Page 2 of Return to the Pack

We make our way to what once was the front of the house. Luckily, the little rowboat we used to trek to the pack member’s home in our rescue effort is still affixed to what’s left of the porch railing.

Warrick gently lays Axel in the boat, and we all push through the horrible storm. “We’ve got to get out of the city,” Warrick yells over the wind. “Our place is on higher ground and less likely to be flooded. We’ll go there to take shelter and see to Axel’s injuries. No way can we drive from here—the water’s too deep.”

“And then what?” I shout back. We can’t carry Axel while in wolf form, not when he’s out cold.

Warrick grins. “We hotwire a human’s abandoned vehicle and drive it home. I got no problem with that. Any of y’all?”

“Nope,” we all say in unison.

If there’s anything that Warrick holds dear, it’s trouble and lawlessness.

I hold Axel’s hand while we slog up the street. It’s cold but when I grip his wrist, I can sense a faint pulse.

Making our way out is grim business. Houses everywhere are destroyed. The city’s really taking a beating. The wind continues to rage and howl. If I weren’t so worried about Axel, I’d be scared for all of our lives.

After about a twenty-minute walk, moving as quickly as we can with the force of the wind pushing at us, we get to a place where the water is only up to our ankles.

“Let’s take this truck,” Warrick shouts.

I feel a little funny about that because Mama always taught me that we couldn’t take from others to help ourselves. But the house is flattened, which means the occupants have either left or they’re dead, so I nod along with the others.

Warrick and Ethan head to the tiny truck and fiddle around inside the cab. A few minutes later, the engine roars to life.

“Axel needs to be in the cab where it’s warm,” I call. “I’ll sit next to whoever’s driving, and then you can rest his head in my lap. Of course, he’ll have to be scrunched up, but at least he’ll be warmish.”

“You drive,” Warrick says to Callan. “It’s a one-seater, and I barely fit. We might need weight in the back if this little pickup has rear-wheel drive, anyway. I’ll ride in the bed with Ethan.”

Callan gets behind the wheel, and I slide in next to him.

Warrick maneuvers Axel’s limp form into the seat, with his head on my thigh. He reaches for something behind the seat and retrieves an oily, grimy blanket which he drapes over Axel’s body.

Axel looks so pale that I want to cry. I run my fingertip across his cool skin.

Please live, Axel. Please, please, please, live.

Once the other brothers are situated in the bed of the truck, Callan pulls the truck away from the collapsed house. The truck rocks back and forth with the wind. The tires spray water on the side of the truck even when we go slow, getting Ethan and Warrick more drenched than they’re getting from the downpour.

When Callan has inched his way out of town, he presses on the gas pedal, and the speed picks up a little. The windshield wipers are on full tilt, but the rain obscures our vision as fast as the wipers clear it.

“Fuck,” he mutters, peering through the wall of water.

“Ditto,” I say.

Axel groans.

“Axel!” I run my palm over his cheek as his eyelids flutter open.

He gives me a blank-eyed stare, and then his eyes close down again.

“Axel, my love,” I say. “My Alpha. Are you with us?”

Axel says nothing. His skin now looks a ghostly yellowish-white.

“He’s probably in shock, Luna,” Callan offers. “The best thing we can do for him is to keep him as warm as possible.”

Although I don’t really know what shock is, it sounds serious. So I lapse into silence for the duration of the terrifying ride to the boys’ home.

When we arrive at their dwelling, I’m relieved to see it intact. The storm rages, but the trees offer some protection from the gale force.