Page 52 of Wolf Reborn

A broken doorknob, attacked as though with a claw hammer.

The decades-faded scent of Gavin in this place, and a child who would have come to Kismet looking for Gavin.

He spun and ran out the back door, yelling. “Lyndon! Miles!”

They were nowhere to be seen, but the trail they had left in the snow was obvious enough. The boy a wolf and Miles a human, straight up the side of the mountain.

Gavin hissed in frustration. He turned to Gwen, who again had followed. “Who’s Lyndon?”

“Missing kid,” he answered shortly as he unlocked his phone and handed it to her. “Gwen, I need you to do something for me. Can you help me out?”

“Of course, Gavin. Anything.”

He nodded and pointed to the phone, reaching out to push the button to bring up his contacts. “Call... everyone. Start with Dez. Then Sawyer. Then Ash. Then the”—he sighed, but there was nothing for it, since that was what it was called in his contact list—“the pack house landline. Tell everyone that Lyndon has been hiding in the cabin just past the one where Miles and I were trapped. Give them the address if they need it, but they should know it. Tell them to come. We need them.”

She nodded and started scrolling, looking for Dez’s name. “Anything else?”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “If it were anyone but you, or any other time, I would be so much better about this, but... it’s possible you’re going to see really confusing and frightening things. Just know that everyone I’m asking you to call is a good guy. They would all protect you with their lives because you’re my sister. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back. Okay?”

She nodded, not an ounce of hesitation in her despite the worried tears threatening to spill. “It’s ringing. You should get moving.”

He nodded, turned, and ran off into the snow as he listened to Dez answer the phone.

27

Wonderwall

“Kid,” Miles called, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. He wasn’t annoyed with the child, but with his own inability to remember the boy’s name. All he could think was a tree that started with an L, but he was pretty sure Larch wasn’t right. “No one’s going to hurt you, I promise, but we should go back.”

His voice was hoarse and scratchy, and he shouldn’t be yelling, but how the hell else was he supposed to communicate with the boy, who wouldn’t stop running away?

He’d fallen behind, and he didn’t think stopping to strip naked was going to help him catch up. He rounded a bend in the path, hoping it would bring the boy—or pup, whatever—back into view.

When it did, he was very sorry he’d wished for it.

There were no grizzly bears in the Rockies anymore, a fact for which he was suddenly grateful, looking into the face of an angry black bear. This was more than bad enough. A bigger, angrier bear was not what he needed.

On the other side of the bear, the pup cringed against a wall of rocks, whining. Jesus, the poor kid was having the shittiest day. Discovered by Gwen, chased by Miles, and cornered by a bear.

Miles was an excellent shot with his service gun. He was not confident in his ability to kill a bear with it. This was the sort of situation where people said, “Don’t shoot it, you’ll just piss it off,” right? He was a police deputy, not a park ranger. He didn’t know the first thing about bears.

Was he supposed to make himself look big or small? Meet its eye or not?

The pup whimpered again, and the bear spun to growl at him, taking a menacing step in his direction. Unthinkingly, Miles pulled out his gun and shot into the air. He couldn’t let it hurt the pup, but honestly, he didn’t want to hurt the bear either.

It was innocent of wrongdoing; the pup had probably happened on its den or maybe its cubs or something. He glanced around but didn’t see any bear cubs, thankfully.

He hated being in a situation where he might be forced to hurt someone, or some creature, for no reason but shitty circumstances.

The bear spun toward him and roared. It lunged for him, and he hopped back.

And because he was Miles, and apparently had the worst luck known to humanity, he lost his balance. It was a thing with him when this kid was around. Next he knew, he was lying in the snow, staring up at the sky.

And his gun was not in his hand.

Dammit.

The bear lumbered in his direction—ungainly, sure, but surprisingly spry for a creature with that much bulk.

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