her the phone before demanding a ransom from her father. The one who’d threatened to cut her up if her father chose not to pay. Luis, if she remembered correctly.

  How long had it been since then? A day? Two? She couldn’t remember. Measuring time was increasingly difficult when kept unconscious.

  “Whoever you are,” she rasped, “whatever you want, my father won’t give it to you.”

  Anger shadowed his face. He reached out and caught her chin between his fingers, squeezing until she cried out. “You better hope Daddy comes through. Otherwise….” He didn’t finish his statement, nor did he need to. She could see the truth behind his eyes, the darkness within that promised more than just pain.

  Jasmine forced herself to swallow. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why not? You people need to be taught a lesson.”

  “What people? What lesson?”

  Luis leered at her, his thin lips stretching wide across his face. “You people. Shifter supporters. Shifter lovers,” he snarled, leaning so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath.

  Jasmine blinked. That was what this was about? “You kidnapped me because my family supports shifter rights?”

  “Oh, princess. This is about so much more than that. And we chose you ‘cuz we know all about your relationship with one of those… things. Guess we’ve stooped pretty low as a species if we’re willin’ to fuck animals, eh? So we made you one of ‘em.”

  Rage roared through her. This was about her relationship with Harley? How? They’d kept it a secret, even after her father had found out. And her father had assured her he would do everything in his power to keep it buried. How the hell had this asshole found out about them?

  Unless…

  Understanding dawned, and she sagged helplessly against her restraints. “You’re one of them. Humans First.”

  A callous grin stared back at her. “Guess you do have a brain.”

  “Who told you?” she demanded, her voice hardening. Someone must have betrayed her, and it had to have been someone close to her father. There were so few he’d tell—especially once he’d learned the truth about Harley. Her father would have done anything to keep the press from catching wind of this story. She’d been the one stupid enough to fall for someone who’d only been using her. So, the traitor had to be someone close to the family.

  Or… Harley.

  No, she refused to believe that. Shifters and Humans First didn’t mix. Harley would never betray her to them.

  “Too bad, really.” Luis stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “You really were quite beautiful.”

  Jasmine cringed. His very touch turned her stomach, and for a moment, she thought she might throw up. She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the looks on the faces of his men when they entered the room, the lustful glances that made her want to puke. Thankfully, her new shifter status had kept them at bay.

  Until now.

  Luis stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. “But I know what lurks inside ya now.”

  A relieved breath rushed past Jasmine’s lips.

  “You better hope your father pays us the money,” Luis commented as he strode toward the door. “Three more days left, princess. After that, you won’t look so beautiful anymore.”

  A scream shivered down her spine the moment his words sank in. In some ways, three days felt like an eternity. Her body wouldn’t be able to handle much more of this. Luis’s men kept their distance, but he’d also kept her on the brink of starvation and dehydration—a form of torture all by itself. Her muscles screamed in agony, especially her shoulders. And her skin was constantly crawling, thanks to the animal within struggling to break free. But on the other hand, three days didn’t seem long at all, not when death awaited her on the other end.

  She wanted to believe her father would pay any amount of money to save her, but she had to be realistic. These bastards had kidnapped a senator’s daughter. Which meant the feds would soon become involved. Maybe even the president, if the news ever reached him. And she understood the government’s stance against any form of terrorism. Negotiation was never an option. Especially considering Humans First was a radical group dedicated to the eradication of shifters. Somehow, she doubted the feds would let her father pay them off.

  Three days, then. And unfortuna
tely, she grew weaker with each passing moment. Waiting for rescue was no longer an option. For all she knew, no one was coming. No, it was up to her to save herself.

  The only question was how.

  * * *

  Eighteen Hours Later

  Harley wiped the sweat from his brow and squinted into the dense green darkness. Trees, trees, and more trees, as far as the eye could see. The joys of hiking through a thick jungle. After eighteen hours of non-stop travel, he and the team had finally arrived at what he hoped was the final destination. It’d cost Pierce more than a pretty penny to charter a flight for them from Denver to Comitan, Mexico—where they’d secured a beaten down minibus on route to San Quintín. Once there, they’d begun the long, arduous trek past Laguna Miramar into the remaining unspoiled jungle.

