Page 15 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

Ares

The soles of my boots squeak against the marble floor as I pace the lobby of the Tower, my skin itchy and my inner wolf clawing at the inside of my chest. I’m not sure if his agitation is riling me up right now or the other way around.

Either way, my beast is dangerously close to the surface, ready to burst through the moment I cede control.

Not yet. Not here .

The Chicago pack is so large that its members are dispersed between eight different forest preserves around the city for the full moon run, and I’ve received my orders on where to report– Des Plaines.

It’s the furthest away, which came as no surprise to Will when I told him where I’d been assigned. Because I’ve got Alpha blood, he said, which means I present an inherent challenge to Alpha Gage’s authority.

Alpha Gage will be leading the run for the prominent members of his pack at Forest Glen Woods, while his top enforcers will lead the runs at the other preserves. Attendance is optional, but my wolf is keening to be set free tonight. The full moon’s calling, and he’s answering on instinct.

The lobby of the Tower is busier than I’ve ever seen it as its residents depart for the run. At least all the activity covers up the fact that I’m loitering, practically wearing grooves into the floor as I pace back and forth. Patience isn’t my strong suit. Never has been.

I check the time again. Miley should’ve come down by now; should’ve passed through the lobby to get into one of the sleek black sedans idling at the curb out front.

I’m not sure what my game plan is here or what I’ll even say when I see her, but I just have to take one last shot before she slips through my fingers.

The seconds tick by agonizingly slow as I continue to pace.

“She already left,” a female voice calls out, and I snap my head up to see Miley’s sister crossing the lobby in my direction.

Half-sister , technically.

After seeing them together a few times, I asked a pack enforcer who lives on my floor who she is, and he gave me a rundown of the roster of Alpha Gage’s daughters that reside in the Tower. It also came with a stern warning to steer clear of them, but… semantics .

Jordan Eckhardt is tall, lean, and athletically built, with long dark hair and honey brown skin.

She’s undeniably attractive, but my tastes are very singular these days– which is why I stopped her in the lobby earlier for the sole purpose of asking about her sister.

Jordan told me which preserve they’d be running at tonight and how they’d be getting there, hence me stalking the lobby and the row of dark sedans parked out front.

“She hasn’t gotten in a car yet,” I growl, throwing a thumb toward the windows. I’ve been here since they pulled up; there’s no way I could’ve missed her.

Jordan just shrugs, lifting her chin in a way that reminds me of Miley when she’s about to say something sharp. “She drove herself. If she wanted you to know, she would’ve told you,” she states, breezing past me to head for the glass front doors, earbuds already halfway in.

I stand there with my mouth hanging open for a half a second as her words sink in.

If Miley drove herself, she wouldn’t have passed through the lobby.

She would’ve ridden the elevator straight down to the underground parking garage.

Fuck .

I bolt for the doors, the warm night air hitting my face like a slap as I push through.

The moon’s not fully risen yet, but I can feel its energy pulsing as I hustle down the street, eating up the distance to my truck in long strides.

I happened to find street parking earlier when I came back from getting food, and when I turn the corner at the end of the block, it’s parked right where I left it.

So at least one thing’s going right for me tonight .

Digging into my pocket for the keys, I hit the fob to unlock my truck, throwing the door open and sliding in behind the wheel. As I start the engine, I pull my phone out to navigate to the forest preserve.

Not Des Plaines.

Forest Glen Woods.

The route populates and I hit GO , pulling into traffic and weaving through the tight lanes with a single-minded focus I haven’t felt in a long time.

This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve done in a while.

I don’t know what the consequences are for showing up at the wrong preserve, but I do know that Alpha Gage doesn’t appreciate surprises.

I suppose I could say I got confused, got my orders mixed up.

Or I could just not get caught, which seems like the better option.

The further I drive from downtown, the more the city falls away around me. Glass towers give way to squat industrial buildings, then strip malls, then the blur of trees. The sky opens up, glowing with the rising pull of the moon.

Eventually, the preserve gates come into view, flanked by wooden posts with a fading metal sign that clearly reads Closed After Dusk . But the gate itself is standing open, someone having cleared the way. Maybe the Alpha has an agreement with the city. Maybe he just doesn’t care.

