Page 12 of Queen of Rebels (Shifters of Sherwood #3)

Tuck grabs my hand and we bolt, his touch anchoring me as we navigate the darkness, my half of the stack of shifter books clutched to my chest. My heart pounds so loud I'm sure Cecily must hear it.

“The window,” Tuck whispers. I nod. On this side of the house, we’re already near the garage, so close to freedom.

Tuck pulls me forward, throws up the window sash, and we tumble out into the night, a good two-foot drop to the ground. As I slam into the earth all I can think is: Guy lied again.

He lied about his mother. Small compared to everything else, maybe—the corruption, the lives he's ruined, the literal treasure trove of shifter shit we’re now stealing—but somehow this one small lie, this easy reshaping of reality to suit his needs, feels like the clearest window yet into who Guy Gisbourne really is.

And I'm going to make damn sure everyone else sees it too.

If we make it out of here.

The sound of approaching sirens cuts through the night, and Tuck's hand tightens on mine as he helps me up. We scramble for the garage, but the cruisers are already pulling in.

"Hide!" Tuck shoves me toward the hydrangeas, and I clutch our stolen treasure to my chest and drop, thorns biting into my knees as I burrow deeper. The books feel impossibly heavy now, and I feel myself second-guess the impulse to grab them.

Red and blue lights paint the mansion's white columns in alternating splashes of color. Please, please, please let them miss us. The thought barely forms before flashlight beams cut through the darkness, sweeping closer and closer to our position.

That's when it happens.

One moment Tuck is there, human. The next, his form ripples , like heat waves over summer asphalt. The pale wolf that emerges is massive and broad, with Tuck's same intelligent eyes but a body that’s all animal grace.

"Over there!" A deputy's shout shatters the night. "Some kind of – Jesus Christ, is that a wolf ?"

The other deputy reaches for something on his belt—a taser. But Tuck is already moving, flowing like moonlight across grass. He feints left, then launches right. The deputy’s taser barbs hit empty air as Tuck collides with him, the wolf’s shoulder catching him square in the chest. The impact sends the deputy sprawling, his flashlight spinning into the hydrangeas beside me.

The beam catches Tuck's fur for just a moment, turning him ghost-white against the darkness.

He's beautiful . I can’t help but think it. He’s nothing like his human self, shy and hesitant. Here, every motion has purpose. Has force.

"Circle in!" Another deputy moves to flank him. "Don't let it—”

Tuck doesn't give the guy a chance to finish. He whirls, jaws snapping inches from his arm, not close enough to sink into flesh, but more like a warning. Back off. I don't want to hurt you.

But this third deputy doesn't get the message. He swings his baton in a wild arc, but Tuck drops and rolls, quicker than a lightning strike, and the baton whooshes harmlessly overhead just Tuck comes up behind him with a careful nip to the calf.

“Fuck!” The deputy crumples, hissing with pain. Not badly hurt, but definitely out of the fight.

"It's too fast!" The first deputy’s back up, drawing his sidearm now. "We have to shoot.”

“Hold, hold, hold,” the second one cautions, rushing forward. “New protocol, remember? Get the tranq gun.”

The words send ice through my veins. They'd learned from Rob's capture, from LJ's blinded eye. They're prepared for shifters now, whether they know it or not.

But Tuck seems to have expected this too. He launches into a series of quick, darting attacks – never staying still long enough to give them a clear shot. Lunging at one deputy's legs, then pivoting mid-stride to snap at another's hands.

"Jesus!" The second deputy stumbles backward, tranquilizer gun awkward in his hands. “What the hell kind of wolf is this thing?"

The kind that can hack into encrypted files , I think.

The familiar hiss of pressurized air sails through the night, but the dart misses. Tuck is already moving. He uses the sculpted box hedges like cover, leading them on a complex route that just happens to draw them further from my hiding spot.

The deputies spread out, flashlights swinging wildly, sending beams of light strobing across Guy’s perfect lawn. From my hiding place, I can see what they can't – the subtle pattern in Tuck's movements, how he’s drawing them further and further away from the garage while making it look random and wild.

