Chapter 5-Slade- ten years ago

By the time the moon and stars come out to greet us, we are amped and restless, ready to join the hunt. Except for Clay, who smells of a human female, and smiles serenely from ear to ear. He’s burned off the tension of the upcoming hunt in the best ways he knows how. Wolfe mouths off about not getting lucky and having to fulfill the grunt work orders from the beta in command. Clay rubs it in every chance he gets as we load the gear and prepare to depart for the nature trails across town. He gloats by giving details of the fuck he just gifted a human girl, as if it was the best ride of her life.  I roll my eyes and River laughs and calls him out. River claims to be the Alpha in that regard when it comes to satisfying a female in all ways. But that is certainly up for debate.

Growing up with the pack, with shedding our clothes and human skins to merge with our inner wolf, is a way of life. We shift back into the state of birth, naked and unbothered by it. Shame over nudity and modesty are more of human concepts that have little place in our way of life, especially after cubs come of age to join in the shifts. She-wolfs tend to shift for the first time quicker than the males, usually around the ages of eleven or twelve, while the betas have their first transformation between thirteen and fourteen. Of course, some will merge with their wolves a bit sooner or later. In the warmer months, it’s not unusual to find our cubs running unclothed through the pack land as they are taught not to be ashamed of whatever skin they wear.

Just before we hit the road, Father pulls me aside and reminds me of the importance of following orders and sticking to the plan. He warns me to stay close and not get separated from the pack. I don’t need to be reminded of those consequences as they are still fresh on my mind and the scar is still pink at my throat. Father gives the rest of my cousins the same pep talk, to be alert, and no hero stuff. He says it’s his responsibility to make sure we all return to our pack lands alive. But we are all grown, know the risks, and that is not solely his weight to bear.

I am nervous the closer we get to the death spot. I know I need to clear my mind of thoughts and focus, but I think about all the mistakes I made on the last hunt. And all the things that could go wrong on this one.  My cousins are generally dicks who I only like half the time, but I don’t want any of them dead or horribly maimed. Wolfe especially thinks he is invincible and will never die, but that is a luxury I lost long ago and it was further cemented last week. How many chances will the moon grant, to stupid, reckless wolfs who never seem to learn before it stops giving its protection?

We park our vehicles on the shoulder off the main access road just outside the gated nature park. From here, all but Clay will shift and go on foot. While we cannot actually read each other’s thoughts in wolf form, we can communicate through different howls and growls, signals which will alert each other to danger. It is also claimed that true mates can sense each other’s strong emotions through the bond. But that’s a theory I will never test as I will claim no mate even if the moon grants me one. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the future of the pack and our entire species itself.

All it takes is the opening of the truck door, and one inhale of the forest air, and we all know. Bale. Bale has stalked these woods and recently. When I first joined the hunt, Father pulled an old shirt from a sealed bag, to let me imprint his old pack mate’s scent. Once was all I needed to engrain the omega’s smell into my brain. The woods reek of it. He’s been busy here, his fur has brushed many trees, he even marked this territory with his urine. I can smell death and decay in the air. Not just traces of stale human blood, but animals which have also fallen to the rogue. It seems as though Bale intends to stay here for a while, though it hardly makes sense because of the lack of forestlands in this town. Even rogues tend to choose places with lots of wood to roam, to prowl, to hunt in, and get lost in. Bale is fucking with the rules, the established patterns, and making new ones. But before we can get a lock on his new habits, he changes them up again. That is why he has evaded the hunters for so long. But no longer. Tonight, this will end in blood spilled, but it will be his own.

 Going on to the death spot has now become just a formality and our focus begins to shift into tracking mode. We need to find him and quickly before he carries out whatever sadistic plans he intends tonight. I hope we aren’t too late. He probably already knows we’re here, because if we can smell him this strongly, he can smell us. But he won’t get away this time. My gut tells me he is still in this town, perhaps in this very patch of woods.

