Page 80 of The Tracker's Revenge

Wasting no time, I tore toward the tree line, sharp claws scraping against the blacktop at first, then digging into the dirt as I abandoned the road. A series of louder shots rang in response. I knew it was Rosalina, shooting back, offering me cover, but I had no time to glance back. All I could do was hope that she and Eric would be okay. I had to trust they could take care of themselves. It was the only way to get through the clusterfuck our lives had become.

Shots echoed through the forest, the sound bouncing off the thick tree trunks and boulders strewn in the area. They would alert Stephen and whoever else was with him, but I couldn’t worry about that. I had to find Jake.

Nose twitching, I struggled to pinpoint his scent, but the many forest odors overwhelmed me.

At first, I ran in a straight line, bounding over fallen trees, paws kicking back dirt, as I tried to pick up Jake’s trail. After several minutes of running without real direction, I cut left, then crisscrossed the area I’d just covered.

Still nothing. Had I got it wrong? There were flowering dogwoods all over the place. They were Missouri’s state trees, after all. I was about to start howling in frustration, when I caught, not Jake’s scent, but Stephen’s. Strangely, his scent was marked by a heavy dose of something sharp.

Fear.

Why?

I slowed my full pelt down to a trot, and, when the sharp tang grew stronger, crouched, and stalked forward on silent paws. I veered toward a patch of thick brush, my keen wolf eyes piercing through the foliage.

About thirty yards away, surrounded by a circle of trees, Stephen stood with his two hybrids and the man who had pointed his gun at me at the funeral home. I was upwind and hoped they wouldn’t catch my scent as I watched them closely.

“Find him!” Stephen snapped, brandishing a handgun. “He couldn’t have gone far.”

The man shook his head, holding a weapon of his own. “I’ve looked everywhere. These woods are big, and he’s familiar with them. Those shots are a bad sign. We should go.”

The tension that had kept my lungs cinched ever since the Escalade had torn out of the funeral home released in an exhale of relief.

Jake had gotten away.

He was all right. Of course.

He was resourceful, always had been.

But where was he? The cave where he’d kept Blake? No, he wouldn’t go into a cave. That would mean trapping himself.

“That’s why we need to hurry, so I don’t want to hear excuses, Marlowe,” Stephen shouted, his eyes flashing with a blue glow as if he were about to shift.

Do it. Shift, and I’ll fight you and tear you to pieces.

I waited for the change, but he remained in his human form. He wasn’t going to abandon his hybrids and weapons to search for Jake. He was afraid of him.

“Send them!” Marlowe said, gesturing toward the hybrids that stood languidly, staring into the distance like soulless robots.

I shook my head, bearing my teeth. Hoping Stephen wouldn’t send those beasts after Jake. To my relief, he didn’t. I was puzzled by his reluctance, but when he spoke, I understood why he didn’t want to risk it.

“They’re killing machines, and I don’t want him dead. Not yet, anyway.”

“We shouldn’t have come here without the others.”

“Bernadetta needed them, and we should’ve been able to handle one fucking werewolf.”

“She’ll be mad,” Marlowe said.

Stephen huffed. “I don’t give a shit. She won’t be a problem soon.”

Marlowe frowned, clearly unsure of Stephen’s meanings. Did he have a plan to get rid of Bernadetta? Of course, he did, the two-faced, back-stabbing bastard. He’d just betrayed us all and was getting ready to betray his new ally. It seemed he was bent on screwing everyone over.

“We need the dagger!” he spat. “Everything hinges on growing our army.” His eyes flicked in the direction of the hybrids. “My plans won’t work with only two of them.”

Ahh, so that was it. They’d only been able to make two before I took the dagger.

It was a relief.