Page 43 of Wanted by the Wolves (The Last Shifters #2)

Chapter 42

Briggs

M y plan did not account for a snapping wall of ferals. Gage kneels next to me, hiding in the underbrush as he digs in the small bag he retrieved from its hiding place near his boundary line.

I take another peek, cataloging the perimeter of the camp.

The Alpha King has chained ferals in groups of three to trees along the outside of a wide circle. Beyond his feral guard, a large group of wolves stands around a huge bonfire. They look young and unarmed. Most of them have already broken into groups, called to fuck by the rising moon. I can’t see my mate or brother, but I know they’re there.

It’s not looking good. We’re outnumbered and pretty much unarmed, wearing only the jeans Gage had stowed for emergencies at the wards.

None of that matters. My omega mate and my brother are in there, and I’m not stopping until I’ve got them back. My wolf is in agreement, ready to tear out the throat of every person who stands in our way.

Next to me, Gage crushes herbs with some dirt-looking mixture, forming a paste.

“Tell me you have weapons in that bag.” I nod toward the small pouch, wishing I had at least a knife. Preferably, I’d have my dart gun, then we could take out the ferals from here.

“Me, that’s what we’ve got.” Gage raises his hand, eyeing me. “This is gonna hurt. Hold still.”

Before I even register his words, Gage draws a rune on my forearm with the mixture. It’s cool to the touch but not painful.I lift my brow, ready to give him shit, but he whispers something, and then my skin is burning. It’s the fires of death ripping through me in a painful blaze. It takes everything I have to keep still and quiet while it feels as if my insides are rearranged. Fur spouts and my claws extend, digging into the snow.

Gage repeats another chant, and the tattoos on his body glow. He grabs my hand, and a burst of magic passes through me, cooling the raging flames. In the wake of the icy magic, my body feels energized.

I pant, off balance and surging with a strange burst of power. “What the fuck was that?”

“A temporary power boost.” Gage lets go of my hand and pulls another satchel of herbs from his bag. “Find me some pinecones, acorns, rocks—anything I can spell.”

“It’s fucking winter.” The landscape is grim and covered in snow.

“Then snowballs. Just anything to throw,” Gage growls.

I crouch through the underbrush, digging around in the snow and brush as fast as I can. Eventually, I’m able to gather a small pile of snowballs and a few pinecones before returning to him.

I’m barely able to contain my wolf. He wants to charge in and kill them all. I force myself to wait but growl for Gage to pick up the pace.

“Take these.” Gage shoves a few small pinecones into my hand. “Once I subdue the ferals with my magic, we’ll use these to create a distraction. Throw them and haul ass. They explode.”

Okay. Apparently, Gage is the weapon.

A voice rings out in the clearing, and a thundering round of hoots and cheers answers.

My wolf scratches at the surface, desperate to be unleashed.

I crouch, ready to spring. “On the count of three.”

Gage pulls me back to him, his eyes glowing. “Get her safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”

I shake my head, seeing the resigned death in his eyes. He’s not wrong about the probable outlook, but I refuse to accept that we’ll lose. We’ve made it this far, and our happiness is inside that clearing.

The king doesn’t deserve Nova or deserve to live for thinking he can take what doesn’t belong to him. I refuse to fail her, to let this be where our story ends. It doesn’t matter what’s in the way because the alternative isn’t something I can live with. I let that determination settle in, backed by the power of the spell charging through me.

“Fuck that. No martyrs.” I kiss Gage hard. “Now let’s go cause trouble.”