  He only hoped this was the right place. Jasmine’s FitBit had long since gone silent, and these were the last coordinates they’d received. But who knew if her captors had changed locations since then, or hell, if she was even still alive.

  His wolf unleashed an enraged growl at the unhappy thought. The entire mission was banked on one tiny piece of technology that, for all they knew, had glitched out. She was here—she had to be. He wouldn’t accept any other outcome. Nor would his wolf.

  If Jasmine wasn’t here…. His fingers twitched at his sides, his claws itching to be unleashed. If Jasmine wasn’t here, Wells and his men would learn the true definition of hell. Because Harley knew there’d be no controlling his beast.

  “Half a klick north-northeast.” Wells’s whispered voice carried through the tiny earpiece lodged in Harley’s ear.

  Harley focused on the intel and rotated in that direction, peering through the thick foliage. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see a damn thing through the impenetrable cluster of trees. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear anything.

  The sound of rustling caught his attention. Multiple heavy-footed men coming from the northwest. And from the smell of it, they were armed.

  Relief lifted his wolf’s mood. This was definitely the right location.

  Tapping his own earpiece, Harley muttered, “Movement two hundred meters out. Three targets.”

  Silence was their only response. No one questioned him, but they didn’t trust him either. While being the only shifter on the team hadn’t endeared him to anyone, Harley knew the real reason for their distrust was the way he’d taken control of the team. These men had worked together for years, and Harley had barged in and announced himself the leader without leaving any room for discussion. It’d set the group dynamics off-kilter. Not that Harley cared. So long as they obeyed his commands, they’d all make it home safe and sound. The camaraderie meant nothing to him. Jasmine was the only thing that mattered. And when he found her….

  Harley sighed and scratched the corner of his mouth. When he found her, he would load her on the plane and send her packing right back home to her father, where she belonged. Harley wasn’t here to rescue the princess and sweep her off her feet, nor was this some damsel-in-distress romance novel. Jasmine wanted nothing to do with him—a fact he needed to damn well remember. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear when she’d taken her father’s deal and ran. He needed to remember that, if only to preserve his sanity.

  “Move forward,” Wells grunted through the open line.

  “No,” Harley responded. “Hold your position.”

  “You kiddin’ me, Fulton?”

  “I said hold your position,” Harley snapped. “Stick to the damn plan we discussed in the truck. And let me take this moment to remind you all… if any of you screw this up, you won’t be on the return flight home. Ya get me?”

  Before anyone could argue, Harley plucked out his earpiece and handed it over to Carlisle, the unlucky sod he’d been paired with. Harley had informed them all during the drive that he had every intention of handling this situation in wolf form, much to their dismay. But he’d reiterated that Jasmine’s captors were likely expecting a black ops team. Of course, Wells and his men had openly disagreed with his plan. Not that Harley listened. Afterward, Carlisle had drawn the short stick when they’d assigned their partners. The look on the poor bastard’s face had made Harley laugh.

  Much like the look he wore right now.

  “You sure about this?” Carlisle asked.

  Harley pressed a finger to his lips, then tapped his ear before gesturing toward the surrounding trees. The nearby movement had grown louder. Jasmine’s captors, most likely, conducting a perimeter sweep and branching out in an easily detectable circular pattern. Their proximity certainly wasn’t ideal, considering how painful shifting was, but Harley wouldn’t let that stop him. With a little luck, he’d dash in, break some necks before they even knew what was happening, grab Jasmine, and be back in the States before dinner.

  Harley silently stripped bare, breathing a sigh of relief when a breeze rolled over his clammy skin. He stuffed his clothes into his rucksack and tossed it to Carlisle before sinking into the foliage and closing his eyes. He’d avoided shifting for as long as possible. Growing up in the Rocky Mountains, Harley was well aware of how his werewolf half set off the wildlife. The ungulates that roamed Wyatt’s territory knew to keep their distance, but the local animals here didn’t seem to take the same precautions. The surrounding howler monkeys were busy bellowing away in the treetops, warning fellow animals of his foreign presence. Once he shifted, though, they’d take off for safety. Wolves were predators, but werewolves ranked a whole new level. Which meant he needed to do this right, without uttering a single sound. Alerting Jasmine’s captors to their presence fell under worst-case scenario.

