Alpha's Vow (Shifter Ops 2)

The door moves slightly and two glowing green eyes flash up at us. I startle and Lance breathes in my ear, “Easy. It’s just Rafe.”

I can just make out the giant black wolf just outside the door. It dips its head and slinks away.

“He’ll go first,” Lance whispers.

I nod and press my face against his neck, sucking in lungfuls of his scent to keep me grounded. Lance has camo paint mottling his face and coating his light hair. He’s a demon in the night. But not as scary as that big black wolf.

“You ready?”

I squeeze him tighter, not trusting myself to speak. His muscles flex under me and then we're on the run. The wind on my face tells me we're moving faster than any human could run. In a few moments, we're outside the warehouse. A dog barks in the distance, but otherwise the night is still.

A ten foot tall fence topped with razor wire surrounds the compound, the metal glittering silver in the moonlight. Ahead of us, a black wolf leaps over it in a graceful, impossible ballet that takes my breath away.

“Catch her,” Lance mutters. The wolf suddenly shifts and takes human form. Rafe is clothed in some kind of stretchy material that serves as boxers, so he’s not naked.

“Ready, Charlie?”

“Um…”

Lance swings me into the air like he’s tossing a sack of potatoes. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for the catch. Rafe catches me so easily, there’s barely an impact, and then Lance vaults over the fence, easily clearing the razor wire. I gape, transfixed by his prowess. Is this what it’s like, being a shifter? Will our baby be like this?

Behind us, the dogs have started to make a racket. Rafe shifts back to wolf form.

“Shit.” Lance scoops me up and weaves through the forest. I peek for a second, growing dizzy at the sight of trees blurring past us. “We’re not out of the woods yet,” he says.

“What's going to happen?”

“I wanted to light that place up,” he tells me. “Turn it into scorched earth. But Rafe vetoed a strike. In a few hours, that place will be crawling with cops.”

“I meant how do we get out of here?”

“Oh. That’s the fun part.” His grin is as big as ever. I’m the most scared I’ve been in my life and Lance is smiling. This is another day on the job for him. He lives in this world—his entire adult life has been spent in danger.

Fun part?

Lance stops and crouches behind a boulder, with me still in his arms.

Someone crouches next to us. “There she is.” White flashes between the dark camo paint—Channing giving me a grin. He hands me a bottle of water. Lance helps me hold it as I suck the liquid down as slowly as I can.

“Easy, angel.” Lance pats my back when I gasp and sputter. “I’ve got you.”

I hug him tight, squeezing my eyes to keep the tears in. I’m safe now. Lance got me out. It’s going to be okay.

“All right, get ready to run,” Channing mutters. He stashes the empty bottle in a pack and pulls out a walkie-talkie. “Echo-1, this is Alpha-10 requesting pickup.”

Lance shifts me in his arms so Channing can hand him the device. “Echo 1, we’ve got the package. Time to FedEx the hell out,” Lance repeats. Behind us, back at the compound, lights have flooded on. The sounds of dogs are getting louder.

“Roger that.” The walkie-talkie buzzes with the static-filled reply. “Echo-1 on its way. Alpha-10 stand by.”

When I look back down, there’s a big wolf with white patches where Channing was standing. The wolf gives me a grin, picks up the pack in his mouth, and bounds away.

“This is it, baby. Almost outta here.” Lance rises and sets off. We’re on a mountain, and he’s taking us to higher ground. There’s the dull thunder of chopper blades up ahead. A helicopter hovers over a rocky outcropping. And we're rushing straight toward it.

“Hang on.” Lance kicks into real speed, and trees fly by. We crash through the brush and up towards the waiting helicopter. Teddy's come through. But there’s no sign of the black, or brown and white wolf. No Rafe, no Channing.

“What about the others?” I cry over the roar of the engine and wind from the rotors.

“They can take care of themselves,” Lance shouts. He leaps into the chopper and settles into a seat, holding me tight. He straps his own body to the seat one arm at a time, still holding me. I don't think he'll ever let me go.

“I'm so sorry, angel,” he says. I don't know how I hear him over the roar of the blades, but I do. “It’s almost over.”

My teeth are chattering with cold and adrenaline, but I’m alive. We're airborne, flying away into the night.