Sawyer jerked forward and sprang to his feet. One second asleep, the next fully awake and in shifted form.

Jesus H. Christ.

The wolf snarled and snorted a moment before the fur receded, giving way to flesh and bone. Sawyer stayed low to the ground until he was steady on his feet while taking big gulps of clean, smoke free air.

Four days after the incident, the nightmares began. Since then, he woke day after day to the crushing pain of his lungs caving in and his wolf staring at him in the mirror he kept near the bed.

Shifting in sleep was not a common occurrence. It could only be triggered by their fight or flight instinct. Unfortunately, that instinct had been on hyperdrive for far too long.

He pushed his hands through his hair and took more deep breaths, praying for calm.

The fire was over, the damage done. Nothing about that horrific night could be changed. So what was the point of reliving it over and over again? Other than to make himself crazy, that is.

Automatically, he reached for his hip and trailed his fingers through the deep grooves of the scars that crisscrossed his leg from waist to knee. By all rights, that two ton beam should have killed him. They all thought so.

Instead his shifter DNA had gone to work and patched him up as best it could. Shifters didn't often scar. Their accelerated healing had a way of overcoming a lot in a short amount of time.

Except in his case, the damage had been too deep by the time Creed got him free. His memory beyond the searing pain of his body giving out remained fuzzy, which probably explained why he always woke at the same moment in his nightmare.

Sawyer pushed back the memories, stuffing them as deep in his mind as they would go, before he stretched to standing while watching the scars pucker and pull as he moved. They didn't exactly hurt, but he felt the skin try to flex and fail every time he moved. It served as a constant reminder that he was no longer what he used to be.

Whole.

He knew it. And the pack knew it.

In the wild, an injured wolf would trail behind the pack until eventually he fell back and they went on without him. The animal kingdom had rules and they were all about survival of the pack and survival of the strong. The weak always got left behind.

Sawyer took a deep breath, hoping to calm his racing pulse and swiped his jeans from the back of a nearby chair. Shoving them over his legs he reminded himself they weren’t exactly in the wild. They were human, too. At least that's what Dante and Creed kept telling him over and over and over.

They weren't like other species. They had the qualities and DNA of both human and animal, the best of each actually.

Leaving his pants slung low and undone, Sawyer relieved himself in the tiny bathroom. This morning routine where he had to remind himself where he belonged and why irritated him. He wasn't a child who didn't understand the world. He knew the world.

And how every ugly, dirty crevice hid the truth.

Before his brain could suck him deeper into the hole of his self pity, a knock sounded at his door. He turned and lifted the curtain over the bathroom window. Across the horizon a sliver of the morning sun shot a streak of light in his direction. Who the hell dared come knocking this goddamned early?

Maybe he could ignore it. He had no desire to make idle chit chat with any of his pack mates at the moment. Unless whoever it was wanted their face chewed off just for funsies. That he could probably accommodate.

The knocking got louder, more insistent. They weren't giving up.

"Jesus. I'm coming." He crossed the tiny space and yanked it open, nearly pulling it from the hinges. "What the hell do you—"

The angry words died on his lips as he came face to face with Damien, another of the Alpha brothers who led their pack.

"Nice to see you too, sunshine."

Sawyer winced at the words clipped with sarcasm. Smarting off to an alpha often came with subtle and sometimes not so subtle consequences. Such as the nearly overwhelming urge to bow his head. Maybe even apologize. Neither of which Sawyer felt inclined to do no matter whether Damien’s wolf expected it or not. People turning up to check up on him at every turn was getting old.

"You going to invite me in?" Damien asked.

Sawyer hesitated for only a second before stepping back and letting the door fall wide. No, he really didn't want to invite anyone in. His housekeeping skills were shit before the incident at the club, but after they were pretty damned atrocious. The last thing he needed was a lecture—or a helping hand.

"What is that smell?" Damien glanced around his small cabin, his eyes narrowing as he took in the mess.

"I forgot to set the trash out this week."

Damien turned to him, his eyebrows raised. "This week, huh?" he coughed. "More like this month."

"I'll take care of it today." Not that it mattered. He didn't need or want guests and if the smell offended them, that was fine by him. Maybe they'd leave sooner.

"I've got a job for you."

To his surprise, he actually perked up at his alpha's words. Although in hindsight he should have known he was about to get saddled with something shitty. There seemed to be a conspiracy amongst his pack on trying to keep him too busy with stupid crap to deal with his plans for revenge.

"I was planning to go into town today." Not exactly a lie, since he was itching to get off the island and start tracking down the assholes responsible.

Fucking hunters. They seemed to have dedicated their lives to killing his kind. This time the pack would strike back hard enough to get a message through their idiotic skulls.

Damien shook his head. "Not today. We need you here. We've got a bigger problem that takes precedence over your constant thirst for revenge."

Sawyer bared his teeth and let out a low growl before he could stop it. "I can't imagine anything more important than finding the fuckers who took out the club. We must retaliate quick and fierce. The longer we wait, the harder it will be. Losing that business was a huge blow and if we don't deal with it sooner versus later, it's only going to get worse."

The alpha nodded. "It was a blow to the pack, there's no denying that. In many more ways than simply financial."

Sawyer winced again, knowing exactly which ways he referred to. The stench of pity hit him hard, coming across sharp and acrid to his nose. "I don't need that from you." He lowered his voice out of respect. "Not from anyone. But especially not you." He glanced away for a moment and took a deep breath before he continued. "I don't regret what I did. Never that."

"I agree. Watching Dani flourish as her babe’s arrival draws close has been a true joy. What you did in saving her, by extension, saved us all."

