Page 88 of The Tracker's Secret
The camera swiveled back with a whirring sound. As it pointed toward the woods, I ran in the direction of the side door, pulled the handle, then stepped inside, thanking the witchlights it was unlocked.
I paused, pressing my back against the wall and inhaling deeply, willing my breaths and frantic heart to settle down. I focused on my body, searching for signs that I might shift unexpectedly, but the itching and tingling on my skin that I’d come to associate with the change weren’t there. Instead, what I found was a profound stillness, as if my wolf were patiently waiting for her turn. The sensation of her presence put me at ease. I wasn’t alone, and there was much more to me than the gun and protective vest.
Staying close to the wall, I hurried down the narrow corridor ahead. Suddenly, the door behind me opened. I whirled, aiming my gun. But it was Jake, holding a hand up as if that would stop the bullet if I went trigger-happy. I had wolfsbane ammunition, too. He was lucky Tom had taught me to check before shooting.
Jake rushed to my side and whispered in my ear. “We’d better hurry before those other two knuckleheads realize their friends are out of commission.”
I pointed my gun toward a glass door ahead. He dashed in its direction, took a quick peek inside, then gave me a thumbs up. We kept going down the hall until we reached a set of large, swinging doors.
Slowly, he pushed one open and peered through the crack. He gave me a nod then slipped inside. I went right after him, the gun’s grip slick in my sweaty palm. We stood silently for a few beats, our eyes examining the scene before us.
Rows and rows of crates like the ones I’d seen in my vision stretched from front to back. The waist-high boxes were stacked in threes and were all stamped with the bleeding heart logo. The space was mostly dark, barely illuminated by a few bare light bulbs hanging from the tall ceiling. Toward the back, the light barely scratched the corners. An eerie silence filled the space. There was no sign of more guards. Odd if those crates were really full of rhabo. Or maybe they were overconfident.
After checking left and right, Jake rushed between two rows of crates, heading straight for the shadows in the back. I rushed after him, relishing the sizzling energy that sang through my veins.
Under the cover of darkness, he knelt behind one of the crates. I joined him, and we waited for a few beats, listening carefully for any indication that we’d been spotted.
When it was clear that we were safe, he nodded, pulled out a huge serrated knife from his belt, and stuck it between two of the crate’s planks. With one solid push, he pried the boards apart. They cracked, splintering, the snap echoing through the space.
Abandoning all caution, Jake tore a section of the board. A layer of white foam blocked the way. His claws sprang into place and, like hot knives slicing through butter, tore a hole in the foam. Small bags filled with glittery powder came spilling out at our feet.
We exchanged a loaded glance.
I grabbed a handful of bags and stuffed them in my pocket. “Proof,” I said, then reached for my phone, ready to dial the police.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that,” a voice said from above.
Jake and I jumped to our feet, glancing upward. On the next row of crates, a massive figure stood swaddled in shadows. Coolly, he took a step forward and the light from one of the hanging fixtures illuminated his face.
Blake!
I recognized him immediately, even though the last time I’d seen him in person, he’d been hanging over a miniature architectural model, playing the part of the dead victim. I still wondered how he’d pulled that off.
He was shirtless and barefoot as if he’d seen us coming and had time to leisurely take off his clothes to spare them from damage. His chest was as broad as a refrigerator and his muscles rippled with restless energy. His sparse blond hair was gone, and his freshly-shaved head shone with sweat.
Adrenaline flooding my system, I lifted my gun and aimed it straight at his wide chest. Blake raised an eyebrow and peered at the gun as if it were a bad joke.
“Aren’t you that girl that used to date Stephen Erickson?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
I didn’t answer him. Instead, I darted a glance toward my phone in my other hand, trying to wake it up to dial 911.
Blake roared, jumped from the crate down to the floor, and landed smoothly in a crouch. Startled, I dropped the phone and squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed through the warehouse, hitting the crate behind Blake. He didn’t even flinch, and instead, lunged forward. He shifted in midair, his pants falling in tatters, his fangs and claws aimed directly at me. An enormous black wolf appeared in his place.
Scrambling, I aimed for Blake’s head and was about to squeeze the trigger again when Jake’s dark gray wolf leaped forward and crashed into Blake. They collided in midair, then hit the ground snarling. Teeth snapped and claws raked over fur as they rolled away in a tangle of limbs.
Pressure built in my temples, I winced, pushing a hand against the side of my head.
Run, Toni!Jake’s voice suddenly ripped through my thoughts.
Shock and confusion washed over me.Huh?How did he know he could talk to me? Had he figured out I was a werewolf? No, that couldn’t be it. He was probably just willing me to go, and since he was an alpha, he could push his thoughts into any werewolf’s head.
Well, I would oblige him.
Swiping my phone off the floor, I sprinted forward. Legs pumping, I skirted clear of the fighting wolves, then tore down the aisle. My eyes were roving all around, trying to find somewhere to hide so I could call the police, when a shot rang out, whizzed right next to my head, and pinged against the concrete floor.
I skidded to a stop and crouched low behind one of the nearby crates. Peering between the boxes, I tried to find the shooter. A slight movement betrayed his location. He was standing at the top of a metal staircase that led to what looked like an office area. He was one of the guards who had been outside, which meant the second one must be in here, too.
Heart hammering, I pondered what to do.
