Page 7 of Tracking the Alpha (Project Therianthrope #1)

Chapter Four

It had been weeks since Barrett had escaped. Days and nights of running through the forest, drinking from streams, tracking prey, and eating it.

Raw.

He’d long gotten over the squeamishness of his new diet. Had to, seeing as how he was a fucking wolf.

Davidson hadn’t been kidding about the treatments changing him.

Barrett was indeed stronger, faster, with a sense of smell that had him sniffing out threats—and dinner—hundreds of yards away.

Hearing things even farther. The enhancement of his senses had been difficult to handle at first. So much sensory bombardment, but gradually, he’d learned how to push aspects of it into the background, figured out how to filter the important from the rest. He had no choice but to adapt, since living as a giant dog seemed to be his fate.

Not ideal, but life could be worse. He could be still a prisoner in that military facility, being experimented on by Davidson and his sycophants.

If he wasn’t careful, though, that might still be his fate.

The general hadn’t taken Barrett’s departure with grace.

The man had been sending out teams with the sole task of capturing him—not killing, as Barrett initially feared.

The first few squads had been armed with tranquilizers and netting.

Noisy fuckers, who tromped through the woods giving away their location.

Smelly bastards who couldn’t hide, not from Barrett’s keen nose.

He'd stuck to maiming the first group, aware they didn’t hunt him out of cruelty but because they obeyed orders.

Barrett understood and respected that. A soldier’s sole duty was to follow the commands of their superior.

However, despite literally hamstringing and gravely injuring the first batch—to the point they required hospitalization and extensive reconstructive surgery—the general sent more soldiers, this time armed with guns.

Not a good idea given their nervous demeanor.

Listening to them chatter, Barrett overheard them talking about what he’d done to the first group.

How they planned to disobey the general and would shoot to kill.

Barrett took them out first.

He also eliminated the next group.

The general changed tactics after that and sent out civilian hunters next, men who proved a little more cunning. They spritzed themselves with urine to mask their scent. Hid in tree boughs under which they’d placed bait in the form of juicy—and delicious-smelling—rabbits.

Clever and most likely effective with a regular wolf, but Barrett couldn’t be so easily fooled.

He waited until that first hunter crept down from his perch before he pounced. Feeling somewhat sorry for the unknowing civilian, he only chomped his arm and then hid to watch what happened next. The guy pulled out a walkie-talkie and in an incoherent babble called for help.

The last thing he ever did. The soldiers that came to his call had no stretcher or first aid kit, just an order to execute. The general wasn’t allowing any loose ends.

Knowing that, Barrett didn’t bother being as merciful with the next hunter or the one after. Why bother risking himself knowing the general’s lackeys would eliminate any failures?

Speaking of failures, while Barrett might be free, the others under his command, his brothers and sisters in the proverbial trenches, weren’t. Freeing them was the only thing that kept Barrett from fleeing the area. How could he leave them?

He couldn’t, even as he had no idea how to help them escape.

There’d been one full moon since his escape, and he’d chosen that night to roam as close as he dared to the fenced-in facility, close enough he could have scented them in the courtyard where the general usually tethered them.

Only it appeared Barrett’s escape had caused some changes.

No one ended up staked outside under the moon, but even worse, Barrett had no idea which of his companions still lived. Had any of them succumbed like Gage?

The not knowing had him howling to the sky, a long mournful cry with no reply, leaving him feeling more alone than ever.

Maybe he should just let himself be captured. What was the point of freedom if everyone else remained a prisoner?

He’d give it until the next full moon. Wait a few more days and see if the general resumed the outdoor test.

But first, it appeared he had a new hunter to contend with, one wilier than those who came before. They actually managed to get within a few hundred yards of him before he got a clue.

Not a scent, nay, this person hadn’t used some old rancid, factory-produced piss to hide their aroma.

The freshness of fox pee indicated it came directly from the source.

Barrett didn’t hear them either, their steps so light they didn’t crunch any leaves or crack any twigs.

What gave them away? Davidson barking on the walkie-talkie.

“Report.”

The abrupt command led to an annoyed reply in a very feminine tone. “Fuck off. I’m working.” Then a click as she turned off the device and muttered, “Idiot.” Followed by a sigh. “Guess I’ll have to start over.”

She knew she’d been compromised, which made Barrett wonder, how much had the general revealed? Not much, he’d wager. What Davidson did remained illegal and unethical, hence the elimination of those who might have seen and heard too much.

Having pinpointed the new hunter’s location, Barrett circled around, knowing the forest better than anywhere he’d ever lived before.