 Clay’s knuckles whiten around his rifle, the only outward signs that he is scared shitless, like River, like me.  Wolfe is too stupid to be afraid. I can smell our fear coursing in the wind. Even Father is anxious. I can’t get any scents of hormonal responses off Hawke, Leif, or Hollis, as the older wolves are far better at controlling their emotions than us. We have trained for this. We cannot let fear be our master. No words need to be spoken, especially one’s that can be overheard by the enemy. We strip off our clothes and prepare to shift. Silent prayers to the moon are spoken beneath our breath or in our heads and hearts. I recite the words every wolf learns by heart, best spoken when in our natural states. I look to the sky above, to the moon quarter full.

Moon above, guide and protect us, from this night, until our last battle is fought, until we return to the Earth or the sky, we shall honor you in this life and the next, forevermore.

Before the merge comes, and we let our wolves free, Father breaks his silence for some final words to me. He grips my shoulder. And leans in close.

“Stick close to me, my son. Watch your back. May the moon keep you in its favor.”

I nod and repeat the familiar words back to him. It’s a common blessing among our people. And tonight, we need all the help we can get. I welcome the change and let it wash over me. I used to fight the first shifts, battled against the pain and loss of control. I didn’t like the nights of the full moon when I had no control over the change at all. But in time, I learned to embrace it and the pain transformed into something beautiful, it lessened, and my heart was glad for the favor the moon granted me. The changes that allowed me to see and hear more clearly, smell more sharply, shed the confines of human skin and be free to experience nature and be a part of it. I learned to love and accept both skins I wore. I stopped seeing the merge as a curse to our kind, a disease man called Lycanthropy, and saw it for the blessing it was. Moon favored. Moon blessed. Moon chosen. A part of two worlds. I nod and repeat the familiar words back to him may the moon keep you in its favor. It’s a common blessing among our people. And tonight, we need all the help we can get as we face down our greatest enemy.

My body stretches to make way for my other skin, to allow my inner wolf to take control, claws form where human hands and feet once were, my face grows closer down towards the Earth, brown fur sprouts along my spine and back first, then it ripples across the rest of my lithe body. My body disassembles itself then comes back together stronger than before. When I wear my fur, I swear the moon talks directly to me. I can feel it in my head.

Only my eyes follow me from one body into the next, the emerald green of my human mother. My human thoughts are dulled in this skin, but I still remain connected to my humanity, to both parts of me at all times. Life is happier and simpler when I wear my fur as only the important things matter and everything else fades away into the background like dew against the grass beneath my paws.

The hunt is on as my pack tracks the scent. The trees stink of human taint, far too many humans have been here, desecrated this holy ground. Chemicals that burn my eyes and fill my nose, toxins that the tuniculas have poisoned the land with to help it grow and keep away the bugs. I miss our pack lands even more, as it is untouched by such poisons, unmolested, and the air is clean and fresh. But I cannot return to them until this hunt is over.

I tail Father, he is massive and grey, and I can see River’s red coat just up ahead in the trees. I can smell the other members of my pack nearby as they split off to find the bad one. Bale is his name. The one who dared to break pack laws and threatens the sanctity of the pack. He has broken our most sacred laws and we must return him to the Earth. To settle his debts with the pack and the moon. His blood shall be payment, his life forfeit as the moon demands justice for our fallen kin. For the moon’s slain children.

Father sniffs at the ground, at the place blood soaks the soil. Even a storm was not enough to wash it all away, to cleanse the stain from the Earth. The blood is human, but still it demands a debt to be paid just the same for the life taken here. We cover the rest of the forestland quickly between all the members of our pack. The human was far from the only life taken in these woods. An abomination has occurred here, animals slaughtered with only their throats and hearts eaten. Their carcasses left to rot and decay with far too much meat left on their bones. We kill to live, not live to kill, we waste not. The moon must be avenged. This cannot stand.

 Bale’s scent leads us to the southern edge of the woodlands. We dare not cross out into the open in our wolf skins. I look through my wolf eyes to see human dwellings up ahead. There is nowhere to hide in the shadows of the moon. We are forced to double back to where we began and return to our human skins.

We say little as we quickly redress. There’s no time to waste as a killer is on the loose, stalking this town. Bale is headed towards a residential area, and if his path of destruction in the woods is any indication, he plans on spilling more blood in this town tonight. We must stop him before he strikes again. I can smell our resolve, the adrenalin fueling our veins as we drive out of the nature park and towards the highway where we tracked Bale to.

