Page 3

“It’s been quiet the last few weeks. Maybe they’ve gotten the message to back off after the Alphas went for their last visit.”

“Maybe. I hope so. Although, I doubt they’ll give up that easily. I mean, they were willing to burn down houses. They sent their daughter to spy here. It seems weird that a few warnings from our Alphas would scare them off.”

“Our pack numbers are greater than theirs. Maybe they realized they couldn’t win.”

Jensen frowns. “Maybe.”

My wolf paws at me, and I sigh.

We can’t go for a run right now,I tell him.We’re on shift.

He growls, and I shake my head.

We’ll go for a run after work. I promise.

He paces inside me, but I ignore him and pick up the basketball.

Jensen and I grew up together. We were both orphaned when we were young and lived in the same group home. It was hard being the only two shifters there, so we became closer than most.

After we aged out of the home, we left and moved between a few packs until we found a good fit with the Twisted Oak Pack. We’ve lived here for the last two years and have put down roots here. We have friends and connections here. The pack is great, and I trust the Alphas.

The only thing missing is our mates.

“Maybe we should take a vacation,” I suggest.

“And go where?” Jensen asks, stealing the ball from me.

“On a road trip. We can travel and see if we can find our fated mates.”

I see the longing on Jensen’s face. He wants what he used to have.

Jensen became an orphan when he was ten, and he remembers what it was like to have a family. I was a lot younger when I lost my parents, and I don’t remember them at all. That doesn’t stop me from yearning for my mate, though.

My wolf whines as he thinks about our mate.

“We could quit and bounce between packs or stations,” I suggest. “It’s not like they need us here.”

“They have recently. I don’t want to leave the guys here hanging.”

I know he’s right.

I steal the ball back from him before he can shoot it and toss it at the net, sinking it easily.

“One nothing,” I tell him.

As Jenson tries to get the ball back, the alarm blares.

We leap into action, racing to our ambulance. Harris and Logan, two of the firefighters, tug on their gear and head for the firetruck as we pull out of the station.

“Any info?” I ask over the radio as Jensen drives the ambulance out of the lot.

“Car accident. Out by the town line. 89thstreet,” says the dispatcher.

“On it.”

Jensen hits the gas, and we follow the cop car to the outskirts of town. I notice the flashing lights from Tucker’s police car before I see the wreckage of the accident. Jensen parks next to the front of the car, and we hop out. I grab my bag and head to the driver’s side door, crouching in the ditch to peer through the broken glass of the window.

“Both unresponsive,” Tucker tells us.