Page 65 of Feral

Perhaps this was the solution; simple, small touches that would take the edge off the physiological and primal needs of the mating mark. The thought brought with it more peace and laid my head back, relishing a little bit of quiet to prepare myself for the next part of this mission.

But we’d barely pulled out of the small town when tires screeched behind us and the sounds of gunfire pierced the morning.

I screamed as they hit the back of the Jeep and Fraser pulled me down onto the seat, shielding me with his body.

“The Jeep is bulletproof! Just hang on!” Lowell yelled.

We veered to the right and careened over a bumpy road. My body caught air several times as Lowell attempted to lose our pursuers. But the ping of bullets on the Jeep and the sounds of shouting outside told me that these people weren’t giving up so easily.

“Lowell, where are you goin’?” Fraser yelled.

“You’ll see.”

We turned to the left and then the right and I had no idea where we were because Fraser was forcing me to stay down. His eyes had turned yellow by this point and his hands and forearms were in his true form, razor sharp claws extending from his long fingers.

“I’ll not let them hurt ya,” he promised.

“I know but what about you two?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Lowell said, dialing a number on his cell. “Yeah, we need assistance! Comin’ right at ya!”

He hung up and we continued along at a break neck pace. When the gunfire started up again, it was followed by the sound of a car screeching to a stop and crashing. People were yelling, and Lowell chuckled.

Fraser looked behind us and laughed as well.

“Angus called in a favor with the Brawlers,” Lowell said. “He knew somethin’ might happen.”

“Angus sounds like a smart leader,” I said, peeking my head up now that Fraser wasn’t hunched over me.

“He can be a paranoid arse. But sometimes it pays off,” Lowell responded.

Behind us, a group of supernaturals, mostly Werewolves but also a few Orcs, one or two Mothmen and what looked like a Leprechaun, were pointing guns at a large SUV. Smoke rose from the hood and six men were being hauled out at gun point. They were wearing the same black gear that those on the train had worn. It looked like we had driven out onto a country road and had gone through a tiny village. The SUV was off the road at the end of the short row of houses. No one said anything until we’d gotten back on the main road, far away from the scene. While it was unlikely that another team was waiting around the bend, I still couldn’t relax.

“Was that Jeffrey?” Fraser asked. “I thought he was in jail again?”

“He was, but got out for good behavior.”

Fraser snorted.

“In other words, he was more trouble than he was worth.”

“Exactly.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The Leprechaun.”

“Oh.”

There really wasn’t anything else to say.

“So, who did ya piss off, Fraser?” Lowell asked.

I glanced up at him, guilt eating at me. I’d just placed Fraser and his brother in danger.

“It’s complicated,” he replied, his arm tightening around me.

“Is it anythin’ to do with the Campbells and whatever craziness is happenin’ to our men?”

---