Wild Blood: The Trueborn Saga Book 1

by Samantha Wolfe

  "What agenda?" I asked warily, half afraid to know.

  "He wasn't a werewolf, but he wanted to be one. The devious fucker was power hungry and wanted to lead the pack, even though he had no right to it." His grim expression turned livid, and his voice turned vicious. "He also convinced the Alpha that any wild blood woman, including your mother, should be used as a breeding stock for the pack."

  "What?!" Beck blurts out fiercely as my sisters gasp. I hear Wyatt snarl savagely.

  I stare at Dad in slack-jawed shock as Mom sobs even harder, then still as realization hits me. I know exactly why Chavez hired Raven now, why he doggedly wanted her at the bar again, and the very idea makes me feel ill. He must have somehow thought she was a wild blood human like I originally did. He must be here to collect her for this Bravas fucker for the same sick reason he wanted my mother.

  "That's why he wants Raven," I say, before an instant and violent rage takes hold of me, riling up the wolf's protective instincts and shoving the man's logic and reasoning aside. I feel my teeth ache and my skin prickle with the threat of sprouting fur, and know that my eyes are pure silver now. I have to get to my mate. Now. I have to rend and tear and destroy any threat to her. Kill, kill, kill.

  Without a thought, I turn and push my way past Beck and Wyatt to stride across the room, intent on getting to Raven. Before I can even exit the living room, a large hand lands on my shoulder and jerks me to a sudden halt. I snarl and whirl on whoever dared to stop me, ready for a fight, and find that it's Wyatt. His face is just as livid as mine, his eyes glowing with the bright gold fire of his wolf.

  "We're going with you," he growls out, his voice rough and vehement.

  "We all are," Harmony adds just as fiercely, her eyes flaring gold too.

  "She's one of us now," Beck adds as Lyric nods in agreement, their eyes glowing gold and silver, respectively.

  "She's pack," Dad says as his eyes burn with silver fire. "And no one hurts one of our own." His face turns hard and forbidding, along with his tone. "No one."

  "Like hell I'm being left out of this," Brandon barks from my phone's speaker, his voice tight with anger.

  Dad glances at it. "Cade, I hope you understand that you can't be a cop right now. This is pack business, and getting the police involved threatens our existence here. You need to understand that this Chavez, whoever and whatever he is, can't be allowed to live."

  "I'm not a cop right now," Brandon replies fiercely. "I'm a pissed off father who doesn't give a fuck what happens to that piece of shit. No one fucks with my baby girl."

  "Then we'll meet you at Rowdy's," Dad says.

  "I'm already on my way," Brandon growls out before ending the call.

  Dad straightens and surveys the room. "Wyatt, you take Beck and Emmett. I'll take the girls." He looks down at Mom, his face softening. "Honey, will you be okay here alone?"

  Mom lifts her head from Dad's chest, tears still streaming down her reddened cheeks as her eyes grow flinty. "I'll be fine," she says, her voice only wavering a little, then looks at me. "Just don't let that bastard have her."

  "Over my dead body," I assure her in a low rasping growl, before we hurriedly rush from the room and out of the house.

  Whether my mother is referring to Chavez or this Bravas guy as that bastard, it doesn't matter. I'll destroy every threat against my mate, every last one, or die trying.

  32

  EMMETT

  Wyatt's white Dodge Ramcharger roars down the dark country road toward Rowdy's Tavern with me fidgeting in the passenger seat since I can't seem to sit still. All I can think about is my Raven, who's vulnerable since she hasn't reached the full strength of a werewolf yet, and what that fucker could be doing to her. He could be a werewolf or a mage for all we know. The thought of her getting taken away from me, hurt, or even worse, fucking kills me.

  I never should have let her leave my side until I knew she'd shed the last of her human weaknesses. I ball my hands into fists in my lap as the fear and anger start goading my wolf into a rage again. I glance at myself in the side mirror and see my eyes burning fiery silver. It feels like he's boiling under my skin, and my teeth have already grown longer and sharper. It's all I can do not to shift right here in Wyatt's truck, and I close my eyes as I fight it. I hear Beck's smooth and even voice and try to focus on it to calm myself down.

