The Beast Within (The Elite Series) - By Jonathan Yanez Page 0,35

she had overheard at the guesthouse, his mother’s shop being burned. The other attack victims he learned about at the hospital must have been members of the Five Families or maybe even half-blooded descendants used as examples.

He had to warn Laren. He would explain to her later how he knew what was going on, all that mattered now was that she was warned Randolph and his companions were out for blood.

CHAPTER 9

NEAR SOAKED, HE SAT IN his truck and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. “Laren—Laren, it’s Connor. I’ll explain later, but just trust me—I know everything. You have to listen: Randolph and his family have broken the Law. They’re going to try and kill you. You have to get away from here.”

Connor hung-up and threw his phone against the windshield in frustration. What if she didn’t get the message in time? What if she was already dead and it was too late?

Think, Connor, think. If you were trying to kill two members of an ancient family, how would you do it? They would be too smart to try and fight, that would be breaking one of the Laws. How would you lure them out?

A light switched on in Connor’s head and he had the answer, he only hoped he wasn’t too far behind. Throwing his truck into drive, he sped through the rain toward the Catskill Forest.

That’s where they had to be meeting. He was sure of it. More than likely, Randolph offered an olive branch and asked to talk. The meeting would take place where it was supposed to have days before, and that’s where Randolph and his accomplices would ambush them. Connor didn’t have much of a plan, he just knew he had to warn her. Driving at dangerous speeds, he pushed his truck through the rain, the pickaxe’s constant rattling reminding him of its presence. Connor was lucky: due to the rain and the late hour on a weekday, there wasn’t much traffic.

The sky darkened as he made his way up to the Forest Preserve. He reached the Preserve in record time. Pulling up to the Welcome Station, he saw Laren’s car parked in the muddy lot. Exiting his truck he had a second thought and grabbed the pickaxe out of the bed. He ran through the forest. He would check the spot where he first met her and if that didn’t work, the abandoned ranger station they used as a finish line during their race.

The forest was different at night; not as inviting or warm as during the day. Owls hooted and tree branches creaked eerily. Connor ran, disregarding the mud sucking his feet to the ground or the fact he was soaked to the bone. He had to find her. Reaching the spot where they first met, he found it empty. Without missing a step, he continued to the ranger station.

If Morrigan was right, and he had no reason to doubt her, then they would be able to hear or smell him a mile away. But how good were their senses in the rain? Connor decided not to take any chances. Pickaxe in hand, he slowed his run once he was within a hundred yards of the building.

The pickaxe felt good in his hands—it was solid and firm. It gave him a sense of comfort. Connor was sure he would give himself away by the sound of his heartbeat echoing through the trees. He crept through the underbrush, watching where he placed each foot. Careful not to slip in the mud or trip on a branch, he walked, crouched, towards the ranger outpost. Connor took a minute to see which way the wind was blowing, careful to stay downwind of the building should they be able to catch his scent.

It was then he realized that he was scared. His black hair was matted against his forehead and his wet shirt clung to his body. He had never been in a situation anything near this intense, but somehow he knew he was going to be all right, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. Bottling his fear, he took a stronger grip on the axe and pressed forward.

After a few minutes, he was able to see the abandoned ranger station and caught a glimmer of light on the other side of the loosely boarded windows. The ranger station looked even more abandoned in the night than it had during the day.

The small building was on its last leg and the water pounding