I flash a wary look at the doc in the corner, who turns a shade paler, his brow furrowing, etching his features into that of worry, and he casts an evasive look back at me.
He darts a glance at Colton, then back again to me, suddenly sheepish.
âIt canât be Deacon, right? Itâs too early!â I point out while asking him to confirm, to calm the sudden whirlwind of nerves, hating the apprehension I can feel from him.
He swallows loudly. âI may have exaggerated our head start somewhat, a teensy little bit. I didnât want to alarm you and give you a reason to doubt coming with me, dear girl.
âIf you knew they were hot on our heels, so to speak, you would have queried the plan. I had faith the Fates would intervene if we just got out.
âI had to keep the sedation low, so I didnât kill my human staff in the process, and sadly that meant the wolves recovered quickly.â
Heâs apprehensive about admitting to a lie, recoiling slightly, and I give him a deflated smile, translating that itâs okay and it doesnât make much difference now because it is what it is.
âDamn right, itâs Deacon. Meadow and the pack are tracking them down the north road, following them. Theyâll be here in a couple of minutes,â Colton growls and sweeps past me.
Determination oozes from him, and that growing hostility comes off like dense smoke. Heâs moving into battle mode in his head, and I canât do much except follow him out of the infirmary.
I should be out there for this entourage to arrive. After all, itâs because of me and Sierra they are even coming.
âYou should stay here.â Colton flashes me a moody look, fierce, overbearing protectiveness shining through, and gets my âHell noâ glare of warning flashed right back.
Iâm not about to sit in the corner and be cotton-wrapped because Colton thinks he needs to take care of a feeble petite femme. This femme took down a bear; she will not be intimidated by that idiot Deacon.
âThat son of a bitch darted me in the back. Iâm not missing him crawling up and realizing this is a Santo domain! I want to experience that epiphany and watch him grovel,â I say through gritted teeth.
My aggression flares, thinking about that smug assholeâs face and the longing to kick him in the balls when I was in the facility.
That slight simmer of rage ignites, and my skin tingles in anticipation, revving up my anger for that slimy weasel.
âYou stay on my ass. Stay close where I can intervene should I need to,â Colton says, dropping that overbearing, no-nonsense command.
He turns away, obviously picking up on my stubborn tone and knowing arguing with me is futile. He still has to be in charge of my safety, though.
He leads the way immediately, straight out into the hallway, through the foyer, and out the open main door at hyper-speed.
Other wolves either get out of the way or turn and follow their leader as I assume he links and issues orders.
Heâs eager to get out front and await our guests. His wolf is peeking in the glowing eyes and that snarl in his tone, but he keeps it in check and stays primarily human.
He rolls his shoulders and leans forward slightly so that stance of psycho comes through prominently when we come to a halt at the gravel driveway that spans the whole front width of the homestead.
Wolves tend to hunch forward and look at you with a tilted chin. Itâs usually because we prefer to go on all fours as wolves, even though we can walk upright, and Colton seems caught between the two.
With his stance and lowered head, his eyes glow viciously, and his words take on that dominant growl in the undertones. He isnât planning on turning, but he intends to intimidate the shit out of Deacon.
I can sense his actions and read him way better than I used to. I wonder if our wolves are syncing a little because of our closeness in the infirmary.
Or maybe Iâm just getting better at dissecting the mood and picking out who belongs to whom.
He leads us out across the cleared, sweeping gravel drive. All the vehicles are gone, and I can see how massive the forefront of the homesteadâs entry is.
Without the wolves flanking and taking us in without seeing it, I can appreciate the wide, vast space, tree-lined with dense forest, and only one narrow opening coming northbound.
Colton was right about this being smaller than the manor at the mountain, but itâs still pretty impressive.
The headlights flash in the far distance through that gap in the trees, and I realize itâs because the road is straight and long, and standing here, we can see it for a couple of miles.
Being dark means seeing the flickering lights moving in on us, like incoming orbs bouncing around on uneven gravel terrain.
âTwo trucks. Radar can pick out the heat signatures of twelve wolves between the two,â Colton murmurs at me as if Radar being able to do that isnât a surprise, and now his name makes perfect sense.
He can see body heat through objects and infrared sight.
Something slight catches my eye, distracting me from this wonder, just past him as I look his way.
Adjusting my nocturnal vision, I realize Santo wolves move in from the tree line stealthily and stand out around us in the shadowsâwatching, waiting, prepping to be there should their alpha need them.
I again hate that Iâm not linked in and hearing the communications between them all.
Obviously, by the silent way they get in position and nod at one another, thereâs a line of chatter getting them where needed.
Theyâre preparing for battle because they donât know how things will play out.
âDoc said there were nineteen wolves at the facility, so Iâm guessing he left a few behind to keep the humans in check,â I add as an afterthought.
I stick close to him as a few warm bodies close up behind us, wolves I donât know well, but weâre being flanked by more than a dozen anyway. I wonder where the sub-pack is.
Colton paces, side to side. Adrenaline and hostility are so high heâs even affecting me, and my body vibrates lightly. He observes the oncoming truck, bristling with fierceness.
All I can do is watch and wait with bated breath, nervousness hitching up because I donât know how this will go.
And even though we outnumber them, Iâm still not a wolf whoâs ever had to battle another wolf like this.
Colton doesnât count that one time he triggered me, and I canât even remember it happening. Even while still crazily angry at Deacon, I feel nauseous and start wringing my hands to calm my stupid nerves.
Colton walks six feet to the left, turns, and walks back again like a caged animal, and I can taste his impatience in wanting to deal with this.
Heâs stiff and solid, ready to pounce, and I can taste the nearness of his wolf as heâs on the edge of turning.
Itâs like a high-level energy feeding mine, and my inner wolf wriggles around with a need to show face.
Heâs in full-blown aggression mode, his alpha scent getting so heady that my wolf snarls in response, and I have to take a deep breath and count to ten to keep her tamed.
Heâs riling the pack, and the murmur of restless snarls around me tells me theyâre all poised and ready to fight, feeding on their leaderâs need to attack.
The psychic bond of a pack is so intense that when their alpha hits a battle, they all rev up and flock to him, ready to die for the good of the pack.
Itâs becoming unbearable and invasive as it shrouds like dark smog around us, and I can hardly breathe with the impending pressure.
I touch him on the shoulder to break his intense focus on the incoming as he paces past me for the tenth time, and he pauses, spinning his head away from the road to me.
He reacts like I jolted him with a Taser because he was caught up in his instincts and senses.
âDeaconâs a coward and no match for us. Be still. Youâre making the pack restless and bloodthirsty.â I try to soothe him with a slight squeeze.
Colton inhales slowly but reaches out and gently runs his thumb over my bottom lip, igniting a crazy number of butterflies in my stomach with the simplest of touches as he focuses those glowing eyes on mine.
âHe laid his hands on you. Kept my mom prisoner. I donât care if he refuses to fight or runs. Iâll take him down.â The vicious, lethal, protective side is coming out, and I can only give him a soft look.
I canât argue when heâs fueled by instinct and rage. I can only let him be to handle this his way.
âMany of these wolves have never known battle. Think of the vulnerable among us. We want them to feel safe here, not traumatized by a war on the doorstep.
âBe a leader. Put vengeance aside for the good of those. There are children here,â I remind him gently, and it has the same effect as a calming wave washing over him.
Itâs enough to level down the rage, and he exhales heavily to release some of his tension, knowing Iâm right.
He nods, releasing me and turning away to watch the road once more, but I can tell heâs reeled in so much of his testosterone already. My words are having an effect.