Chapter One

I  GROWLED AND BURIED my face into the pillow, cursing under my breath. I usually had no problem sleeping no matter where I was. The moment my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light. Useful skill when you lived in a pack so tight-knit, we knew what underwear the neighbors wore any day of the week.

Tonight, I couldn’t sleep to save my life. I twisted and turned in the cold sheets. I could swear those bastards hosting me had turned down the heat to mock me. So much for the respect werewolves had for their tribe’s beta. Who was I kidding? The Russian packs hated my guts.

I groaned and snuggled deeper into the sheets. I could have called them out on the heat, of course, pull rank and demand they treat me with respect. But that would have made me look weak in their crazed eyes. Of all the tribes I could have been born into, it had to be the Siberian Killers! And I just had to be the only one with enough sense to figure we needed to change our antiquated ways.

“That’s fucking it!” I growled and got out of bed, stomping right into the en-suite bathroom. I had been given a room on the top floor of the mountain cabin we had convened in. It was large and decent-looking, but this was no luxury lodging. At least I hadn’t been forced to bunk with one of their pack leaders. God, they snored like they were training for the Olympics. And some of them stank of alcohol from a mile away. If they weren’t wolves, they’d all be convening at the local AA meetings.

I tried to turn the shower on, but there was no hot water coming through. “A fucking yurta in the middle of nowhere would be more comfortable than this.” I muttered a few curses and got dressed. That imaginary yurta would have some sort of fire going on. All I could do now was to wear my clothes on top of my pajamas and hope I could warm up.

Werewolves, we run hotter than most creatures. Not hot enough to deal with the Russian winter with no proper heating. I would have bet my father’s prized stallions this particular cabin had not been heated in years. The walls and floors were cold as ice and the only difference between inside and out was that there was no wind inside.

Maybe I should have just pulled a Shiki in today’s meeting and beat the crap out of them. I smirked, thinking back to the Dragons of the Fang beta whose life I’d saved. We’d become close friends since his failed death-by-Siberian Killers attempt a few years back. Shiki didn’t have patience for the wolves he ruled. When the Chinese packs were giving him a hard time, he used force to bring them back in line. His mate, Blake, was the one who took care of the finer, business aspects of running the tribe.

Fully dressed, I snuck back under the sheets—not thick enough for this time of the year, of course—and for a second wondered if wearing my boots in bed was too much. After pacing the room, the sheets seemed much warmer than before, so I gave up on the idea. With the added layers, the exhaustion of traveling from Ulaanbaatar and then being stuck in endless shouting matches, I felt the pleasant lull of sleep lurking nearby.

My eyes popped open and I shuddered, cold sweat sliding on the side of my forehead. Had I fallen asleep? Or had I been drifting off only to come to my senses again? There! Sounds on the hallway. Booted feet coming up the stairs as those outside my door stopped.

I shoved the covers away and sat up, expecting a knock that never came. Hushed voices, shuffling feet, and steady breathing was all I could hear.

They might have been reluctant to wake me up. Thought I’d get it over with and pulled my boots next to me, thinking to slide them on my feet and go open the door. This waiting outside and twiddling their fingers was annoying as hell.

As I sat and laced up one shoe, the small hairs on the back of my neck prickled. My wolf was restless, and I tried to soothe him. There was nothing but familiar scents outside. Probably some sort of emergency and they knew I’d been pissed at the latest round of talks.

The wolf wasn’t having it. I felt his apprehension and I hurried through lacing my other boot and grabbing my coat.

The shuffling stopped for a second, then an ordered move followed. I froze in place and listened, my hearing focused on how they moved. I could picture them parting, making room for someone to pass. And then the familiar click of a shot gun being loaded.

My wolf snarled, trying to push to the surface, but this was no time to attack. He wasn’t happy, but I ignored him. I had a second, maybe two, to decide something.

One exit—the door, blocked. Top floor of three. I tried to remember what I’d seen outside. Were there trees? How thick was the snow?