  Beck is in the center of the bench seat in the back of the old SUV. He's been leaning forward between the front bucket seats volleying our older brother with questions about our old pack for the last few miles. I haven't been paying much attention to any of them up until now. I don't remember anything since I was three years old when we left. Beck was five at the time and might remember a little, but our older brother would have been eight when we moved here and had to remember more than Beck did.

  "Do you remember the old pack at all?" he asks Wyatt in an exasperated tone, since I imagine our brother is being his normal laconic self in this conversation and saying very little.

  "No," Wyatt says sharply as his face shutters, and his mouth hardens into a flat line. "Besides that bastard's name, all I remember is being scared to death when Dad dragged us out of our home in the middle of the night while Mom cried her eyes out. Same as you."

  "But-" Beck continues.

  "Enough," Wyatt cuts him off with stern finality, his big hands tightening on the steering wheel as he stares grimly at the road ahead. "I'm done talking about it."

  Beck retreats back into his seat with a huff, but doesn't argue or press the issue. He knows better. Wyatt is as stubborn as they come, and when he says he's done with something, he's fucking done. Besides, Rowdy's Tavern has just come into view up ahead anyway. As we approach, I immediately notice that the parking lot in front of the bar is empty. Fuck, that's not good...not good at all.

  "What the hell?" Beck says as Wyatt pulls in with Dad's silver crew cab right behind us. "There's no one here."

  "Pull around to the back," I say with a panicked edge. "That's where her truck will be." Please let it be there...please.

  As we come around the back corner of the building, I see Raven's gray Ford Ranger and one other larger pickup truck, but no other vehicles. My relief is short lived when I hear Luna's wailing and high-pitched howls. I whip my door open and leap out of Wyatt's truck before he's even pulled to a complete stop. I rush over and pull open the driver's side door of the Ranger, and the little husky, who's the only occupant, flings herself off the seat and into my arms. I try to comfort her as she licks my neck and chin while still crying. My mate's scent is fairly strong in the vehicle, so it hasn't been that long since she got out of it. I glance into the interior and see Raven's purse abandoned on the floor of the passenger side. I feel sick at the sight of it.

  The sound of tires crunching on gravel catches my attention next, and I look over to see a police cruiser pulling in behind my dad's truck as he and my sisters climb out of it. Luna immediately begins struggling in my arms, and when I set her down on the ground, she darts over to the cruiser just as Brandon steps out. He squats and greets the frantic dog as he glances at his daughter's truck then meets my eyes with a questioning expression.

  I respond with a small shake of my head. He presses his lips together and nods once, then picks Luna up and comes to stand beside me, along with my father and my siblings, and peers inside the Ranger. He sighs deeply, then quickly puts Luna into the truck again. She starts yelping as he shuts the door, but I agree with his choice since I don't want that dog getting hurt anymore than he does.

  He glances at me, then we both turn to look at the building. Brandon draws his pistol, and without a word or a conscious thought, we head straight for the bar's back door with the others following in our wake.

  When we reach the door, I try the lever to find that it's not even locked. I look to my father for direction along with everyone else, including Raven's father, who's no fool. Rett Weylin is running this show.

  "Em, you get the door, then Wyatt goes in first while you
and I follow," Dad says in a firm commanding tone. "Then Cade next with Beck and the girls bringing up the rear."

  "You don't need to babysit me," Brandon growls out as he gives my dad a fierce scowl. "I can take care of myself," he adds as he lifts his pistol to prove his point.

  "I know that," Dad explains calmly. "But if Chavez is a werewolf like I suspect, then that gun won't do you a damn bit of good against him." He nods meaningfully toward me. "You've seen that for yourself."

  Brandon meets my eyes as his face blanches with a grimace of what I imagine is equal parts fear of what we're walking into and guilt over shooting me the other day. "Point taken," he replies soberly.

  Dad nods and looks to me expectantly. I glance at Wyatt, who's already moved up next to me in readiness, then pull the door open. I watch my brother and father slip quietly into the building, before following after them with Brandon and the others right behind me.

