Page 23 of The Vampire in the Potting Shed

Within seconds, growls filled the air as wolves reached us, their fur bristling with menace.

Not a minute later, a half-dozen sentinels on two legs burst into the opening, Mercer and Bowie among them.

Aiming straight for Fayne, Bowie knelt beside her, checked her pulse, and spoke into his radio. “DOA.”

Dead on arrival.

“Anie.” He left her to examine me, but Sloane didn’t budge. “Are you okay?”

A rumbling threat poured from her throat as he got close enough to touch, her protective instincts too keyed up to allow him nearer, so he kept his hands to himself.

“The blood’s not mine.” I shoved at Sloane until she let me sit upright. “Who fired that shot?”

“They could have killed Ana,” Sloane rumbled at him. “The bullet could have gone straight through.”

A sour taste rose up the back of my throat, a reminder I had never witnessed this side of pack life.

“We need to get you inside.” Mercer cuffed my upper arm in an uncompromising grip. “It’s not safe out in the open.” He gritted his teeth. “I don’t know how that woman made it onto the property, but you’re lucky one of the sentinels noticed the flash of light before she attacked you.”

“How do you know she meant me harm? She was just sitting there, talking to me.”

Sloane caught my eye and shook her head once.

Far off in the distance, a mighty roar thundered across the skies, and the earth trembled underfoot.

“What was that?” I stumbled along as he half dragged me. “It sounded like…”

Vengeance.

Like no shifter I had ever heard or seen or could name.

As soon as we cleared the woods, Dad met me on the path, scooping me into his arms in a bridal carry.

“We have to get you to the panic room.” His breath didn’t so much as hitch as he carried me at a run the whole wayto the house. “The others are waiting for you before they seal themselves in.”

By theothers, he meant those who couldn’t fight. He might as well have pulled out a chair for me at the kids’ table at Thanksgiving. He was going to cram me in that space with some BS speech about how I had to protect those weaker than me, but that line quit working on me after age ten.

“What’s going on?” I twisted in his arms, but I couldn’t see a thing. “What was that roar?”

A sentinel I didn’t recognize held the front door open, and Dad rushed us through. A second one waited by the stairs leading down into the basement, and Dad shoved past him to fit us both in the tight space.

“Protect the others.” He didn’t miss a beat. “Keep them calm until Mercer texts you the all-clear.”

“Sloane is coming too.” I reached over his shoulder to take her hand. “She can help me.”

Behind me, Sloane rolled her eyes, but she didn’t complain as I dragged her with me.

They expected weakness from me, so why not exploit their bias for my benefit?

The safe room was a long white rectangle built into the slab of the house and doubled as a storm shelter during tornado season. With built-in benches, we could fit fifty people in this one, but there were others scattered across the property. There was enough food and water for everyone, at maximum capacity, to survive for a week. Thankfully, we had never put it to the test.

“I love you, Peanut.” Dad kissed my forehead. “Stay safe.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

“Everything will be okay.” He cupped my cheek in his large palm. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah.” I withdrew from his touch and turned away. “Happy hunting.”

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