Alpha's Revenge (Shifter Ops 3)

Rafe bares his teeth like he’s a feral dog...and growls. My spine tingles at the sound.

“Was just trying to make sure she was safe,” Deke mutters in a low, rough voice, his hands still outstretched, but Rafe doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Shit,” Channing’s eyes go wide, and he races across the lawn. “Sarge—”

Channing’s too late. Before Channing can grab him, Rafe launches himself at Deke.

Sadie and I both cry out. She grabs me and tugs me back to the steps. Clutching each other’s coats, we steady each other and scramble back to the door.

Wild snarls fill the night air. Rafe is whaling on Deke, who’s defending himself and punching back. Channing wades into the fight, trying to pull Rafe off Deke. With a roar, Rafe shakes Channing off and chases after Deke.

“That's it.” I announce to the frosty air. “I'm out of here.” It’s a wonder my voice isn’t shaking.

“Adele…” Sadie starts and bites her lip.

“No, no.” I raise a hand. “This is ridiculous. Y'all have too much testosterone going on here.” I get my coat and my keys. In the past few minutes, the snowfall has lessened.

My little truck sits bravely in the driveway, and as I approach her, I study my tires with new eyes. They aren't bald, but they're closer to bald than new. I need to put car maintenance higher on my list of things to do. But Rafe is not going to take me home and fix my tires. No way.

The fight has moved across the lawn, closer to the black line of trees. Good. Let them kill each other, I don’t care.

I march down the path to the driveway, muttering to myself, “He told me not to drive my truck? He wants me to let him drive me home? Too freaking bad.” He shouldn't have acted like a drunken maniac and picked a fight.

I can’t work under these conditions. At this point, I’d be happy never to see Rafe again.

Rafe

“For fuck’s sake, Sarge,” Deke takes a punch to the gut and grunts. He’s a big fucker, and he’s used to taking hits. He’s the crazy one—he used to pick fights all the time. It annoyed the shit outta me.

Now I’m the one who wants to rip the world apart.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I punctuate each word with my fist. Deke blocks half the blows, retreating into the woods. I’ve noticed he’s been drawing me away from the house and his mate.

Sadie’s on the stoop by the front door, pressing her lips together. Adele is...gone. My wolf is frantic, trying to tell me something. The rage is receding.

Before I can ask where Adele is, Channing slams into me. His arms go around me.

“He’s not touching her,” Channing bawls. “He was making sure she’s safe.”

“I fucking know!” I grunt. “Get the fuck off!”

“Quick,” Channing yells to Deke. “Sit on him!”

Deke wades in. I thrash, breaking Channing’s grip and scrambling to my feet. Deke’s coming at me. I feint left, then right, and punch him in the gut, hard enough to break a rib. Channing grabs me from behind, and I slam my head back into his face. Blood sprays.

“Fugh.” Channing’s down on his back in the snow, holding his nose.

“Fuck,” Deke grunts, gritting his teeth and pressing a hand to his side.

With no one around me, I look around wildly for Adele. Her scent is fading in the night air. I pay attention to what the wolf is telling me—and I hear it. The sound of her old truck’s engine, heading down the drive.

She left. She’s gone.

“Fuck,” I shout. She’s upset, and she’s driving her beater through the snow. I gotta go after her.

“I got it, Sarge.” Deke’s already stripped out of his boots and shirt. He shucks off his fatigues and a huge black wolf tears out of his body. A second later, it's bounding away, it's big paws allowing more purchase on the snow-covered ground.

“I'm right behind you,” I call as Deke disappears into the dark woods. He’ll follow her down the drive and buy me a few minutes to follow.

I take stock of myself. No broken bones. A twinge in my elbow—but it’s already healing. I turn to Channing, but he’s already reset his broken nose. Neither of us are breathing hard.

My wolf’s eager to get after Adele, but I need to check on my packmate first. Fuck, I completely lost it.

I’ll think about it later.

Channing sits up. His eye sockets are shadowed with the remains of two black eyes. He spits more blood and grins. “All good, Sarge?” he asks as if I wasn't just pummeling his face with both fists.

“All good.” I offer him a hand up and pull him close for a manly hug, complete with back slaps. This is how a pack fights and makes up. Unless it’s an alpha fight, a fight for dominance, a fight to the death, we scrap together and forget it all within moments.