27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

B old

I'm not too upset when Jazz doesn't answer my call at her break. She's a consummate professional, but sometimes her sessions go a little overtime. Then she takes a bathroom break. Every. Single. Hour. She joked and told me once she's been diagnosed with TB, tiny bladder. Very funny.

But when Courage doesn't answer my texts or calls, my adrenaline flairs so hot and fast I can't control my urge to howl in frustration.

In the middle of our conversation, I say the quickest goodbye to Amanda Brandt, then marshall all the resources of the Wolven Warriors, directing them to meet me at Jasmine's office. There's no doubt in my mind that something is terribly wrong.

"Fuck!" I say when I open Jasmine's office door to see Courage sprawled, unconscious in the waiting room, stabbed in the shoulder, bleeding profusely, but still breathing.

We may joke around about flesh wounds, but this isn't the time to play macho or treat this at HQ. I call 911 as I gently ease him over to see that he took a hard hit to the back of his head. There's a trickle of blood and an egg the size of my fist forming.

When several packmates pile into the small waiting room, it doesn't take us more than a few minutes to organize ourselves. Stealth, our resident computer expert, has already hurried to Jasmine's computer and is looking at the video footage from the exterior cameras we set up at the front and back doors.

"They took her out the back door. Got the license plate!" he calls from the other room. "Now I'm going to backdoor into traffic cams all over the city and find that fucking black van they hauled her away in."

"Was she alive?" I bite out, losing my mind at just the thought she might be dead.

"I think she'd be on the floor with Courage if she wasn't alive, Bold. She was unconscious, but by the way she looked in the pics, I'd say she was drugged, not dead."

Suddenly, I'm no longer shaking, though adrenaline is still coursing through my veins. Everything closes in until I'm thinking with sharp precision.

"Stealth. Haven't I seen on TV that you can find someone's phone by GPS?"

"On it! What's the number?"

I want to jump out of my skin, or at least get into the security van and go ninety miles an hour to find her. It's just that I have no idea where to go.

"What about the police?" Fang asks. "Shouldn't we call them?"

That stops me cold. Although I trust Martinez, I'm suspicious by nature. Everett Wright, through his ripoffs and abuse, is a wealthy motherfucker. What are the odds that he doesn't have at least one mole, maybe more, in the police department?

Zero.

"We're not calling the police until she's in my arms." The males around me are waiting for orders. "This pack, you, is what I need to get her back." I wait for one of my packmates to argue, but we've all been alive on planet Earth long enough to know that trusting humans doesn't always work out the best for Others.

"Found her location!" Stealth calls as he taps furiously on the keyboard.

I get to Jasmine's inner office in three strides and soon all of us are jammed in, leaning to look at the little blue dot traveling the streets of an industrial part of L.A.

"Blaze, stay with Courage, but when they ask, you don't have a clue as to what's going on or where we're going. Fury, Stealth, Dare—we'll go together. Fang and Claw, you meet us there. What's the address?" I ask as I turn toward the doorway.

"Uh."

All I need to hear is that one syllable, not even a word, to know I'm not going to like what he says next.

"Either they tossed her phone out of the car, or it just went dead."

I turn on my heel and muscle my way to see the screen better. No blue dot.

Stealth points to a spot on the screen. "This is where the dot disappeared."

"Fuck!" Can't I catch a break? My heart is pounding against my chest wall so hard it's a wonder it doesn't leap out and land on the floor. "Okay. Just as I said. We're going in teams. We'll get to the last known location and find her by scent."

I see the fuzzy sweater Jazz likes to wear hanging on the back of her chair. Snatching it up I hold it close and inhale. Jazz's scent is strong. I pass it to Fang, who brings it to his nose, inhales deeply, and passes it to the others.

"Remember, no killing. Stun, incapacitate, break some bones if you have to, render them unconscious in any way you want. Secure with zip ties." They all nod.

A minute later, my heartbeat pounds in my ears as I race through the dark city streets, tires squealing as I take corners with reckless abandon. Jasmine's in trouble. My mate needs me. Nothing else matters.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my claws digging into the leather. Beside me, Stealth taps away at Jasmine's laptop, tracking traffic cams and trying to predict where Wright's goons might have taken her. In the backseat, Fury and Dare check the tranq guns we all recently started carrying, expressions grim and determined.

The moment I get to where Jasmine's trail went dead, I pull over to the side of the road, littered with decades of debris. Fang and Claw pull in behind us. We pile out, muscles coiled and senses sharp, nostrils flaring. I turn my nose to the sky. Closing my eyes, my wolven senses come fully alive. Though it's been years since I was on An'Wa, I've never felt as close to my primitive roots as I do at this moment.

A howl I can't hold back surges up as the fury and undeniable urge to protect my mate expresses itself in the harrowing sound of my wolven nature. My packmates join the chorus. Then I feel my muscles grow bigger, swelling with power, my fangs lengthen, the claws that suddenly extrude are longer, my senses become sharper.

I look at my pack. The same metamorphosis is happening to them. We gaze at each other, shock replaced with determination.

The elders told us our bodies could change, shift with strong emotion. It's never happened to any of us—until now.

As clearly as if her scent were marked in neon smoke, we follow her trail, my pack fanning out behind me. The more seconds that pass, the more swiftly we run, faster than we've ever been able to before. We're silent shadows flitting through the urban decay. Fear and rage compete for dominance inside me, but I push them both down. I can't afford to lose focus, not when my mate's life hangs in the balance.

The industrial district is a labyrinth of abandoned warehouses and derelict factories, the perfect place to hide someone you've kidnapped. But they didn't count on me. They have no idea who they're messing with, the lengths I'll go to protect what's mine.

Jazz's scent is faint but unmistakable, a lifeline in the gloom. I track it relentlessly, vaulting over chain-link fences and scaling crumbling walls while barely breaking stride. Nothing will stop me from reaching her.

I barely register the startled looks from the few vagrants and drug dealers I pass. Let them stare. Let them see the deadly determination in my eyes, the coiled power in my muscles. I'm a wolven on a mission and Goddess help anyone who gets in my way.

Jazz's scent grows stronger as I near the waterfront, where the hulking silhouettes of rusted cargo ships loom. My pulse kicks into overdrive. She's close. I can feel it to my marrow.

There. The trail leads to a crumbling warehouse, its windows dark and jagged like broken teeth. A snarl rumbles in my throat as I stalk closer, every sense on high alert.

With my pack at my back, we pause at the perimeter, breathing hard, my body trembling with the need to tear the place apart until I find her.

Hold on, love. I'm coming.