“You wanker,” Michael hissed, lowering his window. “See anything?”
“Yep.” His expression sobered. “White’s car’s parked in front of the house, and there are lights on upstairs and down. No movement that I noticed, though.”
“He could still be going through the change,” Michael offered. “With any luck, it’ll incapacitate him while it lasts.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Bridgford glanced back at the house. “Whoever came with him could be watching him or keeping an eye on Wilson. Or both. It’s impossible to tell from out here.”
“So we wait,” Frank said, leaning towards them. “Those are our orders.” He pulled out his phone and typed out a message. A few seconds later it vibrated with a reply. “Alpha Thomas and his pack are about twenty minutes out.”
Michael fidgeted in his seat. Twenty minutes seemed an age to sit in the car waiting. “You know, I reckon Blake’s grandmother’s cottage is only about a five-minute drive from here.”
Frank glanced over at him. “What’s your point?”
“Me and Miller could go take a look while we wait for Thomas and the others to arrive. We don’t all need to be sat here.”
“Bridgford’s already ascertained that White’s likely at this house. His car’s there.”
“But if he’s still going through the change, then maybe Blake left one of the others to watch him and went to check out his own cottage. It’s a long shot, I know. But wouldn’t hurt to go look. The last thing we need is to get everything under control here and then have Blake turn up guns blazing and take us by surprise.”
Frank wavered, obviously considering Michael’s reasoning. Then he sighed. “I guess you’re right. Take this car and we’ll wait with the others. Don’t be too long and keep in contact at all times.”
“Of course.” Michael faced Miller. “You set?”
“Yeah.” Miller seemed almost as keen to get out of there as Michael.
When Frank and Price got out of the car, Miller and Michael climbed into the front seats. Miller drove, Michael with his phone out following the map. “Carry along this road about half a mile and go through the traffic lights. Take the left after that, then the second right.”
The houses got considerably smaller as they went, but most of them still had fair-sized front gardens, offering more privacy than Michael was used to.
Parking a little way away, they got out and walked to the foot of the drive for number four Paddock End. Michael whispered. “Is that a light on upstairs?”
It was faint, like maybe in one of the rooms facing the back, but it definitely seemed like a sliver of light to him.
“Maybe.”
They crept a little closer, stopping when another light came on, illuminating one of the downstairs rooms. Unfortunately, the curtains were shut, but someone was definitely inside.
He radioed Frank. “Sierra one zero, Sierra one zero receiving Sierra four. Over.”
“Sierra four, go ahead. Over.”
“There’s life at Blake’s place.”
“Any idea who?”
“Not without going inside.”
“Is there a car there?”
“Can’t see one.”
“So could be Blake, or maybe a caretaker or someone.”
Michael frowned at the second idea. “A caretaker at ten fifteen at night.?”
“Yeah, I know, unlikely. But stranger things have happened.”
Michael wanted to get a closer look. “We could go knock and say hello.”
“No, Arch. Not without backup.”
“Come on, what—”
“Arch. Just wait till the shifters get here. They’re bringing an extra beta, so we can send someone over to join you.”
“Don’t you need us back there?”
“Arlington just called. Alpha Wallace is almost here. I think we can handle things without you two. But just wait for me to send you some backup.”
“Yeah, okay.” No point in taking unnecessary risks. Who knew what weapons Blake had in that house. Better to have someone who could sense where he was. “How long?”
“Five minutes tops.”
“Fine. We’ll wait. Message received. Out.”
He turned to face Miller and was about to suggest they go back down the road a bit when a twig snapped by the side of the house.
They both spun around to see Blake appear from the shadows.
Fuck.
Michael went for his gun as Miller yelled, “Police, stop!”
So much for waiting for backup.
* * * * *
Isaac pulled in behind the two cars already parked, Nick copying him. Members of the SCTF stood on the pavement along with people Aaron didn’t recognise. The two members of the alpha council were with them.
As soon as Isaac turned the engine off, Aaron had his seatbelt undone and the car door open. Harry caught his arm before he could get out and nodded to the car behind where Sam had just opened his own door.
Shit.
“Thanks,” he whispered and waited for their alpha to exit the car first as pack etiquette dictated under these circumstances.
Sam waited on the pavement for the rest of his pack, and finally, Aaron got out, subtly looking around for Michael. His scent lingered in the air but fainter than the others, as though he’d been and gone.
“Alpha Wallace, Alpha Jones.” He smiled in greeting and inclined his head.
Alpha Wallace returned his smile. “Alpha Thomas.” She then addressed Detective Sergeant Coldwell. “How do you wish to proceed, Detective?”
Aaron was desperate to interrupt, to ask where Michael was, but he stood silent, waiting to be told what to do.
Coldwell glanced at the other police officers, then at Sam. “DS Archer and DS Miller are over at Blake’s property. I’d appreciate if you could send a couple of your pack over as backup. There’s someone in the house, but we don’t know if it’s Blake or if they’re alone.”
Aaron was already stepping forward as Sam looked over at him and Harry. “I’ll go,” he said quickly.
