Half Wolf (Alpha Underground Book 1) (7 page)

The final enemy went still and Lia pranced triumphantly atop his back for a long moment, her joy at pulling her own weight in a successful battle nearly palpable in the air. The half-blood was so pleased, in fact, that she raised her muzzle to the sky in preparation for an exuberant howl.

I hated to be the one throwing cold water on the youngster’s elation, but there was still the cookie lady to consider. So I did my pack leader job and slapped the teenager down.

“
Lia
,” I said quietly but sternly. In her enthusiasm, the kid struggled against my compulsion for a moment. But then she leapt down and slunk toward me on her belly in a simple but effective werewolf apology.

“I understand,” I soothed. And I did. It was invigorating to discover your strengths when you were a sixteen-year-old girl who had always in the past been the weakest wolf at the party. Lia’s unlikely partnership with Hunter had not only saved our pack, it seemed to have given the timid teenager a new lease on life.

I, on the other hand, was exhausted both physically and mentally. Sure, we’d conquered the invaders without loss of life on either side. And I had a good feeling about our ability to wrest information out of the teenager now pinned beneath the trouble twins’ paws.

But, unlike Lia, I’d only barely managed to hold my own even with the help of the heavy hunk of steel clenched between my intertwined fists.

As if the thought had released the last iota of control I possessed over my tired muscles, the tip of said sword fell to the ground with a thunk. This battle had made one thing clear at least. As a pack leader, I was worse than worthless. An alpha I was not.

But an alpha I was determined to become. So I squashed my own angst and headed over to deal with the trouble twins and their captured prey.

In human form, the teenage boy looked even younger than Lia and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him as I took in his scratched skin and submissive posture. Still, it wouldn’t do for me to appear soft, not when the prisoner’s compatriots might pop back to life at any moment. We needed to extract any information we could and then hit the road without allowing the morning battle to resume. So I firmed up my resolve to act like a traditional pack leader, folding the gifted mantle back around me like a protective cloak.

Before I could do more than nudge Glen and Cinnamon toward breaking camp, though, pounding footsteps drew my gaze away from our prisoner. Quill was running flat out toward us, hair soaked and only pants in place. “What happened?” the cowboy shifter demanded as he took in the jumble of wolves and camping paraphernalia dotting the site.

Despite my best efforts to keep my weaker half asleep, surprise combined with morning-fuzz brain woke the inner beast. With her at the helm, our eyes skimmed briefly across our newest member’s six-pack abs, following the line of hair at the bottom of his flat belly until it disappeared behind his massive cowboy buckle. Quill hadn’t taken the time to don shoes, I saw, but he
had
cinched his belt shut.

Too bad. The male’s physique was impressive even by werewolf standards.

Mirroring my wolf’s appreciation of the man-candy before us, Ginger hummed her interest in the cowboy shifter’s half-clad body. But Hunter was less impressed. The uber-alpha’s growl was low but intense, raising hairs on the back of my neck and changing Quill’s body language from concern to aggression. Just what I needed—a fight within our own ranks to complete our pre-breakfast exertions.

Figuring the trouble twin’s avid admiration wasn’t helping matters, I dealt with the most likely source of strife first. “Ginger, you can join Cinnamon with the packing,” I said firmly. In response, the teenage wolf shot me a grumpy glance before stretching upwards onto two legs, losing fur and gaining human characteristics as she rose.

But even though she followed my order to the letter, I didn’t miss the way Ginger jutted out her naked chest and brushed up against Quill despite having plenty of space to walk around. As usual, the twin was complying...albeit grudgingly.

I wasn’t surprised by Ginger’s flirtiness, nor was I surprised by the cowboy shifter’s response. What red-blooded American male wouldn’t glance down at the erect nipples grazing his bare chest? A smirk lit Quill’s face, proving that he liked what he saw, and I could tell it took an effort for our newest pack mate to refrain from reaching out and touching the merchandise being put so boldly on display.

But that issue soon became irrelevant when an overwhelming aroma of rotten bananas filled the air.
Pop. Pop, pop. Pop, pop, pop, pop.

