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I’m roaring as wolf before I’ve even finished shifting from man to beast again and see the panic in his eyes as he sizes me up. He squeezes the trigger and misses me, but I immediately smell blood mixed with the gunpowder and know it belongs to Jase.

I’m on him, my teeth gripping his throat as I hear the gurgle while I tear flesh away, snarling.

He flails as he shifts to a wolf that’s much smaller than mine and I don’t let up. I’m ripping skin, tasting blood, hearing bones crack. He yelps before going limp while I continue to rip through flesh, shaking it with my single-minded focus taking every bit of my headspace until I drop him and see the life drained from his eyes.

I roar again at the corpse and then turn my focus to her. Taking her in by sight and scent.

She should smell like me, but she doesn’t. A wolf taking her would think she’s free, available to mate. But she’s not. She’s not available because she’s mine!

The rage in my head coupled with her fear scent that’s surging into my lungs reverberates through my chest, filling that hollow space that I know would be hers if not for the seven years. She’s frightened. She needs comfort. She needs my scent, my purr, my touch, my cock, my mark. She needs my knot.

My wolf’s eyes meet her eyes.

15

Erica

Riley and I are eye-locked for a solid five seconds when something springs forth in me. It’s something I haven’t felt since the day I ruined everything.

Hope.

And then his eyes flash with something strange before they bounce to hit Lincoln’s. Something passes between him and Lincoln before Riley turns and runs, leaving me. Again.

And I’m immediately weeping. I’m sobbing into my knees, my body bucking until I’m aware of warm, strong hands freeing me from the ties around my wrists, then ankles.

I look into the eyes of Lincoln who looks sad as he assesses me.

“You hurt?”

I shake my head. That was the most horrific thing I’ve ever witnessed.

“Is Jason okay?” I manage.

“He’s okay. Just grazed him,” the one I know is Joel answers while examining the dead wolf in front of me. “Where’s the other one?”

Jason sits on the ground, examining the wound on his leg. He becomes a wolf, sniffs the wound, then shifts back to his regular form.

“There were two,” Lincoln says.

Lincoln is dressed, but the other two are naked as they’d been wolves as they approached behind Riley’s wolf.

My feet are free. But they’re kind of asleep, so when I get up, my legs turn rubbery and Lincoln catches me, scooping me up into his arms.

“Some other guy punched Cicely as the other guy dragged me off. Is Cicely all right?”

“She’s all right. Just a little pissed off, ” Joel says. “What happened?”

“I… that guy,” I point, “was a wolf first and just flew up on me, cornering me with his snapping and growling and then changed to human before he said, you’re comin’ with me. And then he dragged me off for a couple minutes until we were in this bush where he had a phone and his clothes and he… he tied me up then threw pants on and got on the phone and talked to someone called Wyatt and said he got their witch. Meaning you guys, I guess. Said it was a bonus.”

I try to will my heartrate to normalize, but it’s not cooperating. I’m kind of dizzy. The guy was rough. Wrenched my shoulder. I’ll definitely have bruises. I lost a sandal. I stare at the wolf’s dead body, his clothing and phone in a heap beside him.

“Oh shit. I don’t know if I’m about to barf or pass out,” I mutter.

“Which feels stronger?” Lincoln asks.

“P-pass out.”

“Got you,” he assures, carrying me to his truck.

The wind picks up and I think it’s the cool breeze that keeps me lucid and talking. After choking on a sob, I ask, “Who was he?”

I look toward where Riley went, more emotion clogging all my chakras.

“We’ll figure it out.” Lincoln sets me into the front passenger seat as Jason and Joel put the dead wolf into the back. And then they’re slamming the hatch before getting in.

We’re on the move. Without Riley. Going in the opposite direction to where Riley ran.

“I lost a shoe,” I mutter, staring at my feet as I try to take deep breaths.

“I’ll find it,” Lincoln tells me. “Drop you off and then I’ll look.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have-”

“I’ll find it,” he insists, voice angry.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

And nobody speaks for the rest of the drive as the two get dressed in the back seat. And then we’re back at the corner where my van sits.

But we don’t stop there. We pass it and keep going until turning left at the corner where Roxy’s is. We go down a long road paved with homes until we stop we pull up the driveway of a large character home with a wide porch at the end of a dead-end street.

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