by Dannika Dark
When my back grew sore, I sat on the bench. It had been misting all afternoon, so the room was damp and stuffy—especially with a wolf panting. Reno had done a good job installing a ventilation tube in this one that ran above ground. It reminded me of one of those submarine periscopes—only it had a screen on each end to keep out the insects. It was affixed to a nearby tree and obscured with leaves. He would have constructed them all that way except he didn’t have time to fully test it to make sure it didn’t bring in water or mosquitoes.
I wasn’t sure what was keeping me from opening the hatch, but a feeling of dread swept over me.
“It’s quiet out there,” I whispered to Jericho’s wolf.
He trotted over and sniffed the seam along the door.
Thunder rumbled—the kind that got louder toward the end and vibrated the walls.
“I hope that was your stomach,” I said quietly.
I’d lost all sense of time, so I lifted the hatch to peer out.
Still daytime.
A light rain tapped against the canopy of leaves overhead, though not many drops had yet made it to the ground.
At first I thought everyone had returned to their posts, but we were on a set schedule, and that wasn’t the plan.
Jericho’s wolf pushed his nose farther through the opening. He wasn’t showing any signs of aggression, but the rain would make it impossible to detect anything farther than ten or twenty feet away.
I brushed my hair out of my eyes and searched the room for my gun belt. Moving around with a large belly in such a confined space proved challenging, and I’d scraped my knees more than once on the hard floor. I lowered the hatch door and strapped on the harness, butterflies circling in my stomach. I felt more protected with Jericho at my side than with a gun.
I stretched my black shirt back over my stomach, but it didn’t do well at covering the gun.
Jesus. I looked like I was concealing a black bowling ball.
I lifted the door all the way and climbed out while Jericho’s wolf sprang ahead of me and circled the campsite.
An empty can of beans lay on its side to my right; Austin had a strict rule about cleaning up. In the center of the site, there were deep tracks all around.
“Deer?” I murmured aloud. “No, those are too big to be a deer. Maybe a horse.”
Jericho’s wolf followed the trail with his nose pressed to the wet earth. He quickly lifted his head and looked north, a piece of mud clinging to his nostril. He sneezed, and I followed him to the creek. His wolf was light brown with cream and orange markings, and I thought how interesting it was that all the men in the pack were unique—except for the twins.
Relief washed over me when I saw Wheeler sleeping on his stomach across a stretch of clothes. He was pale, naked, and dewy from all the mist. The tattoos on his arms and back gave the illusion of a shirt.
I glanced around, but Naya’s panther was nowhere in sight.
Jericho’s wolf nipped at Wheeler’s arms, rousing him from sleep.
“Hey!” Wheeler grumbled, lifting his head and blinking awake.
I anchored my hands on my lower back and rubbed at the tense muscles. “I don’t know if Austin filled you in, but Hendrix and my mom are at Lorenzo’s house.”
He yanked on his camouflage pants and rubbed a little sand off his face. “Where’s Naya?”
My nerves rattled with that question. “You mean she’s not hunting? Everyone at the camp is gone.”
Wheeler scanned the woods while strapping on his shoulder harness. “If that’s the case, then they’re luring the enemy away.”
“Why? Because I’m the prize hog?”
He knelt by the creek, cupping his right hand in the water and taking a drink. “What woke you?”
“The quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m not a fan myself.” He stood up and scraped his teeth across his bottom lip. “If Austin didn’t wake me, then he either had to move fast or he wanted me to stay behind with you and Jericho. Without knowing where the danger is, we need to stay put.”
“I saw some tracks at the campsite. Maybe a horse, but I didn’t see the shape of horseshoes, so I can’t be sure.”
He smirked. “What’s the matter? Skip the homework assignment on animal tracks?”
“Yeah. I decided to do the oral presentation on shut the fuck up.”
Wheeler laughed and lightly took my arm. “Now I know why we get along so famously. Show me those tracks.”
When we reached the campsite, he knelt down and touched the circle of prints, pressing his fingers along the outer edges. “That’s definitely from a horse, but I’m willing to bet my left nut it’s from a Shifter.”
I patted his back. “One of these days, you’re going to lose that bet. Why don’t you put on a shirt? You don’t exactly blend in with the scenery.”
He rose to his feet. “You should talk.”
“Are you kidding me? I could lie down and pretend to be a small hill.”
Wheeler grabbed a bottle of water and took a swig. “Get your pack in case we have to move,” he said quietly, eyeing the tree stand where Lennon was hiding out.
I grabbed my bag off the bench, and by the time I turned, Wheeler was halfway up the tree.
“He’s not here,” Wheeler said, sounding confused.
Which meant we had neither a lookout nor someone to cover us. “There must be a lot of them,” I said to myself.
Wheeler jumped down, a penetrating gaze in his eyes. “Let’s head back to the creek.”
“You don’t think I should hide in the bunker?”
He took my bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Mayhap I don’t believe women should hide from anything. Naya’s things are down there, and I want to see if she left any tracks.”
