Lone Wolf (The Pack 5)

The door burst open, slamming against the wall so hard it splintered. Monster stood there, completely naked as he panted. “I need your help.” He sucked in a deep breath as I leaped to my feet, his voice coming to me over the Pack link. Two men shot Dylan. They took him in their truck. I followed, but I couldn’t stop them. I came to get help.

Good, you did the right thing, I replied. Can you pick up their scent?

He nodded, a red flush highlighting the freckles across the bridge of his nose. I glanced back at Mom and she waved her hands, urging me to go. “I’ll alert the others. Go.”

I can’t reach Dylan, Monster admitted and I gripped his shoulder.

He’s okay, I told him, searching the connection until I felt the faint pulse of his life. He’s alive. Monster nodded, swiping at his eyes as we left the cabin, and headed to a familiar jacked up Jeep. I hopped into the driver’s seat, nodding at him. You tell me where to go.

I popped it into gear, peeling down the dirt road that connected our little community to the outside world. I gunned the engine as the road straightened out, and when we hit a bump in the road, the tires left the ground. We bounced as we came back down, fishtailing a little as I took a turn faster than I should, and had to steer us straight as Monster sat tensely next to me. “South,” he muttered as I came to the road, but before I could make the turn, someone stepped in our path.

“Shit,” I shouted, slamming on the brakes, the back tires spinning as we skidded to a halt sideways. My heart thumped as Trent walked toward us. “What the hell?” I yelled as he swung himself in the back since the top wasn’t on. “I could have hit you.”

“Good thing the brakes work,” he answered mildly and I glanced at Monster, who only shrugged. “We going?”

I hit the gas again, muttering under my breath as we hit the road, leaving black marks as I made the turn too fast. “How’d you know?”

“I don’t trust you.” He glanced at Monster. “Either of you.” He held onto the roll bar as I flew through the only stoplight in town. “I was waiting for you to do something stupid.”

“Somebody has Dylan,” Monster growled and Trent bent down toward him.

“And how did they get him? Weren’t you supposed to be at home sleeping?”

I shot a sideways glance at Monster in time to see the guilt flash across his face. “What were you doing?” I snapped, my tempter starting to flare. “Theo, answer me.”

“We were going to the Ghost Pack. I wanted to talk to Paige,” he admitted, not looking at us. “But Dylan…he went racing the other way, to the road. I couldn’t make sense of his thoughts, but he ran right into the road.”

“He knows better,” Trent said needlessly. “Dylan is careful. He wouldn’t leave your side.”

“I know that,” Monster burst out. “But something about that truck set him off. I couldn’t keep up with him and then I heard a shot.” Monster’s expression turned to one of self-disgust. “By the time I got there, they had him in the truck. All I could do was follow them.” He rubbed his face.

“How many?” Trent questioned as I pressed the accelerator a little harder, shifting gears as we left the town of Banks in the rearview mirror.

“Two,” Monster paused. “I think. There might have been someone in the back of the truck.” He swallowed, shaking his head. “We have to hurry. Dylan….”

“Yeah, we know.” There was no telling what Dylan might do. He was unpredictable and if he had been shot, he might not be able to shift to heal himself. “Can you reach him?” I asked Monster, who shook his head, his expression tight. “Keep trying,” I ordered.

The Jeep rocketed down the dark road as I steered us south. There were no other roads so eventually we had to catch up to them, but I started to get nervous as we kept going with no sign of them. “They went this way,” I double checked and Monster nodded.

Another few miles and then Trent shouted, “Up ahead.” He pointed and I squinted, slowing the Jeep as a truck came into view, the front of it crumpled against a tree, no one in sight. “Is that the truck?”

“Yeah,” Monster answered, already leaning out the door of the Jeep in preparation when I stopped. I snagged his arm and he shot me an angry glare.

“We don’t know what we’re walking into,” I reminded him. “Don’t go running off.”

He nodded and I brought the Jeep to a stop behind the wrecked truck.

“You smell that?” Trent asked and we nodded, catching the scent of blood. “Dylan was definitely here.”