Michael was about a half mile away from the place he had left his mate when he heard screaming and gun shots. Immediately a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, and he dropped his bag of loot and began to run for the old oak tree where he had left Hannah. The screaming was making his ears ring, and running on two feet was way too slow. He was sure the screaming was not his mate, but something was dreadfully wrong. He shifted quickly, not bothering to stop and remove his clothes before he hit the ground running, the scraps of his shirt still clinging to his back. His big wolf ate up the distance with long strides.
His nose was immediately assaulted by the scent of humans, the stink of alcohol, and the metallic odor of blood. His eyes raked the scene and he noted the fact