I took a deep breath and plunged through the glass just as a heavy boot kicked the door open. The bullet flew by as I was falling, more following that first shot at a steady pace. More weapons, people running inside.

I twisted just in time for contact with a large branch. The air whooshed out of my lungs and I couldn’t draw another breath. Dizzy and struggling to breathe, I let go of my unsteady hold on the branch and fell again. This time, my back hit the thick bank of snow under the tree and once more, my lungs were emptied of whatever air was still left in them. I wheezed and punched my chest, trying to force myself to breathe.

Don’t panic, Ganzorig. Whatever you do, don’t fucking panic! My wolf snarled in the back of my mind, demanding control. I gripped the cold snow and looked around. Nowhere to hide. No time to think.

I closed my eyes and shifted. The wolf form sunk into the snow as my body changed and it took all my strength to suppress my howl. Quiet and unseen. I needed stealth now, not a battle cry.

More shots ricocheted through the branches above me, others splintering the trees nearby. So they hadn’t seen where I’d fallen. Good, I had some feeble advantage.

“Outside, now! Find him.” The muttered orders in Russian sent a chill down my spine. Anton, the top mutt of the local pack. My host. So much for rules of hospitality. Seemed my Russian “friends” had no problem killing their guests. I wasn’t surprised, given their rotten ways. I was rattled by the fact they weren’t shy about murdering their future alpha. The current alpha’s son and their fucking beta. So much for loyalty.

I took a guess there was no one left looking out the window and hunched a bit, padding through the snow. They’d bring flashlights and find my trail soon enough, but right now, I had bullets to dodge.

I followed the line of trees along the driveway leading to the cabin and crawled under the wooden beams acting as a fence. Behind me, shouts and howls broke the silence. Time to gain some speed. I focused on the line of trees marking the edge of the evergreen forest surrounding the mountain peak where the cabin was and made a run for it.

My finesse and stealthy crawl forgotten, I pushed my body to its limit, running as fast as I could. I was heading south-west and would be running down the mountain. They’d give chase and follow on their snowmobiles and in their huge trucks.

Simply put, I was thoroughly fucked. As I ran, I tried to weigh my options. We were north of Moscow on some property the local pack owned. We usually held our meetings in Moscow, but they’d suggested a more “traditional” get together, somewhere where we could run and hunt rabbits or something. They’d hunted all right, just not rabbit. It was larger prey that drew their attention.

Snowmobiles roared to life in the distance and I growled. I wasn’t far enough, but at least I’d made it to the forested area. Home was too far away. I’d have to go across Russia west to east, and then south to Mongolia. All the pack leaders from Russia had been present at the meeting. Which meant a good portion of them wanted me dead. It looked like I needed a new plan.

I zig-zagged through the trees, heading to the stream I could hear in the distance. As I ran, I did a quick review of the western neighbors. Russians had a strong hold on neighboring countries with one exception: Ukraine. With the war, the packs had started to bicker and mimic the human conflict. That was my best bet, make it to Ukraine, make a run through Moldova, and find the first Romanian pack I could.

Moldova would be a little tricky, as the werewolf population was scarce and divided. Some were allied with the Russian packs, so technically under my rule, the rest were part of the Dacian Wolves. Since Shiki’s sister-in-law was the alpha of the Dacian Wolves, the first one of theirs I could find, I’d hug them till they couldn’t breathe anymore.

I stopped when I reached the small stream. It was frozen for the most part, with small breaks in the ice through which I could see the water rushing down the mountain. Too much ice for me to run through it to mask my scent. I soon forgot my disappointment when I realized I wouldn’t dip my paws into freezing water.

Instead, I did my best to run along the blocks of ice, to at least leave no paw prints for a while. That should be enough to slow down their trackers. A smidgen, true, but every second counted. It was too slippery to pull off, so after a bit of impromptu skating, I jumped on the other side and ran as fast as my legs could manage.

Engine sound drew closer with ever second that passed, but the thick evergreens would slow them enough. Once they reached the stream, they might have to wait for their trackers to catch up.

