Page 49 of A Wolf’s Wound

Ryder

“Hannah!”

I’m officially insane, shouting her name out of my car as I speed down the winding streets on the outskirts of town as if she’s some sort of lost pet.

“Hannah!” I slam my fist on the dashboard, which hurts my fist considerably more than the dash. “Damn it! Where are you?”

She could be fine. She’s probably fine. The only problem with believing that is that I’ve pretty much ruled out any of the places she’s likely to be.

The clinic told me she hadn’t been in today.

No hospitals have seen her. Hell, Gavin told me he’s called the grocery store, nail salon, and the police department, just to cover our bases.

She might as well be a ghost.

It’s not a large town. Unless she’s hiding in the woods, which have also been searched, she’s in trouble.

She could have just decided all of this was too much for her and headed on home, but I know her too well. Hannah goes chasing after trouble like it’s an ice cream cone on a summer day. I don’t think she just packed up and left.

But I almost hope she did. As much as it makes my stomach feel like lead to imagine, the alternative is much worse.

The lights of town grow closer, the trees on the side of the road still tall and imposing but sparser. I hope I’ll see her milling about outside a coffee shop, but I don’t.

Instead, I see the car on the side of the road.

She isn’t in it.

“Hannah?”

I stop my car behind hers and examine it. There’s no sign of a crash, but her purse is in the front seat, and the keys are still in the ignition.

I curse under my breath and go on high alert.

I stay in the car. I’m not sure how much ground I’ll need to cover, and I can’t exactly go running around the streets as a wolf.

The trace of her scent near the car is negligible.

It also helps protect from an ambush attack, which I might very well be walking into.

A few hundred feet away, I see a huge smear of blood. An almost blind panic seizes me, and it takes everything I have inside me to keep from flying out of the car. Instead, gritting my teeth, I slow the car to a crawl and stick my head out the window. Deer.

Maybe she hit it? But why would her car be parked further back? And I’ve seen cars that had hit deer. Many of them were totaled, but her car has no dents or blood.

Maybe she tried to help it. It’s not unlikely to think she might have helped it into a truck bed, perhaps a good Samaritan stopping by to help. Maybe she took it to a larger clinic outside town, one with better facilities for wild animals.

But without her purse or car keys?

I don’t think so.

My instincts, the ones pulling my canine teeth down and growing bristling fur along my arms, insist that I’m close. But I don’t see her. I pore over the tall trees nearby, searching and finding nothing but more trees.

I don’t see her anywhere.

And then I do.

Her scent hits me first, lavender and vanilla and citrus and mine . I pull the car over, slamming on the brakes so hard the tires squeal, and then I’m out the car door, running. I don’t even take the time to shut it.

Because there she is. Running.

A hooded figure trails easily behind, loping like he’s playing some sort of sick game. Hannah, meanwhile, is sprinting at top speed with Shadow just ahead of her.

“Come on now,” the man coos.

No.

Not a man.

A wolf in human form.

The scent of him, musky and strangely familiar, rips a harsh growl from my throat. He whips his head around, and from beneath the shadow of his cloak I see a flash of white grin.

“Look who’s managed to join us, princess! Can you believe he’s managed to work us into his busy forest-prowling schedule?”

He doesn’t sound out of breath, but he wouldn’t. A shifter chasing a human is about as fair as a cat chasing an anemic rat. Fortunately, I’m just as fast as he is.

Faster.

There’s no thought, only instinct. I dart to the side, beneath the cover of the tall pine trees swaying above.

The hooded man tilts his head, and Hannah takes the opportunity to bolt.

He catches up to her with ease, but before he can reach her with his outstretched hand, I skid to a stop between them.

The hooded figure also stops, but I don’t smell any fear on him.

Only delight.

“Ryder!” Hannah’s putting on a brave face, but her eyes are wide, and her face is pale. She’s as skeeved out by this guy as I am.

We’re close enough to town that he should be nervous. Anyone could drive by. But I can tell none of that matters to him. I can sense his heartbeat, and it beats evenly, as though we were all about to sit down for a cup of tea.

Every time he so much as twitches his hands, my adrenaline leaps. It’s like playing Russian roulette. He’s lethal. I can tell by the way he carries himself that he’s killed before and would enjoy killing again. I know he’s going to strike. I just don’t know when.

“Run,” I tell Hannah, not daring to look over my shoulder at her. “Go, now!”

Claws tear at my shoulder—not the wolf, but Hannah’s pet raccoon. Shadow rubs his cheek against my neck in a bracing display of affection before he levels his gaze at the hooded man. A deep, guttural sound rumbles in his throat, and his intention is clear. He wants to fight.

And, of course, so does Hannah. I don’t know why I even bothered to tell her to leave. I should know her well enough by now. Shouldn’t I? She’s not going anywhere.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, proving my point. I’d honestly glare at her if I thought it was safe to take my eyes off this guy for a second.

At this point, I’ll take all the help I can get. I’m never one to shy away from a fight, but fearless opponents are like pissing off a beehive. Unpredictable and therefore dangerous, even if I suspect I’m stronger than he is.

“Hannah, get the hell out of here now!”

Heedless of my snarl, he steps soundlessly forward. It’s almost like he’s gliding on the cracked asphalt.

“Don’t leave! Hannah, my darling, just wait.” I see a flash of that grin again, manic and nearly trembling with excitement. “You won’t want to miss this.”

How the hell does he know her name?

“Miss what?” I take a step forward, nearly snarling. My words are lisping over my extended fangs. The wolf inside me urges me to sink them into his flesh. “What’s ‘this’? Enough games.”

“Ryder.” He sighs with a theatrical flourish. “You’re always so impatient. You want to stop playing? Even though you’re the one who started all of this, set our little game in motion? Fine.”

The man hooks his thumbs into his hood and pulls. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust enough to see his features in the dark, but when I do, my heart jumps to my throat.

“No.”

“No?” He laughs. “That’s all you have to say, Ryder?”

It’s all I can say. My tongue is frozen.

I’ve heard of shock, but I’ve never really experienced it until this moment.

My heartbeat thuds in my ears like an incessant drum, and the ground seems to shift beneath my feet, sending me swaying and Shadow clawing desperately to keep his balance.

Because I know this face. I know it well.

He was once a friend.

Brian.