Which meant the changelings couldn’t allow them time to focus.
Leaving the sharpshooting to the marksmen in the group, Andrew circled out and around the Psy in the early evening gloom, sensing more than seeing two other SnowDancers melt away into the forest to do likewise. The Psy spun around, attempting to pick them off in the trees. But this was wolf territory, and Andrew didn’t even need to look to see where he was going.
Not bothering to strip, he shifted into wolf form. And waited. When the Psy who’d trained his gun on the trees finally decided he’d killed what awaited within and turned, Andrew made his move, streaking out to sink his teeth into the man’s throat. He’d ripped out that throat and was gone before the Psy’s colleague noticed how far his partner had ventured from the tight formation of the attacking group. Even when they did notice the fallen male, a lone man turned to protect their flank.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
And it didn’t have to do with the fact that they were unmistakably only interested in Hawke—even to the extent of leaving themselves open to enemy fire. A moment later, he heard gunshots from the other side. Somehow, in spite of the security beyond, the Psy had flanked them, pinning the SnowDancers.
The human half of Andrew might’ve sworn, but the wolf thought only in terms of turning the tables on this threat. Running to a better position, he saw Hawke, Riaz, and D’Arn standing back-to-back, holding off the Psy with well-placed bullets from weapons of their own. Indigo was gone, as were Elias, Sing-Liu, and a couple of others, and he knew Hawke had spun them off to deal with the group approaching from the other side.
The two other wolves who’d shifted had stayed behind, and Andrew saw one of them dart out and take down another Psy soldier when the man lowered his guard. A shot rang out and the wolf disappeared back into the trees, but the Psy male was already dead or dying, his throat so much meat.
Good. One less enemy to worry about.
As Andrew shimmied forward on his belly, having crept up behind another Psy attacker, he scented D’Arn’s nose start to run. The mental assaults were beginning to get through. Seeing that his prey had moved far enough away from the main group to be vulnerable, Andrew bunched his muscles, ready to take him out. But then he noticed the man in the center. He was shooting, but only enough to cover himself, most of his attention seeming to be on looking at Hawke . . . as if he was sending through a visual transmission.
Andrew realized what was about to happen a fraction of a second before another Psy teleported in directly in front of his alpha. Even Hawke’s superhuman speed couldn’t have avoided a bullet at that range. But Andrew had jumped toward Hawke in the split second between realization and the appearance of the assassin.
The bullet felt like a fucking anvil thrust into his abdomen, bloodying his fur and sending him crashing into Hawke and the others. His alpha went down, but didn’t stay in place, rolling with Andrew to take up a more secure position behind a tree, Riaz and D’Arn doing the same on the other side. “Stay with me, Drew,” Hawke ordered, putting pressure on Andrew’s gushing wound. “If you die, Indigo will fucking skin me.”
Andrew, his body starting to shut down, kept his eyes open long enough to see the Psy fall. They’d left themselves too open in focusing on their charge toward Hawke and now had no cover. Riaz took down two, D’Arn another. Two of the Psy managed to teleport out. That left three. Keeping pressure on Andrew’s wound with his knee, Hawke steadied his arms and took aim. He shot the closest Psy operative in the kneecaps. As the target collapsed, Hawke took aim at the man next to the fallen Psy, his mouth grim, blood streaking his chest from Andrew’s wounds.
But before Hawke could shoot, the second man turned his gun on his colleague and drilled a bullet through the injured male’s skull. Hawke’s bullet took him out a second later. The last man fell to a shot from Riaz.
Silence.
Indigo, Andrew thought as his chest spasmed, as blood began to pour out of his mouth, where was Indigo?
A rush of scent an instant later, of windstorms cut by steel.
His soul sighed in peace. His eyes closed.
Indigo felt her heart stop. “No, no!” Falling beside the severely injured wolf, she replaced Hawke’s hands with her own.
“Judd,” Hawke said, his gaze icy with control. “He can fix—”
“He wasn’t just sleeping when we left—he was unconscious,” Indigo said, throwing Hawke her new sat phone. “See if he’s awake.”
Hawke made the call, and she knew from his bleak expression that Judd remained unconscious. His powers to use telekinesis on the cell level, literally putting shattered bodies back together, would take time to regenerate after his recent trip.
Time Drew didn’t have.