I could run faster and longer than any other wolf I knew. Okay, maybe Shiki outplayed me, but he had fae blood mixed with the werewolf juice that powered us all. Other than him, no wolf alive could outrun me.

When I’d lost my mate, I’d been an awkward teenager. Rage and pain had twisted me into a distorted, angry reflection of who I’d been until that tragedy hit. My way of dealing with it had been to run away from it all. I used to run until I collapsed and couldn’t move anymore. I’d sleep it off, then hunt, replenish my energy, and run some more.

I never could outrun the blinding pain of losing a mate, but I sure as hell got fast and strong. It was helpful when we tracked someone or in a fight, but I’d never thought my life would depend on this skill. Right now, the only thing standing between me and my would-be killers was the fact that I could run for an insane amount of time.

I knew at some point I’d have to stop. I couldn’t focus on that now. I had to make my way through the thick woods and strain my hearing to its limits to keep tabs on my chasers. Barks and howls broke the dead silence of the night now and then, but the snowmobiles had stopped. They were probably just taking them over the stream and then they’d continue their pursuit. Or maybe they’d just all shifted and were planning to follow me on foot. Well, on paws, technically…

They kept at it, but they weren’t getting any closer. My stamina was as reliable as ever, so it would be a while still before they started gaining ground. Hopefully, they’d grow tired before I did.

I huffed out breath after breath and kept running. The best part about this race to save my life was that I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. In wolf form and fleeing to save my life, I was running hot enough to melt the snow beneath me.

Survival instinct is a beautiful thing. Stronger in weres because of our animal side, it can push you beyond limits you never knew you could cross. Right then, as I was being chased through the snow, I was thankful for its existence. The rest of my brain that was still active was wondering what the fuck I was doing, contemplating the meaning of life and how wolves worked when my life was on the line.

The truth was that keeping my mind busy with useless contemplations was distracting me from the imminent danger creeping closer. They were coming for me, and it was a little too late for them to feign innocence and say it had all been a joke.

I kept running, using snow to hydrate myself now and then. It wasn’t doing much to quench my thirst, but it would keep me going. Plus, wolf urine wasn’t something they’d easily overlook. Not that my paw prints in the snow were hard to spot.

To my relief, it started snowing, and it wasn’t pretty. Cold, small, icy sort of flakes rushing down from the gray sky. They’d cover my tracks enough that the Russians wouldn’t have an easy time keeping up. They’d grow tired before I did, so all I needed was to keep my energy levels up and keep running. It didn’t look good for the rabbits and other critters in my way. They’d keep me fed and fueled for this manic race.

The snow kept falling as cool light replaced the shadows of the night that had made the chase more difficult. My gray and black shades blended in a lot more during the night. Now I felt like I stood out too much. I was getting tired, my pace was becoming slower, but I kept running.

I couldn’t hear anything except for my own breathing, the swoosh of the wind, and the occasional critter that didn’t run out of my way fast enough. How long, I wondered. How long until I fell, exhausted and unable to move any further? Not yet.

A small detour to hunt a rabbit was all the break I allowed myself. Its warm blood and the raw meat tasted better than ever. The hunger, the adrenaline, and the speed of it all might have had something to do with that. I did my best to hide the stained fur left over from my meal and started moving.

I was running at a steady pace, but it was much slower than in the beginning. I didn’t feel tired though. The adrenalin pumping through my veins because of the very real threat of death by murderous traitors kept me on a weird high. It was as if I’d tapped into a pool of endless energy I never thought I had. I put it to good use and ran and ran, sticking to the evergreen-covered side of the mountain, and then losing myself through the hilly woods covering the area.

***

At dusk, I could barely keep myself upright. My limbs were trembling and I felt there wasn’t enough air to breathe in. I wanted to stop, have a good listen, without the rush of my own blood and breathing deafening me, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to move if I stopped.

