Page 12 of Soul of the Chaos

“Remember to avoid anything structural for now.”

Mace nodded as he quickly took the ammo. The guy was a crack shot so I didn’t bother to watch as he popped up and threw the two flaming bottles into the building through the broken window, aiming in different directions.

I handed him the next two then scattered a bit of our precious juice on the wall and grasses along the perimeter in preparation for the next phase. We didn’t want the place to go up too soon. The first stage was to shake up the crowd inside so they found it hard to organize.

Once we got the humans out, though, all bets were off.

Much like our wolves, the desert breeze was restless. It would fan the flames up nicely once we got this party started. The Badlands hadn’t seen rain in a long time as this patch of Gods-forsaken land straddled the divide between two mountain ranges. We’d soon have ourselves a merry little blaze.

Right as we were about to move on, a wolf was thrown out of the window above us. Mace took out his knife and grabbed the mutt by the scruff of his neck. Slicing clean and deep, he dispatched him quickly. Wouldn’t do to have him sounding the alarm.

I collected my supplies and we moved onto the next set of windows. This one was intact. Mace broke the pane with the butt of his gun while I made up the next round of my favorite cocktails. I was a beer man, myself, but Molotov cocktails burned so pretty.

We made our way past each window, continuing to set the foundation along the outside of the clubhouse and send intermittent gifts through the windows as we went.

“This should look pretty going up under the Blood Moon,” I murmured, bumping fists with Mace.

“Love a good bonfire,” Mace grinned back, speaking equally low so as not to give our position away. “Shall we head round back to the kitchen? Maybe we’ll strike it lucky and find a gas oven. That’d make a nice little pop.”

I clapped him on the back with a soft laugh. “Brother, I like the way you think.”

As we approached the backyard, we froze and hugged the shadows at the unmistakable sound of a challenge breaking out in the yard beyond. Vicious snaps and the rending of flesh was followed by a few triumphant yips. Over the din of the dog fight came a metallic shaking sound, followed by a distinctly human sounding scream and a chorus of terrified sobs.

I peered round the corner and ducked back into the shadows as a growl ripped from my lips.

“Don’t shift,” I warned my companion.

“What? Why?”

But the prospect got his piece out all the same, ready to follow my lead whether I was an omega or not. As I said, Mace was a good kid. I’d already kicked off my boots, laid my cut on top, tucked my weapons away, and started to shuck off my jeans.

“Because I’m going to rip their fucking throats out,” I growled back. “And I need someone to watch my six.”

“Got it. Give ‘em hell, brother.”

I didn’t bother to answer. The wolf took me in one smooth ripple and the crack of blood and bone. There were perks to being an omega. One of them was my swift transitions, something I didn’t advertise but sure came in handy in a fight. The other was that I was lightning fast. So, although I was smaller than most wolves, I made up for my lack of size in stealth, speed, and pure bloody-mindedness.

Three of the wolves were already scrapping. Fighting amongst themselves for the spoils of war they hadn’t even secured yet. Idiots. Another fucker, also in wolf form, was stalking behind a small group of chumps gathered round the cages in human form.

And in those cages…

FUCK.

I only caught a fleeting glimpse of those cages as my beast zeroed in on his targets. But even a fleeting glimpse was enough to bring back demons I’d long since buried. Yet, here they were, living nightmares come back to haunt me.

The captured humans were dressed in tasteless stripper lingerie which hung off their wasted frames in a way that made me want to barf.

Trying to break into their kennels were the remaining shifters who thought the world should bend to their every whim. Who thought they had the right to take and destroy whatever they wanted. Most were barely holding onto their human skin. Drool was dribbling down their chins and adrenaline was causing their limbs to tremble and shake in anticipation.

In short, these fuckers were dead men walking.

Rage took hold of my wolf.

One shifter was standing right in front of a cage, dick in hand as he tugged on his junk like his life depended on it. I hoped Mace shot him first.

Another was licking at one of the women through the bars as she cowered away and tried to make herself as small as possible. I made a note to rip that fucking tongue out of his mouth and feed it to him later.

Others were simply hooting and hollering and shoving at the one with the bolt cutters to get a move on, only his hands kept half-shifting causing him to snarl in pain and lose his grip.

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