43. Ryan

My nostrils flared as I picked up Carl's scent, mingling with the earthy aroma of damp soil and decaying leaves. I could smell Mai and Jase, too, but it was Carl's scent that I locked onto—a combination of faint sweat and anticipation. He was always methodical and calm in his work, but he could never hide his joy, his satisfaction when he hurt someone, from other werewolves. That was why Jem kicked him out and was probably why Brock recruited him.

Flashbacks of the chaotic scene I'd discovered earlier flickered through my mind. The empty cabin, stinking of Jase's pain and fear, of Mai's frustration and despair. The car nearby, still smoking. I couldn't help but grin, feeling a surge of pride. Mai had blown up the damn car. Trust her to pull a stunt like that.

I'd tracked Jase's phone. The signal had led to the cabin and then into the woods. I could follow his scent and Mai's. But it wasn't theirs I was interested in right now. Mai had disrupted whatever plan Carl had, and he'd taken off to track her and Jase.

I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing solely on Carl's scent. The acrid stench of his anticipation was growing stronger, which meant he was close. My wolf growled softly, eager to hunt anyone who had touched Mai.

I picked up the pace, my movements a blend of human agility and wolf-like reflexes. My ears caught the distant sound of footsteps. He was hurrying, not taking his usual care to cover his tracks. He wanted to take out Mai and Jase quickly before coming back for me, and it was making him sloppy.

I had to be quick but careful. Carl might be many things—cruel, sadistic—but he was not a fool. He was a sophisticated killer and was cool-headed even when the odds were against him. My wolf understood the predator in Carl, respected it even though we both loathed the man.

I sped forward, my feet flying over the ground, my senses fully on alert. I could hear the steady rhythm of Carl's heartbeat, the soft exhale of his breath. I could smell his sweat and the faint whiff of a metal weapon he carried. Then I saw him, up head and to the right, scurrying between the tall trees.

Carl paused, his head tilting slightly, as if sensing something amiss. I froze, still too far away, my body taut as a bowstring, my muscles quivering with the effort of staying still. My wolf was yelling at me to move, to end this, but my human side urged caution. This was a man who was skilled in the art of death. I needed to be sure, absolutely sure, before I attacked.

Seconds felt like hours. Sweat trickled down my forehead, but I dared not wipe it away. And then, as if the Goddess had decided to favor me, a sudden gust of wind rustled the leaves, and Carl moved again, dismissing whatever warning his instincts had given him.

It was the opening I needed.

With a surge of speed that only a werewolf could muster, I darted forward, closing the distance between us. Carl turned, bringing the gun up. I slammed into him, my shoulder connecting with his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. His weapon skittered out of his hand and into the underbrush.

Carl rolled to his feet, a blade appearing in his hand as if by magic. I was on him before he could fully rise, my fist colliding with his jaw. The sound of bone meeting bone echoed in the quiet night.

Carl snarled, slashing with his knife. I twisted, avoiding the edge, and my foot shot out, jabbing into his hip. Carl stumbled, grimacing in pain.

We circled each other. My eyes were locked onto his, reading every flicker of emotion, every hint of movement. His gaze was icy, devoid of emotion, but I could smell it—the first faint whiff of fear.

"You're out of your league, Ryan," Carl said, twirling his blade in a fancy figure of eight.

I ignored him. He was trying to distract me, and I was too seasoned to fall for it. I feinted left and then moved right, my fist striking his temple. Carl staggered, disoriented.

I don't know what he saw in my face, but his pulse quickened, and his eyes widened.

"I … I can help you, you know," he gasped, catching his breath.

"Not interested."

"Ryan, be sensible. Every Pack needs someone like me. I take care of the inconvenient problems that no one else has the stomach for. Brock saw my potential. Saw the advantages I could bring. I could do that for you instead. Let me prove myself, hmmm? You need Brock gone. I can do that. I'll phone him right now, tell him you and Mai are dead and that we need to meet. I'll have his head on a plate for you by sunup."

I looked at Carl and swallowed down the bile threatening to come up. He was right; lots of Packs had someone like Carl. But not my Pack. That wasn't the sort of Pack that Mai and I were going to build. He was clever, though, offering to take care of Brock for me. Plenty of Alphas would take him up on that offer. It was how men like Carl got you. They offered something big, something almost impossible, something you really wanted. They showed how easy it was to just click our fingers, and they'd do all the dirty work. And each time, they dug a little deeper in, making themselves indispensable. Until one day, you woke up and found your Pack was built on the back of a man like Carl. And they wanted something. Perhaps a bigger cut, perhaps greater freedom, perhaps a child or two. That wasn't going to happen. Not while I was still breathing.

"Thank you for the offer, Carl, but I'll take care of Brock myself."

I sailed forward and drove my fist into his chest, right over his heart, using all the supernatural strength I possessed. There was a sickening thud, a gasp, and then Carl crumpled, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief as he hit the ground, lifeless.

I was still catching my breath, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, when the rustle of footsteps caught my attention. I turned, my body tensed for another fight, but it wasn't another threat. Mai and Jase burst through the foliage. Mai was carrying Jase on her back. She was alive. Bloodied, looking exhausted and angry but alive.

My bond with Mai thrummed with need. I had to have her in my arms. Now. "Mai," I breathed out her name like a prayer of thanks to every deity I'd ever heard of. She lowered Jase gently to the ground, and in three strides, I closed the distance between us, sweeping her into my arms. My wolf was going mad, wanting to touch and lick Mai all over to make sure she was okay. I captured her lips in a kiss that was fierce and tender, a mingle of relief, joy, and a dozen other emotions I couldn't begin to name coursing through me.

"I was so worried about you," she whispered against my lips, her hands clutching at my back as if she'd never let go.

"Me? What about you? Blowing up cars, running off into the woods."

"We ran into the bear Shifter."

I stiffened. I could smell her blood. "You okay?" I asked as I subtly started patting her down, checking her out for injuries.

"What are you doing?" She smiled up at me. "Are you checking me out?"

Okay, so not so subtle.

"Yes. What's sore? Anything broken?" I kept moving my hands over her, not wanting to stop touching her.

Mai pushed me back. "I'm okay. Really. His claws got my back and side but I think the wounds have closed."

I turned her round, ignoring her protests, and lifted up her shirt. Then crouched down, inspecting the gashes. Most had closed already, but there was a deep one on her side that Thomas might need to look at.

"Really, Ryan, I"m okay," she had turned her head to watch what I was doing. "That one is deeper than than the others but it"ll close."

Thank the Goddess.

I stood up to face her. She was okay. Relief hit me like a dam breaking, flooding every inch of me. I took a deep breath. "What the hell were you thinking? Just walking into the Alpha compound like that? I thought we agreed you weren't going to do that!"

"No," Mai glared at me, pulling down her shirt, "you agreed. And you can talk! Why are you even here? I told you not to come."

"Of course I was coming." I was yelling now. Not able to help myself.

"You never listen to me, Ryan!"

"I never listen? Mai, you're the one who took off without talking to me! You left me a note, Mai. A fucking note!"

We were face to face, our noses almost touching, the tension and worry of the past hours spilling over in a torrent of words and emotions. It was chaotic, it was heated, and it was the most "us" thing that could have happened.

Just then, a loud cough interrupted us. We both turned to find Jase, now in human form, standing awkwardly, blood from a wound in his side leaking down his leg and his modesty barely covered by some strategically placed foliage.

"You know, if you two are done yelling at each other, I could really use some clothes before I freeze my cute-as-hell ass off out here."