Come now.
This wasn’t a trap forme. It was a trap for her.
I growl at my enforcers as I put my head down, and Imove.
A long time ago, I was too late, getting to my pack in time to watch my parents die.
I won’t be late again.
Not again.
I leave my enforcers behind.
The wind tugs at my fur. The sound of the wind fills my ears as I run.
My wolf has never been so focused before.
I’m breathing hard and fast when the house comes into view.
I pick up Cristofer’s scent.
Blood.
Pain.
Wes is bleeding.
Troy is bleeding.Badly. Enough to worry me.
The faintest tang of Kat’s blood tickles my nose. She’s hurt. Not badly, but even one drop of blood is a killing offense.
Then I see it.
Cristofer’s dead body.
The cabin door hangs open, and the feral is outside.
Troy is on the ground, not moving.
Marisa, bloodied and bleeding, struggles to get up.
And my mate is charging a feral with no hope in hell of surviving.
Panic is a fist that squeezes my heart.
Not Kat.
I put on a burst of speed.
I fly.
She isnotdying.
Not Kat.
The feral senses my presence. He turns as I dig deep within myself and summon the third form—the only one that can save my mate.
I slam into him.