  The interior is eerily empty with the juke box playing in the background as we move farther into the large room. Amid the usual scents of stale cigarettes and greasy food, I can pick out Raven's sweet scent and the cloying stench of what must be some horrible men's cologne. From what Raven told me, Chavez wears that shit. Underneath all that is the hint of blood and fear that smells familiar, but thankfully doesn't belong to my mate. Nothing seems odd or out of place except for one chair overturned near the bar. A faint noise draws my attention, and I freeze along with my father and siblings as a low groan comes from the open door that's across the room next to the bar. Brandon stops as well, looking confused since his human ears can't hear it, but wisely stays quiet.

  Dad, Wyatt, and I move forward, silently hurrying toward the distressed sound. Wyatt cautiously peers around the door frame when we reach it, then nods and waves the rest of us onward. The short hallway is empty, but another faint groan comes from an open door farther down the hall. We move toward it as the nasty cologne smell grows even stronger along with the scent of blood. We pass a storage room with no sign or scent of anyone in it, before we finally make it to the second door.

  I look inside as I hear another low groan and immediately recognize the form sprawled out on the floor in front of an old metal desk. It's Brett the bartender, and it appears that someone beat the shit out of him. I rush toward him as Dad and Wyatt eye the rest of the room for threats. The cologne smell is so strong in this room that I can taste it, and I barely fight down a sneezing fit. Disgusting. This must be Chavez's office, and I can't tell if he's human or a werewolf with the cologne overpowering every other scent in the small room.

  "Brett?" I kneel next to Brett, reticent to touch him for fear of hurting him.

  His one good eye slowly opens amid the mass of swollen and bruised flesh to focus on me. Blood oozes from his mouth and hairline. He looks like hell.

  "He...he took her," he rasps out, then his eye drifts shut as his consciousness starts to fade.

  "Who?" I demand sharply, startling him enough to stay with me.

  "Ch...Chavez," he whispers.

  "He took Raven?" Brandon asks as he drops to his knees next to me.

  "My...my car..." he continues with a slight nod.

  "He took Raven or he took your car?" I ask impatiently.

  "B...both." Brett sucks in a ragged breath.

  "What happened?" Brandon asks demandingly. "Where did he take her?"

  "Don't...don't know." Brett moans in pain again as he struggles to sit up. "Overheard him...t...talking about killing Rowdy...on the...on the phone." He gasps in a breath with a very obvious wince as I help him. "Caught me listening and...and dragged me back here when I tried to get outside to my...to my car. He...was...b...beatin' me when...when she showed up early..." He lets out another deep groan as he leans back against the desk. "Hit her...d...drugged her...took my keys...took her..."

  "What's your car's make and model?" Brandon says. "And the plate number?"

  "Chevy...Chevy Malibu..." Brett rattles off his license plate number and trails off as his eye flutters closed, and he pants to catch his breath.

  Brandon reaches for the radio strapped to his chest.

  "You can't call this in, Cade," my father says sharply as he gives Brandon a pointed look.

  Brandon shoots Dad a hard glare and opens his mouth to argue.

  "We can call an ambulance for Brett," Dad cuts him off, "but you can't call in Raven's kidnapping, and you know why."

  Brandon sighs, then nods as his expression quickly morphs into resignation. If Raven needs to shift to protect herself, our secret could be exposed. Our existence here and our lives depend on it staying a secret. Not to mention the lives that would be in danger if Chavez is a werewolf too. His fellow officers wouldn't stand a chance against him, even in human form.

  Dad steps forward and kneels next to me. "Brett," he barks out sharply.

  The poor battered bartender startles, then moans in pain and forces his eye open to focus on my father.

  "Are you sure you didn't hear where he's taking her?"

  "I...I...didn't," he answers in a harsh whisper. "Sorry." He closes his eye and goes quiet as his head lolls to the side. I assume he's passed out.

  "Now what the fuck do we do?" I ask fiercely, my voice coming out in a harsh snarl. "He could be anywhere doing God knows fucking what to her."

