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“Maybe you should try calling Tank?” I offered three hours later as we sped along the final leg of our journey toward home. I was driving the shiny new sedan that was superior to Old Red in every way...at least from Gunner’s point of view.
Not that we’d had time to argue about his vehicular decision. Instead, Gunner was trying to figure out what had happened at clan central during our absence, a task made significantly more difficult when everyone refused to answer their phones. Even Kira’s texts had transitioned from vague to outright evasive as the afternoon faded closer and closer toward night.
Adding to our stress levels, there were werewolves who didn’t belong scattered all along the drive home. First, the scent of fur had surrounded us at a service station well into Atwood territory where we’d stopped to fill my new car with gas. Old Red would have required refueling long before then, making me grudgingly admit that the new car’s improved gas efficiency would save me money in the long run—money I wouldn’t have to ask Gunner for.
Still, I refused to name our current ride, instead keeping my attention riveted on our surroundings. Sure enough, a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye an hour later had resolved into a trio of unfamiliar wolves racing down the side of the interstate as if they owned the place.
“Not ours,” Gunner had confirmed when I glanced in his direction. But we hadn’t stopped to investigate. We couldn’t afford to get sidetracked when the replies from Kira had stopped arriving by that point.
No wonder Gunner couldn’t quite manage to come up with human words as he growled out a curt reply to my suggestion to call his most trusted lieutenant. Of course, he’d already tried Tank half a dozen times over the course of our travels. That went without saying. But it was better that he beat his head against the cell phone than turn four-legged and feral as I drove.
Then we were there, the unmarked driveway disappearing into darkness beneath the glowering tree canopy. Gunner’s hand—almost a paw—landed atop my arm as I prepared to flick on the headlights. “No,” he ordered. “Park here.”
Obediently, I pulled over and shut off the engine. Rolled down my window and listened to the night. It was quieter than it should have been, as if wildlife had fled in the face of a terrifying predator—like the wolf who now appeared by my side.
Gunner hadn’t bothered to undress before shifting, and he wriggled out of his clothes as he stepped across my lap. The boxer shorts landing on my knee might have been intimate under other circumstances. As it was, I knew Gunner was merely angling for the window so he could make his escape.
“Wait,” I told him...and he did wait just long enough for me to crack open the car door so we could disembark together. With a whisper of magic, my star ball materialized into my hand then solidified into the reassuring mass of a sword’s hilt. At last, I was armed and ready to take off down the road at a run.
Only Gunner halted our forward motion a second time. Taking my left hand into his jaws as gently as if I was made of tissue paper, he pulled me off the road, through a hanging curtain of ivy...and onto a trail I hadn’t known existed before today.
Which would have been no surprise if our move-in day had been my first introduction to Atwood territory. But Kira and I had come here at least half a dozen times over the last few months since Gunner had become the alpha in residence. I’d run nearby trails with Tank and Allen...and many times with Gunner himself. The fact I’d never been in this vegetation-shrouded tunnel suggested I’d been deliberately left out of the loop.
Is that how mates treat each other? Ignoring the twinge in my gut at the omission, I followed Gunner through the tunnel without protesting the past. There was no time to mull over hurt feelings when the setting sun made silence from my sister more ominous with every step.
After that, we traveled for several minutes in silence before Gunner stopped so abruptly that I almost stepped on his feet. I reached forward to catch my balance, steadying myself on his furry rump...
...Then my fingers clenched into fists as I heard what had stopped him. Outside our tunnel, the air rang with the clanging of swords.
***
NOW WE WERE RUNNING as best we could within the confined tunnel. And as the trail split in two before us, Gunner, to my distress, turned away from rather than toward the much louder battle sounds.
“But...” I started, then decided to trust him. And was glad I had when, barely a minute later, we emerged from the trees just behind the roiling melee.
This was the same spot of the ill-fated bacon breakfast. The same spot where Edward and I made our differences worse rather than better as we fought. So I wasn’t entirely surprised to come out of the tunnel into fighting...I was merely shocked at the extent of the pitched battle made up of angry wolves.
It appeared as if the entire pack was present, the haze of sulfur so strong it nearly made me choke. All of them were human, too, as they sliced at their friends with wicked metal blades.
As I watched, Tank—the level-headed lawyer who used words as his weapon—slashed twin knives at a female I couldn’t remember the name of but who’d attended my spur-of-the-moment swordsmanship class the day before. No milquetoast, his opponent grinned ferociously and fought back with a sword that looked remarkably like one of the advanced-level training blades I’d packed into a duffel. The only problem was, she’d removed the protective foam intended to shield the tip.
The female lunged forward with more grace than I remembered her being capable of. And, sure enough, her sword raised a streak of blood along Tank’s forearm before the latter managed to knock the blow aside.
Now that I saw them together, in fact, I was relatively sure this same female had been flirting with Tank just a few weeks earlier. Which would have been fine if they’d only been sparring rather than, apparently, battling to the death.
Something was seriously wrong here. But all I could think was—Kira, Kira, where is Kira? Spinning, I ignored battling pack mates in search of the teenager I knew would be somewhere in their midst.
And there she was, on a picnic blanket in the center of the disaster, bouncing with excitement as Sakurako held her in place with one gnarled hand.
This was so wrong I didn’t know where to begin chipping away at the problem. “Gunner,” I started, speaking to the wolf vibrating with anger beside me.
Unfortunately, at that moment the battling shifters took note of my presence. And rather than offering the real or feigned respect they usually showed me, one in particular shed his facade of pleasantry and leapt away from his current opponent so he could threaten me instead.
Edward’s face contorted with rage as he raised a massive ax over his head with both hands while roaring like a berserker. And all I thought was, Gunner will have no doubt of Edward’s allegiances now.