Page 88 of Pack Kasen: Part 1

I yell his name, but with the windows up and the distance between us, he doesn’t hear a thing.

I wrench the Jeep off the road, slamming on the brakes and cursing the trees too close together to drive this massive vehicle through the gap.

Leaving the engine running, I fumble to open the door, practically falling out of it. Then I take off at a sprint toward Leo and the deer with the terrifying antlers trampling earth and flowers toward him.

“Leo.This way!” I yell as I gesture for him to come toward me.

He twists around and grins at me. “Hi, Kat! Rupert says hi too.”

My God, this kid is cute, but that is not what I need right now.

“Back to the house!” I yell. “The deer.”

He turns, spots the deer and does exactly what I don’t need him to do: he freezes.

Behind the deer, the hiding wolf who started this whole thing, throws its head back and howls. It’s a warning if I ever heard one. A come here, right fucking now.

I’m not fast enough as a human, but free from the silver that caged my wolf and me, I don’t reach for my wolf: we lunge for each other.

I’ve never shifted on the run before. I’ve crouched, working myself up to the fiery sensation.

No time for that now.

The joy of the change passes me by.

This change doesn’t feel like fire. It’s like lightning lancing me on the spot—electric, hot, and invigorating.

One moment, I’m a human, sprinting toward the still frozen little boy. The next, I’m a wolf, head down, ears back, eyes on the terrified deer thundering toward a frozen and equally terrified seven-year-old boy.

I’m about to play the most stupid game of chicken I’ve ever played in my life.

Leo isn’t moving, so I have to get the deer to go somewhere else. If I throw myself over Leo or shove him out of the way, the deer could trample over the both of us anyway.

I could grab him and run, but what if the deer charges someone else who wanders out and doesn’t see it until it’s too late?

No.

I have to convince the deer to change direction.

29

AREN

The bunkhouse front door slams open with a violence that shatters the silence.

I’m snarling at whoever it is to get back inside. The test is not over until I howl it is.

It’s Dania, and her eyes are wide with panic as she spins around in a wide circle, fear bleeding from her pores. She doesn’t seem to hear me snarling, much less even see me. Her attention is elsewhere.

“What? What is it?” I approach her at a jog, instantly on high alert.

“Leo. I can’t find Leo. He was in my room watching a film, but when I went to get him, he wasn’t there and my window was open. Please tell me you’ve seen him?”

My head snaps toward the road.

The feral—Kat—had swung off it and scrambled out of the car before sprinting off into the distance.

Why?

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