His voice wasn’t angry, only determined.
Something about that flickered in my chest. He wasn’t trying to prove himself, I realized; he genuinely wanted to help.
If Mason had lured us out here, the last thing he’d do was argue to walk straight into danger with us. That realization loosened something tight inside my ribs.
I studied him for another moment before sighing.
“Fine,” I muttered. “But you stay close to me.”
“Deal,” Mason said.
Gino clapped his hands once. “Alright, let’s sweep the property.”
The Marco and Tyler moved with practiced efficiency and shifted almost immediately.
Clothes dropped to the ground as bones cracked and reshaped. Fur burst through skin in a blur of motion until two large wolves stood where men had been moments before.
Mason blinked.
“Tracking’s easier this way,” I said.
The wolves lowered their noses to the ground and trotted ahead, weaving through the tall grass toward the buildings. We followed behind them.
The farmstead smelled wrong, like old wood, rot, and rusted metal. Beneath it all, there was a faint but unmistakable smell of fear. My wolf stirred uneasily.
The farmhouse loomed closer with every step. Its windows were broken, the door hanging crooked on one hinge.
The wind pushed it back and forth with a soft creak that made the whole place feel haunted. Mason walked beside me, shoulders tight.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
I slowed slightly, making sure he stayed within arm’s reach. The wolves split off toward the barn while Gino headed for the sheds. I pushed open the farmhouse door.
Dust exploded into the air as it scraped across the warped floorboards. Inside looked like time had simply stopped.
I spotted an overturned table, broken cabinets, and old dishes scattered across the floor.
The place looked like it had been abandoned for years. We searched every room but found nothing. When we stepped back outside, the other trackers had returned empty too.
A knot of tension twisted in my chest. Had Mason’s source been wrong? Or worse, had we been led here for nothing?
“Levi!” Gino’s urgent voice cracked across the clearing.
He was standing near the far side of the farmhouse. I took off running, and Mason was right behind me. My heart pounded harder with every step.
Part of me still braced for something awful. An ambush, a trap, or perhaps a dozen hunters stepping out of the woods.
When we reached Gino, none of that happened. Instead, he was crouched beside something against the side of the house: a large, rusty metal cage, the kind meant for animals.
My stomach twisted as I stepped closer.
Inside was a deer shifter, curled tight against the back corner. His red fur was dull and dirty, sides rising and falling in shallow breaths. He was unconscious.
For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Mason sucked in a quiet breath beside me.
“Oh my god…”
