Leon bristled, not just at the implication he might spoil the scent but because he realized he’d have done the same damn thing if the positions were reversed. If this had been a scene back home, there was no way he’d let some overgrown mutt stomp through it uninvited.
Still, it grated that Karl didn’t respect him. No one got to be responsible for the queen’s safety lightly. It had taken him years of work and training to get to the point where he was recognized as being good enough to have that responsibility. Karl probablythought his position was due to him and Luna being related, because wolves were that dim.
He watched Karl study the area of crushed grass.
“There were two of them,” Karl said. “Both non-shifters. Judging by the weight distribution, one’s heavier, the other may be taller. This”—he pointed to small depressions in the soil—“could’ve been a tripod.”
Leon scanned the house in the distance. “You could see everything from here. Movement patterns. Timings.”
Karl nodded. “Exactly.”
Leon frowned, lining up the sightline with his thumb, squinting a little. “I don’t know... Maybe with a custom rifle? It’d be a Hail Mary shot.”
“It’d be a fantasy,” Karl said flatly. “That distance, you’d need spotters near the target. There’s no way anyone’s gotten that far inside our perimeter without us picking them up. And even if they somehow did, you’d need a shooter who both kills for money and can do trig in their sleep. Wind, weight, Coriolis effect. It’s not just pulling the trigger.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Wolf Wikipedia.”
Karl shrugged. “I served. Did some long-range work. No one’s touching us from here when they could just wait for Luna or Jesse to leave. Hell, they could sit at the bottom of the driveway waiting and be sure of their target. Short of a missile launcher—which’d be a hell of a statement—this is recon, not a firing position.”
For half a second, their eyes met. And in that flicker of connection—past the distrust, past the barbs—Leon saw the shared weight. They both knew what it meant to prepare for the worst. Toexpectit.
“You good for a long hunt?” Karl asked as he stood.
Leon rolled his eyes. “No, I came out here for theambience.”
“Just asking,” Karl said. “I don’t know how cats work. Wolves go till the job’s done.”
Leon didn’t answer. He shifted, body rippling into sleek black fur, and launched down the hillside, following the scent trail. He’d show that damn wolf.
Chapter Ten
KARL
Some hours later, Karl drew to a halt. The trail was fresher now, with scent and signs clearer each mile, but the cat had begun to flag. Karl could see the subtle drag in Leon’s stride, the slight hesitation on uneven ground. It wasn’t lack of fitness and it wasn’t lack of determination. It was that he wasn’t a wolf. Wolves were built for endurance, and cats weren’t.
Not even the kind of cat Leon was. His shift had surprised Karl—he’d expected a cougar, like all the other cats. Instead, Leon was a jaguar, sleek and black as deep water, rosettes barely visible until the sun hit them and turned his coat to silken velvet. He was fast, fluid, and powerful. Beautiful, in the way any apex predator was.
Karl was feeling the miles too, if he were completely honest. Sleep was still eluding him, and he’d gotten up in the middle of the night and joined Tom and Colby out on patrol. He was also ruing his missed breakfast. The adrenaline from discovering the pack hadbeen under surveillance was fading, leaving space for hunger and fatigue.
He shifted, bones reshaping in the familiar snap and rush of heat. Leon followed a second later, silent and smooth, staying crouched low for an instant after as if he half-preferred the form he’d left behind.
“I’m pretty sure I know where they’re going,” Karl said. “They’re headed for the old logging road, the closest place they could have left a vehicle. They’re taking the easy way, though, which buys us time.”
“Might say something about who it is we’re pursuing,” Leon said, smoothing his hair in a grooming movement so unthinking and feline it nearly made Karl laugh. If he started licking the back of his hand, Karl might lose it.
He dragged his mind back to what Leon had said, Leon’s thoughts about their quarry reflecting his own. They’d gleaned instantly from the scent that they weren’t after shifters, but that left a lot of alternative possibilities. Professionals, like Jax’s crew, wouldn’t have hesitated at rougher terrain.
“If they’re sacrificing time for comfort, they’re undisciplined, untrained or unfit,” Leon added. “Or all three.”
“They don’t have to be competent to be dangerous,” Karl pointed out. “A bad shot with a good weapon can still ruin your day.”
There was a flicker of acknowledgement in Leon’s gaze. He was listening, and more—he was taking account ofKarl’s thoughts without any obvious arrogance. That was new.
“There a reason we’ve stopped?” Leon asked.
“At the rate we’re catching them, we’ve got time to eat, maybe rest.”
Leon’s eyes glowed briefly at the prospect. He looked around and presumably saw a complete lack of prey that might feed twohungry shifters, because he looked back at Karl, one eyebrow cocked.
