Page 82 of Moonlight and Mischief
“Let’s go,” Hazel commands. Down the line, our teammates shift into their wolf forms. Shucking off my shirt, I allow my light reddish-gold coat to ripple down my arms. The cloud of anxiety lifts as my instincts surge forward, loosening my chest so I can breathe.
The scent of damp wood, rotting pine needles, and lingering smoke envelops me. With a shake, my ruff shivers down my back, softening some of my excess energy.
Cassia brushes up against me, Fern beyond her. The pack bond is a light burning in my chest. I draw strength from the hopeful determination and the protectiveness that drives us forward.
No matter what, we will be successful and do whatever it takes to get my mate and our pack back safely. There is no alternative.
The group is quiet while a select few, including Vale and Ewan, move northwards. Hazel slinks forward, stepping carefully to stay silent. We follow.
Onyx stays back with Heath, eyes on the training facility as he flies the drone in cautious circles. I don’t glance back at them, but their low voices are comforting.
A howl cuts through the twilight. A second voice lifts to join it. Low barks and shouts from our enemies respond, and within minutes, the Granite Ridge patrol turns north. They are noisy and it’s easy to track their progress. With any luck, they’ll be chasing our fastest runners far from the community, buying us precious minutes.
Hazel breaks into a run and I fall into step at her flank without thought. Our packmates follow, racing in groups of threes and fours. We weave through the trees as the sunset turns the pale green boughs into gold. This land is familiar. I could navigate with my eyes closed this close to the center of our territory.
The scent of the destroyed diner clouds my senses, the acrid melted plastic and charred metal burning my nose. The offensive smell of a rival pack thickens as we approach the largest cabins we believe hold hostages. Underneath, fresher scents of our family members and friends confirm our guess.
Swift and silent, we surround the first cabin. The moment the door opens with a creak, Fern leaps. Herpaws hit a guard and throw him onto his back with a jarring thud. His hands flail, but he’s unable to reach a weapon before Fern’s teeth close over his neck. She dispatches him with little concern if he can recover or not. I can’t fault her, not when her daughter and mother are held captive inside and this man would kill her given the chance.
Her black wolf disappears inside. I follow, pausing to grab the ankle of the downed guard and tug him away, shoulders heaving. We need a clear exit. Disgusted, I drop his limb and cross the porch to push through the ajar door.
The snarls of approaching enemies pull Hazel away, and most of our team follows her lead. They will face the larger threat while we retrieve our packmates.
Fern stands over another Granite Ridge guard, leaving a third one for me. The anger of the last day narrows my focus until I am a missile of fangs and fur. He attempts to draw a weapon, but my teeth sink into his arm before he can get his hand around the gun tucked into his belt. Claw, rip, tear. Blood pools across my tongue and I open my mouth to let it drip onto the floor.
Stepping off my victim, I look up as slim arms fling themselves around me. Fern stands in human form, supporting one of our elderly packmates while her daughter, Starling, squeezes my neck as her tears soak into my ruff.
“Well done, my dears,” Starling’s grandmother says.
“We’re not close to done yet. Cedar and Clove have a rescue team ready to evacuate you. Let’s go,”Fern orders, her last words turning to a bark. She plants a kiss on her daughter’s forehead and pushes her toward her grandmother before she shifts back.
Ears scanning for our enemies, I trail the rescued hostages until Cedar takes my place. He bumps my shoulder, a silent encouragement, while Clove takes Starling’s hand.
The sounds of a battle filter through the trees. Fern and I break into a sprint toward the clearing. We race to reach our teammates as they leap toward the Granite Ridge wolves surrounding the training building.
Fisher wrestles with a brute of a wolf outside of the training building. As the larger black wolf pushes our trainer down, my father joins the fight, ripping it away. Working in tandem, they take down the wolf and move onto the next one together.
The training building’s door is still shut, causing my heart rate to spike. Jasper and Slate are still in there with Sienna, Ferris, and an unknown number of cronies.
Before I can reach them, the Granite Ridge patrol pours into the clearing. A dozen more wolves throw themselves at us, jaws snapping.
With a vicious snarl, Hazel leaps at the wiry dark gray wolf leading the charge, knocking him into the dirt. As another silvery wolf rushes to his defense, my paws dig into the earth to launch myself forward.
The idea of someone hurting my loved ones turns my vision to a haze. My paws meet hisunprotected ribs as I knock him to the ground beside the first. Hazel’s jaws close over his neck, eliciting a whimper.
JASPER
Sienna’s eyes go wide as howls filter through the metal roof.
“That’s your pack here to surrender?” Ferris asks caustically, already pulling a knife from his belt. At his hand motions, the guards file to the door with guns raised. The first two open the door and step out.
Slate catches my gaze. I tip my chin down in the barest of nods. I’m ready.
“It’s their whole bloody pack attacking,” a guard shouts.
“Then we can take them all out at once,” Ferris says. Sienna turns her focus from us to him, her lip curling.
“Subdue, not kill. Without spoils, there’s no value left to be had,” she says, her words too quick to sound confident. I frown at her. It sounds as if she doesn’t want our pack entirely destroyed. There’s no time to consider the implications as a bang sounds. The wall vibrates as if a body was thrown against the siding. It’s followed by a trio of shots fired, a louder snarl, and a muffled scream.