“Okay.” Sam turned to Isaac. “Go with him. Let me know what you find.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Where’s Blake’s house?” Aaron asked, directing his question to Coldwell.
Coldwell walked over to him and held out his hand. “Give me your phone and I’ll type in his address.”
Aaron handed it over without question and waited for Frank to add the address to Google Maps.
As Frank passed it back to him, the wind changed, bringing with it a scent that had all the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. Isaac’s low growl sounded next to him, and Aaron tensed, senses on high alert as he glanced around for the source. All seven shifters edged towards the start of White’s driveway, as though drawn there by an invisible string.
“What is it?” Coldwell hissed, following them, gun drawn. “What can you smell?”
Alpha Wallace stepped quickly to his side. “Blood, death. There’s another shifter close by, Detective, and if he’s not dead already, he soon will be unless we find him. And fast.”
Not waiting for his reply, she and Alpha Jones sped off up the driveway, disappearing from sight.
“Fucking hell!” Coldwell motioned for Stewart, Bridgford, and the two Met police with them to follow. “Come on. When we get to the house, you go in the front and we’ll go around the back.”
Aaron was torn between wanting to help find the injured shifter and going to Michael. The scent of blood clung to him, each breath in bringing a fresh wave of it. Alpha Wallace was right, even Aaron could smell whoever it was had been badly injured.
Footsteps sounded on the gravel drive, and a moment later, Alpha Jones appeared, running full pelt towards them. “We found Wilson,” he shouted.
Aaron noticed Coldwell’s flinch, probably at Alpha Jones’s volume. But if he thought they were going to surprise any shifters in the house, then he was mistaken. They likely knew they were there
the second they reached the driveway.
“Is he dead?” Coldwell replied, in a somewhat quieter voice.
Alpha Jones got the hint and lowered his volume. “No, but he’s not good. Shot twice and stabbed in the chest.” He came to a halt in front of them. “He’s lost a lot of blood. His body’s struggling to keep him alive. He needs help.”
“Help?”
Alpha Jones brushed past them, towards his car. “I need to get the bullets out and stitch him up.”
Aaron swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Where did you find him?” he managed, gaze caught on the blood covering Jones’s clothes.
“Just inside the entrance hall.”
Grabbing what looked to be a medical bag from the boot of his SUV, Alpha Jones stopped in front of Coldwell. “There’s no one else in that house, Detective.”
“What do you mean?”
“If there was another living being in there, then we’d hear them. If there was another shifter, we’d smell it, but there’s only Wilson’s scent in that house.” He moved to head back.
“Wait.”
Alpha Jones looked back over his shoulder.
“Are you saying White wasn’t bitten?”
“No. Wilson has blood in his mouth that isn’t his.” He started walking up the drive again. “I’m saying that White didn’t go through the change here.”
Oh no.
The pieces seemed to slot into place for everyone all at the same time.
As Aaron whispered, “Michael,” Frank was ordering everyone back to their cars and reaching for his radio, all protocol seemingly thrown out the window as he bypassed the usual police talk Aaron had heard them use before.
“Arch?” he hissed, voice frantic. “Arch? You there?”
The two seconds it took him to respond felt like a lifetime. “Archer. Go ahead. Over.”
“Thank fuck,” Frank muttered. “Stay where you are. Do not go into the property. Over.”
“What—”
“I repeat, do not go into the property. We found Wilson almost dead, no sign of White.”
Silence.
“Arch? Are you receiving? Over?”
Nothing. And then the radio crackled to life. “Send backup n—”
The message ended so abruptly, for a split second no one moved.
Then Aaron was off, sprinting down the street in the direction of Blake’s house, shifter speed propelling him much faster than a human.
His sole focus was on getting to Michael.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blake raised his hands as he walked towards them.
“I said stop,” Miller yelled, gun steady and aimed at Blake’s chest.
This time Blake complied. “This is private property. What the fuck are you doing on it.”
Michael hadn’t run into him in person before, not this close, anyway. He was huge—well over six foot tall, with shoulders like a tank. No wonder White hired him for protection. “We have a warrant to search the property.”
Michael reached into his pocket and pulled it out.
Blake remained where he was, making no effort to take the paper from him. “You’re a long way from home, boys.” He glanced behind them, a slow smile appearing when he realised they were on their own.
Michael kept a neutral expression, but inside his heart began to race. They had to assume Blake was armed. The hoodie he wore revealed nothing, and it was too dark to ascertain if there were any telltale bulges under it. He took a step closer. “Are you armed?” he asked.
Blake grinned. “Why don’t you come see?”
Fuck’s sake. Why did he have to be such a wanker about it? Michael was a crack shot, and he was only fifteen feet away. He could put one in him before Blake even got a hand on his gun or whatever he had under there. “Take your jacket off and throw it away from you, then get face down on the ground, arms above your head.” With his gun still trained on Blake, he said to Miller. “Go pat him down. I’ll cover you.”
Rolling his eyes, Miller mumbled, “Yes, sir,” in the most sarcastic tone ever, and holstered his gun.