Once there, our hunter band splits up, with Hollis, Leif, and Hawke proceeding on foot, while the rest of our group continues in our vehicles, the windows rolled down to follow the scent through the streets of Camden. Father communicates with River and the others by way of handheld radios. Father and I are alone in our truck, but we don’t talk to keep distractions to a minimum and the lines of communication open for pack mates. We scour the town for any signs of Bale. This part of town near the woods has been his stomping grounds, the very air imbedded with his scent, which is likely the reason we see no other animals on the streets tonight. Not even the glow of cat eyes are caught in our headlights, as they fear the predator and are in hiding.

 Bale’s path is leading in circles as if by his design he kept doubling back to confuse those on his tail.  We don’t intend to drive the same city blocks all night long, but Bale is wasting our time, toying with us, and attempting to throw us off kilter. I’m tempted to jump out of the truck and let my own two legs carry me down the places the truck can’t go, but I know Father won’t allow that. I have to stick to the plan and honor his wishes, and we already have our people on the ground. The best trackers among us in fact.

Those on foot have better luck. Hawke radios to let us know they have caught Bale’s scent outside the heart of town. They track him down a rural road, the kind where miles separate the houses, and barren fields stand ready to be tilled in the spring ahead, farm country. Even a game warden without hounds could track the rogue tonight, as the landscape is imprinted with his wolf tracks. He doesn’t seem to care about being tracked or caught, but most likely Bale believes he can’t be taken down. The rogue will learn the error of that thinking tonight. Tonight, his debts to the moon will be paid in full.

We meet up with our trackers at a yellow farmhouse. We make no attempts to conceal our arrival as Bale already knows we are here. The closer we get, the stronger the smell of fresh blood coats the air. Both human and wolfblood. My heart sinks as we are already too late. The rogue has already struck again, but his scent lingers so strongly in the wind, there’s a good chance he’s still here. It seems he’s been injured too. I try to steel myself for the scene ahead. I have never seen a fresh human kill, only in pictures. It makes it worse knowing these people still breathed just a short while ago.

The others have already armed themselves and start to search the grounds while I hesitate by the truck like a coward. I try to control my breathing, the frantic beats of my heart. It would be easier to shift and face this in my wolf skin. But that is too great a risk. There could be someone left alive inside and I don’t want to be seen. We might have interrupted Bale in the act. This is likely a trap, but we are prepared for that.

My hands shake as I clutch the gun.

“It will be hard Slade. But you need to see it son for yourself. To understand why we do what we do and what we’re up against,” echoes Father’s voice from a million miles away.

“What if I can’t handle it? What if I’m not cut out for this?” I ask, hating my moment of weakness and doubt.

“The fact that you question it, means you are Slade. It doesn’t get easier, it just gets not as hard to live with.”

The radio comes to life, and I hear River’s melancholy voice, “We have a body in the hallway, Uncle. It appears to be an adult male by the looks of what’s left of him. We made a sweep of the basement and ground floor. All clear.”

“Affirmative. Stay sharp. Team two, anything to report?”

Hawke’s voice breaks through the static, “We have a second body in the backyard. Human adult female. Her neck is broken. No other visible injuries.”

That’s odd and certainly not the rogues usual M.O. He prefers to claw his victims insides out. Maybe he got interrupted and had to kill the poor woman quickly.

“Alright. Stay in touch and report anything else you find on the grounds. We’ll continue the search of the residence. Over and out.”

“Affirmative Beta Alder. Over and out.”

“Uncle?” says River’s voice after several seconds more, as we make our way towards the front door.

 It stands wide open and the closer we get; the smell of death is nearly overwhelming.

“I’m here. Go ahead, Riv.”

“Kids live here.”

My gut clenched. Bale has killed kids in the past, a group of fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds. He has no empathy or any traces of his humanity left. My body stiffens and I feel sick. I don’t know if I can handle seeing some mutilated kids.

“We need to find them. Keep looking.”

The radio falls into silence again as nothing more needs to be said. I trail Father into the house, my heart feels as though it’s beating in the back of my throat, as we cross the threshold, and I take in the scene before us.

