Me.
27
LYRIC
"Are you sure you won't go?" Harmony asks for the umpteenth time today, and my answer is still the same this evening as it was this morning.
"Yup." I plop down on the couch with my freshly made bowl of popcorn and snatch up the remote, pointedly ignoring her and my brother as they hover nearby. I can feel them staring at me. Whatever.
She huffs. "What are you going to do then? Shift and run around the backyard like an idiot when the moon's full?"
"So what if I do?" I finally look at her, and we stare long and hard at each other.
"That's enough," Wyatt finally says with a scowl directed my way, his huge arms crossed over his chest forbiddingly. "Let it go, Harm. She's obviously not going."
I can hear the edge of disappointment in his deep rumbling voice, but ignore the pang of guilt it causes me. I'm still pissed at Dad, and I'm not joining the pack hunt tonight if I have to see him there. Besides, I'm feeling sorry for myself not being able to see Ronan for the next few days, and I want to be left alone to wallow in it. I just have to suck it up until he calls to tell me we can be together again. I hope it's sooner than later though because I can't wait to be able to tell my family that I found my mate and for them to meet him. I can't wait until he can be a part of our pack and join the hunt with us. The thought of hunting with Ronan under the full moon sounds like heaven. Maybe next month we'll get our chance.
Harmony throws her arms up in frustration. "If she won't tell us why she's been acting crazy the last few days, she could at least tell us why she's so pissed off at Dad that she's not joining the hunt tonight."
"Not everything going on in our little sister's life is our business," Wyatt tells her then glances deliberately at me again. "Even if we're just worried about her."
Ouch. Damn that man can pack a wallop with just a few words.
"I'm sorry," I say softly with a pained expression. "I know I've been acting weird, but I'm not ready to talk to anyone about it just yet, but I will be soon." I sigh. "What happened between Dad and me has something to do with that, but we'll be fine. I just need some space and little time to calm down, and then I'll talk to him."
"Now was that so hard?" Harmony says as she throws her hands up in the air.
"Harm," Wyatt says gruffly in admonishment.
She whirls and points at him. "Be quiet you," she says with a sharp glare as her golden-brown eyes flash gold with her she-wolf.
Wyatt's eyes widen in surprise at my usually calm sister's irate attitude, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. He knows her better than anybody and realizes that he's playing with fire right now. It really takes a lot to piss off Harmony, but when it happens, it ain't pretty.
She turns toward me with a huff and flips her long sable hair back over one shoulder, her voice and demeanor suddenly calmer now, as if her little freak out never happened. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I say as I share a small knowing smile with my brother.
"We should go," Wyatt tells his sister, schooling his amused expression as she turns his direction again. "Dad's expecting us early since we're driving out that wolf before the hunt tonight."
"That what?" I ask.
"Dad scented a real wolf in the preserve the other day," Wyatt says.
"Really?" I frown with the sudden inkling of unease that hits me.
Harmony nods. "I can't believe one had the gall to move in on a trueborn pack's territory. The thing's lucky we're not just going to kill it on sight."
"Yeah," Wyatt replies as he ushers Harmony toward to the door. "It's pretty unusual for one to be here, but we can't let it stay. If it starts causing any trouble in the surrounding area outside the preserve, it could draw human attention to us that we sure as hell don't need." He opens the door for his sister. "Come on, we gotta go."
"We'll see you tomorrow," Harmony calls out as they walk outside with Wyatt waving his goodbye to me.
I sink back into the sofa with a sigh as the door finally closes behind them. Yet despite the relief I feel at finally being alone, I can't seem to shake the disquiet still rattling around in my head over the last bit of our conversation. I sit there for a few moments, trying to figure out why a real wolf wandering around the preserve would make me feel so unsettled, then suddenly jerk upright. Holy shit. Could the real wolf be Ronan with that enspelled pendant concealing his trueborn scent?