"Then why the hell am I getting pity from you? That's bullshit."

Damien’s eyes widened. "Maybe you need to check that attitude. Sorrow for what happened to you is not the same as pity. The pack is extremely grateful for what you did. Your sacrifice will never be forgotten."

"I'd rather the whole thing was forgotten. I’m sick of this being a constant issue." He waved his hand in front of his scarred body. "This is not important compared to protecting what's ours."

"That does include you, you know." Damien pushed some papers off one of the kitchen barstools and took a seat.

Sawyer cringed. Apparently, Damien wasn't leaving any time soon.

He fought not to shake his head. If that was the case, then he needed to change the subject. His anger was hard to control on a good day. This was not going to be a good day.

"So what are we doing about the asshole hunters who are responsible for the bomb at the club?"

Damien shook his head. "While I appreciate your single-minded pursuit and determination towards this issue, we have got to approach this carefully."

Sawyer nearly exploded. "Seriously? I think the time for careful is past. We need to strike now. This constant waiting is bullshit."

Damien narrowed his eyes again. "Careful, Sawyer. I may be grateful for what you've done and concerned about your welfare, but that doesn't mean I'll put up with your disrespect."

He shut his eyes against his alpha's stern warning. Partly so he could try and get his shit together and so the other man wouldn't read his expression if he couldn't tone it down and did something stupid like roll his eyes.

"That's not what I meant." He finally said after several long breaths. "I just—FUCK—I'm pissed off and my instinct is to get out there and do something about it. Can you blame me? Sitting here with my thumbs up my ass is driving me batshit."

Damien clapped his back. "Not at all. But in this you have to trust me and my brothers that we know what we're doing. You do trust us, right?"

He didn't hesitate from nodding his head. Trust wasn't easily earned, but in this case it had been given freely a long time ago. "I do." He lifted his head and opened his eyes. "But if you aren't here to enlist my help in going after the bastards, why are you here?"

"Believe it or not, we've got bigger problems than hunters right now and I need your help."

His interest peaked. "What is it?"

"The Feds. Particularly one who seems hell bent on finding out the whole truth about what happened here on the island."

"Why in hell would they care about us? This is private property." He paced back and forth in his tiny kitchen as he tried to make sense of this news.

"That's what I need you to find out. Their lead investigator arrived this morning and is poking around the island and demanding answers. She seems hell bent on talking to every single resident and it's got everyone on edge. If we don't find a way to appease her and get her off the island soon, I'm afraid what kind of damage could be done. She'll spook everyone."

"She?"

"Yep. Some hotshot profiler out of Seattle, who I suspect is looking to further her career on the back of this case."

Sawyer shrugged. "Maybe siccing this woman on the hunters wouldn't be such a bad idea. They need something else to focus on besides us."

Damien shook his head. "Bad idea if you ask me. Those bastards are touchy as hell and the last thing we need is them spilling their guts."

"No Fed is going to believe any wild stories about people who shift into animals. They'd consider that ludicrous."

"Still. We can't take chances like that right now. There's been a lot of blood shed around here lately and the shifter community is getting nervous. In fact, I'm expecting a liaison from Deception Falls later this week."

"The bears are coming here? Now that sounds like a bad idea."

"Agreed, but also out of my control. Diego offered to go to them and they refused. You know how stubborn they can be about their privacy."

"Fucking bears." Sawyer paced across the room and back again. "What about the Fed chick? Didn't you warn them?"

Diego threw up his hands in obvious frustration. "We did everything we could. Danger apparently doesn't sway stubborn. So, we've got to do the best we can with what we've got. That's where you come in. Were counting on you to distract and defend if necessary."

Sawyer closed his eyes and breathed deep. He kept trying to get back to normal and for one reason or another, it never worked out. There was so much going on in his head he wasn't sure how effective his help would be, but if the pack needed him what choice did he have?

He twisted his head side to side, cracking the bones in his neck to relieve some of the constant tension flowing through his body, followed by his fingers. "I'll do what I can. But shit, this is a mess. And one hell of a distraction from the real goal. I'll do it, but you need to remember one thing."

"What's that?" Damien asked.

"I won't wait that long. One way or another, it has to end."

Damien narrowed his eyes. It was obvious he did not like ultimatums. But Sawyer had an end game and as far as he was concerned it was top priority. Whatever trouble this woman thought she was going to stir up, it couldn't be that hard to deal with her. He'd find a way to shut her down immediately and then the real work could begin (and maybe he could get these nightmares out of his head).

"You get rid of the Fed and I'll make sure you get first crack at them." Damien held his hand out and Sawyer grabbed it, letting the man pull him into a quick embrace.

"Consider it done. She'll be gone by nightfall."

Damien turned and headed for the door. Sawyer snagged a shirt from the back of a chair and shoved it over his head. "Oh, hey. If she's already on the island, where is she?"

"She's waiting on your furry ass at the diner." Damien looked back with a big grin on his face. "And I'd reconsider that shirt. I don't think she'd be impressed." Before Sawyer could respond, his front door slammed shut.

Puzzled, he looked down to see the shirt he'd chosen was his worn out "DTF" shirt Creed gave him on his last birthday. A slight grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. That dumbass shirt had turned out to be one hell of a chick magnet. It had shocked him just how many women were apparently down to fuck.

He shoved his hand in his hair and scratched his head. But maybe not so much with an uptight, probably boring as hell Federal agent who likely needed a crowbar to get her legs apart.

He removed the shirt, getting a whiff of said garment and his own stench and groaned. He then headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. This stupid plan called for a different approach.