A tie-dyed backpack and small sneakers are splattered in blood near the front door. My heart clenches tighter, but the source appears to be the man, lying mutilated in the hallway. I try and breathe through my mouth and fight down the bile creeping up my throat as I examine the corpse. Most of his blood is outside his body, it paints the walls around him, the floors, even arcs have hit some family photos on the walls high above. I can’t bring myself to look at their faces just yet, as I force myself into hunter mode, gathering facts and evidence, trying to stay detached and not let emotions distract me from the task at hand. I open up my other senses. A dog whimpers from somewhere deeper in the house. A TV plays from the floor above. The ticking of a clock. The sounds of my cousin’s boots against the floors. Outside, other members of our pack make light steps across the grass.

I can hear River mutter, “Poor bastard,” from somewhere off down the hall.

I lean down near the body to take a closer look at Bale’s handywork. The unlucky human’s ribcage is fully exposed, most of his organs have been thrown out into the hall. This speaks volumes in itself, as the entrails weren’t eaten. Except for his heart, which appears to be missing. The cause of death was likely the wounds to his throat though, as only a thin shard of spine seems to keep his head attached to what remains of his body. His eyes have also been clawed out, bits of tissue hang from his sockets, though the orbs themselves are also unaccounted for.

“Tell me what you see. What you make of this,” says Father.

“This was personal. Perhaps because this man got a few rounds into Bale. But perhaps something else. It’s an overkill even by his standards.”

I stand back up and run a hand through my hair. Father nods. His keen eyes have also picked up the bullet holes in the wall that didn’t hit their mark. Spent shell casings are mixed into the blood that pools from the unfortunate man. The rogue’s blood has mixed with that of his victim, but there’s not enough wolfblood present to be life threatening to him, unfortunately. Bale can heal too quickly for mere bullets alone to kill him. A wolf must be beheaded, or a kill shot through the skull or heart directly with a high-powered rifle. Or have his throat torn out of course, which humans can’t achieve, that honor is one that belongs to the pack.

 I can’t tell much about the human from the way his body is so desecrated. The photos on the walls will tell me more, but I still can’t bring myself to look at them just yet.

“No one touch anything. Especially without gloves on and be careful where you step. We have no idea how much time we have before someone comes looking or calls this in. The mother and the father are accounted for. The two daughters are still missing as is our target. Slade and I will do a sweep of the upper level to see if we can find anything. River and Wolfe will do a sweep of the garage, and then make another pass of the basement. There’s lots of places for two scared, little girls to hide. Let’s pray to the moon that’s the case,” declares Father solemnly.

We all nod to agree we understand our tasks, the mission at hand. I hope that Bale has even a shred of humanity left down deep inside him not to mercilessly slaughter two, harmless little girls. I cling to that hope as I force myself to look at the pictures hung on the walls. The parent’s wedding photo hangs in an ornate, golden frame. The body at my feet was once tanned, with brown curly hair, and a smile so big I can count most of his teeth. I’d place him at thirty-five or so. He died trying to protect his family, even though he was no match for Bale, it still meant something.

 His wife was a pretty woman with long black hair, large blue eyes, and model cheekbones. She was petite, only coming to his chest or so, but she gazed up at him like he’d hung the moon. And he looked at her like she was the brightest star in his sky. I stamp down the tight feeling in my chest and make myself look at the photo their love created. Two little girls, one golden, one dark, smiling on a sunny day with clear skies, and no troubles in sight. The older of the two, around Mace’s age, was made from the same mold as the mother, but she has a smatter of freckles across her bronze cheeks. The little one, is blonde and beaming, hardly more than a baby, still with apple cheeks and chubby knees. My resolve to find these girls hardens more than ever. And if Bale has hurt them, I will tear him apart limb by limb with my bare hands.

Father and I make our way deeper in the house towards the staircase. It puts us in sight of the kitchen, where I see Clay kneeled down over a furry, golden form. The poor dog cries pitifully, obviously in great pain. I can tell it can’t get up and it’s body is broken, possibly its spine. My cousin pets the animal on the head, his voice a soothing cadence.

“You have the heart of an alpha. You protected your pack. Rest easy little Alpha, your final battle is over. Find peace and a place in the sky.”

