Page 3 of Rescued

“Hey, Adam,” I speak quietly, leaning forward to inspect the animal more closely. “Come look at this. What the hell happened to him?”

There’s a wound between his shoulder blades, jagged and scabbed over like it’s been there for days. The edges are raw, the fur around it crusted with dried blood and dirt.

Adam steps closer, his footsteps crunching softly on the dirt. The wolf shifts uneasily, his breathing quickening as Adam approaches. A low growl escapes him again, weaker this time but still warning enough.

I glance back, frowning as I catch sight of the hypodermic needle in Adam’s hand.

“Put the damned syringe away,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend.

Adam bristles, his grip pinching the syringe. “Gabe, that’s not reasonable. This is a wild, wounded animal. If he lashes out, anyone nearby could be seriously hurt. Including you.”

“He’s not going to lash out,” I say firmly.

“Gabe—”

“Just put it away,” I interrupt, turning back to the wolf.

I let out a slow, steadying breath, willing myself to exude calm. Animals can sense your emotions. I’ve always believed that. Maybe, just maybe, this wolf can too.

I keep my hand on his neck, fingers moving gently through the thick fur. He trembles beneath my touch, but the growling stops. His head lowers slowly until it’s resting by my knees, his eyes fluttering closed with a soft whimper.

“He’s fine,” I say quietly, glancing back at Adam. “Look at him. He’s too weak to do anything but lie here.”

Adam doesn’t move at first, his expression skeptical. I press on.

“Just come take a look at the wound. I’ll stay here, by his head. You get on my right side, closer to his hips. That way, if he does snap, it’s me he gets, not you.”

Adam sighs, but finally, he slips the syringe into his pocket. As he crouches on the wolf’s other side, I feel the tension ease from the air, my own breathing steadying as I stroke the animal’s fur.

“You’re okay,” I murmur softly, whether to myself or the wolf, I don’t know.

Adam looks at the wolf carefully, his brow furrowed as if he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that doesn’t quite make sense.

I take a quick look over my shoulder, catching sight of Todd near the front of the barn. He’s on high alert, his eyes scanning the property like he expects Sheriff Dickwad himself to come storming in any second. Knowing Kaufman, that isn’t entirely off the table.

Adam bends closer to the wolf, his hands moving with deliberate care. He leans in, studying the wound on the wolf’s back, and a muscle jumps in his cheek. “Shit,” he mutters, prodding the area with cautious fingers. “Looks like someone creased him, probably to slow him down so they could catch him.”

His voice is calm, measured, but I can hear the disgust underneath.

“Dumb fuckers,” he mutters under his breath. The words are quiet, but they hit me like a hammer. My own anger flares, hot and immediate. Someone deliberately shot this wolf—not to kill him, but to wound him. Why? To capture him? For what purpose?

I clench my fists, struggling to keep the heat rising in my chest under control. My thoughts spiral. If they’d been even a little less careful—or a little less lucky—they could’ve killed him outright. The fact that he’s alive at all feels like some kind of miracle.

Adam slides his hand around the wolf’s neck, his fingers brushing gently over the dark fur. His movements are calm, but the look in his eyes tells a different story. There’s a quiet fury there, one that mirrors my own. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I’d think he wasn’t affected by any of this. But the tension in his shoulders and the curses slipping from his mouth say otherwise.

“Feel here,” Adam says, tilting his head toward the wolf’s neck. “It’s raw all the way around.”

I hesitate before reaching out, not wanting to disturb the wolf further. My fingers brush over the fur, and I wince as I feel it—the rough, raw skin beneath. A wound encircles his neck, deep and angry, like something had been tied or chained there for days.

My hands start to tremble as I brush the fur back. What the hell had been done to this animal? Who thought they had the right to do something so cruel? I clench my teeth, my anger bubbling over. If I ever find out who did this, they’re going to regret it.

I glance at Adam, catching his gaze. The same anger burns in his eyes, reflected right back at me.

“So they creased him, caught him, and chained him up,” I say, and my voice comes out clipped. “Looks like they had him for a few days, right?”

Adam nods grimly. “Yeah. I’d bet on it. Probably some dumbass who thought keeping a wolf as a pet would be cool. They must’ve realized pretty quick what a mistake that was. You can’t domesticate a wild animal, no matter how much you want to believe otherwise.”

Heshakes his head, his hands moving over the wolf’s body in a practiced, efficient way. His fingers trail down the wolf’s sides, prodding his ribs, his hips, his legs. I watch the wolf carefully, noting the way his muscles twitch under Adam’s touch.

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