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I pulled myself up by the doorway, arms straining, and peered down inside the SUV.
It was empty.
I dropped back down, the heat from the undercarriage hot against my face. I looked down at the dirt and saw more tracks. I turned toward the trees and—
One of the Betas was in the ditch at the side of the road, breathing shallowly. His clothes had been shredded. His body was covered with deep slashes that weren’t healing. The amount of blood was immense. He stared up at the sky, mouth opening and closing, opening and closing. His eyes were faintly orange.
He was beyond my help.
His gaze was unfocused as I crouched next to him. Blood leaked from his mouth and ears.
I said, “Who did this?”
He turned his head slightly toward the sound of my voice.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
His mouth closed again.
His jaw tensed.
His teeth were bloody when he said, “Philip. He… lost. Control.”
He laughed. It sounded like he was choking.
And then he died, the light fading from his eyes.
An angry snarl came from the woods.
I pushed myself up.
A flicker of bright orange in the trees, the crunch of autumn leaves.
I was being hunted.
It moved carefully, this half-shifted wolf. It was still upright on two legs, taking one step after another, keeping to the shadows. I couldn’t tell if it was Pappas or his other Beta.
I said, “I know you’re there.”
It snarled in response.
There was a bright burst in my head, an angry no gordo no run please run don’t fight don’t almost there i’m coming we’re coming please please please. It caused my skin to thrum electric-hot, crawling with pack brother friend witch home home home. I was caught in a web, the threads hooked into my flesh and pulling.
Others were there, faint but sure, the humans who by now had to know something was wrong. Stronger were Elizabeth and Kelly and Robbie, still at the Bennett house.
But it was the threads of the approaching wolves that I latched on to. The red of the Alphas, the orange of the Betas, fibrous and thick. And then there was white, a pure clean white that shot through all of them like arcing lightning. My magic, connecting to each of them.
It was a tangle of wolf and witch and pack and mine that made me grind my teeth. My head pounded, and I was hyperaware of every step the wolf hunting me took. It was growling low in its throat now, fangs gnashing together.
But it had already made a fatal mistake. It was in the Bennett territory.
And I was the Bennett witch.
My pack was still too far away, and as the wolf stalked toward me, my heart had the slightest of upticks, a natural fear response at the sight of Philip Pappas stepping out of the shadows, looking lost to his wolf.
One of the threads in my chest tightened swiftly, sending back no gordo no run run run, and I recognized that voice, knew that voice ever since it’d told me I smelled like dirt and leaves and rain. Mark was terrified. He was running as fast as his paws could carry him, and he was terrified.
Philip began to tense.
