Hunter's Moon

I slid into the seat beside him. “It’s the weekend. Do you think Barry was at the office?”

“Yeah.” Aren nodded, his gaze never straying from the street as if he could move the traffic with his mind. “Barry was in charge. He had keys. The only way Fonthill could have found him is at the office building. It has my name on it.” He cleared his throat, struggling to keep the growl out of his voice.

“You didn’t know Fonthill would come after your business.”

He let out a pent-up breath. “I was busy worrying about keeping you, the Pack, and the babies safe. I should have protected everyone associated with me. It was a stupid mistake.” He finally turned toward me. “Barry’s a good guy. He’s worked with me for more than five years now.”

He focused forward again. He was right—we should have considered collateral damages when we came back to town. But it was my fault just as much as his. I wanted to comfort him, but this was definitely not my area of expertise. I understood how to be an island, being a team was unexplored territory.

I reached over and rested my hand on his thigh, surprised when he laid his on top. Staring at our fingers, the way his large hand covered mine, I felt my heart pound with emotions that terrified me.

Without removing my hand, I turned and watched the scenery fly past my window. Time to focus. We couldn’t change the past no matter how badly either of us might want to. So I needed to concentrate on the future. I had no intention of letting Fonthill hurt us.

I lowered my voice to keep the driver from hearing. “He’ll probably be watching for us,” I said. “We know he’s got a rifle with a scope so he could pick us off before we ever see him.”

Aren nodded and leaned forward to tell the cabbie to let us out at the next block. The cab pulled around the corner, and we exited.

I glanced up at Aren. “Now what?”

“If we go on foot, we have a better chance of surprising him.”

I pondered it for a moment. “He has your wolf sense of smell. He’ll know we’re coming.”

“If we stay downwind, I’ll find him before he ever realizes we’re there.”

I started to smile. My partner rocked.

We crossed through an empty parking lot across the alley from the Sloan Consulting building. I double- checked my guns—both were loaded and ready to fire. Aren was tucking the Beretta we’d taken from Fonthill in Los Angeles into the waistband of his jeans. He’d have to pull back the slide before he could fire, but at least there was no danger of the weapon going off accidentally. Always a hazard when you don’t have a holster.

I stared up at his office building, checking if I could see Fonthill. The reflective glass building rose up toward the sun, mirroring its surroundings. I couldn’t see shit.

“How many floors?”

“Six.” Aren took my hand, leading me to the north side of the building.

“You’ve got a big office.”

He shook his head. “We lease the other five floors out. Sloan Consulting is up on the sixth floor.”

“You figure he’s on sixth floor then?”

He started to shrug. “I don’t…”

His words faded away as his brow knit together. I drew my gun, scanning for any sign of movement. Then I caught the scent of blood on the breeze.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Aren

Judging by how strong the scent hit me, the blood was fresh. And there was a lot of it. I didn’t draw my weapon. I was a fucking werewolf—I didn’t need a goddamn gun. It pressed into my back, reminding me I had bullets if push came to shove.

Good enough for me.

Sasha covered me as I tracked the scent toward the source. The air reeked, thick with the metallic aroma, overpowering anything else I might’ve been able to pick up. I whispered over my shoulder to Sasha. “I can’t smell anything but blood.”

She came closer to me, never lowering her Glock as she scanned the opening to the parking garage. “He’s counting on that. The scent is coming from down there.” She tipped her head toward the ramp to the underground parking. “We’re probably walking right into a trap.”

“You should stay up here,” I said, taking a deep inhale to confirm her suspicion. “I’ll go find him.”

“Not a chance.” She started down the ramp, staying close to the wall. “If we go, it’s together.”

If I wasn’t so distracted by the scent and keyed up about saving Barry, I might’ve taken a minute to enjoy the moment, knowing no matter what kind of crazy-ass plan I came up with, Sasha was ready to fight right beside me.

She adjusted her grip on the Glock and gave me a nod. My pulse pounded, and my nerves felt raw. Adrenaline coursed through my muscles like a drug. Right now, I could probably pick up one of the empty cars with my bare hands and toss it aside if I had to.

Silently we made our way across the first level, scrambling for cover from car to car. It would have been easier to hide during business hours, but on the weekend the parked cars were few and far between. Now I understood what those little ducks felt like in shooting galleries. All I needed was a big target painted on my back.

We knelt down behind a Volkswagen Bug by the elevator, and I reached over to touch Sasha’s shoulder. “I see Barry’s car.” I pointed about halfway down the next incline. “The brown Honda Accord.”

She scanned the area while I studied the car. I thought I could see someone in the driver’s seat. Then I noticed the dome light on and the door ajar. “Shit. He’s in there.”

I started toward the car, but Sasha caught my arm in a tight grip. “Not yet.”

She put her hand back on the Glock, ready to take her shot. “Stay with me.”

We moved slowly while she canvassed the area for any sign of Fonthill. I kept my attention focused on the car. As we neared the bumper, the stench of death hit me like a truck.

“Oh, fuck.” I forgot about being quiet or careful when I saw what was inside the car. If Fonthill was going to kill us he would’ve done it by now anyway. I raked my hand through my hair, trying to process the carnage that used to be a friend, one of my best employees.

Sasha came up behind me and took a deep breath, but she didn’t say a word. She’d probably seen many more mangled bodies in her line of work than I ever had. I turned away, struggling to keep my head.

Sasha holstered her gun. “I’m so sorry, Aren.”

“We’re too late.” I shook my head. “Did you see what that sick bastard did to him?” I stared at the mangled body in the driver’s seat behind her. “He didn’t just shoot him. He…”

Something didn’t make sense. The fog of shock that gripped my mind thinned as I moved around Sasha for a closer look. Fonthill’s scent lingered all over the body, but it wasn’t exactly the same one that came off the man I’d wrestled with in Los Angeles.

Barry’s throat was slashed so severely that his spinal cord was all that kept his head attached. His eyes were still open, his face frozen in a state of terror. I reached in to close his eyes and noticed his injuries didn’t end there.

A shudder shot down my spine. Chunks of Barry’s arms, hands, and legs were missing. His clothes were ripped, and one shoe was obviously gnawed on by a large animal.

“Impossible,” I whispered.

Sasha stood beside me. “What’s impossible?”

I took another deep breath, sampling Fonthill’s scent again. There was no mistake. “Barry was attacked, mauled, and eaten alive…” I stared into her eyes. “By a wolf. Fonthill shifted.”

Worry clouded her dark eyes as her brow furrowed. “That’s impossible. The full moon is still over a week away.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but there is no denying this scent.” I rubbed my hand down my face, wondering if I looked