  Harley’s wolf barely granted him a second to prepare before triggering the process. The change swept over him faster than anything he’d ever experienced. Stunned and breathless, Harley lowered his head and bit his bottom lip in an attempt to keep from crying out. Most people believed the process was quick and painless, a form of magic that eased them from man to beast. But it was nothing like that. Even though Harley had been born a werewolf, pain was part and parcel of being a shifter. He felt every broken bone, every ripped muscle, every bit of shredded flesh. The process was slow, messy, and torturous—a fact Harley was reminded of when he heard Carlisle retching in the nearby bushes.

  Were he not slightly preoccupied at the moment, Harley might have rolled his eyes. Who knew soldiers could handle taking bullets and holding in people’s guts, but couldn’t handle the sight of a shifting werewolf.

  Finally, Harley’s wolf erupted from his skin. Panting for breath, he stood on four monstrous legs, rolled out his neck, and then shook out his fur, flinging the last remains of clear fluid from his fur into the trees. And as always, an instant sense of relief flooded him, chasing away any lingering pain. He’d been fighting the urge to shift for hours, ever since learning about Jasmine’s abduction. It didn’t matter that they weren’t together anymore—or that they never would be again—his wolf had begun panicking the second he’d learned his mate was in danger.

  Damn werewolf genetics.

  Jasmine might have rejected him, but his wolf refused to move on. A true mating among his kind was a blending of two souls. A connection he’d felt the second he first laid eyes on Jasmine. He’d felt the warm thrum deep in his veins, a pulsing in his blood he’d been unable to ignore. And at the time, he’d known without a doubt that Jasmine had felt the same way. So few found their true mates. Most settled and chose to mate with someone suitable. But those couples never connected. Not like he had with Jasmine. He’d once counted himself among the lucky.

  Until she’d broken his heart.

  Now, he considered himself damned.

  Harley slammed the door on those thoughts and instead, focused on the present situation. With luck, he’d find Jasmine and return her to her father, thereby washing his hands clean of both her and her horrible family. It was unlikely he’d ever find another mate, but he’d spent the past three years learning to deal with that.

  “That
was….” Carlisle’s voice broke off when Harley shot him a glare.

  This was the time for silence. He’d managed to shift without so much as a single grunt. Carlisle could at least keep his trap shut.

  Clearing his throat, Carlisle’s jaw tightened and he nodded, indicating he was ready to follow through with the rest of the plan. Now that Harley had shifted, it was the team’s responsibility to clear out the surrounding area of any hostiles while he made a beeline for Jasmine. They hadn’t been able to confirm it, but he had to imagine they were keeping her in some sort of nearby building or camp. It wasn’t easy to restrain someone. They had to be holding her somewhere permanent.

  Thankfully, his nose would lead him the rest of the way.

  Lifting his head, Harley drew in a deep breath and sorted through the jungle’s plethora of scents. Beneath the overall smell of rotting leaves and tropical flowers came the sickly stench of body odor. Six unfamiliar aromas took shape in his mind, plus one that was very familiar.

  With his paw, Harley traced a sloppy 6 into the undergrowth. He gestured toward the east and drew a two, then west and drew a one. Which left three hostiles directly ahead. For this to work, they needed to incapacitate each and every one of them before anyone could sound the alarm.

  Harley caught Carlisle’s gaze and lifted a furry eyebrow, posing a silent question. He waited for Carlisle’s nod before Harley turned and silently vanished into the thick trees. Two hundred meters was hardly a challenge on four legs. His stride ate up the distance in no time. The challenge was taking them out before anyone radioed for help. And with any luck, he’d have Jasmine in his arms before the rest of the team handled the outer ring of men.

  But then, when had he ever been lucky in life?

  4

  The muffled sound of movement roused Jasmine from the darkness. For hours, possibly even days, she’d been fighting a losing battle against unconsciousness. Now and then, she managed to claw her way out of the dark pit only for exhaustion, dehydration, and starvation to drag her back under. She suddenly understood how it felt to be caught in quicksand, struggling so hard to pull herself free only for the ground to swallow her whole.