And I know what Clay is about to do as he grips the animals muzzle between his hands. It would be a mercy to put the poor creature out of its misery. But something inside me jolts at the thought. I don’t know if the dog can be saved, if the damage is too great, but I owe it to the creature to try. The girls lost their parents tonight and I owe it to them to do everything I can to make sure their pet doesn’t share the same fate.  When we find the girls, their dog can bring them comfort.

“Clay, wait,” I instruct him, “maybe there’s something we can do for the poor creature. At least for the sake of the girls.”

He gives me a pitying look, “Cuz, he’s hurt too badly. And we don’t have the time to spare. This is the right thing to do, to put him out of his misery. He’s suffering.”

Father doesn’t say a word or intervene, but I can see his thoughts on his face. It’s our duty to find the girls and take Bale out of the equation permanently so there can be no more dead parents by his hand. The dog is a distraction, but also injured so badly it’s unlikely he can be saved. Perhaps a lost cause. The only way to save the dog is to put him down humanely to end his pain. But still.

I swallow thickly, “These girls have lost everything tonight. The least we can do for them is try to save their damn dog!”

His fingers continue to stroke the dog’s fur softly. He doesn’t say what he’s thinking that this all might be in vain anyway, because those girls are likely already dead. My cousin and I have hit a standoff of wills.

“It needs to be done,” says Clay.

“We need to search the upstairs, Slade,” reminds Father.

But after searching a kitchen pantry for missing girls, River comes to my aid and joins in the debate. He pulls a syringe of morphine out of one of his cargo pockets. We carry small, aid supplies with us on hunts. He walks over to the dog and bends down, gives the animal a shot of morphine in the fat between its shoulders.

“It’s worth a try. I’ll take care of the dog. Find the girls,” he offers.

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Happy to help. I’ll find the perfect time to collect,” he smiles snidely.

Bastard is always the opportunist, even in a time like this, but now I’m grateful to him. As I head up the stairs behind Father, I see my cousin pull a dagger from its sheath around his waist. I don’t fear he is about to go against my wishes and slice the poor dog’s throat. I know what he’s about to do because it’s what I would have done. River knicks his own skin and when the wound bleeds freely, he places his blood to the dog’s muzzle. Our blood has healing properties, it has its limits though. It can’t bring back the dead or heal fatal wounds that were made directly to major organs, but it can help to repair broken bones and skin, though it works much slower in creatures other than us. The creatures survival is up to the moon now.

On the upper level, Bale’s scent is faint, as if he was never even up here. So, I know that’s why Father suggests we split up to cover more ground to find the girls. If Bale’s stench was heavy in the air, Father would make me stick close to him no doubt, to watch each other’s backs. Our mission has shifted to a search and rescue, rather than a seek and destroy.

Wolfe radios to let Father know the family vehicle is missing from the garage. There’s still no word from our other hunters out searching the farmlands. Though it’s a great blow to us to know that Bale likely made a getaway in the stolen car. Making him a thousand times harder to track now. We don’t want to find him again in another town thanks to another corpse and more ruined lives. But we aren’t ready to give up and face defeat just yet. We need to search every nook and cranny for the lost girls. And the sadistic fucker who murdered their parents in cold blood. Bale is crafty, it’s possible he ditched the vehicle to throw us off. He could still be in the area, setting his trap to try and pick us off when our guard is down.

Father searches the master bedroom while I take the older girl’s room. It seems she’s in a tie-dye phase as it dominates the room. Tie-dye blanket, bean bag chair, hoodie slung over a bedrail, as if a rainbow threw up in here. It’s a typical pre-teens room with stuffed animals, make-up strewn across the dresser, dirty clothes scattered on the floor, a cork board of photos above her daybed. She’s a cute kid who will turn into a real knockout if given the chance to grow up. I pray to the moon Bale hasn’t stolen her life from her. Especially this close to the beginning of it.

