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Pulling the robe aside thick crimson poured over her dark black skin. A gaping bite wound wept; her muscles exposed. She swayed on her feet, her eyes filled with tears.

Scooping her into his arms, Thomas set her on a chair. Taking a clean towel from Maria, he pressed it to Tori’s wound.

“If the bear wanted us dead, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. I was no match for him, boss,” Tori said.

Tori was in the top five strongest wolves in the pack. She could hold her own in a fight against him. If the bear was too much for her …

“He wanted us alive,” she sobbed.

“Emmanuel and Luna are running perimeter,” Sara said as she and Nathon came inside. “We didn’t find any tracks of the bears leaving the driveway.”

“This is weird, boss,” Nathon said.

“Tori!” Sara ran to kneel in front of her.

“Holy shit,” Nathon said, his gaze jumping between the two injured women.

“Tori,” Tom said. “This will heal, but it needs to be closed first.”

“Do what you gotta do, boss.” Tori’s face had broken out in sweat.

“Nathon,” Sam said, “go into the garage, the tool chest to the right, top drawer. On your way back, stop at the bathroom in the hall, medicine cabinet under the sink, there’s alcohol.”

Nathon ran from the room and returned in less than a minute. “Ummm, boss?” He held up the tool Sam told him to grab, his face white.

“Bring it here.” Tom held out his hand. He took the rubbing alcohol and staple gun. “Alright, Tori, I’m gonna pour the alcohol on it first, you ready?”

Sara gripped her hands. Nathon left to help Sam tape up Maria’s cuts.

Unscrewing the bottle, Tom poured the liquid over her shoulder. Tensing, she held her breath. After pouring the liquid over his own hands, he pinched one end of her wound closed. Working as fast as he could, he punched a row of staples across her flesh.

Tori grunted and ground her teeth. On the last staple, her composure cracked, and she screamed. He poured alcohol over it again.

“It’s over,” Tom soothed, “it’s over. You did good.”

With a huff, Tori fell against Sara. Looking over his shoulder, Tom saw Maria’s eyes droop as she fell asleep against Sam. His eyes were red, his hands trembling, trying to cover her cuts with gauze. Nathon did most of it for him.

Tom knew Sam was feeling the same thing he was. The same unadulterated fury burned in him, the same desire to destroy the one who’d dared to harm Maria when she was vulnerable.

Today the bears sent a message. What Tom didn’t know though, was their end goal. Were they here to cause chaos and bloodshed for the sake of watching them burn? Or were they out for vengeance against him personally?

One thing was painfully clear though. He couldn’t wait any longer. His hand was being forced.

He had to tell Clarissa.

Twenty

Clarissa

Slamming the coffee maker, Clarissa frowned. It wasn’t starting at all. She would need to bite the bullet and tell Donna it was past the point of no return.

Sylvia had to leave work early. Her little girl started vomiting all over her third-grade class. Clarissa was the only waitress there for now. She didn’t mind though; it was late Monday afternoon, Jeff and Eugene the only patrons. She was beyond grateful the group of kids hadn’t returned today.

Although, she thought she saw some familiar faces lurking in the parking lot. Perhaps Tom realized since she’d seen them at the picnic, their covers had been blown.

The front bell jingled.

“Be with you in a moment, feel free to sit anywhere you like,” she called over her shoulder.