I allowed myself a small smile and leaned into his strong palm. “Sounds good.”
A nod was all he gave as he stepped back. “Three minutes and we’re out of here.”
A new wave of tension flooded me as we rushed towards our bags that were filled with the weapons we’d packed. I stripped quickly beside Thatch.
“We plan to ambush southeast of here.” Just then, we heard the crackle of static from a two-way and listened in. One of Barwon’s men explained that there were at least two vamps and two lions. But they were yet to get a read on the others. When he said that they were slow going and unfamiliar with the route, I grinned.
Barwon and Laketon stepped out with a group of shifters, eight men and two women. Laketon’s smile was almost sardonic. I couldn’t help but grin back.
“Their slow progress means we can get behind them if we move fast.” Laketon pulled off his shirt as he spoke.
My gaze landed on Barwon. I had no idea how old the alpha was, but grey streaked his dark hair. His eyes connected with mine. “Don’t even think about it. There’s more than enough life left in me yet.” Humour lit his voice, but strength carried his words, making them ring true.
“I didn’t say anything,” I said, hands held palm out towards him.
“One minute,” Thatch said.
A ripple in the air indicated the changes taking place. With my wolf vision, it was easy to appreciate the strength of the shifters. None would have the disciplined training of Thatch or me, but that didn’t mean shit. Not when they lived remotely and read the land so much better than I ever could.
Clamping down on the bag’s straps, I flicked my head as the weight landed on my back, my teeth keeping a firm grip. A wolf who, as a man, was tall, dark, and built with sinewy muscle took point. I’d scented him as Barwon’s beta, but had no clue of his name.
Together, we raced through the forest, following paths well-travelled before darting off route unexpectedly. Over downed trees and across creeks we kept a solid speed. Any other time I would have appreciated the freedom I could taste in the air being so far away from the city, but my ears constantly listened for noises that didn’t fit. My gaze, while travelling between the beta and Thatch’s three wolves in front of me, remained vigilant of changing shadows and erratic movements in my periphery.
My ears registered the change of pace before my eyes. We slowed and switched direction, noticeably keeping to the same paw falls. After a couple more minutes, the beta paused, and we followed suit. He shifted, and Thatch followed. Anticipation pulsated through me as I waited for direction from Thatch.
“We’re expecting the vampires to be on the drug I explained earlier. Keep vigilant and don’t take one on by yourself,” he whispered. Protocol indicated we’d stop a minimum of one and a half kilometres from hostiles for low conversations and checks when shifters and vamps were present, and specifically in the open. A change in wind direction could quite possibly carry a voice a little too far and screw it all up.
“Laketon, John”—who I figured was the beta—“Tallis, Neil, Tom, and Kasey will shift into human form and stick with me. The rest will stay shifted. Leave your gear twenty metres from interception in case you need to shift. We’ll target the vampires.”
A growl rippled through the air, a warning that I didn’t like this plan. The last time Thatch went up against a vampire resulted in an injury and me being scared shitless. Thatch’s eyes slammed into mine, hard, unrelenting. He wasn’t moving on this. Bastard. But for all we knew, there could be more than two vampires. What then?
Thatch’s hard stare moved past me, churning my gut while pissing me off. If he got himself hurt, I’d lay him out. A humourless snort filled the air. This time Thatch’s gaze returned to me, and he rolled his eyes. Yeah, I was sure the arsehole could read my mind.
“Focus on the shifters and any humans,” he continued, speaking to the rest of us. “I know our intel isn’t perfect, but there’s no way we’re letting them move closer to the Ballard pack.” Nods and soft snorts of agreement followed from the shifters a moment before the changes took place. The team dressed, armed themselves with rifles rather than the handguns and technologically advanced weapons SCIB used, and waited.
“Kent’s organised a pickup at our previous drop-off point for any hostiles we take.” Growls of dissent followed. I got it. Seriously. Sometimes following the rules of the SCIB sucked arse. “But do not put yourself at unnecessary risk to simply immobilize.”
My brows sprang high at that. While I hadn’t known Thatch when he was human, I could imagine he played by the rules… mainly. There were some titbits of gossip I’d wrangled out of Jenson, but nothing was at the level of taking lives.
Me, however, there was a reason why I was a pain in Brent’s arse beyond him apparently having an issue with shifters and the confusing BS connection between him and my father. Mainly because of the extra paperwork I caused.
Before Thatch gave the go, he sent me the briefest of glances. I tried like hell to get him to mind-read, to send him a message telepathically that when we got out of this, which we seriously were, I was going to screw him so damn hard he’d be walking bow-legged for days. There may have been some warm and fuzzy feelings at play too. But it was best to focus on the immediately gratifying element of