The first wolf to reanimate was the one I’d fought against at the very end of our battle, but soon all seven beasts were once again set into motion. Only the boy crumpled at our feet remained still, and that was only due to Hunter’s quick thinking rather than to his previous compulsion. Before I even realized what was happening, the uber-alpha had lunged forward to physically pin the teenager to the earth using the force of his front paws.

Which left one enemy on the ground...and seven standing against us.

“Shit.” The word slipped out of my mouth without conscious volition, but I stood by the sentiment nonetheless. My clan hadn’t done so badly in the preceding fight, but I had a feeling we’d fare much worse a second time around. After all, I’d just sent three of our crew away in human form, and they’d be hard-pressed to fight if forced to make a second rapid shift after such a short recovery period.

Plus, I’d made the beginner mistake of abandoning my sword on the ground where it fell, which left me entirely defenseless.
Some alpha I am.

Hunter’s growl ratcheted up another notch, and Lia’s furry body pushed up against the uber-alpha’s side to either give or receive comfort. Our odds of survival weren’t good even if Quill turned out to be adept at speedy transformations, which was far from a given. My own pack mates had learned the trick from our previous bloodling alpha, but most shifters took quite a while to change shape even under the best of circumstances. With angry werewolves out for blood to distract him, Quill might not manage to shift at all.

As I wracked my brain to think of some weapon I’d forgotten, the seven outpack males moved in to form a ring around us, their gazes still intent upon me and Lia and seemingly uninterested in the teenager who lay in the dirt at our feet. I didn’t dare to breathe, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Then, as if at a hidden signal, all seven turned as a unit and padded away. A stalemate—much better than the outcome I would have expected.

In fact, as the last furry tail disappeared into the rising mist, I had the surreal impression that our enemies had never actually been present in the flesh. Only the rotten-banana aroma—and the wild-eyed prisoner—proved that the preceding battle had actually occurred.

“Hunter...?” I wanted to ask him to see our enemies to the virtual door and ensure they didn’t circle back around to ambush us before we were able to make tracks. But even I didn’t have the guts to order an uber-alpha to do my bidding.

The strong shifter vacillated for a moment, his head whipping back and forth between the trees to the right and Lia to his left. At first, I thought my so-called mate had taken offense at even the carefully veiled command. But now I realized that Hunter simply felt uncomfortable relinquishing his ability to protect the girl with whom he seemed to have formed a battlefield attachment.

I’ve got her
, I wanted to say. But instead, I simply reached out and pulled Lia’s furry body against my legs. And as if he understood my unspoken words, Hunter nodded his thanks. Brushing past Quill in unconscious mimicry of Ginger’s earlier actions, the uber-alpha provided a not-so-subtle warning to the cowboy shifter even as he headed off into the woods.

“Hey!” Quill complained as his legs were nearly thrust out from beneath him by the force of Hunter’s passing. But I noticed that our newest pack mate didn’t try to back his words up with a threat...which was a smart move. None of us mere mortals could hold a candle to Hunter’s dominance. We were better off not even trying.

Then my attention returned to the prisoner, who was even now being pushed back toward the ground by Glen’s human hands. “Don’t even think about it,” my beta growled. I wasn’t so sure the kid had really been trying to escape. But a little intimidation never hurt in an interrogation setting, so I nodded my thanks before getting down to business.

“What’s your name?” I asked, crouching down and pushing my upper body into the boy’s personal space. He was still wearing the same sort of collar that had encircled each enemy werewolf’s neck, and I could now pinpoint the rotten-banana odor that so recently filled the campsite. The source was apparently a small plastic cube embedded in the fabric, and as soon as my eye picked out the difference in texture, I reached forward to examine the device.

Before my fingers could even brush against his skin, though, the teenager cringed away as if I’d planned to either strike or strangle him. “Crew Franklin,” he mumbled quickly in reply to my earlier question, and I could have sworn I saw a tear brimming up on the bottom lid of one eye.

