Page 17 of Werewolves and Witches AU

Scrambling down the backside of the roof, we drop to the ground and immediately separate. We know the drill: each wolf for himself, get back to the Nest.

I slow my stride and covertly keep tabs on all my pack members until I can no longer see them. Then I take a seat on a bench far enough away to be inconspicuous, and watch as passersby gather. Some try to help.

I’m still there when the first responders take over the parking lot, when the fire brigade storm the burning units with their hoses, and when the first of two gurneys are wheeled out with zipped black bags on top.

Removing my earpiece, I let my wolf forward to listen to all the conversations and gather more intel for the mission debrief.

The Coven Leader, and a couple of other witches who were downstairs with him, know we were here… but they don’t know who we are. They know Guardian is an angel, but obviously they can’t tell the human services that. Luckily, Guardian’s blocking of the doorway prevented them from seeing Thriller’s wolfish features, and thankfully the shop front doesn’t have working cameras.

Bear’s question from earlier repeats in my mind. “Why would the General withhold intel when the threat is against him? It doesn’t make sense.”

Heaving myself off the bench, I scrub my hand over my face. If the General had just said what this Luna del Lupo was from the beginning, an intelligence officer wouldn’t have decided to cast a baited trap, and a young woman desperate for cash wouldn’t have betrayed her coven—her wife’s coven.

I let out a heavy exhale, turn my back on the crime scene, and head down the main street that leads me away. I need to get back to the Nest, and my pack. One of us will get the truck later.

The buzzing of an incoming call is a welcome distraction. Ruben.

“Baby brother.” He adopts that fake stern tone that winds me up. He knows I hate being reminded that I’m the youngest of the Rangecroft siblings. “Ye were meant to check in over three hours ago. Ye know the rules Ro, we all do. Mum’s about pitching to call the General’s Office for failure to inform yer next of kin about a death in service.”

“Ah, fuck. We didn’t make the Nest until late. I had to mission brief en route, and then we walked into a shitshow. Ye know how it goes. Is Mum there?”

It’s funny how, even at my age and halfway across the world, thinking I might be in trouble with Mum drags my shoulders higher.

“Naw, we distracted her with cross-checking yer flight number and suggesting she hack various American traffic reporting systems for any mention of car wrecks in your state last night. Raina and the girls have her out in the garden now. Yer Dogs okay, then?”

“Aye,” I push my wolf through to our family bond and send a gentle nudge Mum’s way. “Tell her I’m sorry, eh? It’s been nonstop, but I know the rules.”

Ben must move to an open window because the sound of my family filters through the background of the call, soothing me and my wolf. Had it not been for this mission, though, I’d have still been there with them, avoiding having the twins paint my nails, stealing Raina’s cakes from the stand when she’s not looking, running with Ben’s wolf through our family’s estate. Home. I soak it all in.

“Yer not with Julien today, then?” I ask, changing the focus away from me.

“Och, that’s um… no. Not anymore.”

I’m not surprised to hear this, but I frown anyway. Ben’s with a new person each week, feels like. He’s searching for his mate but won’t admit it, pretends he’s young and not ready to settle down. But he’s older than me, and I see how he is with Raina’s kids; he wants what she has. I’m more like our sister Riley, the thought of having a mate and then doing what I do each day… I shudder.

“We’d only been on a few dates, nothing that I was attached to.”

Ben’s just hit the nail on the head. This life—being a Dog of War—it carries risks. Today was close, but what if I had a mate to worry about as well as my pack? I wouldn’t be able to make decisions the way I’d need to, that’s for sure. The thought that I would ever lose a pack member because I prioritised a mate over them competes with the knowledge that, if I had a mate, they’d become my entire world, and I’d do whatever it took to make sure I came home to them. A headache blooms.

“Sorry yer search for a mate fell flat,” I goad.

“That’s not what I’m—”

“Yer breaking up.” I make crackling noises down the line. “Good luck with finding yer mate.”

“Ye cheeky shite. Ye know that I’m not—”

“Bye, Ben.” Smiling, I end the call.

At the far end of the street from our mission target, I turn back to look over my shoulder, but I can barely see the red and blue flashing lights and towering plume of smoke from Tuesday’s exit strategy.

Standing in front of a freshly painted French-style patisserie, I pull up the map feature on my phone and work out a route to the Nest. Full and golden-crowned croissants fill the window in front of me, and my stomach rumbles. After this morning, I think the Dogs of War have earned a treat.

8

Zombie

Milo