I hesitate at the threshold, the engine idling. I shouldn’t be here. I should be at Des Plaines preserve, my assigned site for the run. But my gut won’t let me turn around. Against my better judgment, I ease through the gate and pull in.

The parking lot’s crowded enough that nobody seems to notice when I slip into a dark corner and cut the engine, watching intently from the shadows as people exit their cars and join the gathering crowd near the entrance. My eyes scan each face, but I don’t see Miley amongst them.

More cars roll in. I recognize a few faces as they step out into the light– pack members, enforcers, Miley’s sisters. Then her father, striding across the lot with purpose. But still, no sign of her .

My wolf presses hard against the inside of my skin, agitated and alert. He doesn’t want to wait anymore. Neither do I.

I flick on my phone, thumb quickly navigating to the map. The preserve’s boundaries glow blue against the black screen. Off to the east, a faint grey line curls around the back. A service road– narrow and unmarked, but it leads in. Good enough.

Starting up my truck, I grip the wheel and slowly pull out of the parking lot, headlights off until I reach the street again.

Even though I’m following the map on my phone, I nearly miss the service road when I come upon it, barely more than a gap in the trees half-swallowed by brush.

I make the turn, letting my headlights guide the way down the narrow path.

A few hundred yards in, I veer off and park. The moment the engine cuts out, a hush falls over everything. I step out and nudge the door closed behind me.

No city sounds. No car horns. Just the wind threading through the trees and the low, pulsing hum of energy as the moon rises higher. Every hair on my body stands alert as I watch, wait, listen. Then I move.

The soles of my boots crunch over the dirt of the forest floor as I put distance between myself and the road, not stopping until the trees thicken and the dark swallows me whole.

Satisfied that I’m out of sight, I immediately start stripping down, my clothes coming off in swift, practiced motions.

I stuff them beneath a snarl of roots at the base of a tree, and the moment I call my wolf forward, the shift rips through me.

My bones snap and rearrange, the air around my body shimmering as my wolf surges to the surface. My vision blurs and reforms as I drop to all fours, paws hitting the earth as I lower my snout and sniff. Earth. Pine. Damp leaves. But no trace of her .

The forest around me is quiet– too quiet for a full moon. There’s no chorus of howls, no thunder of paws tearing through the trees. Either they haven’t started the run yet or something’s off. I press forward nonetheless, taking off at a measured pace.

My wolf weaves through the dense undergrowth as I head in the direction the pack was gathering. I’m careful to stay downwind, to not make a noise or be seen. If the others are near, I don’t want them catching my scent– but the deeper I run, the more the silence presses in.

The moon’s high now in the dark sky, casting long shadows between the trees.

I pause to listen, not hearing any sign of the wolf pack– just the rustle of leaves in the canopy above and a raccoon scuttling somewhere nearby.

I suck in a deep lungful of air, not scenting anything out of the ordinary– just trees and underbrush, thick with last week’s rain.

My paws churn the soil, lungs pulling in damp air as I loop around a fallen pine, watching, waiting, listening.

I startle when the low howl of a wolf pierces the stillness, muscles coiling on instinct. It’s close– maybe a little too close for comfort– and when a chorus of howls sounds off to echo it, I quickly double back, heart pounding against my ribs, every muscle humming with frustration.

Maybe I was wrong. If Miley was here, she would’ve shifted by now, but there’s no scent on the breeze, no pull calling my wolf in her direction. No heartbeat in the dark that matches mine.

Disappointment curls in my gut as I push my wolf to lead us back the way we came, moving faster now to avoid getting caught where I shouldn’t be.

I reach the hollow where I left my clothes and quickly shift back to my human form, tucking my wolf away in the recesses of my consciousness.

My bones snap and rearrange, the world around me blurring before coming back into focus.

I sink my fingers into the dirt beneath me, grounding myself against the rush of returning senses, staying crouched for a moment as I catch my breath and listen to the howl of wolves in the distance.

She’s not here.

That’s what I try to tell myself as I quickly drag my clothes back on, the damp fabric clinging to my body.

