Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

Thomas and Mark holed themselves up in Thomas’s office, whispering angrily into a phone, speaking to people I’d never heard of.

Elizabeth kept us calm, hands casually in our hair as she walked by.

On the second night, we sat down to dinner. Conversation was quiet. Silverware scraped against clay plates. Then Gordo took in a sharp breath and sighed. “They’re coming,” he said.

Alpha and Beta eyes shone around us.

We knew the plan. We’d trained for this.

I thought my hands would shake as I picked up a crowbar infused with silver, a gift from Gordo. They did not shake.

Thomas and Mark. Carter and Gordo. Out on the porch.

The rest of us stayed inside. Elizabeth and I in front. Kelly with Joe and my mother.

I saw them approach in the dark. Their violet eyes shone amongst the trees.

Thomas said, “This is Bennett territory. I will give you a chance to leave. I suggest you take it.”

They laughed.

A man said, “Thomas Bennett. As I live and breathe.”

Another man said, “And a witch no less. Smells like… Livingstone? Was that your father?”

Gordo Livingstone. His father, who’d lost his tether and hurt a great many people.

But Gordo didn’t reply. It wasn’t his place. The Alpha spoke for them all, even if Gordo wasn’t pack.

Thomas said, “One chance.”

The third man said, “The children will suffer. Especially little Joseph. I don’t think it’ll take much to break him.” There was a nasty smile on his face, and I would have murdered him where he stood without a second thought if Elizabeth hadn’t tightened her hold on my arm.

Thomas said, “You shouldn’t have said that.”

And Marie said, “You talk too much.”

And then there were claws and fangs and desperate snarls. The wolves half shifted and tore into each other. Thomas’s eyes were fire-red and he seemed bigger than the others, so much bigger. I wondered why the Omegas thought they ever stood a chance.

Gordo went after the first man. His tattoos shone and shifted, and I could smell the ozone around him, lightning-struck and cracking. The earth shifted beneath the Omega’s feet, a sharp column of rock shooting up and knocking him into an old oak tree.

Carter took the second man, and they were all teeth and tearing skin. Carter roared angrily as the Omega sliced sharp lines down his back, and Kelly gave an answering snarl behind me, taking a step toward his brother before Joe grabbed his hand, eyes wide and frantic.

Mark raised the third man over his head and brought him down over his knee, and the crack of the Omega’s back was sharp and wet. The Omega fell to the ground. His arms and legs skittered and seized.

Thomas took on Marie. Her red hair flew around her wolfed-out face. His red eyes tracked her every movement. He was grace. She was violence. Their claws hit and caused sparks to flare in the dark. He moved like liquid and smoke. She was staccato. She had already lost, but didn’t know it yet. She would. Soon.

But.

We didn’t know there was a fifth. Maybe the wolves should have known. Maybe they should have been able to sense him. Maybe the breaching of the wards should have tipped Gordo off. But there was blood and distraction, magic and breaking bone. Our family was fighting, and they might have been winning, but not without taking hits.

Senses were overloaded. Hackles were raised.

My mother was at the rear of us.

She said, “Ox.”

So I turned.