32. Ryan

Chapter thirty-two

Ryan

I peered through the dense foliage, my eyes picking up the subtle signs of activity ahead—fresh tire tracks cutting through the underbrush, the smell of cigarette smoke wafting on the breeze. We were close.

Around me, my team was poised and ready, their bodies tense with anticipation. Derek, Sam, Mason, Evelyn, Ava, and Rafael had all shifted into their wolf forms, their bodies blending seamlessly into the dense foliage. Waylen, the only human in our group, kneeled beside me, his face set with determination.

I glanced at my phone. We had forty-five minutes until Mai was set to nominate Brock for the Wolf Council seat. Forty-five minutes to find Jem and get him to safety. If he was even in there.

I turned, my voice low but firm. "This is it. Our last chance. We go in hard and fast, no hesitation. We find Jem, and we get him out. Understood?"

A chorus of soft growls and nods answered me. Waylen met my gaze, his eyes glinting with a fierce loyalty. "Let's do this. "

I was about to give the signal to move when a familiar scent caught my attention. Ronnie emerged from the shadows to the east, his broad shoulders filling out his leather jacket.

"Wasn't sure you were going to show," I said, keeping my voice low as I appraised him.

Ronnie's lips curled into a smirk. "You should know by now, Ryan. I always show up when there's something in it for me. I've got ten men with me. All good fighters. They'll follow your lead."

The old forestry station loomed before us, a weathered two-story structure that had seen better days. Its wooden walls were discolored and worn, showing years of neglect and exposure to the elements. Several windows were boarded up, giving the building an air of abandonment and disrepair.

Surrounding the main building were a handful of smaller outbuildings, likely used for storage or equipment back when the station was operational. Now, they stood silent and empty, their doors slightly ajar and their interiors cloaked in shadows.

Despite the station's dilapidated appearance, there were signs of recent activity. Footprints in the soft earth led to and from the buildings. Barriers had been put up around the perimeter, and armed guards and Shifters patrolled the grounds. They moved with a sense of purpose, their eyes alert.

The presence of such heavy security was a good indication that something was here that needed guarding. But was it Jem, was it connected to ripple, or was it something else?

We would have to be swift and decisive, using the wooded surroundings to our advantage .

I looked at the wolves behind me. "We move in two minutes. Ronnie?"

"I'll tell my men," he replied, before slipping through the trees.

I turned to Waylen. "Stay close to Mason. We don't know what we're walking into, but he'll make sure you get in and out safely."

Waylen grinned at me. "Don't worry, boss. This is gonna be fun," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife.

I shook my head. Despite being a human, he was as reckless as my brothers.

I checked my phone one last time. Thirty-eight minutes until the nomination.

I raised my hand, two fingers extended. The signal to move.

The moment we breached the perimeter, all hell broke loose.

Brock's men seemed to materialize out of nowhere; there was a fuckload of them, more than we thought. Maybe forty of the fuckers. Where did Brock get this many? Were they paid mercenaries or some of the men Tristan had taken from Bridgetown? I didn't have time to think. They swarmed us from all sides, humans and wolves in a sea of snarling faces and flashing claws.

I pulled on my Pack bonds, Shifting my hands so they were tipped with claws that could tear through flesh and bone, then lunged at the nearest attacker, a burly man who stank of pumped up adrenaline. I sidestepped round him, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back until I heard the pop of his shoulder dislocating. He howled in pain, and I dropped him. Two wolves were on me in an instant, their claws raking across my back, tearing through my jacket and leaving burning trails of pain in their wake. I whirled around, slashing at their faces. Blood sprayed across my vision, hot and sticky, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Every second counted, every heartbeat bringing us closer to the moment when Mai would have to make her choice.

The air was filled with the sounds of growls and the clash of bodies, the scent of blood and sweat heavy in the air. I could hear the sharp crack of gunfire, the yelps of pain as bullets found their marks.

I caught a glimpse of Derek, his massive black form tearing through the enemy ranks like a juggernaut. Ava and Rafael fought back-to-back, their movements perfectly synchronized as they took down one opponent after another. Even Waylen was holding his own, his knife flashing in the fading light as Mason protected him and he danced around the attackers, lunging in when he saw an opening with a graceful, deadly precision.

A wolf slammed into the back of my legs, yanking me off balance. I hit the ground hard; the breath knocked from my lungs. The wolf above me snarled.

It should have gone for the kill rather than showboating.

I caught its head between my hands, and twisted, breaking its neck.

I rolled to my feet, my chest heaving as I scanned the chaos around me. We were making progress, but it wasn't enough.

For every enemy we took down, it seemed like two more took their place. They pressed in from all sides, a relentless tide of fury and aggression.

A sharp howl of pain caught my attention, and I whipped my head around to see Sam stumble, his hind leg buckling beneath him as a wolf latched onto his thigh. Derek was there in an instant, his powerful jaws clamping down on the attacker's neck and dragging him away, but the damage was done. Sam's blood pooled on the ground and he staggered and fell. Derek ripped out the attacker's throat, then dashed back to stand guard over Sam.

Nearby, Evelyn was grappling with a human as he tried to slash at her underbelly with a fucking sword. She was holding her own, but I could see the fatigue setting in, her movements becoming slower, more labored.

Ronnie's men were taking hits, their numbers dwindling as Brock's forces continued their assault. I saw at least five of them on the ground, two of them not moving. The odds were shifting against us, the balance of power tipping in the wrong direction.