man croaks.
But he surprises me when we’re on the hunt. I had little doubt before that Dare was just as strong and skilled as me, but Archer is too. We work together like a well-oiled machine, evenly matched and able to anticipate each other’s moves.
I fly over the undergrowth into position, forming a third point on our triangle around the herd of grazing deer. There are five of them to choose from, all with their noses in the grass in a small field, completely oblivious to the threat surrounding them. Whoever can’t run fast enough is going to be dinner.
The wind carries me Dare’s scent, and I can see Archer just beyond the shadow of fading sunlight. We’re in place. Excitement courses through my veins, and I let out a barely audible yip. As one, the three of us leap forward.
The deer scatter on our approach. As we crash into the clearing, they panic and try to find an opening to run, to escape us before we can take them down. We rush around them, growling and snapping, and the stronger deer make their escape.
That’s okay, because we aren’t there for the strongest, fastest deer. Once they’re in flight, the one we want is well behind and not capable of fleeing. The fastest deer get to live another day; the slowest gets to feed a bunch of hungry shifters.
Dare reaches our prey first and takes her down with a well-placed leap and a snap of his jaws. Within moments, her blood is cooling on the grass and her companions are long gone.
The circle of fucking life.
If we were out here for funsies, we’d just rip into her as is and have ourselves a raw feast. I love hunts like that, getting my snout bloody beneath the open sky, the meat still warm as we tear into it. But we’re feeding Sable too, which means taking the deer back to the cabin and tossing it on the grill. I’m not picky. I like it both ways.
We shift back and hover over the beast, eyeing our handiwork.
“Nice takedown,” I tell Dare as he wipes his mouth. And I mean it.
“No better than you would have done yourself,” he replies with a shrug. “Archer’s strategy was the real MVP here.”
Archer grins, then leans over to grab the deer’s front legs. “It was a team effort. Come on, let’s get this back.”
I pick up the back legs, and we heft the beast up before beginning to follow our own scent trails back toward the cabin. Conversation between us comes a lot easier now than it did a few days ago. I don’t know that I’d call them friends, exactly, but I feel a lot less animosity toward them than I once did.
All because of a sexy little blonde who owns each and every one of my thoughts.
The generator is on in the cabin, so we see the lights from the windows through the trees before we see the building itself. The steady thwump thwump of the generator purring at the side of the structure is an out of place white noise on the silent night. I’m not a fan of the thing, since it inhibits our ability to hear properly outside the cabin. If witches were to find a way onto North Pack territory, they could sneak up on us when that thing’s going, and we might not be the wiser until it was too late. It’s a hazard, and I’ve said so.
But light is one of the few things that keeps Sable’s darkness at bay, so every night without fail, we turn on the generator. Her comfort is paramount. To all of us.
We’re just beyond the tree line when alarm bells start ringing in my head. At the same instant, Dare and Archer stiffen beside me, their noses turning to the air.
“Something’s wrong,” Dare growls.
“A stranger,” Archer adds, turning his wide eyes on me.
We both let go of the deer in the same instant, letting it drop to the ground behind us as we break into a run.
Our footsteps pound over the undergrowth as we rush to the cabin. My heart’s pounding wildly, a savage thing in my chest. All I can think of is Sable, getting to her and finding her safe.
My stomach drops when we come across Ridge’s body lying prone in the backyard, while the back door stands open to the night.
Archer kneels beside Ridge’s form and checks his pulse, then gently turns his head to expose an oblong object