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To her surprise, his eyes filled with tears. “Thank the Ancients,” he breathed and then pushed off from the cot. Back rigid, he knelt by the stove.
“Luc,” she called to him.
He didn’t answer as he added more wood to the stove. She pushed off the bed and knelt beside him. Grabbing his shoulder, she forced him to face her. Her heart ached when she saw the tears streaming down his face. She’d never seen her brave tracker cry before.
I thought I’d lost you and the baby,he said to her through thought, the pain in his words lancing through her chest like a blade.
Cupping his cheek, she wiped his tears with the pad of her thumb.You didn’t.
He hung his head, sniffling. I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner.
I’m fine.She took his hands in hers.The baby’s fine. Now we need to focus on saving Drasko.
“Our trackers will find him,” he said aloud. Sitting back on his heels, he released a long breath. “Besides, if they used the same tranquilizer on him they used on you, he’ll wake up soon and crush their skulls.”
A noose of fear wrapped around Amara’s spine. “If they don’t kill him first.”
Luc grimaced. “I have a feeling they want to keep him alive to study him.”
Amara clutched her throat, her bones vibrating with fear. “Do they know about us?”
“I’m not sure yet what they know,” he said, his eyes narrowing to two feral slits, “but we’ll find out.”
When Luc held his arms out to her, Amara crawled into his lap and stifled a yawn, fatigue hitting her like a frying pan to the skull.
“You’ve been through a lot,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “You need rest.”
She flattened her palm against his chest, comforted by the strong heartbeat beneath. “I’m too worried about Drasko to sleep.”
He stood and carried her to the bed. “Please,” he begged, wrapping her in the blankets. “For the baby.”
She wanted to argue, but she was too damned tired, so she closed her eyes as Luc crawled into bed beside her, and she sent a prayer to the goddess to keep Drasko safe.
* * *
Amara dreamt she wasa bird, or maybe a spirit, and she was hovering over a snow-covered forest. She heard the engines before she saw four snowmobiles racing over a ridge. One of them carried a familiar bound and gagged wolf on the back of his sled as they weaved in and out of the trees. Amara followed above the treetops, wishing there was something she could do to help her mate. They sped past a strange, steaming pool of water and ended up at what looked like an abandoned homestead or maybe a town with several buildings surrounding a weathered church.
She flew above them in circles, panicked when all four men lifted a very limp Drasko off the back of the snowmobile and carried him into the church. Where were the tracker wolves?
She heard a familiar howl in the distance, followed by another, but those wolves weren’t the trackers. Her heart recognized the howls of her mates, Hakon and Rone. What were they doing here? Would they be able to save Drasko, or would they get captured or killed?
* * *
Luc
Luc clutched the canteenof Russian vodka in a white-knuckled grip while staring into the stove’s fire. How badly he wanted to numb his fears and drink up the entire canteen, but he didn’t dare risk more than a few sips. He had to stay alert until the Russians were no longer a threat. The vodka was strong, but it chased the chill from his bones. They’d found it on the dead Russian’s snowmobile, along with spare clothes. Luc thought more than once about taking that snowmobile and chasing after the Russians who took Drasko. The snowmobiles were far faster than any wolf, and he feared his squad had lost the Russians who’d taken his brother. He sat up at a knock on the door, his gaze instantly drawn to his mate who slept on the small bed, her hands tucked beneath her head.
He dropped the canteen and crossed to the door in a few long strides and held it open for Nyx, the Thunderpaw squad’s forward observer. He was in wolf form with bushy, black fur. Tongue lolling to one side, Nyx padded inside and shifted into a tall, lanky tracker, a native like him, with tribal tattoos across his neck and arms and that comms device that hung around his neck like a dog collar.
Luc threw a blanket at Nyx. “Cover yourself,” he grumbled, motioning to his sleeping mate.
Nyx’s cheeks flushed as he wrapped the blanket around his waist. “Sorry, sir.”
“Report,” Luc commanded, his voice cracking as he tried his hardest to hold his emotions in check. “Did they find my brother?”
“Not yet, sir.” Nyx frowned. “Their snowmobiles were too fast, but they still have their scent and should reach them in a few hours.”
A few hours? Drasko could be dead by then. Luc let out a curse as his chest tightened with fear. If those bastards killed his brother, he’d pulverize them until they were nothing but blood and bone.
