Page 73 of Alpha Wolf's Nanny
Nicolas fell in beside them, all shifting mid-stride, their bodies rippling into their wolf forms with the ease of instinct. They thundered through the woods, a streak of muscle and momentum, trees blurring past in a green-and-brown haze.
The call had come from far away, but not that far. Not outside of their reach.
Whoever had taken them had been stupid enough to stay within Iron Walker territory. It was a mistake that would cost them their lives.
As they got closer, the forest a blur, the scent of blood hit them like a wall. Thick. Coppery. Wrong.
It led them to an abandoned warehouse in a half-abandoned town west of Silvermist. The structure was half-eaten by rust, the roof caved in at one side, the place forgotten by time and swallowed by the forest. Felix didn’t hesitate. He leapt and slammed into the corroded steel doors. They shrieked on their hinges before ripping free entirely, clanging to the concrete with a deafening echo.
Inside, chaos.
Rick, still fully shifted and visibly injured, paced protectively in front of Cassie, his fur matted with blood, his eyes feral and flickering with wild, fractured recognition. He snarled low in his throat, caught between fight and collapse.
Cassie was crumpled behind him on the ground, trembling, her arms locked around herself like a last defense. Her hair was tangled, her shirt torn, and her legs drawn tightly to her chest. She looked small. Broken. Like she was holding herself together through sheer force of will.
And surrounding them, shadows.
Men. Half a dozen of them. The sleaze of humanity, judging by the scent of fear and gun oil clinging to their clothes. Armed. Cornered. Angry.
Felix didn’t pause.
He launched himself at the nearest one, claws flashing. He caught the man in the chest, raking through denim and flesh like paper. The scream that followed was short and gurgled, blood spraying as the man dropped.
Then all hell broke loose.
The others were on them in seconds. Dane collided with two at once, teeth snapping. Nicolas tore a shotgun from another’s grip and crushed the barrel beneath his paws before ripping into the man's gut.
It wasn’t a fight. It was a purge.
Felix moved like a storm, silent and brutal. One of the men slashed at him with a hunting knife, but he caught the blade in his teeth and twisted until bone snapped. Then he drove his claws into the man’s neck and flung him aside like trash.
Another tried to run, a mistake. Nicolas took him down before he made it two steps.
The last man, taller, older, the one who reeked of command, raised a pistol with shaking hands.
Felix stepped through the shot.
The bullet grazed his ribs, but he didn’t slow. He grabbed the man by the collar and threw him back into the wall with enough force to crack concrete. His eyes burned into the man’s skull.
He had touched Cassie. He could smell it all over him.
The man whimpered, trying to form a plea. Felix didn’t let him.
He tore his throat out and let the body crumple.
When it was over, when the warehouse rang only with the fading echoes of snarls and the slick drip of blood, Felix stood in the center of the carnage, his chest heaving, his claws slick.
He turned.
Cassie hadn’t moved.
She was still curled on the ground, trembling violently, her gaze vacant. She wasn’t crying. Her eyes were wide and glassy, like she’d already seen too much to cry.
Felix shifted back without hesitation, pain flaring across his limbs, but he ignored it.
“Cassie,” he said, his voice low, raw. He knelt beside her slowly, not wanting to startle her. “It’s me. It’s Felix.”
She blinked, her eyes struggling to focus. Then she gasped.