Move. I need to move, I realized. Crouched in the hydrangeas, I start mentally running through the fastest way to hotwire my own damn car, when I hear the whisper of house slippers on grass.

"Senorita Maren."

My heart stutters, but it's just Rosa—of course. Before I can speak, she presses something cool and metallic into my palm.

The keys. My keys.

"Vaya con Dios," she whispers, and disappears back toward the service entrance as silently as she came.

I don't waste time. I scoop up every book we had—Tuck’s and mine—and, at the last second, Tuck’s glasses, from where they dropped after his shift, and bolt for the car, dumping our bounty into the passenger footwell and jamming the keys in the engine. She purrs to life, a sound so beautiful I could kiss the dashboard, and I slam on the gas.

Gravel sprays as I whip around the circular drive. Up ahead, Tuck's pale wolf form dances between the deputies, keeping them distracted.

"Tuck!" I lean on the horn – just once, sharp.

He doesn't hesitate. One powerful leap carries him over a deputy's wild grab, and then he's airborne, landing half on my hood with a thud that's going to leave marks I'll worry about later. By the time he scrambles into the passenger seat, he's already shifting back, the change rippling through him like mercury.

"Go go go!" he gasps, still catching his breath.

I'm already gone, the Mustang eating up road like she's as ready to escape as we are.

#

We tear out of the property gates, the Mustang's engine announcing our escape to the whole damn county. I slam through the gears as we fishtail onto the main road—not my most graceful moment, but I’m out of practice—and give it even more gas.

"Did you see when that deputy tried to flank me?" Tuck's practically bouncing in the passenger seat, words tumbling out between quick breaths. “I literally jumped right over his head.” He makes a fluid gesture with his hands.

I gun it, trying to get my bearings and find the best angle back to the forest, muscle memory guiding my hands on the wheel. No headlights – the moon’s bright enough, and we can’t risk it besides.

"And that roll! I mean, I know it probably looked messy, but—”

The engine growls as we climb, the books tumbling around at Tuck’s feet. My eyes flick constantly between the mirrors, but there's nothing behind us except darkness and scattered moonlight.

“Here,” I say, handing him his glasses, which he shoves distractedly back on his face. I half-wonder when he’s going to remember that he’s fully naked, his clothes way behind us behind a hydrangea bush.

“Thanks,” Tuck says absently, and hurries on. “With three of them, I’d have thought I was a goner, but then I realized I could sort of pull them each towards each other and get them to throw off their own paths, so I could...” He breaks off.. "Sorry. I'm talking too much. Just... processing, I guess."

“It’s all good.” I grin, suddenly feeling reckless and wild, because holy shit, we did it. ”It’s cute, actually.”

Branches and leaves whip past us into the canopy of the forest. I downshift, letting the engine's rumble echo off the trees, and drive us deeper. Beside me, Tuck's still vibrating with that strange, electric energy, even without talking. I crane my neck, trying to calibrate where we are relative to our hideout—the forest isn’t that big, but at night, with no headlights, and definitely no GPS, it’s not exactly clear.

“That way.” Tuck points. “We’ve been hunting around here. I recognize it.”

I nod and guide us off the main road, onto the forest floor. The Mustang protests the rough treatment, and I shudder to think of the suspension, but I just want to get us far enough off the road that we’re not immediately visible.

Finally, we reach a clearing deep enough in the woods to hide this thing—until morning, at least. I didn’t really think through part two of my plan: having a stolen Mustang on our hands.

But that’s a problem for tomorrow.

I kill the engine, and suddenly it's just us and the cricket song and the moonlight filtering through leaves to paint patterns across the hood. When I look over, Tuck's hands are trembling slightly on his thighs, that controlled energy still radiating off him in waves.

"You okay?" I ask softly.

"Yeah, I just..." He runs a hand through his hair. "I've never... that was..." He blows out a breath. “Phew. It feels...I mean, damn, the last way I felt like this was...” He blushes a deep pink I can see even in the dark. “God, Maren, I could...I could just kiss you right now.” His eyes go wide. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” I interrupt, my voice coming out huskier than I meant it to. “Come here.”

He turns, moonlight catching on his glasses, and suddenly the cramped front seat feels too big, too much space separating us.

SPICE TK