Page 116 of Her Wolf

The Master Bedroom

The air stank of damp, charred wood. The smell made the hackles of Finn’s beast stand up. It growled at him as it began to pace.

An old sedan stood parked just off the farm’s main entrance. The trunk stood open, but moonlight shone around it, not inside. Finn’s first instinct was to ignore it—Cora wouldn’t be in there anymore—but a flutter of midnight against shadows drew his eye.

“You see that?” Kane murmured, and his hands moved away from his sides as if sensing he might need to attack someone or something.

He’d refused to give the agent a gun, of course. The whole reason he had Kane with him was so he could keep an eye on him. He’d been helpful, but Finn doubted it was because he was suddenly on their side.

I want to find her just as much as you do.

Although his words had rang true, Finn knew he wasn’t being a good Samaritan. If Kane found Cora, and somehow got rid of those protecting her, he would have her down at the DEA’s office fast as he could drive her there. Fuck, he’d probably radio in for a helicopter.

Finn approached the trunk obliquely, pistol straight, finger curving around the trigger guard. When he was close enough, he stepped to the side and aimed the gun straight into the deep well of shadows.

It was purest night inside there. Nothing to see. Except…something moved.

Finn stepped closer, straining to see something in the darkness.

A small rock struck the bottom of the trunk’s lid.

Darkness burst from inside.

Finn leaped back, gun training on a crow as it flew out the trunk, cawing miserably at them for disturbing it.

A flashlight shot a beam of light on the trunk’s lid, and then darted down.

Finn dropped the arm holding his pistol. Miguel’s slack face watched them dispassionately from the trunk. It might have been the play of the flashlight on his face, but Miguel looked as if wore a smug sneer on his dead lips.

Too late. We came too late,his beast howled.

Miguel’s throat had been slashed violently enough to expose the blood-streaked cartilage of his trachea. Or perhaps the crow had been ripping out strips of flesh after the scent of Miguel’s blood had drawn it here.

This close, blood hung heavier in the air than whatever fire had so recently been doused.

From the calculating gaze he found on Kane’s face when he turned around to head for the farmhouse, it seemed the man was trying to figure out why Finn hadn’t jumped when he’d thrown the stone.

The man would never know it, of course, but the only time he felt alive was when he was close to Cora.

Kane could have clubbed him over the head and he wouldn’t have flinched.

The closer they drew to the farmhouse, the emptier it felt. Finn opened the screen door as quietly as possible. Luckily, it was well oiled and barely made a sound.

“Careful,” Kane murmured behind him. “The man has at least two pitbulls.”

Finn stopped walking. He sensed Kane coming up behind him, standing too close for comfort, but he couldn’t urge his feet forward any more.

“Pitbulls.” His voice was surprisingly even.

“Yeah,” Kane murmured. “At least two. Guy has a thing for them.”

“You couldn’t have told me this before we opened the fucking door?” Finn whispered back furiously.

“They would have attacked by now.”

“Then why warn me?” Finn said through his teeth.

“Rather safe than sorry,” Kane said, and it sounded like he was wearing a smile.

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