It didn’t take long to reach the point of picking up the sound of the group trampling through the forest. For shifters and vamps, they were noisy bastards. A few more metres, and I placed my bag on the ground. Anticipation swept through me, sending a vibration of determination in its wake.
They were going down.
Laser-focussed, I zeroed in on my first target—the largest shifter of the bunch. A lion. At some point, the SCIB would need to investigate why there were so many lions involved in the creation of the drugs. It had to be more than basic greed, right?
A glance at Barwon, and I indicated who I was taking down. He swung his gaze to the shifter to the lion’s right, then seemed to have a similar conversation with his wolves. The exchange was brief, barely seven seconds, and just in time. I raced towards my target. It was as my jaw clamped around the back of his neck, that the vamp I was sure Thatch would be targeting lifted his head.
Fierce growls erupted, along with snarls and tears of flesh. I was aware of a whimper but kept my focus on the blood filling my mouth. They fought back. The bites brutal, speed staggeringly fast, and with a savagery that sent me on high alert. A shot was fired, and I knew there were going to be no survivors. This crew of mercenaries would not be laying down their weapons and going quietly.
A swift twist, and the lion slumped to the ground. I allowed myself the briefest of moments to take in the scene and see where I was needed. One of Barwon’s wolves was bloody and limping, but still assisting another in taking down an enemy wolf. There was a human prone on the leafy ground, and a vampire dead.
With four more to go, I attempted to identify who was the greatest threat, but froze when I only saw three fighting forms. Eyes on Laketon, who had taken a hit that left him a safe few metres from his battle with a vamp, Tallis and Kasey still hitting hard, I shifted, calling out, “Where’s the fourth?” A cement weight dropped in my gut, and I growled, “Where’s Thatch?”
Laketon wiped blood from his mouth and spared me the barest of glances, saying, “He and Tom went after another vamp. Bastard was wiry.”
Barely contained fear merged with anger-threaded heat as I demanded, “Where?”
“Headed west, towards the Ballard pack.”
“Fuck.”
I turned my back as Laketon reentered the fray and called to Barwon, “You hear that?”
The deep brown eyes of his wolf form stared at me intently. He yipped, and John’s voice filtered over the grunts and feral snarls. “We’re good. You go.”
Laketon dipped his head and took off as I willed myself to shift faster than I ever had before. Not stopping for my bag, not willing to slow myself down, I raced after Barwon and soon took the lead. Racing in the general direction of the pack land took me to a downed tree where I finally picked up Thatch’s unique scent.
I pushed harder. Faster. My paws carried me through the brush, the pounding of my steps and the cracking of twigs and rustle of leaves letting anyone or anything who listened know that I was on a mission. And I didn’t care who heard. This wasn’t a time for stealth.
A grunt up ahead, perhaps five hundred metres or so, alerted me of Thatch’s position. I charged forward, only slowing down when I heard the distinctive crunch of bone and a piercing howl. A slower approach was necessary so I wouldn’t make things even worse. But the desire to dash in and save the day rode me hard.
Once my eyes adjusted to the scene before me, heaviness settled in my chest. Charging in would put Thatch and Tom at risk. They had the vamp penned in. And unless the vampire had mastered the ability of teleportation, he was screwed.
Wide, feral eyes focused on Thatch. There was no doubt the vamp was drugged up to the eyeballs. Vesper, I assumed. The predator in him was at the surface, making the vicious killer in him even deadlier. I saw Thatch move at the same moment the vamp did.
Screw this.
Tense muscles drove me forward. The need to intercept the hit on Thatch pushed me beyond any desire for self-preservation. There was no way I’d get my jaw around the vamp’s neck though, so I went for his side. Sharp teeth found purchase in the vampire’s flesh, preventing the vampire’s hand from gripping Thatch’s throat.
A duck and a roll had Thatch bouncing back to his feet while I held on for dear life. Ignoring the pain from the strong grip on my skull proved difficult as hell. The bastard was going to crush my skull unless I made a break for it or took him down. Before I loosened my jaw, Thatch struck hard; at the same time, Tom clutched at the vampire’s neck, and Barwon clamped his sharp teeth on the vampire’s arm that held my skull in his grip.
Pain shot through me and a yelp ripped free, but I couldn’t break away. I shook my head, and with the help of Barwon’s determined grip, broke free. No longer feeling like my brain was going to explode, I tore into the vampire’s side.
Spots danced in my vision as I forced my jaw closed, then tugged, hard. Flesh came away, not helping my already spinning brain. I spat flesh and blood out fast. Hell knew what would happen if I ingested the stuff.
Ignoring my blurring vision, I went back for more. Purpose propelled me forward just as the three shifters dragged the vampire to his knees. Bones crunched. Blood filled my mouth. The final scream left the vampire’s mouth as I tore away his throat.
It was done.
And not a moment too soon, as I was going to black out. I took a final glance at Thatch, knowing he was going to