I rubbed the wet drizzle from my arms and followed behind him. Jericho’s wolf raced ahead, his nose in the air and his ears perking in different directions. Wolves were intelligent creatures who—unlike a domesticated dog—knew that barking would disclose the pack’s location to their enemy.
When we reached the bank, Jericho’s wolf growled, and his lips peeled back.
Wheeler knelt beside him and hooked his arm around the wolf’s neck. “What is it?”
Without warning, his wolf lunged, knocking Wheeler onto his back. Wheeler caught Jericho by the hind legs and flipped him over, but the wolf clawed and fought to run. He sank his teeth into Wheeler’s hand, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
Wheeler retracted his hand and grimaced. “Dammit! Just go!”
Jericho took off to the right like a streak of lightning.
“What’s gotten into him?” I asked, looking around at the empty woods. “Why would he bite you?”
Wheeler crawled to where his T-shirt and Naya’s things were and used a knife to tear away a strip of fabric. He wrapped it around his hand to stanch the bleeding. “Izzy’s in trouble. That’s the only explanation—the only reason he’d take off and leave us.”
“That means they must be up the creek.”
He lifted the bags. “Yeah. Shit creek.”
I marched in the direction Jericho had gone, leaving Wheeler behind.
“Hold up!” He ran to my side. “We don’t walk alone, and let’s move into the woods. We’re target practice out here.”
Jericho would have only reacted that way if Izzy was in danger, and staying behind would have been the cowardly thing to do. Aside from that, the camp was littered with trash, and the tracks were like breadcrumbs leading up to the bunker.
After a fifteen-minute hike, Wheeler forced me to rest. When I protested, his eyes flashed with irritation, and he threatened to rope me to a tree if I didn’t take it easy.
How could I take it easy? Austin was out there somewhere, and what if he needed me? What about my mom? My sister? My packmates?
We’d kept to the right side of the creek, periodically stopping to look for tracks and listen for any sounds.
Wheeler tossed a stick into the middle of the creek. “We need
to cross to the other side.”
“Why didn’t you suggest this when we started? The water’s deeper and wider here.”
He stroked his beard. “Our territory is running out on this side of the creek. We’re not walking a straight line. If you remember the map, the creek moves to the right-hand corner of the territory, so we’re boxing ourselves in.”
I slicked my hands across my damp hair. “Maybe you should build a canoe.”
His smile withered, and he spun around. “There it is again. Did you hear that?”
“Squirrel?”
“A squirrel that’s been following us for the past ten minutes,” he said quietly. “Maybe they’re using them as scouts.”
The thought made me want to laugh hysterically.
My heart took off like a rocket when something long and black slithered through the trees. “Snake!”
Wheeler blocked my view and hustled toward the fallen tree. He bent over, and my mind raced with visions of black mambas and king cobras—neither of which were indigenous to the backwoods of Texas.
“That’s no snake,” he yelled in a flat voice. Wheeler turned, holding something under his arm.
“Spartacus?”
Wheeler stepped over thorny bushes, careful not to drop the cat. Sparty’s eyes were like golden rings around black holes. He was one of those animals who gave me the creeps, with no redeeming qualities that I could list. He lost out in the cuddly looks department, and he didn’t contribute to the house in any way unless you counted washing the floor by tipping over all the glasses. He also slept in unusual and inappropriate places. I once had the nightmare scared out of me when I opened up a kitchen cabinet and found him sleeping in a casserole dish.
“What are we going to do with him?” I asked.
Wheeler gave me an impassive look. “Toss him in the river?”
“Naya would skin you alive.”
He set the cat down. “I don’t think he’ll blow our cover. He’s been pretty stealthy up until now, and nobody’s going to pay attention to a cat.”
I touched my stomach and smiled.
Wheeler approached. “What is it?”
I took his hand and placed it on the left side. The baby was kicking hard enough that you could visibly see my skin moving.
His eyes widened. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Not unless I get kicked in the bladder.”
He shook his head and backed up a step. “Out of all the magic that exists in the Breed world, that’s the truest magic there is.”
“I’ve never heard you so profound.”
Wheeler had his moments sometimes, and this was one of them. He tried to hide his sensitive nature beneath all those tattoos and the tough attitude, but I got glimpses of it now and again.
A dove call interrupted us, and we looked toward the creek. Reno stood on the other side, waving at us.
Then I heard a sound coming from behind us that sent terror up my spine.
Wolves.
By their baying, I could tell they were fast approaching, and we had only seconds to make a decision.
Wheeler held my hand, and we treaded through the water.
“Wait!” I jerked his hand. “We can’t leave Spartacus.”
“Come on! Get your asses moving!” Reno bellowed.
Wheeler turned toward the cat. “What the fresh hell…”
Five wolves materialized, but before they made it to the water, Spartacus incited a chase and took them on a scenic tour. This cat didn’t climb a tree like any normal feline being pursued by wolves, but he weaved around them like a skilled athlete and then ran up the smallest tree in the woods.
One of the wolves vanished and yelped when he landed at the bottom of the trap. Spartacus made an elegant walk across a branch and leapt to an adjacent tree, stirring up the wolves below and causing another to fall into the trap.
