Moon Claimed (Werewolf Dens #2) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,78
itself to the same strategy we used in Timber—and Sascha wouldn’t miss that.
We were prepared either way.
The words Operation Baking lingered on my lips, but I swallowed the words back. I had to time it right.
“Looks like we were right,” she said.
I squinted. “What are those things on their backs?”
The Luthers below unravelled hoses, climbing the uneven tiers formed by the extraction of Clay over time.
My mouth bobbed as they sprayed the top of the clay mounds. Crap.
“They’re making it too dangerous to occupy high ground,” Pascal said. “Smart.”
Any steward up there had vacated on sight of the Luthers. Even with the wolves retreating to lower ground, my team couldn’t return to occupy the highest positions in the grid.
And I couldn’t use the drones too soon or the Luthers would recover from the tranquiliser dose.
We had another option.
I clicked my walkie. “Big Red here. High ground is too dangerous to occupy. Prepare for Operation Banh Mi. Over.”
Hopefully, most of the stewards had done as instructed and kept an eye out for crevices and cracks during the first hour. Not everyone would find a place, but we needed a rapid change of plan now we’d lost high ground advantage.
I waited a full two minutes. “Big Red. Initiate Operation Bahn Mi. Continue for duration. Over.”
“Will you go in today?” Pascal asked.
“No,” I murmured. “It’s not the day to test theories.”
The head team wanted to see if Sascha would be drawn to my presence on the grid. With Pascal’s vantage point, humouring their test was a big fucking no. I’d cater to their whims in Timber.
I ground my teeth as three more flags were raised.
Fuck.
“What’s the tally?”
“Forty to twenty.”
“Dammit.” I chewed my lip. Should I risk sending the drones up early? I could follow up by ordering the stewards on a group sweep, but that was a huge risk. If the Luthers took cover and not enough went down, we’d just come head-to-head with a werewolf army stronger than us in every way.
A crack rent the air, echoing through the clay quarry.
“What was that?” I strained to hear.
Crack.
Crack.
It wasn’t the pop of a tranquiliser gun or the sound of a shifting Luther. It was almost like a car backfiring.
Like—
My heart skipped a beat.
Crack.
Crack.
“Those are gunshots,” I blurted. That’s the sound Herc’s gun made when he shot Sascha.
Pascal’s exclamation was lost as I looked to the south to where the sound continued in a steady staccato.
“That’s Rhona’s position.” I swore.
I grabbed my walkie. “This is Big Red. South team. Stand down. Stand down immediately. Over.”
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
They were shooting Luthers with real bullets. I covered my mouth and clicked a different button on the walkie that put me through to all stewards. “South team. This is Big Red. This is your final warning to stand down. Our tribe does not condone the use of real bullets in the grid against any being. Stand down or face the consequences. Over.”
Five seconds was long enough to tell me they wouldn’t stop.
I gripped the balustrade. “I have to do something.”
“You don’t have the gear to protect you against real bullets.”
“This isn’t what we stand for. She’s putting everything at risk. Rhona has gone too far.”
Pascal returned to her tablet, tallying the blue flags. Luthers in the south territory were falling like flies.
Sliding down the observation tower ladder, I ran around the grid outskirts, sticking to human pace by the skin of my fangs.
I slowed as the shooting grew louder. What if Sascha is hit?
We’ll heal him, my wolf answered, a whine in her voice.
Bile rose up my throat as I saw the scene.
Luthers splayed on the ground, shot by the stewards concealed on the large clay rise to my right.
I watched three Luthers run for their injured from my left. They got halfway there before bullets tore through their bodies
Monsters.
And I wasn’t referring to the werewolves.
I strode into the middle of the gun fight, tensing for a hit that may very likely come.
Stopping near the centre, I stared at the man groaning at my feet.
The gunfire stopped.
“Come to join the fun, have you?” Rhona slid down the bank, a small gun in each hand.
“You’ve gone too far. Real bullets. I wouldn’t have believed you could do such a thing.”
She scoffed. “You—”
“Look at them,” I screamed in her face, making her jump.
I gestured at the Luther at my feet. “Look at him, Rhona. Look at what you’ve let your hate do. You foolish, foolish girl. They’re people.”
“That’s exactly what I’d expect a dog lover to say,” she hissed.