And yes, they were the same rank, but someone had to go check him for weapons. Miller should’ve spoken up sooner if he didn’t want the job.
When Blake made no move to do as they asked, Michael sighed. It was going to be a long fucking night. He just hoped backup arrived soon. Even a guy as tough as Blake looked had to be a little freaked out being with two shifters on a full moon night. Maybe that was why he was over here instead of watching over White. Michael hoped he wasn’t unnerved enough to do something stupid.
“I said on the ground.”
This time Blake complied, and Miller had just about reached him when Michael’s radio crackled to life.
“Arch?” Frank hissed, voice frantic. “Arch? You there?”
What the fuck’s happened?
He motioned for Miller to wait. Not taking his eye off Blake, he reached for his radio. “Archer. Go ahead. Over.”
“Thank fuck,” Frank muttered. “Stay where you are. Do not go into the property. Over.”
“What—”
“I repeat do not go into the property. We found Wilson almost dead, no sign of White.”
Oh fuck.
He and Miller glanced up at the house, the action instinctual. They only looked away for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Blake to jump up—lightning quick—and grab Miller in a chokehold.
The gun pressed hard against Miller’s temple was the only thing that stopped Michael from shooting him.
Blake grinned. “Gonna chance it, Detective?” He pressed harder and Miller winced. “This gun’s got a bit of a hair trigger. Maybe you can kill me without it going off. But maybe you can’t.” He licked his lips. “Prepared to risk it?”
“Shoot him,” Miller gritted out. “Do it.”
Michael glanced between Miller and Blake, grip tightening on his gun.
“Arch? Are you receiving? Over?”
Michael clicked the button on his radio, speaking as calmly as he could. “Send backup n—”
“Too late,” Blake whispered. He moved so quickly, Michael barely registered it. One moment he had a gun pressed to Miller’s head, the next he was aiming it at Michael.
The gunshot rang out in the quiet of the night, dulled by the silencer, but still out of place in the quaint village. Pain followed hot on its heels, sharp and visceral, exploding in Michael’s right arm.
Michael gasped, his gun clattering to the ground, and wet met his fingers when he grabbed his biceps. Praying Blake didn’t shoot him again, he ducked to grab his gun, but when he raised it in Blake’s direction there was nothing to aim at.
Both Miller and Blake were gone.
How the fuck did they move so quickly?
Ignoring the throbbing in his arm, Michael turned in a circle, scanning the driveway and the front garden. Nothing in the immediate vicinity, but it was too dark to see far.
Reaching for his radio, he walked over to where Miller and Blake had been standing, searching the ground for any kind of clue. “Sierra one zero, Sierra one zero receiving Sierra four. Over.”
“Jesus, Arch. What the hell happened?”
“Blake had a gun. He’s got Miller.”
Light spilt out from the front of the house where the door stood ajar. Michael hesitated. He should wait for backup. White could be in there too. He could be shifted.
Fuck.
“I think he took him into the house,” Michael said, lowering his voice and inching towards the door. He held his gun in his left hand, not ideal, but he could still aim fairly well with it.
“We’re on our way, Arch. Don’t do anything stupid.”
He’d already done that. Taking his eye off Blake, even for a second, had proved disastrous.
“I won’t, but—”
A pained scream spilt out of the house, and Michael was already running towards the front door as he yelled into his radio. “Call for an ambulance and hurry the fuck up!�
�
“Arch!” Muffled cursing sounded before the radio cut off and Michael hoped to God they were close.
Another cry filled the air, this one muted in comparison, trailing off into a drawn-out groan that was definitely Miller.
As much as it killed him to hear it, at least it meant Miller was still alive.
Being as quiet as he could while hurrying up the driveway, Michael kept his eyes peeled for any movement in his periphery.
He made it to the door unscathed and took a moment to catch his breath. The others should be here in the next few minutes. He could wait… but what if Miller didn’t have minutes?
Trusting Frank was on his way, Michael crept inside.
The hallway was narrow but thankfully empty. Three rooms branched off it, that Michael could see, before it disappeared around the corner.
He ducked inside the first one, gun raised, and found it empty. Same with the second.
Blood dripped onto the tiled floor as he walked, and Michael tried not to think about it. The bullet went through from what he could tell—easy to patch up as long as he made it out of there in one piece.
The final door loomed up ahead of him as he crept towards it. Pushing it open slowly, his breath caught at the sight of Miller slumped on the floor, propped up against the side of a sofa. Five slashes across his chest bled far too quickly for Michael’s liking.
So White had changed.
Where the fuck was he then?
Miller’s eyes drifted open. As he slowly focused on Michael, they widened in alarm, his gaze darting to someone else in the room hidden from Michael’s view.
If it was White, he’d already know Michael was there.
Figuring he had nothing to lose, he raised his gun and pushed the door open wide and ran in.
“SCTF!” he yelled, taking in the room with one practised look.
Another body lay face down on the floor, a few feet away from Miller, not moving. Blood pooled out from underneath him, spreading across the wooden floor. The rest of the room was empty, so he hurried over to Miller, crouching down in front of him.
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