* * *
Devan followed the scent of blood, battle, and Zio as though he was being dragged behind a bullet train. His tiger ate up the miles, a silver-white blur to any human who saw him, but it still felt like a lifetime had passed by the time the burning compound appeared on the horizon.
The air was thick with humans and their army vehicles. Their weapons. In the sky above, a helicopter hovered. Devan slowed his pace and slunk along the tree line until he found a safe place to shift into human form, grateful he’d possessed the wherewithal to sling his clothes in a bag around his neck before he’d torn away from the border camp.
He dressed in a flash and emerged from the forest, tracking Zio and his brothers to the smoking ruins of Varian’s house. Bodies, enemy and pack, littered the ground. Devan healed every soul who carried the pack scent. Most faces he didn’t catch. Over and over, he dug deep for his powers and emptied his pockets of the tinctures and herbs Zio had helped him gather.
Unknown time had passed when his supplies ran dry. He fell back on his heels as the wolf in front of him staggered to her feet and darted away on wobbly legs. An enemy fighter lunged for her. She evaded, barely.
Devan rocked back and stood, gaze caught on the enemy wolf as it scanned the smouldering mess that remained of Varian’s garden. Blood squelched beneath his feet. So much blood. Devan’s only comfort was that none of it was Zio’s or any wolf he’d called brother over the last few weeks.
The enemy wolf was big, with muscular shoulders that signalled enhanced beta strength, perhaps even that of an alpha. Shock hit Devan as their eyes met. Most shifters possessed a human touch even in animal form, but not this one. Face caught in a snarl, gaze manic with the rush of violence and death, the wolf was pure evil, like nothing Devan had ever seen.
And he wasn’t alone.
More enemy wolves entered the garden. They seemed to be looking for something, and when their collective attention fell on Devan, a warning growl built among them.
Devan widened his stance, the first ripples of a shift hovering at the edge of his consciousness. Under the terms Dash had negotiated, he had every right to be on the ground, healing the pack he’d been embedded with. Any reasonable pack leaders would know that, but as the enemy wolves advanced on Devan, he realised that the crazed glint in the first wolf’s eyes hadn’t been unique to him.Damn. They’re all like it.
For the first time, a shimmer of fear ran through Devan. Until that moment, he’d been so hellbent on finding Zio—and helping as many as he could along the way—that his own safety had barely occurred to him. But the sheer number of deranged wolves creeping closer was fucking terrifying.
“I like it when you curse.”
“What?”
“When you swear. It makes me laugh.”
“Yeah, well. I like it when you laugh, so call it even?”
Warmth tried its luck against the disquiet coursing through Devan’s gut, but even Zio’s voice echoing in his head wasn’t enough to distract him.If they come for me, I’m dead. I have to shift.
The rush of energy that came before a shift gathered power in Devan’s senses. His vision sharpened, hearing zeroed in on sounds he hadn’t noticed in his human form alone. The scents of his assailants intensified.
A quiet pop pierced the air. A thud hit Devan’s side, as though he’d been punched.
He snorted.They’re throwing things at me? They really have lost their minds.He steeled himself for the shift, eager for his bones to snap and elongate. He’d always enjoyed the pain, embraced it, revelled in it. As he’d got older, he’d taken the thrill for granted, but that had changed since he’d come to England and lived within the limitations of his complex new life. Now, every sensation that zipped through him was something he’d never felt before. Every jolt and shudder. The flashes of pain stretched out longer, deeper. And his shift didn’t come.
What the—
But the thought didn’t complete. Senses that had been fleetingly sharp dulled as though a dark cloud had been dropped on the world. Weakness replaced power. Bile surged in Devan’s throat, and he fell forwards, bracing himself on the burnt ground until his arms crumpled and his head hit the concrete with a sickening crack.
* * *
Devan woke up in a cage in a damp, dark room. His own blood stained his skin and clothes, and the scent was overpowering. He retched, the sensation as alien to him as having four legs had been the first time he’d ever shifted. His stomach emptied, and his head swam. White dots danced in his eyes.Gods, what happened to me?
He fell onto his back. The ceiling above was as black as the night sky, and he possessed no idea what it meant.Everything hurts.He ran his hands over his body but found no open wounds. The blood he smelt was fresh, but where had it come from?
“Don’t move,” a voice murmured from somewhere close by. “You healed from the shot, but you were already too weak to recover from losing so much blood.”
It took Devan a long moment to compute the words. He forced his heavy eyes to open wider and searched for the source. His gaze fell on a young woman crouched in the corner of the cage, blonde hair matted, skin streaked with grime. “It’s you,” he slurred.
She offered him a half-smile. “If by that you mean I’m the enemy wolf you rescued from the death sentence your mate passed on me, then, yeah, it’s me.”
“I don’t have a mate.”
“I think you do—”
The girl was cut off by approaching footsteps, heavy with enemy scent. Devan forced himself upright, bones and joints screaming with every movement. Three shifter men were at the cage bars before he could blink, each one a head taller than any northern pack Devan had ever seen. Stronger, maybe, than even Luca.