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Pine resin clung to my gloves as I anchored the last motion sensor between two spruce trees. Somewhere behind me, Beatrice, Zane’s motorcycle, growled to life, shattering the forest’s cathedral quiet.
“Coming through!” he called over the engine’s snarl, guiding the bike toward a log cabin. Pine needles crackled beneath slick tires.
“Your definition of subtlety needs recalibrating.” Alpha Jace raised an eyebrow as Zane killed the engine.
“Subtlety’s for monks and artists. We’re going forirresistible.” Z tossed a faded denim shirt onto the porch swing. Rocco Kane’s lingering scent should have Claudio frothing within a quarter mile.
“You sure about blades and not guns?” The alpha scratched the back of his neck as he examined our setup. “One or two silver-coated rounds, and business would be done.”
“Hehurtour beloved,” Zane ripped out, mask slipping.
“Distance isn’t an option tonight.” Clamping down on the urge to adjust the shirt’s precisely calculated drape, I turned to the Gray Shadows wolves, all three young and hungry and needing training, according to Alpha Jace. “Position yourselves downwind once the perimeter alarms trigger. Your job’s containment, not engagement.”
The youngest wolf squared his shoulders.
“What if they breach the—”
“Then you run.” Koa didn’t look up from sharpening his dagger.
“They’ll learn.” Alpha Jace chuckled when the pups scrambled off. “Happy hunting, boys.”
“Same.” I gave him a curt nod, and he disappeared into the trees.
As twilight bled through the canopy, we took our positions.
“Twenty says Claudio sends his flunkies first.” Zane traced idle patterns in the lichen.
“Hence the wolf cub brigade playing hide-and-seek in the ferns.” Ko’s blade caught the fading light.
“They handle the perimeter.” My knuckles popped against the leather-wrapped hilt of my sword. “We handle Claudio.”
The forest stilled three heartbeats later, and Koa’s nostrils flared.
“East ravine.”
As Zane and I nodded agreement, I parsed layers of forest static: Chittering voles, wind through the leaves, the creak of Zane shifting his weight, the wet snap of a twig a mile out.
Ko melted into the spruce shadows. Z vaulted onto the cabin roof, silent as spider silk and crouched like a hellhound ready to spring. I pressed against the north wall, sword angled low.
Claudio stepped into the clearing, his big body silhouetted against the moonlight, and six rogues flanked him, three on either side. His eyes scanned the area, the motorcycle parked in front of the cabin, and a slow, predatory grin spread across his face. He touched the scar slashed across his throat as he stood before the cabin.
“Did you miss me, brother? Come on out so we can catch up!”
I gave the signal, and we erupted in blurs of silver blades.
Ko hit the ground rolling, twin daggers slicing hamstrings before his targets reacted. A bearded rogue swung a machete; Zane’s garotte wrapped his throat mid-swing. I stepped into Claudio’s blind spot as his head snapped toward the choking sounds.
“Looking for family reunions?” My boot shattered his kneecap.
He crashed against the porch rail, fangs bursting through bleeding gums.
“Cimmerian! Arabesque says your bitch—”
“Finish that sentence.” My sword hilt smashed his remaining teeth. “I dare you.”
His fist shot out, claws raking my ribs. Pain flared hot, then cold as it healed almost instantly. I let him stagger upright. Let him think he had space to shift. Sure enough, his spine cracked, fur erupting along swelling arms—
