Buried and Shadowed (Branded Packs #3)

It had to be the SAU.

He didn’t know how they’d managed to follow them, but it couldn’t be anyone else. Which meant they had to get out of there before the soldiers could get them cornered.

Reaching the stairs, he halted. Below him, he could hear the sounds of shouts. No doubt the soldiers were spreading through the place, causing mass chaos. But that wasn’t what captured his attention.

Instead, it was the dull thud, thud, thud that was coming from overhead that brought a grim smile to his lips.

Perfect.

Turning to the side, he forced open the fire escape door that led to the roof. Then, moving swiftly across the flat surface, he urged Mira to crouch behind the large air conditioning unit.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Here.” He pressed the flash drive into her hand. “Keep a hold of this and stay out of sight.”

She sent him a worried glance. “Sinclair?”

“We’re about to have company.” He pointed toward the helicopter that was swooping toward the roof. “Stay here.”

Turning, Sinclair pulled off his clothing. Then with a silence only a shifter could achieve, he melted into the shadows as he called on the power of his inner animal. Sweet pain and ecstasy combined together as his body popped and snapped into place. Within seconds, the man was gone and in his place was a large, silver and black wolf with ice-blue eyes.

Crouched low to the ground, Sinclair watched as the helicopter landed in the center of the roof. The rotor blades sent blasts of dust through the air, but they slowly came to a halt, and two men crawled out of the cabin.

Sinclair easily recognized Director Markham. After all, he’d worked for the man for years. And the man next to him attired in full military uniform had to be Colonel Donaldson, who’d helped to kidnap Mira.

“I told you that license plate would lead us to the bitch,” Markham was saying with smug satisfaction.

“You’re just lucky that the state trooper caught sight of it and knew they were most likely headed to this facility,” Donaldson snapped as they both headed toward the nearby door.

Sinclair swallowed a growl. He, at least, had an answer to how they’d managed to track them.

Dammit. He should have changed vehicles.

“It wasn’t luck. It was skill,” Markham corrected his companion. He was the sort of blowhard who always had to have the last word. “And the foresight to be prepared for any emergency. That’s why I was put in charge of an SAU division.”

The man at his side waved a beefy hand, clearly tired of listening to Markham’s bragging.

“Have you contacted Colonel Ranney?”

“Yes.” The men walked closer, too stupid to suspect that death might be hidden only a few feet away. “He said if the doctor is here, he wants him killed and the body to disappear.”

“What’s he doing while we’re cleaning up his mess?” Donaldson demanded.

Markham narrowed his gaze. “Careful.”

“Why?” The military man shrugged a shoulder. “Are you going to tattle on me?”

“He’s traveling to DC,” Markham revealed, close enough now for Sinclair to catch the nasty scent of his cheap cologne. “He’s meeting with Congress today to press for even greater restrictions on the animals.”

Sinclair’s lips curled back, revealing his long, lethal fangs.

“Does he think he’s going to convince them?” Donaldson asked.

Markham gave a loud burst of laughter. “It doesn’t matter. We’re going to deal with the bastards one way or another.”

Sinclair’s wolf snapped.

With a snarl of fury, he was springing forward, leaping high enough to smash into the center of Donaldson’s chest. The large man toppled flat on his back, barely having time to realize the danger before Sinclair’s teeth were sinking deep into the flesh of his neck.

Hot blood spilled into Sinclair’s mouth, but he never faltered. Digging his claws into the man’s chest, he used the powerful muscles of his jaws to slices through flesh and tendons. Then, with a jerk of his head, he ripped out the man’s throat.

Donaldson was dead. But behind him, Markham was shouting in fear. With a swift motion, he was turning. At the same time, the SAU director was pulling his handgun and squeezing the trigger.

Sinclair yelped as the bullet tore through his shoulder, but he never hesitated.

This had to end. Now.

Ignoring the white-hot pain, he charged toward the man, his jaws already parted. Markham took aim again, but like most humans who depended on weapons, his fear affected his focus. The bullet flew wide, and before he could squeeze off another round, Sinclair was circling around to take out his Achilles with one slice of his fangs.

Markham cried out in agony, falling to his knees as his gun dropped from his hand.