As they drew closer, Tristan thought of Colby—how this place had shaped and scarred him, how it still lived in his nightmares. Maybe for Matt, this was about eliminating a threat, but for Tristan, it felt like justice.
Once the camp came into sight, Matt eased off the gas. Instead of sliding quietly out of the truck and heading for the trees, Jesse leaned forward, peering through the windshield. Tristan couldn’t see Matt’s face, but his shoulders were tight with tension.
“Matt,” Jesse said softly, just as Tristan realized what was nagging at him.
“The lights are still on,” he said. It came out loudly, and he winced as Matt and Jesse turned to look at him. “I mean,” he continued more quietly, “when I was there, they turned them off at first light, saving fuel, I guess.” But right now, as the day grew lighter by the minute, those big lights were still blazing away above the compound.
“Sit tight,” Matt said, shifting the truck slowly up the hill.
When they reached the entrance, Karl pulled the gate open, careful of the razor wire wrapped around it. He was pale and grim. Christian, still in wolf form, paced a tight circuit behind him, his movements clipped and restless, his face pinched as he watched Karl’s back.
Matt killed the engine and opened the driver’s door. The smell hit Tristan like a punch—thick, metallic, and something darker, cloying and terrifying. His wolf whined, wanting to flee, but he opened his door and slid out behind Matt, his gut clenched in cold fear. He needed the comfort of his alpha’s closeness.
“Karl?” Matt’s voice was razor sharp.
“It’s bad. No survivors, at least none we’ve found. Most were killed by wolves, but some have been shot.”
Tristan swayed slightly, trying to understand as that smell ate into him, and his wolf snarled at him to run from the wrongness of this place. He’d never known that the tang of blood clung to the air like smoke, and he didn’t think he’d ever breathe clean air again.
“Fuck,” Matt said, pivoting on his heel to look around through narrowed eyes. “Is there any chance whoever did this is still here?”
Karl shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t want to stake anyone’s life on it. Whoever did this, they’re pros. They could be out there watching.”
Tristan was frozen to the spot, the scent of blood and fear rooting him there. Jesse, however, had started prowling around as Matt and Karl talked.
“We do a quick check for survivors, see if there are any obvious clues, then get the hell out,” Matt snapped. “Tell Bryce to keep Jason out of this.” He spun around to fix his eyes on Tristan. “You, too.”
Tristan nodded silently, deeply relieved.
“We need to know if Cale’s among the dead,” Matt added to Karl.
“Nico.” Tristan’s voice was hoarse. “Cale’s beta. Colby’s—” His throat closed around the rest of that sentence. “Can you see—Colby will need to know. He’s got long dark hair and an eagle tattoo on his right arm.”
Matt turned to Tristan. “Get back in the truck. I?”
He broke off at the sound of a low-pitched whimper, whipping his head around. Tristan saw its source an instant before Matt did—Jesse was clutching at the doorframe of an outbuilding as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
Tristan was still gaping as Matt strode across the yard to Jesse. Jesse, who never let anything show. Who turned everything into a joke and dared the world to call his bluff. Seeing him like that made everything real in a way even the smell of blood hadn’t.
“In the truck,” Karl said, a low snarl running through his voice, and Tristan scrambled to obey.
He stared through the windshield as Jesse folded into Matt’s arms, shaking and—God, was he crying? What the hell could he have seen that had brought him to this?
Tristan sat and shivered, longing for Colby’s strong, steady arms around him.
Chapter Twenty-nine
COLBY
The pack returned far sooner than Colby had dared hope. He was sure that was a good sign, right up until Bryce climbed out of the first truck, grim-faced and silent.
Colby stopped breathing. Terror gripped him low in the gut. He only started again when he saw Tristan driving Matt’s truck up the driveway. He hadn’t been driving on the way out. Perhaps Matt— But then Colby got a glimpse of him in the back seat, with Jesse curled up against him, clinging tight. So maybe Jesse was hurt?
Before he had time to run through all the other possibilities, Tristan was in his arms, clutching at him as he buried his face in his shoulder. His body was taut, and Colby knew something was badly wrong.
“Hey,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around Tristan. He ran a hand through that mop of dark hair, offering what comfort he could. “Hey, you’re home now. It’s okay.”
He watched as everyone except Matt and Jesse climbed out. They’d all come back, which meant whatever it was couldn’t be that bad. Could it?
