Page 2 of Hunted

Gunn snorted. The Hounds gave zero fucks about his choices. “Regardless, they’re a mess, and I have no clue how much control they have.”

“Not much,” Rex murmured.

“Exactly. There’s no telling what they might do to any civilians who got in their way.”

But he still wished he’d done it. Dobe wasn’t just an operative, he was a friend. He and Gunn and Rex had been a team when he was still running missions out in the world, instead of from here.

They’d chosen to stay at the Ridge with him when the old alpha had been killed, and Gunn had accidentally become the new one when he’d stopped the pack from imploding from their sudden loss. Gregor’s gift had been taking in broken, traumatized wolves and giving them hope and purpose.

Without him…

Gunn had had no choice but to pull them back together with what little skill and influence he had. And most of them were still on the edge, even after a year. But no matter how much they resented him, it was him or crazyland. A responsibility he’d had no choice but to shoulder, regardless of what it cost him personally.

And it had cost him.

The tattoo on his left bicep burned under his shirt, and he rubbed it absently. It was a sweeping angel’s wing with a tiny heart buried in it, inked on him by a woman he’d loved—and left. With no explanation.

It was the only thing he could have done, but it still left a void inside him that nothing could fill.

The tattoo had throbbed for months, like some kind of punishment, but it had finally gone dormant, until the last couple of days. As if to remind him that the hole in his chest where his heart used to be was as big as ever.

He looked up to see Rex watching him. “You should get that removed,” his friend said quietly. “Relationships are temporary. Ink is for shit that lasts.”

“Fuck you,” Gunn said, but there was no real heat behind it. They’d had this conversation too many times, and Rex was right.

The thing was, he’d fooled himself into believing it could be more than temporary. And then he’d left a good woman in the dust and trashed her heart.

He deserved the pain.

“It’s fine,” he said shortly.

He tried to shove away the thoughts that drove him crazy whenever something reminded him of her. The thick curly blond hair that wrapped around his hands when he kissed her, the way her skin felt against his, the way she made him laugh, the way her smile made his heart fizz and her inner self constantly amazed him. And her scent—always her scent, that made him feel wild and protective and utterly hers.

Because of her, he’d almost gotten out, almost quit working for Thanatos, the mysterious billionaire who funded Outlaw Ridge and all its ‘projects.’ But at the last minute, Gregor’s death had changed everything, and now he felt like fucking Michael Corleone from The Godfather.

“Just when you think you’re out, they pull you back in.”

Well, he was back in, and there was no way Michelangela Connors could be part of Outlaw Ridge, with all its underground, criminal, totally illegal activity. Not a daughter of the most prominent, influential Enforcer wolf pack in the known shifter world.

The Enforcers would decimate this place. Almost everyone was wanted for something—himself included.

His thoughts were interrupted by a low beeping sound.

He rolled his chair back and gave a shove with his feet, propelling himself over next to Rex. “You got something?”

A grin split his friend’s face. “Signal beacon, from the cave five miles southwest. Where we have one of our emergency supply caches.”

Gunn nodded. There were a number of those scattered through the surrounding wilderness, in case the Ridge was ever attacked. Food, water, clothes, weapons, ammo—and signal beacons to call backup.

Gunn hit the PA mic switch. “Sanchez! Cisco! Téo! Report to the command center, on the double! We’ve got a fix on Dobe!” After a moment’s hesitation, he hit the mic once more and added, “And Boomer! Now!”

Rex’s mouth was open. “You’re seriously sending Boomer to supervise the Hounds?”

Gunn said, “I was thinking more of the fact that one team member needs to stay human, and carry their gear and weapons. Boomer can keep up.”

Rex said, “So can I.”

Gunn said, “I know. But I need you here.” And Rex was one of his own men, brought in from outside. The Hounds might listen to Boomer, but no way in hell would they listen to Rex.