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His uncle Frederick stood on the shore, and he’d not come alone.
Fuck.
Baptiste hoisted himself from the water before growling, “What do you want?”
“I’ve come to bring you home.”
The demand had him shaking his head. “We both know that’s impossible.”
“What happened with Diandra was unfortunate, but everyone, including her parents, understands you’re not at fault. There will be no charges laid. Our lawyer had them dismissed on the grounds of temporarily cursed insanity.”
The claim would explain why the SMU and cops hadn’t been trying to hunt him down for arrest. “I don’t want to go back. Find someone else to lead the pack.”
“We both know that can’t happen so long as you are the Garou.”
“You’ve been leading just fine up until now.”
“Things are changing in the world. With the return of the Monster King, we require a strong leader to ensure the Pack’s safety.”
“The Garou isn’t that remedy. He’s more likely to piss off the king by trying to eat his subjects.”
Uncle Frederick didn’t find his truthful response amusing. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. You will return whether you want to or not.”
The demand explained why his uncle came with the largest bullies in the Pack. They planned to try and take him by force.
“Try” being the key word.
They’ll regret it.
Baptiste sighed. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“I could say the same. Come peacefully and there won’t be any need to get ugly.”
What was it with people threatening him today? Then again, Daphne hadn’t followed through. Not yet, at any rate.
“Leave me alone.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” His uncle pulled a tranquilizing gun from the inside of his jacket. “This is for your own good.”
As he fired, Baptiste dodged. However, he’d not counted on the other Pack members firing at the same time. The darts struck, and despite his extremely fast metabolism and resistance to drugs, lethargy spread quickly through his veins. He blinked as his vision wavered. His uncle had made sure to bring elephant-sized doses.
Garou bellowed, Let me out.
Promise you won’t kill them. Baptiste knew better than to demand he not hurt anyone.
I won’t be taken alive!
The best he was going to get.
Baptiste let go, and Garou exploded from his skin and clothes as he took over.
What followed was a violent mess.
For the opposition.
As a wolf, Baptiste had always been bigger than the rest. As Garou, a wolfman on two legs, he was a veritable monster, and he loved to fight.
Garou roared with delight as he swung to grab a dart gun, yanking it from Pascal’s grip and tossing it in the water. Pascal charged and Garou grabbed, lifted with ease, and flung him, the splash bringing the narwhals to the surface to play with their new ball.