The big tree fallen across the creek offered a way to keep his paws dry.

The ridge of rock swept clean of leaves a silent place to pad across.

In spite of his familiarity, he almost got caught.

The female might have claimed she’d be moving spots and starting her tracking over, but she’d lied. He abruptly paused by a tree trunk as he caught a hint of color that didn’t belong in the boughs ahead. A huddled form on a branch waiting for him to spring the many snares she’d placed.

She was good. He spent the rest of that afternoon watching, and she didn’t move once.

Probably because she wasn’t in the fucking tree!

Intuition had him suddenly lunging out of his hiding spot into the small clearing, just in time. An arrow flew past where he’d been lying in wait, and his paw only narrowly missed the lariat hidden under some leaves.

Barrett whirled and locked gazes with the woman slowly and silently advancing. The bow held up to her tanned cheek. Her gaze fixed on her target. Her hair pulled back, accentuating her serious mien.

A woman striking in appearance, and seemingly proficient in hunting, after all, she’d found him.

He only had a fraction of a second to move as the second arrow came flying.

He dove to the side hard enough he brushed against the tree holding the decoy.

The shudder sent the backpack tumbling to the ground, and triggered the hidden snare.

Two close calls now.

He locked eyes with the woman, who cocked her head and murmured, “You are fast, considering your size, and surprisingly lucky, but that can’t be the only reason why those pricks want you back.”

If she only knew the truth.

Then again, if she did, the general would kill her. Actually, he’d kill her no matter what. Unless Barrett did it first.

His lip lifted in a snarl as he took a step in her direction. She calmly fitted another arrow into her bow and aimed it.

How many did she have in her quiver?

As the string twanged, he leapt, not to the left like the last time, but to the right. A good thing, since she’d aimed left in the hopes of driving him into yet another trap. How many had she fucking hidden in this clearing before he’d started watching?

Her lips quirked. “Clever.”

Thanks.

Barrett kept low to the ground and not once shifted his gaze from her.

She was the one distracted at a sudden crack of a branch over her head.

That second of inattention was all he needed. Barrett pounced, his long leap driving his front paws into her chest and knocking her down.

“Oomph.” She exhaled hotly as she hit the ground but didn’t panic or thrash.

She stared right at him, the irises of her eyes a dark brown.

Not hazel or golden flecked, but pure mahogany.

They mesmerized him, along with her scent.

This close to her, the urine couldn’t fully hide her true odor.

The scent of it sweet and musky all at once.

He breathed into her face, waiting for her to freak out and fight back, giving him the opening he needed to tear out her throat, because he couldn’t do it while she lay still.

But she remained prone.

“How come you’re not killing me?” she murmured.

Because he needed to feel threatened.

“General Asshole and Major Prick claim you’re a psycho.”

Not by choice. He huffed.

“You should have left this area when you escaped,” she added.

How could he when his section remained prisoners?

“I don’t suppose you’d be a good boy and let me walk you back to the base?”

His lip curled as he growled softly.

“That sounds like a no.” She sighed. “If you’re going to murder me, mind doing it quick?

I’d rather not have a long, lingering, painful death.

My uncle got mauled by a mountain lion when I was a kid.

You could hear his screams a full hour before they brought him back to the reserve, and he ended up dying anyhow. Horrible way to die.”

Agreed.

“I’m ready anytime you are.”

Why did she remain so calm?

Because she plotted!

Barrett barely managed to twist away from the knife she’d palmed and used to slash. It scored across his ribs, leaving a thin weal that burned.

She’d given him the opening he needed. She’d attacked. Now he could?—

Flee?

Barrett found himself racing away from the woman, ignoring the throb along his ribcage. Running from the petite woman who’d disarmed him on so many levels.

A woman who’d managed to injure him.

He ended up splashing into the stream, and the chill water eased the pain as well as the trembling that had begun in his limbs.

He kept swimming, past the bend where the rocky sides rose high enough to hide him. Only then did he do something most wolves wouldn’t do. He submerged and swam for the opening he’d found before the water rose high enough to hide it.

Once inside the cave, he shook, spraying droplets before moving up the passageway to the larger cave with an opening overhead that he could use to escape if needed.

In the nest he’d created—by stealing some of the gear dropped by previous hunters—he hunkered down and pondered the woman who’d almost gotten him.

Whose appearance remained blazoned in his mind.

With a scent that tantalized even hours later.

Who tempted him to leave his safe hovel to find her for a bite.