If that's true, why was he there? It doesn't make any sense. But more importantly, if Ronan is there tonight, the pack will know on sight, from his size and those cobalt eyes, that he's a rogue trueborn and probably realize he's magically masking his identity too. After what happened with Raven and Chavez a few weeks ago, the pack isn't going to ask questions or hesitate before they eliminate any threat to us that they find in our territory, and Ronan won't go down without one hell of a fight. No matter who comes out on top, someone I care about is going to get hurt or killed. I don't want that for anyone, not him or my family.
I leap to my feet and rush upstairs to my room, then snatch the burner phone off the nightstand where it's charging, intent on calling him. I know I promised not to contact him and wait for his call, but I need to find out what the hell is going on or at the very least warn him away from the Wolcott Nature Preserve tonight. I place the call, but immediately get a recorded message stating that the number has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. What the? I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it bafflement. Okay, so maybe he disconnected it and switched to a new one he can call me with later. That would make sense, but I still have this nagging disquieted feeling about it, and I know it won't go away until I see him and talk to him, regardless of what I agreed to yesterday.
My decision made, I swiftly throw on my boots and grab my purse, then hurry downstairs and out the door. Within moments, I'm in my truck and roaring down the road, my stomach churning with nerves the entire trip there. When I finally pull into the cabin's small clearing, my stomach sinks all the way into my toes when I see that Ronan's car is gone. I stop the truck in his empty spot and frown at the cabin's front door. Something's not right about this, I just know it, and before I realize what I'm doing I'm out of the vehicle and walking to the front door.
When I try the knob, it's unlocked, so I open it and walk inside to the still silence I expected. I breathe in and sigh at the familiar wild earthy scent of Ronan lingering in the cabin as I move farther into the kitchen. Ronan's duffel bag is sitting open on the table, along with the corner of a manila file folder peeking out from underneath, and a few sheets of paper scattered across the tabletop. I take a quick peek inside the duffel bag to find that the weapons Ronan usually kept in it are missing, and the only things inside are clothing and a few toiletries. Well, that must mean he's out looking for his parent's killer, and it makes me anxious with the possibility he might fail and get himself killed tonight, that he might never come back to me.
In an attempt to distract me from those disturbing thoughts, I glance over at the papers lying on the table. They're printed satellite images. Huh. Curious, I pull one of them closer and study it for a moment. The image of a thickly wooded area seems vaguely familiar to me, so I look at another one feeling the same sense of recognition, until I suddenly realize what I'm looking at. I blink in disbelief as I pick the paper up and stare at the overhead view of an area I know well, because I've spent my entire life in and around there. It's a section of the Wolcott Nature Preserve. What the fuck? I drop it back onto the table and begin sorting through all of them, only to realize they're all pictures of the preserve. There are even notes written on some of them in a messy and practically illegible scrawl that I have to assume is Ronan's. None of what I'm seeing makes sense. Why would Ronan have any reason to be there?
My eyes flick over at the file folder tucked under the duffel bag. Maybe the answer is there. I reach for it with a sudden heavy feeling of foreboding, my hand shaking and my stomach churning as I flip it open. I stare in confusion a
t a map of Wolcott and the surrounding area. There are several circles drawn on different spots on the map, and I scan over them. I recognize every single location, the Wolcott Diner downtown, our family's orchard, Rowdy's Tavern, and finally the most familiar location circled multiple times with harsh angry lines of ink that practically tear through the paper. It's my parent's home, and that feeling of sick foreboding becomes absolute terror as a sudden revelation punches me brutally in the gut.
Ronan is here to kill my father.
"No," I whisper breathlessly as I frantically shake my head, not wanting it to be true.
But I'm afraid it is, because no matter how much I don't want it to be, it's the only explanation that makes perfect sense. It has to be some sort of mistake on Ronan's part though. It has to be for him to think my dad killed his parents. There's just no way my father would do such a thing. Right? But then Dad's words from our argument the other day come back to me, and his vehemence and conviction as he spoke them.
