Page 95 of Untamed

"How you doing, Snow?" I brush my mouth against the top of her head. She snuggles deeper into my arms in response. "This is RustClaw land, Dove. Inuit is our Alphason. A real cold son-of-a-bitch," I say fondly. I bite back my chuckle when Snow growls a little at my slur. She-wolves don't like that particular insult, but with Inuit, it's truthful.

"He's good at patrols," Elias chimes in, worry evident in his voice.

"Something's up." I'm moving fast without conscious thought. My alpha-wolf is scanning the familiar forest, seeking familiar scents. Or worse, unfamiliar scents. There is nothing but a feeling of anticipation. I can't tell if it's in my head because of the knowledge that RustClaw is on the precipice of war. My wolf is silent, vigilant, ready, his head tilted to the sky, listening to the goddess but hearing nothing.

"Alpha, you get anything?" Devel sidles up, moving silently through the shadows, a reminder of who he is, how he was raised in the wilds of the north.

"Nothing. No sign of intruders," I grunt.

"Sam found a leather bag on the riverbank. Maybe belongs to the golden female," Devel tells me quietly.

"Willa?" Snow whispers with hope brimming.

"Maybe, Dove," I caution her. I think so, and the thought that I can reunite Snow with her pup makes my feet move slightly faster.

"Something has happened to her," Snow whispers. A sharp wind, colder than the air around us, shakes the leaves on the trees. They fall onto the whimpering refugees. I am home, but we aren't safe.

The sense of urgency makes us move. Devel's crew moves in and out, most on paws as if by a silent command to be ready.

The howl that splits the air makes my wolf respond. I pause, hesitate just long enough to cast my cry into the air. Then, we are sprinting. Snow wraps herself around me, face buried in my neck, as I race toward the noise of war.

The scent of blood, smoke, and destruction grows sharper as I hurtle towards the packhouse.

Only twenty minutes later, we burst into chaos. Our luna, Lyri, is on the ground, frantically pressing against her male's shoulder. Blood is streaming through her fingers, a streak of it decorating one cheek, more soaking her chest. Thjis has wrapped his good arm around her shaking thigh, his soft rumble of reassurance barely heard over her tears.

"I'll be fine, baby. Nothing vital's hit." His words are correct, but the shake in his voice gives away the lie. Nothing vital, but the big male has bled too much. My eyes take in the scene. He must have been shot while on paws. Nude and pale, I assume he was injured somewhere else. We came from the northwest, so whoever the attackers are, they came from the east. It explains the lack of patrol. Goddess, we've been attacked. Only a few wolves are outside. The rest are somewhere closer to the packhouse. I can hear the sounds of devastation from inside.

"Alpha!" Lyri looks up at me, her eyes lost. Our strong warrior-luna can't lead when one of her beloved males is bleeding out in her arms.

"Get him to the clinic," I bark. Two males move past me, picking up Thjis and carrying him swiftly to one of the pack trucks nearby.

Lyri looks back over her shoulder at me. "It's Inuit, Jax!"

Mother-fucking-shit.

"Devel," I growl. The male moves up to my left. Sam and Elias on my right. "Elias and Leilani, take Snow and protect her. Devel, Sam, with me. We're moving in."

The two-hundred-pound solid metal and walnut doors to the packhouse have been ripped off their hinges and tossed to the side like pup's toys. Claw marks are sunk into the parquet floor, furniture, paintings, lamps, all broken and littering the hallway. Not all of it, though, I note as I move cautiously but swiftly down the hall. This wasn't deliberate destruction of the house. This was a rampaging alpha-wolf trying to get to something in the place. Or someone.

"You have silver chains?" Devel asks.

"In the cells," I reply grimly as we head up the staircase, careful to skip over the steps that are torn out.

"Goddess, what sort of wolf is this pup?" Sam asks as he moves past the splinter from hell jutting out from the broken balustrade.

"A pureblood alpha-lineage," comes my reply. “Worse, a TrueBorn alpha who hasn’t ever shifted into his HalfForm.”

"Well, fuck. Those are always fun," comes the sarcastic reply. "Looks like he’s found his HalfForm now."

"Ez, you alright?" I hear Rhet shout from one of the bedrooms.

Devel, Sam, and I are at the doorway to one of the guest bedrooms a second later.

"Fuck," Sam breathes. "Tell my daughter I love her, OK?" he whispers.

I swallow. Inuit is partially shifted into a HalfForm. Like a nightmare from human movies, he stands taller than he does, even on feet. Hair has sprouted from his skin, ears of a wolf poking through on the top of his head. Yellowed eyes glare out over the elongated jawline filled with deadly canines. I suppose his hands, or paws, curl claws of a fucking beast.

"Now, that's awerewolf," Elias states baldly, echoing my thoughts.

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