I was famished and parched, and all I wanted was a break. I was in the middle of nowhere, some frozen field made a million times colder by the wind. I did some quick math, trying to figure out how long it had been. Over twelve hours, a few half-hour breaks to eat, and anywhere between 60 and 100 kilometers covered.

A shrill honk broke the silence and I froze in my tracks. Train. Close by. I trained my sight on the direction of the sound and saw it. It wasn’t the kind of train that carried passengers that might have been afraid of a wolf suddenly jumping on the seat in front of them. No, this looked more like a freight train. As far as I remembered, old trains in these regions still had some huge pieces of them missing, from broken walls and windows to cars with doors left open because of malfunctioning locks. If I made it to the next station on time, I might just be able to get in.

I spotted the small village a couple of miles ahead. The train was far enough, but I feared I might miss it anyway. I was tired, too tired for a full-on run, but I had to try my best. Worst case scenario, I’d lay low around the station and hunt for the next train that could haul my ass out of this danger zone. I knew waiting around was risky, as they could catch up and I’d end up dead before the next train passed through, but I was also acutely aware I couldn’t run forever.

I closed my eyes for a second, pouring all the energy I had into this one task: run for your life, Ganz, and get on the fucking train. I growled low and bolted, running for my life. Literally. The distant sounds of howling wolves reached me just as I gave chase. I could stay ahead of them, they were miles behind. But I’d exhaust myself sooner rather than later. I needed to get on that train and get far away from my enemies. Long enough to rest and maybe snatch some food from somewhere.

The train took a curvy route, following its tracks, and that gave me the edge I needed. I intersected the tracks and jumped on the other side, keeping on the right of the tracks, the station building, and all the houses at the edge of the village. Even if the train didn’t stop, it would have to slow down to pass through the station. If I found one door open, that would be enough for me to jump inside.

I ran as fast as I could while crouching to make sure I was hidden. Nothing like a wandering human freaking out to draw attention to a huge, abnormally big wolf jumping on a train. The first few cars were tightly locked, and I growled in annoyance. A few more passed with no entrance in sight. I eyed them, trying to find a solution. They had heavy locks but the chains themselves looked rusty. Maybe I could jump and force my way through. Use that paranormal strength I supposedly had.

The final two cars approached and it was now or never. One of them had the same lock and chain, but the doors were slightly parted. It wasn’t enough to pass through, but the chain was loose enough that if I jumped the large metal doors might give and I’d fall inside.

Howls entwined themselves with the sound of the train and my mind was made up. I jumped and hit the doors which opened just enough for me to claw my way inside. I rolled to soften the fall, but I ended up hitting the side of the car. I whimpered, the pain piercing through my already abused muscles and bones.

It took a lot for me to get up after that fall. I knew I’d pushed myself far beyond all limits, but I was safer than I’d been since the night before. I pulled myself together enough to push the doors closed. I didn’t need any more of the cold outside than I’d endured already. I listened to the sounds of the train, focusing on the neighboring cars. It looked like I was alone in an almost empty metal box. It was dark and cold, but there were some goods stored in one corner. Looked like cardboard boxes, so if I snuggled between them, I might be able to warm up a bit.

I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to set up a place to rest in wolf form, but shifting back was not an option. I knew I wouldn’t be wearing much and I’d freeze my ass off before I could do anything. Like many other times before, I cursed the unshakable rule about shifting. You kept only one item when you shifted back to human. That is why most of us chose wisely before we took our wolf form.

Sure, there were theories about why that rule existed. In the dawn of humanity, loin cloths, one big fur, or one robe were all that humans wore. However the werewolves came about, shifting back and forth meant keeping one item of clothing. Whoever had created this sorcery hadn’t left some extra juice for the future fashion options of the werewolf kind.

By the time I was comfortable and less frozen, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I tried to focus on the sounds around me, but I couldn’t hear anything but the rhythmic move of the train on the tracks. I yawned and made myself as small as I could to preserve the little heat my body still held. I hoped the train wouldn’t stop anytime soon. That no one would come in. I was so tired, I feared they could yell and kick me, and I would still not hear much.