35
Savannah
We were born to run,I told my wolf. Help me do this.
Her strength poured into me, and I accelerated to a breakneck pace. Thankfully, my eyes were sensitive enough that I could partially see the dirt road and the hundreds of protruding rocks, roots, and potholes.
I flashed by the pull-off where the bikers had parked their rides, and soon, I was ahead of the wolves and on my own, dashing through the darkness.
The pack’s trucks appeared up ahead, but one was missing.
I skidded to a halt, almost wiping out on the loose gravel. A quick inspection told me everything I needed to know: we were screwed.
Tony—technically, Dragan puppeteering Tony’s body—had ripped up the tires of all the remaining vehicles. A quick inspection revealed he’d taken the keys, too. We were dead in the water.
Jaxson and the wolves arrived seconds later.
I pointed. “He’s fucked our rides and taken one of the trucks! Can any of you smell which way he went? I’m not certain.”
In wolf form, their senses were much stronger. Sam and the others checked the road for the smell of tires and exhaust, and then she nodded. North.
Jaxson pulled out his phone and dialed. A soft glow and buzz emanated from the bushes. “Well, fuck. He ditched his phone, so we can’t track him that way. We’re going to need Harlow’s SUVs.”
I grabbed Jaxson’s arm. “How many of your wolves can ride a bike? Because there are eighteen Harleys parked back there.”
With a grim expression, he turned to the waiting wolves. “Who can ride?”
* * *
Harlow retrieved keys from the captured bikers, and five minutes later, Sam and three other werewolves roared up the road. The reality was that there were half a dozen turnoffs between Pere Cheney and I-75, and Tony had one hell of a head start.
He wasn’t going to be found unless he put the truck in the ditch.
Harlow contacted the state police and flagged the vehicle as stolen. There wasn’t much more we could do without a Seeker on hand—a type of Magica skilled in finding things.
Jaxson rammed his fist into the side of his truck. The force of the blow made it lurch and pivot a couple feet to the side. He shook his wrist and walked away, leaving a huge dent in the bed.
I stepped over and put my hand on his back, letting that familiar electricity between us warm the tense muscles beneath his jacket. “I know you and Tony are close. We’re going to find him.”
We stood silently like that for a moment, and Jaxson’s breathing calmed.
He turned slightly so he could look me in the eyes. “I know. I don’t like being out-maneuvered. And I hate not being on the road, hunting him.”
I let my fingers trace down his back, rising and falling. “Trust me, I get that. But Sam’s taking a shot in the dark. Tony could be anywhere. Our job is to figure out how we’re going to stop Dragan and get him out of Tony once we find him. We need to figure out how to fight a ghost.”
He let out a gruff laugh that sounded thin on hope.
An insidious melancholy hung over the assembled team, and I felt it creeping into my bones. And why shouldn’t it? I’d come so close, only to fall short. Dragan had gotten away. Again.
If I could knock a truck around like Jaxson, I would have.
We stopped the ritual. That’s something. My wolf had a lot more perspective than I did. The pack is what’s important.
I took a deep breath. Dragan had been seconds away from summoning a nightmare from the darkest depths of werewolf lore. If he’d succeeded, our pack would have been doomed. He would have stolen our souls and destroyed Magic Side.
That was huge.
So why did I feel so defeated? We’d won the battle, but not the war. The bastard was still out there, and until we caught him, no one would be safe.
Tonight, they’re safe,Wolfie said.