Page 65 of Bad Blood Wolf

Every time he could take a hand off the wheel, he tried to reach Yolanda on his cell phone, but she never answered. Finally, on the fifth try, it went straight to voice mail.

He cursed. “Someone turned her phone off.”

“Good,” Jasmin said. “Then they’re still there.”

That wasn’t necessarily a good sign. Icy fear gripped Brody. Bastian could be hurting them both, terrorizing them. What had he been thinking, trying to keep her safe outside of a pack? All wolves were always told the only way to stay safe was with a pack at your back.

They’d never told him what to do when your pack turned against you.

He began to realize why the magical bonds for packs were so important. Nash Jenkins had given that up when he increased his territory beyond his father’s original boundaries. The pack bond had eroded, and only wealth, power and size had kept them from getting attacked.

That, and business connections. Taking over the pack without being able to legally take over the corporations that funded it would have helped no one.

But it fostered a sickness in the pack—there was no true bond. He’d seen and felt that briefly, with the Silverlake wolves, and unconsciously longed for it.

And he’d seen it in the crazy idiots at the Bad Blood Crew. You could feel the magic in the land, and you could feel it between the pack members. It called to him.

Now this was going to fuck everything up. He was going to have to take Ma somewhere else, somewhere that they could both start over.

He couldn’t ask Jasmin to do that. How could he ask her to give up her crew and the bond they had, to spend her life taking care of a crazy old woman?

He couldn’t.

They skidded around another corner, and then they were at the entrance to the trailer park. Brody blasted through, sliding half-sideways to stop in front of his mother’s trailer.

“Stay here. Wait for Flynn.” He was out of the car before she could answer, running for the trailer. The lights were off.

That wasn’t right.

He pounded up the steps and skidded to a stop at the front door. It was ajar.

Please don’t let them be dead. Please don’t let them be dead.

For the first time, he wished he had a gun.

He pushed the door open a crack and listened. There were people in there; he could feel them, hear their breathing, ever so faintly. Two—no, three. Maybe one more? And the scents…

His mother. Yolanda.

Bastian. And someone unfamiliar. Still here? Or gone?

Jasmin was out of the car, creeping toward him. He shook his head and brought his two hands up, wrists together, and snapped the fingers together like a bear trap closing.

Trap. Jasmin nodded, and made her way around the side.

Brody pushed the door open all the way, then crouched and ducked inside. If anyone were aiming a gun at him, the shot would hopefully go over his head.

But there was nothing.

Just silence, and labored breathing.

He went past the little kitchen, into the living room. His wolf eyes could see fine in the dark, especially with the outdoor lights shining in the windows.

Someone on the floor. Yolanda. A little blood—he could smell it. Not too much. But she wasn’t moving. Head injury? Strangled?

He couldn’t help her now. He couldn’t stop.

Hot fury laced through him, and he held himself back. Too dangerous. Hold in the monster.