With a nod to Damien, a sign of respect I won’t abandon even when I’m pissed at him, I step away and weave through the tables, ignoring the tantalizing smell of bacon and coffee, and that portion of my brain that tempts me to join them, to… catch up, see how they’re all doing.
“We’re having a bonfire tonight, Garrett,” Sadie Lynn says as I pass her. With a slight nudge from Kate next to her, Sadie Lynn approaches me.
Her dark hair is hanging loose on her shoulders instead of pulled up in a ponytail like she normally wears it, and her eyeshave an extra sparkle today. She’s cute, smart, a hard-working shifter… and nothing about her calls to me.
Marla had been just as cute, though with a competitive edge. Her wolf never called to mine either, but we’d known each other since we were kids.
I always thought we’d be together. She had other ideas. And then they killed her.
Now, it seems the pack is pushing me toward Sadie Lynn. She deserves someone who isn’t messed up in the head.
“I think I need some time alone, Sadie Lynn. Have fun, and tell the kids… tell them the tree looks particularly cheery this year. They’re doing a great job.”
I keep walking. Sadie Lynn steps aside to let me disappear into the woods where I belong. This is my pack, but it’s not my home anymore. I don’t know where that leaves me.
That scent of lilac returns, but it’s not from anywhere around here. There’s no lilac in the middle of a Colorado winter. That unique scent is what my wolf stored away from our op in Wyoming, in that pass where one beautiful and brave shifter convinced me and my team to leave.
Halfway to my cabin, lost in thoughts of Marla, Sadie Lynn, and Angelina, I circle back to verify that no one’s following me. My wolf eases because Damien realizes I won’t be contained.
Me, I can’t rest. Not until I find Angelina.
Tomorrow. I’m heading out alone—without backup, without permission—and I will find her. If I’m wrong about her, I’ll only be putting myself at risk. No one else will die because of me.
CHAPTER FIVE
GARRETT
After three days of searching, my wolf finally catches that delectable scent. Lilac… Angelina. I know it’s her, even though it’sdifferentfrom before. More enticing, more… evocative. That alone makes no sense… unless my wolf is starting to go feral.
The scent of an unmated female can mess with a male, especially one whose wolf borders on going feral.
And yet these past few days, weaving our way north of Colorado and crossing into Wyoming, have been rather peaceful. No biting, growling, or bitter disdain from my wolf. It’s almost as if heapprovesof me again.
The distant sound of a truck catches our attention. A truck up here in the middle of the Medicine Bow Mountains is no accident, especially when we’re nowhere near a fire access road. The location, the presence of a truck, scream WSSO to me.
Without delay, my wolf cuts across knee-high snow until we spot a truck below on a road that shouldn’t be there. Every timethe wind whips through the trees, it carries Angelina’s scent to me, stronger the closer I get to those trucks.
For three miles, my wolf runs along higher ground, parallel to the truck, before he finds a path down. We lose sight of the truck for a half hour, but its engine roars like a hungry mountain lion, guiding us through the woods. In minutes, we find ourselves smack up against a chain link fence with a sign that sends sheer terror through me.
World Shifter Suppression OrganizationFacility #23.
The implication that there are at least twenty-two other facilities like this one screws with my mind. Worst of all, no one knows it’s here, but me. I should have brought backup, if only to ensure one shifter makes it out alive to report in to Damien.
My wolf nips at me, to refocus me on the reason we’re here. Angelina.
Not hampered by roads, we overshot the truck. The elevation and winding terrain slowed the humans’ progress, which means I can still intercept the truck before it reaches the facility. Once that truck enters the facility, the chances of my getting Angelina away from the humans drops ten-fold.
My wolf races in a direct line to where we hear the truck’s engine. I’m estimating four miles still, which improves our odds. Attacking too close to the facility practically guarantees being surrounded by dozens of humans.
The wind picks up, carrying Angelina’s scent more clearly now, as well as those of several male shifters. More than one shifter relying on me… What the fuck am I doing?
One not-so-subtle nip from my wolf warns me to stop distracting him with my indecision. I let him take the lead, for now, partly because there’s nothing more dangerous than doubting oneself on a mission. He takes off at top speed, as if more than our lives depends on his speed and stealth.
Within minutes we spot the truck through the trees. What I thought was one truck is a convoy of two ten-foot-long cargotrucks, the type humans use to move furniture. Both trucks are struggling to climb a particularly steep hill. Rear wheels spinning, losing traction in the snow, the truck slips sideways. The humans have no appreciation of the mountains, let alone winter.
The second truck slides to a halt at the base of the hill while the first truck inches its way up. It looks like it’s going to make it, until the rear end fishtails and the truck slides backward several feet, losing all the ground it gained.
The driver’s attempting a serpentine climb now, zigzagging to reduce the grade, but the fresh snow provides no traction. That works to my advantage, giving me time to move closer and scout out the placement of the humans and shifters, find a way to free the hostages.
