A skinny polar bear lay on the far edge by the trees while a figure in camouflage clothes was curled up in a ball closer to them.
Calian approached the woman with caution since she clutched a gun. When he stuck his head closer, he heard no breathing. Dakota and Kansas pushed past him, healers at heart. Both nudged the woman’s face with their noses before retreating.
Dead.
The assassin was dead.
Curious, Calian used his head to move her onto her back. Blood had pooled beneath her, turning the pristine snow scarlet. Someone or something had ripped open her chest.
The polar bear.
Calian approached, wary since the bear’s chest rose and fell. Blood covered his fur. A gunshot.
The bear opened his eyes. Blue. A shifter then.
A pained grunt escaped the bear. He sucked in a hoarse breath and shifted, the transformation taking longer than normal. An older man dressed in ragged jeans and a T-shirt appeared, and Calian recalled Sax saying their clothes morphed with polar bear shifters. The man’s skin bore a yellow tinge while it was obvious a bullet had caused the wound in his chest. Dakota and Kansas shifted as did Calian.
His twin brothers placed their hands on the man, imparting some of their mystical healing energy.
“You’re here for the girl. Your mate,” the man rasped.
“Do you know where she is?” Calian asked, his voice sharp with urgency.
“Not far,” the man whispered. “Injured but still alive. Helicopter went down that way.”
Matto galloped in the direction the man indicated.
“What’s your name?” Calian asked.
“Gunnar Hallsten. Saw your girl many times with my boys.” His voice emerged strained and hoarse.
“Don’t talk,” Calian murmured. “Let us help you.”
“Dying anyway,” Gunnar said. “Saw the woman setting up her shots. Glad I could help your girl. Done something right.”
“We can’t help,” Dakota murmured to Calian. “He’s too sick.”
“Go find Renee. I’ll stay with him,” Calian said.
The twins shifted and raced after Matto.
Gunnar wheezed, his breathing labored. “Tell my boys…tell Sax I love him. I’ve watched them work…” He coughed weakly, groaned. “Proud of them all. So proud.”
Calian grasped the elderly shifter’s hand and squeezed. “I’ll tell them,” he promised.
Gunnar’s breath rattled. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he didn’t breathe at all.
Calian murmured a short prayer before he stood. A shiver worked through him, the chill from the snow much worse when he stood in human form. He envied the polar bears who, as he’d observed, transformed with their clothes. Nature’s way of survival since polar bears lived in cool regions while werewolves generally inhabited warmer climes.
After a swift shift, Calian charged after his brothers. He ran through the towering spruce trees, following their tracks and scent.
Gunnar had implied she was injured. How bad?
Urgency had him running at full stretch. The stench of fuel struck him first. Next, he registered the wreckage of the helicopter, which had landed in bits and now littered the landscape.
“Over here,” Matto called.
Calian found his three brothers—all naked—hovering over Renee. He shifted again, his crazy race through the trees having warmed him.