If she were here, and she was meant for me, I’d know.

Each step back to the truck feels heavier than the last, like the weight of my disappointment is pulling me down into the forest floor.

Either she’s not here, or she’s not mine.

I get in my truck and start it up. Grip the wheel and shift into drive. Do a shitty three-point turn, branches scraping the sides of my truck, then take off down the road, not looking back.

While the drive from the Tower to the preserve felt like it took an eternity, the trip back feels short in comparison. Maybe it’s because I’ve turned off the spiraling thoughts pinging around in my brain, instead sinking into the feeling of hollowness that’s settled over me.

The Tower appears in the distance, a stark monolith of metal and stone rising out of the concrete.

I pull into the underground parking garage, swallowed whole by shadows and flickering lights, the sound of my tires echoing off the pillars and walls.

The place is eerily quiet and empty, everyone still off enjoying their full moon run.

I pull into a spot, shift into park, and kill the engine, letting the silence settle for a beat before climbing out of my truck.

The overhead lights buzz faintly, casting long, yellowish shadows over everything.

My boots hit the ground hard as I head for the elevator bank, each step echoing like a heartbeat in the hollow concrete tomb.

I’m halfway there when something in me halts. My wolf sits up, alert and coiled, stopping me dead in my tracks as a prickle moves down my spine.

I’m not alone down here.

My hackles raise as I glance around, scanning the rows of parked cars. Nothing looks out of place at first, but then I see it– a reflection in the side mirror of a silver sedan. A shadow in the driver’s seat that doesn’t belong.

I move in closer to investigate, heart stuttering in my chest when I make out the features of the person sitting behind the wheel in the side mirror. The same face I’ve been looking for all night.

She’s sitting there motionless, engine off, windows rolled up. Her outline is faint in the dim glow of the garage lights, barely more than a silhouette, but I’d recognize Miley anywhere.

It’s her .

She’s here .

I approach slowly, cautious not to spook her. She doesn’t look up as I near the car. Doesn’t move as I raise my hand and rap my knuckles gently against the glass.

Then she startles, head snapping toward me. Her eyes are wide and wild, body tensed up like a scared animal that’s been caught in a trap.

My inner wolf surges forward with a snarl.

“Open up,” I say, voice low but firm.

She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even blink. Just turns her head and stares straight ahead, her breathing shallow.

I glance over my shoulder, verifying that we’re alone down here. Then I knock again, more urgently this time.

“Miley,” I growl, Alpha command seeping into my tone.

She exhales slowly, jaw tight, eyes still on the dashboard. Then she turns to pop the lock and pushes the door open .

I step back so she can get out, watching intently as she swivels to set her feet on the ground and pushes to stand. Her movements are stiff and mechanical, like a doll forced to play its part. Her face is pale, eyes wide and tinged with fear. She still hasn’t said a word.

“What happened?” I demand, my voice coming out more forceful than I intend.

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look at me.

I step forward anyway, reaching out to cradle her face in both hands, tipping it toward me so I can see her properly. Her eyes are glassy but dry, skin cold and clammy. Expression locked in that neutral, vacant place she retreats to when she doesn’t want to be touched or seen.

“Miley,” I say again, softer this time.

Her breath catches as violet-grey eyes meet mine, her lips parting to speak.

Then the screech of tires splits the silence as another vehicle enters the garage.

My head snaps up to see a black SUV swinging around the corner, too fast for a space this tight.

The headlights flash across Miley’s pale face, illuminating us in the shadows as the vehicle slams to a stop and the door flies open.

My hands are still clutching Miley’s face as the SUV’s door slams, boots hitting the concrete in heavy, measured steps.

Alpha Gage storms toward us, his expression carved from stone, fury radiating off him in waves. His eyes lock on his daughter first, then on me. I feel the shift in the air like static before a lightning strike, the threat unspoken but unmistakable.

Miley flinches, instinctively stepping closer.

“Stay behind me,” I murmur as I swivel around, holding eye contact with Alpha Gage as he closes the distance.

This is his turf, his pack, his rules.

It wouldn’t be a fair fight, so I’m left with only one option.

I lie.