Movement yanks my focus from the howl to the wolf lunging toward me, jaws wide, white teeth glinting at me.
I leap to meet Cristofer, wanting to end thisnow.
We slam into each other. He’s bigger, stronger, and I go down under him.
I move to protect my throat, but he’s not going for it. He pins me, fighting to keep me down, as I struggle to get up.
A door slams on my left, and my eyes widen in horror as a wolf bursts from the cabin, snarling and enraged.
Fuck.
Cristofer freed the feral.
That’s what he was doing in there.
My jaws clamp onto Cristofer’s shoulder. Hot, rich blood fills my mouth. He grunts but holds firm as two wolves fly toward the feral.
One scent is familiar.
Sharp orange and wild jasmine.
Marisa.
Troy streaks past me so fast, I barely catch his scent before he’s slamming into the feral.
Both go down.
Troy is an enforcer. He can fight, but this feral is out of control with rage. Marisa leaps onto the feral, but the feral shakes off her attack like it’s nothing.
I snap at Cristofer. He yanks his head back, protecting his neck, and I scramble up, staring on in horror as the feral swipes at Marisa. The blow sends her flying back, slamming into the cabin as the feral tears into Troy.
A hard weight drives me to the ground, and I see stars. My rage propels me to my feet when my head is still ringing. Troy doesn’t have long. He needs my help, or hewilldie. I whirl around, forget about protecting my neck, forget about protecting anything.
Cristofer has to die.
I have to help Troy.
Nothing else matters.
Cristofer stumbles back, surprised by my suicidal attack. I follow him down, snarling as his claws rake my belly. I lunge for his throat, biting down and holding on until he stops moving. His blood fills my mouth.
He’s dead.
Troy is on the ground, and Marisa is bleeding heavily from a wound on her shoulder, but Cristofer is dead as I sprint toward the feral.
He whips around, snarling at me with wild eyes, nothing human in his gaze.
I once ran at a four-hundred-pound deer to save a seven-year-old boy's life. I scared the deer off. Something tells me this wild, rampaging wolf won't be so easy to chase away.
23
AREN
Trodden earth is the only sign someone has encroached on pack land.
That and the tang of an enemy scent.
Juniper and sage. My lip curls, and a snarl erupts from my chest.