 I open her closet to make sure she’s not hiding in it and find nothing, but clothes and a messy shoe collection tossed carelessly on the floor. I’m a bit of a neat freak so I cringe at the state of things, though Mace’s room back home is always in a similar state of disarray. He and this girl would get along well, as she also has dirty dishes stacked by her bed. I drop to my stomach to look under there. I don’t see two, startled blue eyes staring back at me, but I do see a box. My curiosity gets the better of me and I pull it towards me. It’s a hatbox the girl has obviously doodled flowers and hearts allover, but on closer look, there’s also what appears to be a cartoon chainsaw, machete, sword, a sinister looking scarecrow, and some other depictions of popular horror movie villains. I’m super intrigued now, if this girl is a little serial killer in the making or just a lover of the macabre. I smile when I find a collection of horror movies inside and other villain sketches. Her secret stash.  She’s not a terrible artist either. I myself like a good horror movie, though the ones involving werewolves usually make me laugh until I cry over how off base the writers got us.

I slip the box back under the bed. I make to leave the room, but as an afterthought, I double back and grab a stuffed bumblebee off the bed. I hope the search for the girls doesn’t drag on, but if it does, and we need help from other packs, this bee will come in handy for her scent. It smells strongly of the girl, a mix between fresh rain and roses to me. Everyone has a unique scent, wolf, and human alike.

I meet Father in the hallway.

“Find anything?” he inquires, “the master and the bathroom were both a bust. No sign of the girls. Though I did find their important papers to help identify the family. I’ll call it in to Grady when we’re done here.”

Grady was our pack’s inside man to the police department back home. He is a lead detective now but grew up in Shadow Ridge. His mother is one of the last humans living on our lands. After the death of her first husband, Grady’s father, she met her mate in a wolf named Birk, adapted to pack life and customs quickly, when she came to live with the pack. Grady came along as he was still a child at the time, though he decided to go back to live in town when he came of age. He never fully immersed himself in our culture, but he is trustworthy and a valuable resource to have in the human world. He gets us access to things not available to the general public that helps us solve cases. He still visits the pack lands from time to time to see his mother. But he’s made his choice regarding the world he prefers to be a part of, and we respect his decision.

“No. But I thought something with her scent would come in handy.”

“Good thinking. Go get something from the little one’s room as well. I’m afraid Bale has taken these girls on the run with him, because otherwise they would’ve turned up by now. We’ve searched the house from top to bottom and the grounds within a twenty-mile radius with no signs of them. The trail ends in the garage where they took the vehicle we believe. We may need to bring some other packs in on this.”

“My thoughts exactly. Especially if he has those kids, this may be too big for us to deal with alone when time is of the essence. We need to locate them quickly. But why do you think he’d take them? It’s not his style,” I ponder aloud.

“That’s what we need to find out. Get something with the little one’s scent then meet me outback. I want to take a look around for myself. See if there’s anything we missed. Any clues as to why Bale would kidnap two human girls.”

It couldn’t be for anything good. Perhaps out of spite or revenge for the father wounding Bale. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing the dead woman’s body, but it was a mystery as why Bale left her so intact. He wasn’t above brutally killing women as he’d demonstrated in the past.  So why spare her such a violent and bloody death? He certainly hadn’t shown any mercy to her husband.

“Yes sir.”

After his order, Father retreats back down the stairs, while I travel to the youngest’s bedroom. The child has to be barely out of diapers. Her bed is small with rails, her room purple and pink with princess décor everywhere, though much tidier than her big sister’s room. I can smell what I assume to be her mother’s scent strongly in here, she likely picked up the toys and tucked the little into bed last night. But what concerns me is that Bale’s scent in stronger in here, stronger than anywhere else up here. It’s confusing why he’d spend so much time in a baby’s bedroom and how he got in here, because his scent was not really out in the hall. I suspected what we mostly smelled up here of the rogue had drifted up from the level below. Did he come in through the little one’s window somehow at some point?

I take my questions with me as I grab a teddy bear off the small bed and then make my way outside to join my father. River is still with the dog as I pass through the kitchen on my way out the back door. The animal appears more comfortable, possibly due to the effects of the morphine, as it now sleeps. It is also possible the dog now slumbers because it is dying from the wounds we can’t see on the inside. At least he can pass from this life more peacefully. There’s nothing else we can do for him now.