  Impotent rage rises up inside me, the wolf and man feeling equally frustrated and helpless. I close my eyes and clench my hands into fists as I fight the shift again. I end up rocking back and forth and growling under my breath with the effort as I try to push the wolf back down.

  "Easy, son," my father soothes as he places a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  Brandon surprisingly does the same from my other side. It actually helps and after a few moments, I manage to get a grip on myself.

  "What do we do, Dad?" I ask in a wavering voice, then look up at Brandon. "What do we do?"

  "Track...track my car," Brett rasps out in a strained whisper.

  "What?" I blurt out.

  "I...I have st..stolen vehicle assistance," he explains weakly as he meets my gaze.

  I look over to see a maniacal grin suddenly spread wide across Brandon's face. I glance to my other side to see a similar expression on my father's face. I'm missing something here.

  "What?" I ask guilelessly.

  "If his car gets stolen it can be tracked through GPS," Brandon explains with a smug gleam in his eyes. "They can even slow and stop the vehicle, then block it from being restarted."

  "If you give me a phone, I can call," Brett says, shifting with a tight grimace of pain as he grabs at his side.

  Brandon frowns, reaching for his radio. "I think I need to call you an ambulance first."

  "No," Brett rasps out abruptly. "I can...I can wait. Find that murdering bastard and save the girl first." His one good eye takes on a bloodthirsty edge as he looks at all of us meaningfully. "Make him...make him pay for killing Rowdy, and I won't mention I saw any of you here."

  "Deal," I reply without hesitation as my father nods in agreement.

  Brandon hands Brett his phone, and within moments, they're on a conference call with one of the company's advisors. Brett verifies his account, then Brandon identifies himself as a police officer and explains that Brett's car was stolen. A few moments later, the woman on the line says that they've located the vehicle traveling southeast on a highway just east of Harrisville.

  Brandon requests having the vehicle stopped, and I'm already hurrying toward the door with my family when he gives me a grim nod. He can't come with us, and he knows it. As much as I'm sure that he'd like to exact his own pound of flesh from the man who abducted his daughter, he can't be a part of what's coming next. Plausible deniability and all that.

  Within moments, I'm back in Wyatt's truck as he follows Dad out onto the road. Lyric and Harmony are behind us in Raven's truck, so there's no proof she was here tonight. My brother floors the accelerator, and the big engine roars to life just as three pairs of wild and completely inhuma
n eyes blaze with fiery bloodlust in the darkness.

  No matter what happens next, this Chavez fucked with the wrong pack.

  He's a fucking dead man.

  He just doesn't know it yet.

  33

  RAVEN

  I'm in darkness as I blink my eyes open, feeling sluggish and confused with my head aching. I hear an engine running and feel the sensation of motion as I lie on my right side with rough scratchy carpeting under my cheek and one arm. I smell gasoline and the strong stench of cologne that's oddly familiar, yet I can't seem to think clearly enough to identify it. When I try to move my arms apart, I can't. I struggle some more until I realize that my wrists are bound together in front of me with what I think must be a zip tie.

  Panicked fear floods my body in an icy shock, waking my muddled brain enough to make sense of what's going on. Holy shit, I've been kidnapped and thrown in the trunk of a car, and I don't even know by who since they hit me in the head from behind. My body feels leaden and out of sorts, and I start wondering if there's more going on here than just a blow to the head. Have I been drugged too?

  Suddenly, I hear a phone ringing from what must be the interior of the car. Thanks to my new enhanced hearing I can make it out clearly.

  "Hello," a familiar male voice says, and my scrambled brain unsuccessfully tries to place it in the few moments it takes before he speaks again. "Yeah, I finally got her," the voice says sharply.

  That's when I recognize the voice with a soft gasp of shock. Even without the Texas drawl, that I now know was complete bullshit, I know Fernando Chavez's voice. What. The. Fuck. Why would he do this to me?

  "I've got it under control," he says next. "I drugged her, so she'll be out for the few hours it takes me to get her to you." Another pause. "No, I got out of there before the cops could show up and start asking questions. I took her phone and destroyed it too." He pauses to listen again, then makes a scoffing noise. "Those filthy dogs never had a fucking clue who I am or why I was there."