Page 23 of Brock’s Mate

Unfortunately, that didn’t take away the frustration. Or the stabbing, tingling pains in his arm, which still felt like he’d stuck his hand into an electric socket.

What the hell was that all about? Who was this woman, and why was she running around zapping her enemies like an out-of-control sorceress?

You’d think being an out-of-control wolf shifter would be enough for one person. It was sure as hell more than he wanted to be dealing with, but he couldn’t let her go on like this.

The next batch of farmers might kill her.

Brock pulled his shirt out of the car and shrugged it on, trying to figure out what to do. Protocol said he should inform the Council he’d found the rogue and turn her over to them.

Problem was, she wasn’t technically rogue. She was a new wolf who hadn’t known she was one. This Jered asshole had apparently Turned her without her realizing what was happening—and then either lost track of her, or simply left her to fend for herself.

Judging by the text message he’d seen on her phone, it was probably ‘lost track.’

Now that he’d met her, though, he wasn’t as surprised she’d made it this long without getting caught. She was smart and brave. And adaptable—at least, her human side was. Her wolf side was something else again.

But both sides of her were clearly independent as fuck, and stubborn along with it.

So… he should call the Council, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. But if he didn’t want to get his ass kicked by his alpha, he should at least call Brandon and tell him what was going on.

Brandon wouldn’t turn her in if Brock asked him not to, but he wouldn’t be happy about sheltering a woman being hunted by both the Council and the local humans, if it came to that. It could be… awkward. To put it mildly.

He should just let the Council take care of it. But there was something about her…

Like, she needs to be rescued? his wolf said. Because that always ends well for us.

Well, you’re a sarcastic little bastard, Brock said. She does need help.

Don’t they all. His wolf gave a sigh. Well, we might as well get on with saving her.

Excuse me? What happened to ‘no more broken ones’?

We can’t let her go, his wolf said. And you already decided you weren’t going to turn her in.

No I didn’t.

Really? Call now then.

Brock found his phone on the floor of the car, woke it up, stared at it, and shoved it in his back pocket. He said, I just want to find her and talk to her first.

That got nothing but the wolf version of a snort.

Fine then. Good thing I put a tracker on her car.

He got out his phone and opened the tracking app. Yep, there she was. Brock started the car, set the GPS to follow the signal, and went to find his elusive she-wolf.

He tracked her to a small, isolated cabin on the edge of the National Forest. He parked on the road near the bottom of the dirt driveway and got out quietly, being careful not to slam the car door.

He didn’t want her spooked before he had the chance to talk to her.

As he walked up the driveway he could see lights uphill through the trees—a porch light, and the headlights of a large vehicle. Not Desi’s car—it looked like a van or an SUV.

He picked up his pace, the back of his neck prickling.

Danger, said his wolf.

No shit. We just have to make sure we’re more dangerous than them.

As he reached the edge of the trees, he saw a man in black paramilitary gear come out of the house, carrying Desi. Her wrists and ankles were bound with zip ties, and she was unconscious.