He meticulously scanned every building around us as we went, scenting the air continually. I was scenting too. Every once in a while I caught a whiff of werewolf in the air, but it was never too close. They should be swarming us. “Rourke, why aren’t they out here?” I asked. “We should be covered in angry Southern wolves. They should’ve been all over the building when we came out.”
Rourke glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes completely green. They glowed like two emerald pools in the dark. “Either your wolves were keeping them occupied, or something else is going on here.” He sniffed the air and his brows creased. “I don’t like it either. It’s too easy. Something is off. It doesn’t feel like a full war, they’re looking for something.”
I tested his grip on my arm again, and earned a low growl in response. “Keep it up and I’ll put you back over my shoulder.”
We emerged from between the last two buildings onto a frontage road and slid quietly along the deserted storefronts, making our way down the street. This place was familiar. It was the last block before the neighborhood dead-ended into the train tracks across the street, which were down in the culvert, and it was exactly how you’d expect it to look. A long line of old, run-down buildings, most of them vacant, and had been for years. On the other side of the tracks the highway overpasses looped off into the distance. No more neighborhood.
Down the street in front of us, I spotted a lone motorcycle parked on the sidewalk pushed tightly into an alcove against a shuttered storefront.
“How’d you get from here to the bar without being seen tonight?” I asked curiously.
“I’ve been here since yesterday. Slept on the roof of the bar and came down through the fire escape.”
“That’s one way to do it.” Tricky cat.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. Once I gave you my name, I knew your Pack would stake out all the strategic locations, but this isn’t one of them.” He pointed. “Up ahead is a dead end, nowhere to go but back the way we came.”
“If we’re trapped, how are we getting out?”
He nodded toward the giant culvert. A rusty chain-link fence separated the tracks from the neighborhood, not doing much to keep people out. Grass and dirt ran until about halfway down and then the ground changed to old, broken concrete.
“The old tracks? And how exactly are we getting down there?” There weren’t any real crossing points for about a mile and a half in either direction.
“We drive, sweetheart.”
“Huh?”
Shouts broke out behind us. Rourke tightened his grip on my arm and started jogging us forward faster. We were almost to a vintage Harley-Davidson when I wrenched my head behind me right as a runner flew around the corner, shouting a curse over his shoulder.
Ohmygod. “Tyler!” I screamed.
He slid to a stop, his eyes blazing full gold. His shirt was ripped and stained dark.
“Is that blood all over you? Are you hurt?” I yelled, struggling to get loose, but Rourke held me fast. “Tyler, answer me!” Then I turned back. “Rourke, let me go!”
Tyler started racing toward us. “Let her the fuck go, cat!”
Rourke tensed for a fight, his muscles tightening under his jacket, but he didn’t yield his grip on me.
Before Tyler could get to us, a U-Haul truck swerved around the corner behind him. His attackers, it seemed, had hitched a ride. The truck slammed on its brakes with a tire-squealing screech, sliding the whole van sideways, cutting off the road completely.
Dead end in front of us, U-Haul full of Southern wolves in back.
“It’s a goddamn trap!” Rourke roared. “Get on the back of the bike.” He yanked me against my will the last few paces to his bike and tossed me at it while he jumped on from the other side, flipping the kickstand up and starting it with a roar. “Get on the bike. Now!” he yelled over the noise of the engine.
I didn’t move and Tyler closed the gap between us in two strides, grabbing on to my arms. “What the hell’s going on? Why did you leave with him?” I could see him processing what Rourke had just said.
“James decided to trust him,” I told him quickly. “And Dad backed him up. Rourke took me out of the bar fight and brought me here.” I left out against my will, because Tyler could see the scenario as it stood. My father was likely still occupied with his own battle or the wolves would be updated on my whereabouts, or at least who I was with, by now.
“Jess, you have to get out of here,” Tyler pleaded. “We’re in the middle of a war—and you’re their prize. You have to go right now, even if your only option is to go with the … goddamn cat.” His face held revulsion, but I knew if his Alpha had already sanctioned it, he would go along with the program.
Dammit. “Tyler, I don’t want to go, I want to stay and fight. My place is here fighting alongside my Pack, not being protected like some breakable object.”
The U-Haul doors sprang open and a half dozen unfamiliar wolves in human form touched the ground running. No time to think about formulating a plan, they would be on us in two seconds.
Tyler whipped me behind him, pushing me inadvertently toward Rourke as he went, yelling, “Go! Just get out of here while you still can.”
“No, I want to fight. Let me help you,” I cried. “I can fight!”
“No!” No. He flipped to my mind. Jessica, please, you can’t do this. I can’t protect you and fight at the same time. You’re not trained for combat yet. You’re putting us both in danger by staying here.
“I can’t leave you. I’m not going to leave you here alone.” I’m not going to fucking leave, do you hear me?
Tyler ignored me as his gaze shot to Rourke. “Get her out of here, cat. There’s no one left but you. But if you lay one hand on her, I swear I will rip you apart with my bare hands. Do you hear me? I vow it on my life.” Tyler looked back at me. “That’s an order, Jess. Now go!”
The motorcycle revved in response, tires screeching behind me. But before Rourke could make a move, I tore out of Tyler’s grasp, pulling both throwing knives from my sleeves at the same moment.
My body bent forward, and without any hesitation I launched them straight into the two wolves in the lead barreling down on us. One landed with a thunk in the fleshy part of the trachea, hitting home, and the wolf went down with satisfaction. The other missed its mark entirely, embedding itself without harm in his shoulder. It didn’t do anything close to dropping him; it only pissed him off more. He stopped and yanked it out, snarling at me as he did it.
It’s on now. My wolf howled.
Tyler sprang forward with no other choice to tackle the next two. I crouched in a fighting stance, muscles rippling under my skin—finally—pulling, shifting, readying me for the fight. The angry wolf I’d hit in the shoulder was almost to me, and when his filthy hands reached for my throat, he was going down. My eyes were trained on him like lasers. He thought I was weak.
He thought wrong.
But before he could reach me my body flew backward.
My attacker bellowed his rage.
What the hell? The road was moving beneath me, Rourke’s arm locked firmly around my middle, my ass barely on the edge of the seat.
“Get on the goddamn bike!” Rourke yelled.
I didn’t have time to protest. In the next moment we hit the curb, the bike flying upward toward the sky. On the way down, I shot my leg over the seat and grabbed on to Rourke’s jacket with everything I had. We cleared the embankment at the top, crashing through the rusty fence like it wasn’t even there. The bike plunged nose first down the grassy slope leading to the tracks at top speed, each bump on the ground like a giant mountain crashing up to greet us.
Rourke maneuvered the bike from side to side like a slalom course, pulling us parallel at the last minute before we hit the concrete at the bottom. Coming onto the ground at the right angle lessened the blow, but it left us reeling nonetheless. The shocks groaned and crunched, but they held, keeping us upright for the most part.
As we bounded onto the concrete of the culvert floor, I pried my eyes open and screamed, “Sonofabitch,
