Truman let out a howl of pain, and Grant smelled sizzling flesh. He turned and ran over to Truman, clawed at his shoulder, and dug the bullet out. He stifled a yelp as the silver burned the pads of his paw, and frantically scraped it off into the dirt.
Then they heard shouts coming from a short distance away. “This way! This way!” a woman’s voice yelled.
Werewolves. There were other werewolves in the woods with them.
They ran towards them. The werewolves were in human form, and armed. They aimed rifles at the ’copters, shooting back, and the ’copters quickly veered off.
Grant nodded in thanks to the half-dozen werewolves in front of him. “Thanks for having our backs. How did you happen to be out here?”
“Just out for a stroll.” One of the men flashed a grin at him. “You should probably head back and get a healer to look at your friend.”
Truman sniffed the air. “You smell familiar. What pack are you from?”
“The Deep Woods Pack.”
“There’s no such pack,” Grant informed him. “You’re lone wolves, aren’t you?”
The guy shrugged and glanced at his friends. “I don’t feel too lonely.” His grip tightened on his rifle.
“There’s a group of you. Why don’t you form an official pack?” Grant asked, exasperated.
“Maybe we don’t like governmental interfering bullshit.” The man’s voice turned hard. “Maybe anofficial pack-” he spat the word out as if it tasted foul “-hunted down my brother for being mentally ill, instead of finding a way to safely confine him. And maybe it’s none of your fucking business.”
“You do realize that all these lone wolf attacks risk exposing you as well us?” Grant snapped at him. “If people know about the existence of werewolves, none of us are safe.”
“Hey. We came out here. We saved your asses. Now go home.”
“Who were those people who just attacked us?”
“No idea. We’d like to know that too. And before you ask, no, the lone wolf who killed the poacher wasn’t one of ours. We’re not even from around here.” The small group was moving backwards, away from them.
“How did you know to come out here and save us?” Grant called out.
But they’d turned their backs now and were walking away.
Technically, Grant and his men would be within their rights to attack the entire group and do anything they wanted with them. Kill them. Interrogate them.
But the group had just saved their lives, and Grant sympathized with them, to an extent.
The other men with him were looking at him for guidance.
“Let’s go,” he said.
* * * * *
By noon, they were back at the lodge, in the largest meeting room, with every Alpha and Elder in attendance. They sat on folding chairs facing Cliff, Grant, Talbot and Ford, who stood on a raised platform.
Cliff addressed the group, his eyes glowing with anger.
“Someone is targeting us, working to expose us,” he grated out. “Maybe someone from the Network. Maybe humans. But we have got to set that database up.”
“This is all awfully convenient,” Anthony snapped at him. “Yet another mysterious attack.”
“It wasn’t awfully convenient that one of my pack members nearly died out there,” Grant said angrily.
“So you say. Whoever shot at him sure had bad aim.” Anthony’s lip curled in a sneer. “And you boys admit that you let a group of rogues escape, instead of killing every last one of them. If there were any rogues there. Who knows what really happened in the woods? Maybe Truman shot himself.”
“I’m not with their pack, I’m from the Bent River Pack,” William called out. “Reynaldo’s with the Reno Pack. We all saw the same thing. How many of us do you think are in on this conspiracy?”