There.
Through the open garage
door.
Two feral wolves.
The red wolf’s head was low, nose to the ground.
The timber wolf was upright, ears twitching.
The long chains had been removed, though they still had silver links around their necks, like a collar. It looked as if the silver had been embedded into their skin.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Omegas. Both of them. Still inside.”
Rico groaned quietly. “Is it too much to ask for evil werewolves to die when they’re thrown across the road by a witch?”
“Elijah?” Jessie whispered.
I shook my head.
“How many of them are there?”
“Twenty. That I can see.”
“Can’t you just… I don’t know,” Tanner said. “Kill them? Somehow? Freeze the air in their lungs or something? The full moon is in two days. We’re running out of time. I don’t understand why we just don’t take them head-on.”
“Ox and Joe said this was recon only,” Chris reminded him. “He didn’t want us doing anything to bring attention to ourselves.”
“I know that, but why can’t we just get the pack together and make the streets run red with their—and holy hell, I’ve become a rage monster.” Tanner shook his head. “That’s probably not a good thing.”
“You know why,” Jessie said, wiping the window again. “Jones already died because of them. We can’t take the chance of someone else getting hurt. Not until we know more.”
The timber wolf’s ears twitched. Its head turned in our direction.
“Down,” I hissed.
We all hit the floor of the diner.
The wind howled outside.
The air was cold.
My heart was racing.
In my head came the wolves in a burst of color, of PackBrotherLoveWitch. I sent back soothing waves of calm, though it felt like a lie. I didn’t know if they believed me.
“Stay down,” I whispered to them. “Don’t move unless I say.”
“What is—” Chris started, but I shook my head, and he fell silent.
I took a deep breath and held it in my chest.
I pushed myself up.
I peered over the diner counter out the window.
The men still milled inside the garage. The few outside moved back and forth in the snow.