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“This isn’t time for revenge,” he reminds me, drawing my focus back on the one thing I didn’t want to think about. “We’re here to do a job. Everything by the book, got it? We’re expected, but if we go off-script, we lose the Enforcers’ cover.”
I stare in shock. “We’re expected? What’s the point of ‘the element of surprise’ then?” And what the hell will keep them from just hiding my pack members if they know we’re coming?
“They don’t know when or from which direction. They also think we're just Enforcers stopping by for a check, only we know better. Which means if they want to try something, they’ll have a harder time trying it.”
“Are we expecting them to try something?” asked Orson in a matter-of-fact voice.
“You always expect the enemy to try something. Hope for the best, expect the worst, and prepare for every eventuality,” Braxton answers, his eyes scanning the vicinity. I watch as he hunts for disturbances in the greenery, but it’s his nostrils that detect something askew given the way they flare.
I take a deep breath, and it hits me. It hitsallof us. Our wolves pick up on the unmistakable scent of smoke that hints that something’s burning deep in the woods. We all inspect the surrounding woods, trying to see any sign of it. Max discovers it first, pointing out dark, huge spectral columns drifting into the sky several miles from our position.
“That’s too big to be a campfire,” I say, feeling uneasy.
“It could be a controlled burn,” Orson suggests, studying the woods around us. “These woods seem thick enough that one might be necessary.”
Braxton snorts. “Yeah, a controlled burn is happening on the day we’re checking out a brutal pack of criminals.” He huffs. “I’m not a man given to believing in coincidences.”
I agree with Braxton. Something about this smells wrong, and it isn’t just the fire and the smoke that’s far too large and dark to be from a small fire. An uneasy feeling grows inside of me. Would just a call from the Enforcers about a visit snowball into something worse?
Braxton moves closer to me, into my personal bubble, and his blue eyes gentle as he fixes them on me. “Asha, we can get back in the truck and just head to a hotel right now and let the other Enforcers handle this. We can see your pack members after they’ve been rescued.”
Uh, what?I’m still processing whether he’s serious or not when Max starts talking.
“Or,” Max says the word in a strange way. “We can leave Asha in town and come back–”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap at both of them, taking a step back from them. “My people are in there. If I have any chance of rescuing them, I’m going to. Got it?”
Max sighs. “Asha, the likelihood of things being dangerous in there has obviously increased, so–”
“That’s the nature of the job, though, right?” Orson asks with a shrug. His incredible mismatched eyes meet mine for half a second before pulling away, and I get the sense he has my back in this.
Even if he’s trying not to piss anyone off.
The brothers just exchange a glance, so I answer. “Right.” Then, give them a look that challenges them to argue with me further.
Max gives a curt nod, even the ghost of softer emotions hidden away. “Okay then.” He returns to the truck and opens the gun safe in the trunk. “Even though we technically have the protection of the Enforcers, we’re not going in unarmed.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” says Braxton with a hand pump and a grin.
Eight years in the military and apparently he gets a hard-on at the prospect of being locked and loaded. In any other situation, I’d find it funny. He’s first in line for a weapon and Max passes him a cannon of an assault rifle, something probably as heavy as I am.
“I’ll take something a little more size appropriate, thank you,” I say, stepping up to Max.
He outfits me with a more manageable rifle, takes one look at the way I hold it, then replaces it with a pistol. “You’re behind me at all times, anyway,” he says, as if giving me a normal-sized weapon makes him uneasy.
Orson hovers closer, eyebrows raised at Max. The muscle in Max’s jaw wriggles while he mulls whether to arm Orson. He glances at me and I respond by lowering my chin and raising my eyes in a reproachful glare that suggests he knows better. Reluctantly, he passes the rifle he initially gave to me to Orson and for himself retrieves a tactical AR.
“Remember,” Max emphasizes, his gaze clinging to mine. “We want to get out of here alive, so we think first, act second, like diplomats. Unless it becomes a true military situation.”
I nod, since he’s watching me. I get it. For some crazy reason he wants me to stay alive. As much as I just want to do this on my own, I’m also glad for his concern. This world was a darker place before he was watching out for me, so I’ll have to fight my instinct to kill every last one of these assholes.
“Okay,” I say, when he doesn’t look away.
Reflief flashes over his face, and he turns away.
It’s weird, this agreement. It’s like I’m starting to value something other than my pack members, and I don’t know if I like that.Yet, I don’t have time to dwell on that now.
Max runs point, followed by Orson, then me, and Braxton in the rear. There’s a palpable sense of terror pervading the forest, all its creatures set on edge. The distinctive effluvium of fear wafts across the path. They detect something malevolent here and I fear its source is familiar to me. Close to me. A member of my Blood Pack, but I can’t be sure why I think that.
