Chapter 10

“Wildacres is safer than the city,” Gunner whispered rapidly once we’d all donned clothes and had begun our preparations to depart. The alpha had drawn me aside at the edge of the trees where we could keep an eye on Kira without being in the thick of the action. And while his need to bid me farewell was heartening, any potential coziness was diminished by the fact that two other shifters currently hung on their alpha’s every word.

“I can have the electricity on within the hour,” Allen noted, tapping at his smart phone’s screen, his eyes carefully steering clear of mine.

“Can’t do much about the state of the buildings but food delivery is easily achievable,” Crow agreed. “Clothing too. And the water comes from a well, so that should work right now.”

It was as if I’d become a problem to be managed rather than an honorary pack mate. Which, combined with the way Gunner continued to stare me down like an alpha dominating a recalcitrant underling, made me tempted to rewrite my understanding of our shared past.

After all, Gunner told his brother he’d merely been “twiddling his thumbs” during the preceding season. Which begged the question—had he really become attached to me and Kira, or was his assistance nothing more than the actions of a bored alpha latching onto the nearest available task?

“Stay put,” Gunner commanded now, gaze flicking over my shoulder for one split second while he continued barking orders. “Don’t give Ransom any reason to go back on his word. Keep your sister close to you.”

Well, if Gunner could stick to business then I could also. The trouble was—having Gunner leave us didn’t only tug at my heart strings, it also threatened the safe future I thought we’d built for Kira during the preceding months. After all, without Gunner protecting us in person, what was to prevent other werewolves from poaching on his claim? How were we going to win the judge and social worker over to our point of view?

“I promise no harm will come to you within my territory,” Gunner said, as if he was able to read the doubt in my posture. “I...” he continued. Then, shaking his head, he turned his attention to his hovering lackeys. “Give us a minute.”

They didn’t flee as quickly as Ransom’s underlings would have. Instead, for the first time since the Atwood pack leader had shown up where he wasn’t invited, a hint of amusement filtered into Allen’s eyes. Meanwhile, Crow coughed into his hand as if smothering amusement, and I had to restrain an urge to kick both bozos in the knees.

Was our separation just a big joke to them? Had our inclusion in their pack for three full months meant nothing that it could be so easily set aside now?

Then—“Look at me,” Gunner demanded, drawing my attention away from his receding pack mates. But rather than continuing to relay orders, he reached out slow as molasses. Let fingers trace my cheekbones as he cupped my face in both of his hands.

He’s just a touchy-feely werewolf trying to keep me focused, I told myself. But it was hard to believe the lie when my companion leaned in close enough so his breath hovered above my lips like skittish butterflies.

For half a second, I inhaled Gunner’s exhale. Smelled his rich, warm aroma. Felt his proximity heating my skin.

Then his mouth landed, hard as a sword thrust.

If our first kiss had been a subtle feint on my part, our second kiss was a ploy of ownership on his. Later, I would realize that every shifter present watched the claiming. Later, I would realize that Gunner was backing up his earlier words with a show of possession that no werewolf could fail to comprehend.

At the time, though, the kiss came and went so quickly I was left reeling and unsure of gravity. And by the time I’d regained my balance, Gunner was already twenty feet distant, his long, lean back the only part of his body visible to my searching eyes.

“Don’t let your sister do anything stupid,” he told Kira in passing. Then, without a single farewell glance in my direction, he gathered up his pack mates, rejoined his brother, and disappeared into one of the waiting minivans.

***

Together, Kira and I watched the last taillight recede from the parking area. Darkness was descending rapidly, the sprawling complex that had once housed a busy retreat center looming above us rather than inviting us inside.

“We’re staying here?” my sister asked, her voice higher-pitched than usual. She sounded younger now than when wolves had first come into our lives three months earlier. As if becoming part of a pack then losing that protection had lowered her toughness quotient by 100%.

Or maybe it was my sister’s unexplained weakness that sagged her shoulders and slowed her footsteps. Whatever the problem, it wasn’t going to be solved by waiting here for an absent alpha to remember we continued to exist.

So—“No,” I answered, letting my hand linger on the teen’s shoulder for one long moment as I pondered next steps forward. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to manage it, but I intended to find the source of Kira’s malaise and solve it, even if—as I suspected—the effort involved hunting down the cloaked figure who had bought and absconded with Mama’s star ball.

Which might take a while, given the fact that neither Gunner nor I had found any trace of our enemy’s trail in the three months since we’d last seen the being. I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, however. First, I pulled out my cell phone to call the sole person who might miss us if we didn’t make it home in the next few days.

While waiting for Kira’s social worker to answer, I circled the SUV Gunner and his pack mates had left behind them. It was a nice gesture on their part...or so I thought until I realized the vehicle was locked up tight.

“...then leave a message after the beep,” Stephanie’s voice mail told me even as Kira offered up a suggestion on the vehicle front.

“We could hot-wire it,” my kid sister noted, her eyes trained on her own cell phone, which currently played a video her social worker would very much not approve of. “But we’d have to break a window to get at the steering column and we’d need a screwdriver and some other tools....”

I shushed her rapidly as a strident beep promised Stephanie’s phone was now recording every word we uttered. “Hey, this is Mai Fairchild,” I answered on autopilot while mulling over my sister’s suggestion. We might be able to break into the vehicle and hot-wire it, but we’d stand out like a sore thumb driving down the interstate with splintered glass in place of a window pane.

Not that I knew where we were going. But I trusted that once we had wheels under us, the path forward would become more clear.

“Kira and I decided to go camping for a couple of days,” I continued, patting at my pockets in hopes a multi-tool would suddenly materialize. No such luck. Which left the golf cart as our more realistic option. Too bad the battery-operated vehicle would likely traverse no more than twenty miles before stranding us in an even less habitable spot.

So...maybe we should trust Gunner and stay here after all. His underlings were nothing if not efficient, which meant we’d soon possess both electricity and food. If Kira and I had actually been camping, we would have enjoyed far fewer amenities. Too bad the hairs on the back of my neck begged me to get the hell out of there...and fast.

“Mai,” Kira started, all but tugging on my sleeve as she attempted to grab my attention. Once again I shushed her, rattled off farewells to her social worker’s answering machine before ending the call.

Only when I removed the phone from my ear did I realize why my sister’s eyes had widened in horror. She wasn’t nudging me onward out of ordinary teen impatience. Instead, she was alerting me to the fact that we weren’t alone after all.

No, there were wolves howling in the distance. And, by the sound of it, they were heading our way.