Wheeler shook his head. “That cat is my damn hero.” He gripped my hand. “Let’s go!”
We splashed across the water, and as we neared the center, Wheeler slowed and moved ahead of me, testing the depth.
“Hold your gun over your head.”
I didn’t know much about guns, but I did as he asked. When the water reached my breasts, I had second thoughts about turning back. I wasn’t sure how buoyant I was with my passenger.
Reno dropped his gun belt and charged in, water splashing all around him as he pushed himself forward. Wheeler took my gun, and they exchanged places, Reno securing his arm around my waist and escorting me to shore like the hero that he was.
Wheeler had made it safely out, and his pants looked painted on, streams of water dripping from his backpack.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Reno said. “I’m about to give you an express ride.”
I held on, and Reno lifted me up, his arms around my waist and every muscle in his body rock hard as he pushed his way through the current of water until we reached the other side. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, and when he set me down, he wasted no time in strapping his weapons back on.
The wolves howled and snarled on the other side, one of them attempting to cross the water but quickly turning back when he lost his footing in the current.
I squeezed the water from my hair while Wheeler rummaged through his pack. “Do you think Spartacus will be okay?”
He didn’t have to ask what I meant. I could see the flash of guilt on his face. Wheeler pretended as if he hated that cat, but deep down, he had an unspoken affection toward the feline. It wasn’t just about fearing Naya’s reaction if something happened to him; Wheeler cared for a scrawny black cat named Spartacus who had won his heart.
“He’s a tough little guy. He’ll be fine.”
Reno gazed across the creek. “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch.”
“Huh?”
He pointed and shook his head. “I’m seeing it, but I don’t believe it. That cat is swimming across the goddamn river.”
Wheeler rose to his feet, his mouth agape.
Naya’s little water baby was paddling across that creek like a champion. He looked relaxed with his pink tongue poking out and a determined look in his eyes. The wolves paced frenetically on the opposite side of the water.
Wheeler waded out and retrieved the black cat from the water, setting him on his shoulder. Spartacus was sopping wet and looked grateful to be reunited with his family. He climbed onto Wheeler’s backpack and clung on for dear life.
Reno grabbed his phone from his bag and took a quick snapshot. “That one’s going to replace mine on the mantel.”
Wheeler patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll find a special place to put the bunny-slipper shot.”
Reno gave him a harsh glare. “A bonfire sounds good to me.”
Wheeler chuckled darkly. “The Internet sounds even better.”
***
An hour later, we reached the new campsite and collapsed from exhaustion. Reno kept in touch with Austin and sent him a message to let him know the package was safe.
I was the package.
Reno filled us in on what had happened while Jericho and I were sleeping at the old site—a scout had wandered into the area but ran off before they could catch him. Realizing he would draw the rogues to our location, Austin made the decision to go head-to-head with them. He didn’t want the rogues finding all our bunkers, and Reno said it would be a bad move if we had all packed up and run.
The way Reno saw it, a man should never put himself in a position where he’s the prey. It was a smart move. I would have slowed down the pack, and their hunters would have caught up with us.
I sat next to Reno and leaned against the tree, not even caring that the bark was digging into my back, and a stick was poking me in the butt.
We watched Wheeler attempting to set up a tent.
“Reno, will you send a message to Lorenzo and let my mom know we’re okay? She worries.”
“No sweat.”
Wheeler hurled a metal pole and
cursed.
“Maybe you should help him,” I whispered to Reno.
He chuckled. “It’s more fun if I don’t.”
I scooted forward and tucked my bag behind my back to give me some lumbar support.
“They should be here in fifteen,” Reno said, staring at his phone. “No one severely injured this time.”
“How many did we get?”
“Seven.” He rubbed at the weathered lines on his face and then got out the solar charger.
“How is it a small pack like ours can take on so many?”
“Because we’re badass,” Wheeler said, shaking out the tent.
Reno tied the lace of his boot, making sure that each string was even. “Judas didn’t factor in how time and impatience can make a man weak. You also can’t throw a bunch of strangers into a group and expect them to fight like brothers. Shifter wolves don’t work like that. There’s a hierarchy, and you can bet your ass there are men fighting for rank within each unit. We’ll die for each other. They won’t. That’s what makes them weak.”
“Whoa!” April screamed, flashing into the campsite and tripping over Wheeler.
I giggled when Wheeler lay on the pile of tent poles with his arms and legs outstretched. He’d clearly relinquished his role as tent assembler.
April bounced to her feet. “This Mage thing comes in handy. I think I’ve got the hang of running on uneven ground as long as I concentrate, but it’s hard to stop when there’s something in the way,” she said, nudging Wheeler with the toe of her shoe.
Her short hair was windblown and away from her face, and she looked like a little soldier in her military gear.
April sauntered over and took a seat between Reno and me, giving him a short kiss before turning her attention to my belly. “How are you feeling?”
“I could go for steak and potatoes, but otherwise, I’m great.”
Wheeler groaned. “I could go for a bed.”
April unlaced her boots. “I could go for a new pair of shoes. We should have broken these in before all this started. I’ve got blisters, and without sunlight…”