Huntsman - Morgan Brice Page 0,58

before, for less.

If their guess was right and this was a Huntsman, then bringing him to justice wouldn’t just avenge the injury done to Liam and the hikers, but it would stop a much larger web of crimes against shifters.

Russ had heard the Huntsman legends—he figured all shifter children grew up with them, dire warnings to keep their other self a secret, to stay close to their territory, to be wary of those who weren’t also supernatural creatures. Be careful, or the Huntsman will carry you off.

Those old tales, viewed through the lens of adulthood, revealed a much more terrifying reality, Russ realized. Not just someone who hunted shifters for sport—bad enough. Someone who procures shifters for rich hunters. Shifter trafficking.

And right now, Liam was at that man’s mercy. Everything in Russ’s nature strained against that knowledge. He wanted to shift, and biting wasn’t the worst of what he wanted to do to the Huntsman.

He has our mate. Russ wanted to rip the Huntsman limb from limb, tear out his throat, shred his body with sharp claws. Make an example of him so no one ever forgot what happened to someone who tried to come between fated mates.

“Easy,” Drew murmured, laying a hand on Russ’s shoulder, steadying him with the reassurance of pack.

Russ felt a rush of shame that he had focused only on what the Huntsman had done to Liam. Justin was Russ’s misfit pack as well, and the Huntsman had tried to kill him—kill both of them—with the set fires and the weakened beams. Russ wanted vengeance for Justin as well.

“Looks like we’re here,” Rusty Thompson said as he pulled in to park beside the sheriff’s SUV in the trailhead lot, and Liam’s Honda Civic. They spilled out of the vehicles and shifted right away. No one stared, and no one felt ashamed. Shifters were less concerned with modesty than outsiders, perhaps because their animal selves had no understanding of the concept.

Shifting hurt Russ more than usual, given the damage the fire had done to his body, but once he was in his wolf form, his injuries faded quickly. Shifting is the best medicine. While his human body was usually strong and healthy, wearing his wolf gave Russ an extra sense of confidence and an innate skill that took all of his abilities to a completely different level.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Russ felt the excitement in the group. All of the shifters who had turned out were predators of one kind or another, from bear to bobcat to Maddi’s freaking adorable Main Coon cat. They each had talents to bring to the hunt, and now that the time had come, they were ready to go.

Armel hadn’t shifted yet. “Look for Liam’s scent. If you find it, bark, yip, howl—do what you do.” He slowed and turned to see three foxes standing on the trail. The male stepped forward and then let out a series of barks and whines, agitated and clearly trying his best to communicate.

Russ knew one thing for certain—those foxes weren’t shifters.

“I think we’ve got a break in the case,” Armel said to the group. “Everyone, follow the foxes.”

They all headed up the trail, following their unexpected guides. Russ shouldered his way to the front, intent on getting to Liam as quickly as he could. Armel came barreling up from behind since he had shifted last, but despite his bulk, the sheriff reminded everyone just how fast a bear could run.

Russ caught a faint whiff of Liam’s scent, and he raised his snout to the wind, counting on his sharp wolf senses to help him find his mate. More than that, Russ tried to calm himself enough to test what he had always heard about fated mates—that they possessed a bond which enabled them to come back to one another.

Our connection is new. Is it strong enough? We haven’t completed the mating bites. Does that matter?

Russ couldn’t let doubt weaken him. He believed Liam would do everything in his power to fight and get free. Russ had to return that faith and prove he was worthy of Liam’s love and their mate bond.

If his wolf ever had an opportunity to prove himself, it was now.

9

Liam

Feeling came back gradually, and with it, movement. Liam hadn’t lost consciousness, so he didn’t have to fight through disorientation.

He already knew he was fucked.

After the Huntsman captured him and gloated about his success, he’d chucked Liam into a cage that was big enough for his fox, but far too