Page 73 of Wolf Crowned

Not today I wasn’t.

He shoved the stick at me again. This time, I caught the stick in my mouth and yanked on it, pulling him toward me. I dropped the stick and latched onto his leg. I bit down repeatedly, going for the artery.

He punched me in the side. I didn’t let up. He hit me again. I yelped, taking an involuntary step back. I panted, my lungs screaming in protest.

Push through it.

I barked, and jumped at him again. This time going for his face. My paw caught his face, digging into the skin, and drawing blood. He stumbled. I clamped down on his neck, twisting myself back-and-forth until he collapsed to the ground and went still.

I pushed off him, searching for my dad. He was gone. I turned toward the fighting.

Where was he?

It only took me a second to find him and my heart dropped. He was making a beeline straight for Sloane.

Twenty-Six

Sloane

I bobbed to the right and ducked. Air whooshed past my face as my assailant missed his punch by less than an inch. That was too close.

The enforcer I was tangoing with was big and beefy. Built like a rock. One hit from him and I’d be in trouble.

I bounced on my feet, fists tightened and protectively in front of my face. He jabbed at me again. I deflected with my forearm. His knuckles connected just below the elbow, sending pain shooting through my arm. It burned. Tears pricked my eyes, and I yelped.

He jabbed again. I batted this hit away with my hand, forcing his fist down. I had an opening.

I threw a right hook. His jaw crunched beneath my fist. Spittle flew out of his mouth. My hand burned, my knuckles raw.

He stumbled back, his eyes wide.

Yeah, you jerk, I can punch.

I connected a jab to the spot between his nose and mouth. Then lifted my foot and swung for where the sun didn’t shine. He curled in on himself, groaning as he cupped his groin.

I dealt another hook then a jab, alternating left then right. He fell on his butt. I kicked again. This time aiming for his jaw. The bridge of my foot hit its mark. His head snapped back, and he fell over, unmoving.

Was he dead?

I held my breath, fists in front of me, watching in case he was playing. But when his chest didn’t move, I let out a breath. One down, who knows how many more to go.

Howls erupted. I jumped. My gaze flew to the treeline.

The third wave was here. Lincoln must have given the signal, which meant his father had sought him out.

My heart ached in my chest. No kid should have to go through this regardless of what their parent had done. I hoped Lincoln was okay. He was alive. Hurting, but alive.

I gave myself a mental shake. I could focus on Lincoln and Sawyer later.

Right now, we were in the middle of a war zone. I needed to pay attention, or it was me who could be in trouble. I hadn’t come all this way to die.

I bounced back-and-forth on my feet, looking for who needed my help. With everyone being human, or mostly everyone, it was harder to tell who was on what side.

My people had all worn black. But the people we’d liberated from the prisoner compounds were dressed in various shades of colors. And so were Alpha Dane’s men.

A scream pierced the air, drawing my attention to the building to my right. Some douche bag had a woman trapped against the side of the house. He had her caged in with his hands and was trying to grab her.

I sprinted, closing the distance, and launched myself at the jerk. He grunted as I knocked him off balance.

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