***
He’d never raised a hand to either of his men, but for the first time, Brutus really wanted to plow his fist right into Killian’s face. They’d had to leave the spot where Braxton had been shot and head to the nearest rest area and wait until dark to continue their search for the rogue wolf.
“Why in the fuck would you think it was a good idea to shoot a werewolf in the middle of the fucking day?” Brutus glared at Killian as they stood on the side of the road. The temperature had dropped several degrees and the scent of impending snow hung heavy in the air.
Killian frowned and shook his head, his expression grim. “He was three miles from the border. He was about to jump the state line. I was thinking...”
“No. That’s exactly what you were not doing. You were not thinking.” Brutus aimed his flashlight down the side of the mountain. “You’re lucky there was no oncoming traffic. Otherwise, your ass would be sitting in a jail cell for murder. Not to mention the fact that we couldn’t even stop and investigate without every nosy state trooper asking if we were having bike trouble.”
“It’s not murder if there’s no body,” Lorcan said as he climbed up the steep drop-off. He’d volunteered to go down and investigate while Killian and Brutus stood watch from the road. “From what I can see, there’s no body—not a trace of him down there.”
Lorcan frowned. “He must be heading to the Missouri border.”
Brutus grinned. “Then we need to get there first. And welcome him with a silver bullet to his head.”
***
“Barrett, what’s so important that you wake me up in the middle of the night to haul my ass all the way over here?” Damon Trahan glared at his Pack Master and all-around badass leader of the Arkansas werewolves, Barrett Middleton. Barrett’s office was sparse but neat, with a large desk and office chair that creaked every time Barrett leaned forward. Damon was big, but Barrett was even larger. Damon often wondered how much life the chair had left before it snapped under Barrett’s large body of muscle.
He began to wonder if Barrett even had a home to go to, or whether the Pack Master had a bed somewhere in the back. The only time he’d seen his Pack Master was in his office or in the adjoining meeting room when all the Guardians needed to be updated on the status of the Pack.
Barrett leaned back and smirked. “Don’t pull that shit with me, Damon. I doubt you and Ava were getting much sleep. I’ve seen how you two act in the day; I can hardly imagine what you’re like at night when no one is looking.”
Damon let a slow grin cross his lips. “We’re way worse than what you are imagining.”
“Okay, TMI.” Barrett’s expression grew grim as he met his gaze. “We have an issue. The Louisiana Pack has overstepped its boundaries. It seems early this morning a Were crossed into Arkansas.”
“So?”
“That Were was being following by three Louisanna Assassins.”
“Shit.” Damon narrowed his eyes. Assassins were the death squad for werewolves who’d broken the most serious of offenses. Each state had its own Assassins, and they answered only to the Pack Master of their state.“Yeah, shit’s right.” Barrett ran a large hand across his face. “The Assassins broke protocol when they didn’t inform me of their mission or even let me know they were crossing into my fucking state. I had to find out from an informant,” Barrett growled. “I was going to let it slide. Who am I to interfere with an execution?”
“And now?” Damon cocked his head. Barrett was all about order and following protocol. There was something more to the story.
“I found out the rogue wolf they’re after is Braxton Devereaux. The charge is murder.” Barrett sighed heavily.
“Braxton Devereaux? From Shreveport?” Chills ran down Damon’s back. Braxton had helped him the night he went in to rescue his best friend, Jayden, from a pack of rogue wolves. Those same rogue wolves had kidnapped Ava. The leader of the rogue wolves was captured and Damon, as the role of Ava’s mate, had the honors of carrying out the execution. If Braxton hadn’t been there that night, things might have gone south.
“So who exactly did Braxton kill to get an execution order?” Damon’s gut turned to stone.
Barrett narrowed his eyes. “Braxton killed his father.”
Damon gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt. “Well, from what I’ve heard the fucker was asking for it. It seems Braxton’s old man had a habit of using his mom as a punching bag.” Damon frowned. “Look, Barrett, even if Braxton did do this, don’t ask me to help the Assassins look for him.”
“You feel indebted to him. I get that.” Barrett sat back in his chair.
“He helped us out in Shreveport. You know I’m right. At least get his side of the story before handing him over to the Assassins.”