"I've been forced to do things I never thought I was capable of for the sake of all of us, and to give all of you a future you would've never had without the sacrifices I've made. No matter who or what the threat is, I will do whatever I have to do to eliminate it and keep this family, this pack safe."
I don't want to believe it, but it could be true. I don't know much of anything about the events that led Dad to flee his old pack since it was before I was even born. He's never really talked about it, but I don't doubt at all that if Dad thought anyone was a threat to his family, he would do whatever he had to do to protect us, even kill if he felt he had no other choice. And if Ronan thought he'd found the man responsible for his parent's deaths, he'd do whatever he had to do to avenge them. When the two came together, I would either lose my father or the man I loved, and then I'd be left to figure out how to have any kind of relationship with the one who was responsible for the other's death. Hell, I might lose both and more if Wyatt and the others caught Ronan in the act or sought retribution.
I look down at the papers again and notice today's date at the top of each satellite image. Holy shit, did that mean he was going to the preserve tonight? I cover my mouth and back away from the table, feeling like I might throw up. I reach up and pull at my hair, feeling panicked and horrified. I can't let this happen...I can't. I have to stop it. I have to, so I surge forward and start frantically searching through the images, looking for any kind of clue to what Ronan's plans are on any of them.
Finally, I find a circle of ink on one of the pages near the edge of the preserve where I know there's a small access road. The words "point of entry" are written next to it. Without another thought, I snatch up the paper and race out of the cabin, noting that the sun is setting now and that the rising full moon won't be far behind it. Fuck, I need to hurry. I hop into my truck and take off like a bat out of hell for the Wolcott Nature Preserve, hoping I won't be too late to put a stop to this insanity.
28
RONAN
Loud and exuberant howls suddenly call out in the distance, under the newly risen full moon, and it stops me in my tracks. The pack's rousing song weaves in and around each other as their cries echo through the darkened forest around me. I prick my ears to listen more closely. Shit, I'm pretty sure I'm outnumbered by Weylin's pack by at least a half dozen to one, but it can't be helped. Hopefully, I can take Rett out while he's separated from the rest of the pack, and get away before any of the others even realize I was here. If not, I probably won't make it out of this alive, but it'll be worth it if I can take that murdering bastard along with me.
I swing my head around to pinpoint their location, then take off through the preserve in that direction. I plan on swinging around downwind, so I can catch Weylin's scent and track him when the pack splits up to search for the real wolf they think is in their territory. I move quickly yet quietly at a ground eating lope with my sword in its scabbard gripped tightly in my teeth. It's a bit awkward moving through the trees and undergrowth this way, but I'm not going to take a chance of relying only on my claws and fangs to get the job done. Plus, I'll need it to collect the proof of death Viktor Bravas requires to be delivered to him after the successful hit, Rett Weylin's head.
I'm very familiar with the area now, thanks to the satellite images I printed out from one of the Harrisville library's public computers earlier today. So I'd purposefully entered the Wolcott Nature Preserve on the south end, intending to come up behind the pack's planned route north from Weylin's home. So far, the slight breeze tonight has been in my favor, and no one appears to know I'm here. I even made a point of following a shallow stream into the preserve to obscure my scent trail, and I plan on using it again when I make my escape later.
Eventually, I reach a relatively open area where the grass and vegetation are tamped down by multiple sets of paws. The scent of trueborn werewolf is thick and strong here, and I work the area back and forth for a few minutes to locate Weylin's among the traces of the rest of the pack, including his children and my sister. I try not to dwell on the knowledge that I'm doing to his kids what that bastard did to me when he killed my father. I try not to think about the fact that if this hit goes south, I may very well find myself on the opposite side of a brutal fight against Raven. I'd rather let myself get killed than hurt her in any way.
Finally, I pick up Weylin's scent, and with a low eager growl, I follow his lone trail leading off deeper into the forest. Soon it will be over, and my life's mission will be complete, and if I survive I can finally move on to have a life of my own. I ignore the throbbing pain that hits me because I know my life after this doesn't include Lyric, like my heart and soul wish it could.