I swore silently. The prisoner really was just a kid and one who probably hadn’t learned to shift more than a few short months ago. He was fourteen, fifteen tops. Crew must have stumbled into outpack shenanigans way past his pay grade then gotten in over his head, but my gut told me he was still entirely redeemable. Given the right leadership, the boy would likely turn into a fine member of his own clan one day.

Not that I wanted the kid to know his interrogator was softening toward him. So I continued fumbling with the catch on his collar even as I bluffed using the deepest voice I could manage. “Okay, Crew,” I said, stuffing the neckband in my pants pocket to be considered at a later date. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to answer all of my questions without holding anything back. And if you tell me what I want to know, then I’ll deliver you back to your father to be dealt with as he sees fit.

“On the other hand,” I threatened, glaring into his eyes, “if you think you can lie to me or omit any relevant details.... Well, you saw that wolf who was just here. He’s pretty hungry and he likes raw, red meat for breakfast. We’re running low on supplies, so you’re on the menu, if you get my gist.”

Crew flinched and Lia snorted beside me. The latter didn’t buy my tough-guy stance for a moment, but she also wasn’t the teenager I was trying to impress.

“Okay, sure, yes,” our prisoner babbled. “I’ll tell you anything. But I don’t know much. I haven’t been sworn in yet, just went to a few meetings as Talon’s recruit.”

“Talon?” I asked, keeping my questions short and open-ended. The kid seemed more likely to spill relevant details if I didn’t lead him too closely.

Sure enough, Crew’s eyes only flitted across his captors’ faces for a moment before he fell all over himself to tell me about a group of outpack males that met regularly at various bars around the region. He didn’t know anyone’s last name, and I wasn’t entirely confident that even the first names he spewed out were real. Still, the purpose of the group was as clear as it was chilling.

“To pledge, you have to capture a halfie,” the kid told me earnestly. “They’re not really human,” he rushed on by way of explanation. “Just unnatural animals. Filth.”

Despite having shed fur some minutes ago, Glen still growled in response to the kid’s words and his fingers tightened around Crew’s shoulders. I wasn’t terribly pleased with the boy’s language either, but this was an information-gathering session only. So I shook my head in subtle rebuke. “And what do you do with the halfies you catch?” I prodded.

“I’m not sure.” A line formed between Crew’s eyebrows as if he hadn’t given the question much thought. I suspected our prisoner had been recently drawn into the group by the enticing camaraderie offered by a cluster of outpack males and hadn’t worried too much about the big picture as long as his social needs were met.

But the big picture was exactly what I was trying to suss out. “What’s the organization called?” I demanded, not giving him time to fully catch his breath.

“SSS,” Crew replied easily. “The Shifter Sanitation Society. We’re cleaning up the region....”

And then Quill was pushing me to the side as a rifle shot cracked out, breaking the morning stillness. Glen dove atop Lia, protecting her body with his own even though I suspected that the shooter could as easily kill both as one.

Silently, I berated myself for not being more prepared. There was nothing wolf teeth and human sword could do against a sniper hidden by the encircling fog. Suddenly, our location at the far edge of the campground seemed more hindrance than help.

My muscles twitched, begging me to run for cover. But there was no point in moving. We’d present even larger targets if we straightened back up, and the thin metal of our car’s frame likely wouldn’t shield us from the bullet of a high-caliber rifle.

Plus, there didn’t end up being any reason to flee after all. Because the sniper appeared to have gotten what he came for and then left as silently as he’d arrived. As we waited, muffling our harsh breathing against crossed arms, the birds once again began to sing and the campground’s usual woodland tranquility sprang back to life.

Well, most of the campground resumed its normal life. Crew, on the other hand, had been shot square through the left side of his chest, the tiny entrance wound appearing inconsequential until I noticed the massive stain of blood soaking into the dirt beneath him. And when I pressed my fingers to the boy’s throat, I found no pulse.

There was only one conclusion to be drawn. Someone hadn’t wanted Crew to spill his guts, so they’d chosen a much more final route to their preferred destination. They’d spilled the last of his life’s blood instead.