Attack

CONNOR

Sleep was just about to take hold, even though I’d fought it.

Willow’s breath was warm on my chest, slow and even. Her hand rested over my heart as if it belonged there. I didn’t move, couldn’t. The moment was too fragile, too rare. Her skin on mine, the weight of her trust—it steadied everything.

A mind-link came: “~Alpha. Intruders. North wing. Armed.~” The voice sliced through my sleepiness with the precision of a scalpel.

My eyes bolted open, my heart instantly racing.

Willow didn’t stir as I eased out from under her warm embrace and left a kiss on her brow. I could’ve sworn I heard her sigh, though.

Reluctant to leave her, I grabbed pants and a T-shirt. No time for shoes. I was halfway down the corridor when Ben caught up with me. “Update. Now,” I demanded from him.

He simply stared at me, bleary-eyed, shrugging, and we both rushed toward the stairs.

“~Travis! Update!~” I reached out for my head of security, but there was only silence. “Shit,” I murmured and was about to link the warrior that had woken me up when an explosion rocked the house.

I stumbled, my hand shooting out to the wall for balance. The lights flickered and died. Glass shattered somewhere downstairs. Gunfire erupted in short bursts, deliberate.

Before I could think, the floor under my feet started buzzing with movement: thumps, cracks, pounding footsteps. Then came the sounds: shouted instructions, growls, distant screams.

~No. No. No.~ When I reached the staircase, another mind-link came through.

It was Travis, and he was panicked. “~Human soldiers. Black uniforms. Automatic rifles. They’re inside~.”

Questions would have to wait. I sprinted down the stairs.

Two of my pack sat in the hallway on the first floor, one clamping his hand over a wound in his leg, the other tying her shirt around her upper arm. Blood soaked the hardwood in wide arcs around them. Gunpowder stinging my nose told me they’d been shot.

A black-clad soldier rounded the landing below, his rifle raised. I didn’t wait. I leapt over the banister and collided with him, driving him into the wall. His weapon fired wildly on impact. Three bullets stitched the ceiling.

I didn’t shift, didn’t need to. I ripped out his throat with my bare hand.

Another one appeared at the base of the stairs. I rolled, grabbed the dead man’s rifle, and fired a burst that tore through the new guy’s neck. He fell like a sack of meat. Footfalls rang out behind me, and I turned.

“Connor!” It was Willow. She stood in the hallway at the top of the stairs, her eyes wide, barefoot, and still in that oversized T-shirt. She was a deer in headlights, frozen.

Movement to her left brought my attention to another man in black.

~No!~ “Down!” I roared, right when the soldier fired.

Time slowed. I lunged without thinking, grabbed her, spun her to my right, and threw her down to the landing.

A bullet cracked into the wood, and splinters exploded right where her ribs would’ve been. But the man didn’t get a second shot, because I continued my spin and dropped him with a round to his mask.

Willow gasped, stumbling before I bolted down and pressed her against the wall. “Back to the room! Now!” I said. Her mouth didn’t move, but her eyes told me her wolf was rising. “Willow, please, go!”

More gunfire cracked from downstairs, and I couldn’t wait to see if she’d listen. My body convulsed, my bones shifting and snapping in a flash of heat and pain as I shifted midsprint. My paws thundered against the ground floor, my claws clicking and scraping.

The foyer was in chaos. Blood smeared the walls. The dining table was overturned, and broken bodies—some ours, most theirs—were strewn about like dolls.

I tore into anything wearing black.

One soldier screamed as I hit him midturn. My jaws crushed his arm, and I ripped it from its socket. Another ran. I chased, leapt, and brought him down. My claws opened his back from neck to hip.

More gunfire. A bullet grazed my shoulder, hot and sharp. I didn’t care. I had one goal: drive them to the exit and get them the fuck out of my home.

Ben was already down here, in wolf form, bleeding heavily but still standing. He flanked me, and we moved in sync, a wall of muscle and fury and teeth.

Soldiers shouted to each other, trying to regroup.

I had no intention of giving them that chance.

WILLOW

No way was I going back to the room.

My heartbeat wouldn’t slow. My ears still rang from the gunshot that had splintered the wood. I couldn’t stop picturing Connor—his eyes, wide and blazing, his body moving faster than thought as he threw himself between me and the bullet.

I crept around the corner of the landing, unable to resist moving toward the fight. Every sense was alive and sharpened because my wolf was pressing tight to the surface of my skin, ready to tear free. The air reeked of blood and gunpowder and smoke.

Peering down onto the ground floor, I froze.

Three bodies lay crumpled along the banister. Human. All-black uniforms. Thick tactical vests. Rifles still clutched in limp hands. One had his throat ripped out. Another had his face caved in. The last had a bullet wound in his neck that still steamed.

~These aren’t rogues.~ Rogues didn’t carry automatic weapons or wear night vision gear. These were trained soldiers, human and organized.

My fingers tightened on the railing while I descended, slowly and carefully, hoping not to get shot. But the fight had moved toward the main entrance.

In the foyer, wolves circled the last few soldiers, driving them toward the door in a semicircle of snarling fur and flashing eyes. Blood streamed down the flank of Ben’s large silver wolf. Beyond him, Connor’s hulking black wolf bristled, teeth bared in a vibrating growl.

A soldier raised his rifle, which visibly shook, but his arm was torn off before he could fire.

Someone screamed—a female, one of Connor’s pack, no doubt. Outside, more gunfire cracked the night. Howls rose and fell. The windows pulsed with flashes of muzzle fire.

This wasn’t a small hit team; there were more out there.

As I stepped onto the bottom stair and crouched behind the banister, a thought slammed into me, sharp and cold. ~This is about me. It must be. Why else would humans attack a werewolf pack?~ In my bones, I knew this was true.

So did my wolf.

Determination filled us that we wouldn’t let them take us back to the cages, to the sedation and restraints.

But another scream had guilt curling hot in my stomach. Because this was all my fault; I’d brought this to them. These people had slowly, painfully, started to trust me, and now they were dying because of me.

Both feelings quickly burned away, consumed by rage—pure, coiling, volcanic fury.

My wolf surged toward the surface. The shift started, causing my bones to itch and heat to burn up my spine. Suddenly, an arm locked around my waist, and a hand clamped over my mouth.

The shock stopped me from shifting. I couldn’t scream or fight as I was yanked backward into something solid: a hard chest lined with tactical gear. Hot breath reached my ear. He smelled of cordite and sweat and desperation.

The moment cold steel pressed under my chin, I froze.

The man holding me stepped us off the stairs, holding me like a shield. The second we came into view, everything stopped. Growls cut off, and claws stilled midswipe. Only blood moved, dripping onto the floor in rhythmic doom.

Connor’s wolf turned, his eyes flaring with murderous intent.

The man pressed the barrel harder against me. “One more step,” he called out, his voice rough and authoritative, “and I paint the wall with her brains!”

No one moved in the foyer, but a wolf barged in from the door leading to the kitchen. Lisa. She skidded to a stop before taking in the scene.

“I said stop!” he barked again. “All of you. Go back to human, or I pull the trigger.”

Ben shifted first, his chest heaving and arms raised. Then two others. Then another. Fur gave way to skin and shivering muscles. Everyone did as told except Connor, who didn’t move.

He just stared at me, his lips peeled back from his fangs in a snarl.

“I’m taking her,” the soldier said, louder now as he walked me to the door. “And if anyone tries to stop me”—he dug the muzzle into my jaw, tilting my head back—“I’ll kill her where she stands.”