A low pathetic whine slips from my muzzle as a small part of me longs to steer away from this path I'm on, to change direction and hurry back to my mate, to let this vendetta go. But I can't. There's too much pain, too much guilt, eating me up inside to put a stop to this inevitable path I'm following. It's who I am now, a killer. I don't know anything else.
Yes, you do. You know love, and you know it with Lyric.
That abrupt thought has me slowing to a stop and nearly losing my resolve, just like all the other similar thoughts I've had since I lied and sent her away yesterday. The idea of never seeing her again, never touching her again, has me trembling with indecision and self-doubt. But no, I remind myself that I can never go back to Lyric. I can't have anything happening to her because of me. I have to end this and get as far away from her as possible. It's the only way, and I can't afford to fixate on any of the emotional shit in my head, so I push it aside and embrace the beast inside me instead. Thankfully, my wolf's influence on me is at its strongest under the full moon, and makes it easier to focus on the here and now, and I take off again.
Weylin's scent grows stronger as I track him, the bloodlust inside the man and the wolf in me rising higher with each step we draw nearer to our quarry. Soon I can hear him barreling loudly through the underbrush ahead of me, no doubt on purpose to announce his presence to the real wolf he's trying to drive out of his territory. It has the added benefit of helping mask the slight sound of my more stealthy approach.
I veer to one side to remain downwind as I grow even closer, and finally catch sight of him through the trees as he pauses just inside a small clearing. I freeze in my tracks for fear he'll hear me and study him from where I'm still hidden from view among the trees and underbrush. We're of a similar size, Weylin's dark-gray wolf and mine, and as I watch he lifts his grizzled muzzle to the sky, sifting the breeze with his ears swiveling all around. He lifts a paw in uncertainty, and I can't help wondering if he can somehow feel the seething hate and animosity roiling off me that's directed squarely at him. I'm trembling with it and the effort it takes to rein in my wolf's eyes from flashing cobalt with my rage and giving my presence away.
After another moment of hesitation, Weylin starts trotting confidently across the clearing, angling off from my location with his back toward me. I may not get a better opportuni
ty than this, and as the breeze starts to shift, potentially carrying my scent to my target, I make my move. I surge into the clearing as quietly as I can and charge straight at him. At the last second, I drop my sword and just as Weylin turns at the thump of it hitting the ground, I slam into his side with a vicious snarl and send him tumbling across the leaf litter.
I don't give him even a moment to recover as I whirl around to lash out with fangs bared and draw first blood, slicing open a long shallow gash along his side. He instantly retaliates, righting himself with an angry growl and snapping at my throat, but I'm already dancing away out of his reach.
I charge back in, not wanting to give him a chance to call out for his pack, and we crash together again in a writhing snarling mass of teeth and claws. I taste blood as I sink my fangs into his flank, and feel white-hot fire as he rips open a wound on one of my shoulders. We break apart again to circle each other warily, and I'm pleased to see dark blood soaking into the fur on his side where I tagged him. I can feel warm wetness oozing down my left front leg as pain burns like fire in my shoulder. But the injury isn't enough to stop me, all it does is piss me off and strengthen my resolve to end this quickly.
Weylin's body is already coiling for another attack with his eyes glowing an angry brilliant silver. However, when our eyes meet, his abruptly widen in what looks like confusion. He hesitates for only a fraction of a second, and I immediately exploit it and launch myself at him in another attack. I plow into him and knock him off balance enough to give me the advantage, laying into him with slashing fangs and raking claws with blood flying everywhere. He retaliates by slashing deeply into my hip, but I manage to twist around and get a hold of one of his forelegs with my mouth. I revel in the feel of bones grinding and cracking between my teeth as the leg breaks. Weylin's loud yelp of pain makes my bloodlust sing through my veins. I release his now useless limb, and lash out again, this time ripping into the side of his neck. Blood gushes into my mouth this time, and I know one twist of my head would end this now, but I release my hold and step back as Rett collapses to the forest floor with his life's blood streaming from his neck.
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