I brace myself as best as I can mentally as I approach a still form on the dew-kissed grass. I followed a trail of Bale’s blood to the spot, though I wished the bastard would have bled out. Father looks at the dead women with his sharp grey eyes and I do the same. Try to see what he sees, the smallest details that tells the story of her final moments. If not for the unnatural angle of her neck, she could almost be mistaken for sleeping. That and a patch of long, black hair lying on the grass nearby. But those two things are the only signs of violence on her. Her death appeared to come quickly, her dark blue eyes opened wide, her full lips parted in a gasp she never got to finish. This was the only victim the feral had ever left so untouched. Why?

“Her death was merciful,” I comment.

Father exhales a long breath through his nose, “It appears that way. She doesn’t fit the pattern. Even if he was just going for a quick death, he would rip out her throat like the others.”

“Any ideas why he killed her in this way?” I ask him.

As horrible as the thought was, I hoped if we weren’t able to find these girls in time, that Bale granted them the same, nearly painless death as he had to their mother. I didn’t think this was a random house that Bale happened upon. I was starting to believe this family was targeted for a reason. Was it because of this woman? Had Bale taken a liking to her the way he had Star? Even in his anger all those years ago, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to kill Star. He’d maimed her horribly yet let her live. If my theory of Bale having an infatuation with this human woman proved true, what made him kill her?

“A few. But none worth sharing until I know more.”

Wolfe tramples across the yard towards us, flattening the wet grass in his wake. He’s always been the least graceful of our hunter band, and most of the pack in general. At least now he looks affected by all this bad shit we’ve seen tonight, as his throat tightens when he gazes down at the dead woman sprawled on the grass.

“Uncle Alder, there’s something you should see in the shed,” he says grimly.

I choke on my own heart as it creeps up my throat. I don’t think I can go into that shed if there’s two little dead girls in there. I glance across the way to see the torn metal and twisted doors, to where Clay paces back and forth with his hands linked behind his head. I see no signs of the creepy twins, though I know their lurking out here somewhere. I can make out the silhouette of Hawke’s strong back in the ruins of what was once a tool shed.

Father glances at me with concern. He senses I’m precariously close to losing my shit. If Bale broke their little necks, there wouldn’t be the cloying scent of blood out here. Father places a steadying hand on my shoulder, but he looks at his nephew when he speaks.

 “Did you find the girls?”

Wolfe shakes his head, “No. But we found human blood. And it didn’t come from the parents.”

My guts squeeze tightly in on themselves. Father has to see for himself and I can’t blame him. I follow them both across the lawn. How much blood? It wouldn’t take much blood loss to kill a child. But the air isn’t choked with it out here. Perhaps one of the girls got injured by a cut from the sharp tin. At least I can hope that’s the case anyway.

The metal has been destroyed; claw marks raked down the walls tell a grim tale. The girls were hiding in the shed and Bale tore it apart to reach them. Human blood isn’t the only thing left behind, there’s also the stench of urine and vomit. The terror those girls must have felt, as Bale in wolf form, clawed his way in, nearly tears me apart. They knew nothing of our world until their first taste of it was nothing but horrifying violence and death.  I nearly cry at the thought they only saw the darkest and ugliest parts of our kind and not the good and beautiful. I still hold the stuffed toys I took from their rooms.

Father uses his gloved hand to pick up a small, pink blanket discarded among the rubble. Even from my spot several paces away, I can inhale the smell of vomit from the little scrap of material. I struggle against my own burning acid trying to come up from my gut. I swallow it down.

Still holding that baby blanket, he turns to face his pack, face stark in the moonlight.

“I know why Bale chose this house, this family. I thought I picked it up in the little one’s bedroom, but I’m sure now. It makes sense. She smells of him. The baby is Bale’s cub…”

Icy awareness creeps through my veins. My theory was partly correct about the woman. The rogue had come back to claim what was his. And when he’d met resistance, he’d slaughtered the husband without mercy. He’d given his mate a more merciful death. He’d taken his cub, and my last thought was nearly too horrible to form. The blood in the shed wasn’t from the little one because it was purely human. It was from the older sister, the human one who looked like the mother. Bale had given the girl his mark, he’d claimed the young girl with the midnight eyes for his next mate…