“She didn’t realize she had fangs,” Brooks said. “She freaked out when she saw the blood.”
Zane was silent for a while. “Maybe we’re worried about nothing. Maybe some werewolves go through their change faster than others. Then again, maybe we’re also seeing another result of the hunters showing up. If Alex was able to learn how to shift fully into wolf form almost overnight because of the threat the hunters present, maybe Selena can go through her entire change in days instead of weeks.”
Brooks hadn’t thought of that. A lot of crazy things had occurred since the hunters came on the scene. According to Remy’s future mother-in-law—who knew even more about werewolves than Gage—it was all because the Pack had an enemy now. Since so many Pack members had found their soul mates, the Pack was stronger. They were also tapping into new werewolf abilities no one had ever had before. While Alex Trevino had learned how to transform into wolf form in the span of fifteen minutes, Remy had developed some kind of telepathic link with his mate. The guy could track her anywhere she went like there was a frigging GPS chip in her head. Even more wild, the couple shared emotions, too. If she was happy, scared, or mad, Remy knew it even if they were miles apart.
Looking at it that way, maybe it was possible for Selena to go through her change in a matter of days. Damn, that was a terrifying thought. Turning into a werewolf was hard enough to handle when it happened slowly. If the process sped up, it could end up being too much for Selena to handle. At this rate, she could go full claws and fangs within days. He didn’t have time for the slow and careful approach anymore. He was going to have to tell her what she was—soon.
Zane slowed the SUV and took the exit off State Road 287, slipping onto 645, a small county road that led to the prison. As they drove along the narrow back road past brown, dormant fields, Brooks worked through different scenarios in his head, wondering if there was anything close to a good way to broach the subject of werewolves to Selena. He was still trying to come up with something when Zane broke the silence.
“I know you thought I was bonkers when I mentioned it to you the other day, but do you still think Selena’s notThe Onefor you? Clearly, the chemistry is there. Hell, she started to shift right in the middle of you two going at it.”
Brooks had lain awake last night for a long time asking himself this exact same question. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it. After Gage told me Selena was turning into a werewolf, I told myself my attraction to Selena was because she was going through her change. That maybe my inner alpha was simply worrying about another werewolf in trouble.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. You were hooked on Selena the first time you smelled her, and that was before she started going through the change.”
Brooks shrugged. “Yeah, I know. But I still find myself trying to come up with reasons to think she’s notThe One.”
Zane gave him a curious look as he pulled into the parking lot of the prison. “Why would you do that? Are you scared of finding your soul mate or something?”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “I’d never really thought about it one way or the other, but now that the possibility is right in front of me, I’m worried I’m going to mess it up somehow.”
“How in the hell are you going to cock it up?”
“Selena is turning into a werewolf faster than she should, so it’s possible what we consider normal is off the table,” Brooks pointed out. “What if I screw up helping her through the transition? How do I get her to believe some magical folktale has decided the two of us are supposed to be together if I can’t even get her to understand what she’s turning into? I could end up losing her…both as a werewolf and asThe One.”
The thought made his chest tighten painfully.
Zane shook his head and put the SUV in park. “Don’t even think I’m letting this subject go,” he said as he opened his door. “As soon as we’re done with Oliver, you and I are going to talk. Because you are overthinking the hell out of this situation.”
Brooks snorted as he got out to join his packmate, not sure what else there was to talk about. Telling Zane what was going on in his head would actually require him to know in the first place, which he didn’t.
As they walked across the parking lot, Brooks was nearly overwhelmed by the flood of scents coming from the place. Coffield Unit was a big prison, covering twenty thousand acres of land and holding over four thousand prisoners who were in there from anything as minor as simple drug possession up to assault, rape, and murder. Right then, Brooks swore he could smell every one of them.
They were halfway to the entry building that straddled the northern edge of the prison’s perimeter fence when he caught one particular scent that made him slow. The smell was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it, especially with all the other scents mixing with it. Whatever it was, his gut was screaming at him that there was something wrong.
He sniffed the air, letting his feet guide him toward it.
“Where are you going?” Zane said, moving up beside him with a confused look on his face. “We have to go through security to get into the prison.”
Brooks didn’t answer. Instead, he walked faster, leaving the parking lot behind and heading toward the western edge of the prison’s big perimeter fence. He scanned the prison facilities inside the fence as he went, trying to pinpoint exactly where the familiar scent was coming from.
Coffield Unit was one big square, fenced-in compound, with a large central building flanked by two tri-wing cell blocks on either side. The central building held most of the general-use facilities like the library, cafeteria, hospital, and visitors’ center, while the cell blocks housed the prisoners. Each cell block had its own yard facilities, but there was no one outside right now, so it wasn’t like that was what Brooks was smelling. Maybe he was picking up the scent of some criminal he’d put behind bars in one of the cell blocks. But his nose kept leading him west, not east toward the main buildings.
As they walked along the western fence line, Brooks noticed Zane lifting his nose to sniff the air like he was.
The only thing in the direction they were heading was the prison’s side gate and the small guard station that handled vehicles that moved back and forth between the inner and outer gate. Brooks had seen supply trucks and prison transport buses move through it plenty of times. One gate would open, letting a truck or bus pull into the checkpoint. Once the guards were satisfied everything was clear, the second gate would open, allowing the vehicle to come or go.
There were two big trucks currently inside the double gate area, their engines running like they were waiting for the outer one to open and let them both out. They looked like the kind of trucks that belonged to a laundry or uniform delivery service, but they didn’t have names on them.
The closer he and Zane got to the side gate, the stronger and more familiar the scent became. He was already getting a bad feeling in his gut when he finally figured out what the hell was going on. Both he and Zane broke into a run at the same time, yelling and waving their arms to get the attention of the guards manning the side gate.
“Stop those trucks!” Brooks shouted.
Either no one heard them, or they were ignoring them, because the outer gate opened, and the truck in front began to move forward.
“Oliver is in that truck,” Zane growled. “He’s trying to escape.”
“Jeremy Engler and Armend Frasheri are in there, too.” Brooks pulled his Sig .40 caliber and ran faster, the muscles in his legs and glutes twisting and reshaping as he went through a partial shift. “There are some omegas with them. They’re packed in there together so tightly that their scents are practically merged together into a single smell. That’s why I didn’t recognize what I was smelling at first.”
