Pack

Chapter 3

Close, so f*****g close. And once again, she'd outsmarted him and his pack. He should have placed more men at the rear of her house. He should have snuck up with them instead of coming to the front, hoping he could accomplish his task with words instead of force. He should have known better.

Did she hate him so much still? Is she still so unwilling to forgive? He'd had years to revise his stance, to get into a position of power where he made the rules, and changed them to suit his purpose.

The mad dash through the woods had cost him time and men. Even he had been forced to slow his chase because of her cleverness and ruthlessness in setting effective traps. She'd obviously prepared for this day, a fact that didn't hearten him. But it also wouldn't stop him. Baby, when are you going to understand you are mine?

He howled as he bounded into a clearing with a heavy stench of blood. The dark fluid soaked the ground, painting it black. The blood and the violence it implied didn't disturb him half as much as the scent he distinguished from the rest. Her scent.

He shifted back, uncaring of his nudity, and stood surveying the battlefield. Only one body remained, ignobly splayed. Everyone knew dead men, especially naked ones, told no tales, but their body could reveal much. He rolled the still warm form of the boy onto his back. The youth gazed straight ahead with glassy eyes. It left him impassive. He would have done worse had he caught him.

No one touches her. The mark he hunted stood out in glaring contrast to the rest of the dead youth's skin. The sign of the boy's pack, tattooed over his heart, was a map to the Lycans who'd dared take her. A symbol of a pack about to become extinct.

A more frightening question loomed in his mind-do I have enough time to save her?

Another wolf entered the clearing and shifted. Almost as tall as him but with a slimmer build, John held the position of best friend and beta. His solemn brown eyes took in the scene, and he shook his head. "f**k. We just missed them."

"No f*****g kidding, Sherlock," he growled. "Where's the rest of the pack?"

"They've got their trail and are following. Are you coming?" John asked.

"I'm heading back to the house and the trucks." He didn't need to waste time tracking, not when he knew the location of the pack that wore that particular brand. And what a surprise. They happened to be the rogue group the Lycan council had sent him to eliminate. Apparently, he should have taken care of them first before getting sidetracked by his personal business.

"Do you know who took her?"

"The rogues we were sent to wipe."

John grimaced. "f**k. That doesn't bode well, you realize."

He just growled. Some things didn't bear mentioning aloud or even contemplating. "They'll be slowed down carrying her because I doubt she's gone willingly."

John regarded the dark forest pensively. "We'll let the ones tracking keep after them."

He caught the nuances of his friend's plan and approved. "If they're harrying at their heels, then they won't have time to stop and do anything to her. Come on then. We need to race back to the trucks so we can head to their den directly."

"So what's the plan once we get there?" his beta asked. He set his fingers to his mouth and loosed a sharp whistle followed by a series of short and long ones, a Morse code of sorts that would tell the wolves scattered in the woods where to head.

"We get her back." There was no hesitation. He had no choice.

His friend arched his brows in surprise. "You do realize these are rogues?"

"I'll ask them first to give her back." A request he knew would be refused.

John scoffed. "Yeah, like that'll happen. What happens when they say no?"

His eyes turned cold and hard. "Then we start a war like the council requested, and we take her back anyway."