Page 2 of Honey Heat
Clean cuts marked the severed wires, not the work of rats or weather damage. Moving to the second and third cameras revealed the same precise cutting.
“This wasn’t an accident.” He examined the clean cut of copper wire between his fingers.
“Someone doesn’t want to be seen,” Chopper said, voice low.
Understatement of the century.
Behind them, metal scraped against concrete. All three men whipped around, hands moving to concealed weapons. The three of them moved silently through the warehouse, looking for the source of the noise.
A row of crates stacked against the far wall caught Lucio’s attention. His gaze fixed on a pair of bare feet jutting out from behind them, motionless against the gritty concrete. Blood splattered the floor nearby, dark red dots trailing toward the hidden body.
“Over there,” Lucio whispered, pointing with his chin. His hangover instantly forgotten, adrenaline flooded his system as he drew his gun. Nothing sobers you up faster than discovering a corpse.
Chopper and Raphael followed his gaze, weapons appearing in their hands. With practiced coordination, they fanned out across the warehouse floor, moving like shadows despite their size. Years of working together made verbal communication unnecessary as they approached the crates.
Lucio crept forward, senses heightened for any sound or movement that might signal an ambush. His nostrils flared, catching the scent of blood mixed with something else. Not wolf, not hyena, but definitely shifter. He signaled to the others with a quick gesture, three fingers raised then two, indicating an unknown shifter presence.
Raphael took position on the left flank, while Chopper covered the right. With measured steps, Lucio rounded the crates, gun raised and ready.
What he found wasn’t an ambush but a young man sprawled unconscious on the floor. Blood matted his light brown hair, and bruises covered his face and arms. His clothes were torn, revealing more injuries across his chest. From the honey-musk scent emanating from him, Lucio immediately identified him as bear clan.
“Clear,” Lucio called softly, holstering his weapon. He knelt beside the injured shifter, pressing two fingers against his neck. A pulse fluttered beneath his touch, weak and irregular, but present. “Dios mío,” he muttered, scanning the man’s injuries. “Got a bear shifter.”
“I’ll let Matias know.” Raphael cursed under his breath.
Chopper kept watch, his eyes scanning the warehouse for additional threats. Moving quickly, Raphael pulled out his phone and stepped away to call their alpha.
“Hey, can you hear me?” Lucio asked, gently tapping the bear’s cheek. The young man couldn’t be more than twenty-five, his frame smaller than most bears Lucio had encountered. “You’re safe now, osito.”
No response came except for a weak groan. Blood seeped from a nasty gash above his eye, and his breathing sounded labored, each inhale a struggle against possibly broken ribs.
“This is bad,” Lucio said, glancing up at Chopper. “A bear shifter injured on wolf territory? Boone’s going to lose his shit.”
Relations between the Salvador wolf pack and the nearby bear clan had been peaceful but distant for years. Bears typically kept to themselves in the mountain forests north of town, rarely venturing into wolf territory. Finding one beaten half to death in their warehouse could easily spark tensions between the groups.
“Matias is sending Santiago with a truck,” Raphael reported, returning to them. “He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
The bear shifter stirred slightly, another groan escaping his split lips. Lucio placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid the visible injuries.
“Easy, cariño,” he said softly. “We’re getting help. You’re with the Salvador pack now. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Chopper found a relatively clean rag in his jacket pocket and handed it to Lucio, who pressed it against the head wound to slow the bleeding. “What the hell happened to him? Bears aren’t exactly easy targets.”
“Ambush, maybe,” Lucio suggested, noting the defensive wounds on the shifter’s forearms. “Or he was drugged first.”
When Lucio gently lifted one eyelid, the bear’s pupil was unnaturally dilated, barely reacting to the light. Something about it reminded him of how Diablo had looked after being injected with that serum the hyenas had created, the one designed to trap shifters’ forms inside of them.
“Mierda,” Lucio muttered. “I hope this isn’t what I think it is.”
They waited in tense silence, keeping watch over the injured bear. Lucio monitored his pulse, growing increasingly concerned as it seemed to weaken. Whatever had happened here, the bear shifter was running out of time.
When Santiago finally arrived, his truck skidding on gravel outside, relief washed through Lucio. He carefully lifted the unconscious man, carrying him to the waiting vehicle.
“I’ll take him to Martinez,” Santiago said, closing the passenger door. “You guys finish checking the warehouse.”
Watching the truck pull away, Lucio couldn’t shake his unease. Bears didn’t venture into wolf territory without reason. Either this guy was incredibly stupid or something had driven him here.
Neither option boded well.
