Page 61 of Frank's Felon
She put her hand on the wound, trying to keep his entrails from pulling, to stop the bleeding, but there was just so much blood and the wound too severe. Delilah shifted and sent up a howl, as loud and pained as she could. She needed someone, anyone. She shifted back to human form, so she could talk to him, let the poor bastard know he wasn’t alone.
Blue eyes, dim and nearly lifeless opened, and she nearly gasped. Mason.
He whined, except it wasn’t a whine of pain, though he was clearly in immense pain. That whine was worse than any cry, because of the desperation she felt in it. The wolf—the shifter inside—was trying to tell her something, and he was too weak to shift.
His breathing was failing now, but he moved his head to an odd angle. Delilah followed his line of sight and walked over behind another clump of bushes. That’s when she saw the child’s backpack and a pink sweater.
Frankie’s scent was all over the place, along with the scent of the five white wolves.
Delilah steeled herself, fearing she’d find Frankie next, dead or too injured to survive, like her father. With her stomach tight, Delilah pushed her way through the bushes.
Nothing. There was nothing there. No Frankie, no blood, or even the child’s clothing, except the sweater. Frankie was still alive!
Delilah dropped beside Mason. “She’s not there. No blood, nothing. She’s alive, Mason. They must have taken her.”
Mason’s wolf looked really scared now, and she couldn’t imagine his terror. But there was no choice. She couldn’t do anything further for him except send up another howl and hope another shifter in the pack heard.
Delilah scented the air, catching the slightest trace of peach and cinnamon in the wind. “I have her scent.” The scent trail led north, right into the path of the storm. Delilah had to follow, before the storm washed her scent away.
Delilah gripped his muzzle, making sure he focused on what she was saying, even though he couldn’t respond. “I’m going to find Frankie, Mason. I promise I’ll bring her home. I won’t let them hurt her.”
She didn’t waste time. Delilah shifted. With one last howl, Delilah raced ahead. She never looked back, because in all likelihood, Mason was already dead, and there was a little girl out there, frightened, in danger, maybe even hurt. Delilah never broke a promise. She would bring Frankie home.
* * *
FRANK
Whoever had sent up false alarms in three sectors was going to get a good thrashing when Frank found the shifter responsible. Shifters. . . the alerts had been far enough apart that there was no question in his mind it was a coordinated stunt.Stuntwas the operative word since there hadn’t been a single breach of the border in those sectors or the neighboring ones. He, Mac, Ethan, and Lou had been running standard sweeps, covering every inch of the eastern and southern borders.
When Bethany showed up and told him he was needed past camp, in the northern sector, Frank knew something was drastically wrong. Bethany was one of their fastest shifters; Damien only sent her when time was crucial.
By the time Frank arrived on scene, Pryce was bent over Mason performing emergency field surgery.
“It’s not good, but he’s still alive,” Damien said as he clamped a hand on Frank’s arm, to keep him from getting in Pryce’s way.
Frank couldn’t think straight. There was blood everywhere and the smell of death hung in the air. Along with another scent. His eyes shot up to Damien.
“Delilah. . .” Frank said.
“She’s the one who sounded the alert.”
Relief swept through Frank until he realized Delilah wasn’t anywhere nearby and there was a reason Damien was still holding him. Frank’s eyes surveyed the area. On the ground lay a woman’s shredded blouse, bra, jeans and boots. Delilah’s. She had shifted.
“Where is she?”
“She followed the attackers.”
No!Terror gripped Frank. His stomach churned and his heart raced.
This wasn’t happening. Thiscouldn’tbe happening. “Damien, tell me you’re not sure. Something. Anything. She wouldn’t do that. She would have waited with Mason for help to arrive.” It made no sense. Delilah wouldn’t have a chance against whoever had taken Mason down. Delilah was good, but not as good as Mason and the shifter was lying on the ground in a pool of blood.
“I’m sure.” Damien pointed to where Enid was standing over in the bushes.
Frank approached, careful not to step on the wolf tracks. They still needed to determine how many wolves were here, and if possible, who—all before the rain arrived.
Frank felt his stomach drop when he saw Frankie’s sweater and backpack.
“They took Frankie,” Damien said from behind, his voice filled with rage. “Delilah was first on scene. She knew if she didn’t follow, we could lose Frankie for good.”
