Gunshot. The lioness stumbled. Staggered. Crumpled to the ground.
A shadow fell over the wolf. The human. Donnie. The wolf approved of him. He was fierce. Bloodthirsty. A predator.
“I don’t know if you can understand me, but a few other wolves are trying to take down a grizzly over there. They may need your help.”
The wolf did not understand the words. But his inner human urged the wolf to head in the direction that the human was pointing. The wolf ran, leaving prints in the mud, splashing the water pools.
Soon, he heard the distinct booming roar of a bear. The wolf skidded to a halt. Two of his pack mates were charging at the grizzly from either side—clawing and biting. The bear batted them away with its large paw, but it was bleeding heavily. Tired. Weak.
The wolf charged at the bear’s front and leaped. Hit it hard. Sank his teeth into fur and flesh. The grizzly batted him away. The wolf hit the ground, but the mud cushioned his fall. He stood, shaking his head.
A margay dropped down from a branch above them and landed on the bear’s back. The bear arched with a roar, and the wolf knew the margay had raked her claws down its back as she slid down to the ground.
The grizzly whirled to find the margay, who had jumped to expertly miss the human’s trap. The bear did not see the trap. It fell right into it and disappeared into the pit. Its agonized roar told the wolf that the grizzly had fallen onto the bed of spikes.
The wolf turned. Looked for more enemies. There were many dead bodies. He could not see or hear—
He froze as hate rushed through him. Hate and fear. Echoes of his mate’s emotions. Heart racing, the wolf whirled and ran for the house. He tasted his own fear. Fear for her. Fear of losing her.
As he neared the house, he heard human cries of pain. Female cries. But they were not coming from his mate. He knew through their bond that she was not hurt.
The wolf ran for the steps that would lead to the porch. A hard weight barreled into his side, sending him sprawling. The wolf crashed into the truck. Spots dotted his vision.
Rory stood over him. “Hello, brother. You’re supposed to be dead by now. Shame. But I don’t mind taking care of that problem.”
The wolf growled. He did not understand the words, but he heard the cruel intent in them. The wolf stood, snarling. He did not care that the male was his sibling. He wanted him dead. Wanted to taste his blood. Wanted to watch the life leave his eyes as he had with the fox.
“I didn’t want it to come to a fight between us. You’re my twin, after all. We’re part of each other in a weird way. Right? All you had to do was give me what was mine. I told you what would happen if you didn’t. I warned you. But you didn’t listen. You brought this on yourself, Zander. And now your little human will die, and so will you.”
Rage exploded inside him—the emotion came from the man within the wolf.
“I can smell her on you. Your scents have mixed. Congratulations on your mating. A pity you had such little time to enjoy it.” Rory lifted a gun, pointed it at the wolf. “I told Ezra that I’d let him have her, but . . . maybe I’ll claim that pleasure myself once I’m done with you and—”
Another wolf launched himself at Rory, knocking him down. The gun slid under the truck. Zander lunged for the surface so hard that the wolf did not have the opportunity to fight him for dominance.
Standing, Zander glared down at his brother, nostrils flaring. “You’ll never touch her again.” He signaled for Jesse’s wolf to back away from Rory—this was something Zander had to do himself. Jesse’s wolf let out a disgruntled growl as he moved aside. Zander rolled back his shoulders. “You want to fight, Rory? No, I won’t give you that. People fight to win. I don’t want to win. I want to kill you. You know I can.”
Rory staggered to his feet, putting a hand to the claw marks on his side. “You’re bleeding—”
“Now, so are you.” Not near as badly as Zander, but bad enough. “And how fucking typical is it of you that you wouldn’t attack until you thought I was too weak to beat you. I’ll always beat you, Rory. Every time. Because you’re the weak one. You always were. A part of you even knows that. You’ll just never face it because, as I said, you’re weak.”
Rory sniggered. “Not so weak that I didn’t get dear old Mom and Dad to leave me everything.”
“And what was it you thought I wanted from two people who were as equally pathetic as you? Abusive people are weak, and that was what Pearl was. Dad wouldn’t stand against Pearl, not even to defend his own kids. He was spineless, like you. So, where’s your victory?”
Rory’s mouth bobbed open and closed. “You’re saying I’m weak?” Nostrils flaring, he took an aggressive step forward. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be on dialysis—”
“This again? Honest to God?”
“That infection almost killed me!”
“Yeah, almost. Right now, I’m wishing it had, because then it wouldn’t have come to this. Now, I’m done listening to your shit.” Zander shifted just as his brother clawed off his clothes and then did the same.
The identical wolves circled each other, ears flattened. The only difference between them was the scar on the face of Zander’s wolf.
The scarred wolf pounced. The other lunged. And they clashed, clawing and growling.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ezra cocked back his fist to hit Yvonne once more, but he froze at the sound of vicious growling just outside the house.
Gwen tensed, hope blitzing through her. There was so much noise out there, so many growls, roars, and screeches, that it sounded like a zoo gone crazy, but those growls . . . they were close. Very, very close. And Gwen would bet money that one of the wolves was Zander. She could feel his rage and determination, could feel that he was near.
She allowed a little smile to surface as Ezra looked at her. “I told you he’d come for me,” she reminded him.
Nelson grunted in her ear and dug the gun harder into her temple. She barely held back a wince. The bastard’s arm was like a thick rope around her chest, pinning her arms at her sides, and she felt like she couldn’t get enough air.
Even with the gun pointed at her head, Gwen had fought him at first. But that had only made them laugh and hurt Yvonne more, so Gwen had quieted. She’d clamped her mouth shut to contain the pointless pleas for them to leave the woman alone. Now, Gwen remained perfectly still. But her muscles were tight, ready to spring at the slightest opportunity.