Izzy ground her teeth against the urge to go to Luke and hug him or something equally sappy. The problem was the look on his face: the indecision, worry, fear, and love all rolled into one. She wanted to make him feel better, tell him it was all going to be fine.
But they didn’t have time for that crap.
And everything was definitely not fine.
Finally, he raised his hand, as if it weighed a hundred pounds, and said, “Stay safe.” Then he ran after Dean.
“Stay safe,” she muttered as she stomped across the yard. “In this fucking town?”
Nearby, Rissa and Davy checked out the rogues’ bodies. One wasn’t quite dead, and it lunged at Davy, who was still in wolf form. Before Izzy could even raise her gun, Davy savaged the other wolf’s throat. Blood arced over the shrubs and snow.
As if it had been lying in wait, the memory of the night her parents were murdered crashed into her. The pinch of the seat belt cutting off her breath. Bess’s screams ringing in her ears. Her mother’s blood, glistening like ink in the moonlight, and the copper scent of it filling her nose.
Gagging, Izzy swayed and almost fell on top of the man she’d shot. He lay dead at her feet, blood soaking his plaid shirt and pooling in the trampled snow. The sight snapped her back to the present. Had this bastard been in the house with Hank and Abby?
Izzy poked the rogue in the ribs with the toe of her boot. “Is that it? Did you hurt Hank and Abby?” She kicked him, rocking his body. “Did you? Is that why they aren’t answering their phones? You filthy.” Kick. “Fucking.” Another. Harder this time. Bone cracked. “Were!”
“Izzy!”
Teeth bared, the wolf buzzing in her head, she whirled around with a snarl...on Freddie.
Horrified, she stumbled, her legs reduced to jelly. “Oh, oh...no.” She could have hurt him. Even now, her hands were clenched into fists and the wolf—
Shut the hell up, she told the beast, slamming a steel door closed on it again. You don’t get to come out to play. She was not going to be like her sister.
Finally, the only sound in her head was her pounding pulse.
“Freddie, I’m so—”
“Come on, Iz. We gotta find Mom and Dad. Plus...” He looked at the rogue. “I think you killed the bastard already.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
With a huff, he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her toward the house. “Mom and Dad,” he said, enunciating each word. “Move it.”
Shame welled within her. For God’s sake, what was wrong with her? More to the point, what was wrong with him? Hadn’t he seen her going psycho? He jerked his head toward the pack house and hurried her along.
Together, they made their way around Dean’s smashed-up SUV and onto the wraparound porch, where Rissa waited for them with Dev. Pale and sweaty, he looked like he might fall over any second.
“It’s the silver,” he whispered as if he could hear Izzy’s thoughts. “Burns like a sonofabitch. I can handle it.”
Whatever. What was she going to do? Demand he wait outside where anyone could come up on him?
“Where’s Davy?” Freddie asked.
Grim-faced and blood-streaked, Rissa said, “I sent him to help Luke.” She nodded at the sturdy front door. “Ready?”
Body hidden behind the wall, Izzy peered through the windows to the left of the door. She saw nothing but furniture and a dark room.
On the other side, Freddie did the same thing. “Nada.”
He waggled the shotgun and glanced down at Izzy’s Berretta. “Trade me.”
She did and he laid one of his crutches against the porch railing. Jesus, she wanted to whisk him away from here. Away from all the blood and violence that followed weres.
Away from her.
But they had no choice now.
“Ready,” Freddie said to his mate.
Rissa twisted the knob and threw it open. The heavy door banged against the inner wall.
Several seconds passed.
No one shot at them. Nothing jumped out or growled.
Before Izzy could object, Rissa slipped inside. Stupid, stupid. Werewolf or not, Rissa wasn’t bulletproof and she wasn’t armed.
Izzy followed her, then Dev. Freddie brought up the rear.
They passed the small sitting room Izzy had looked into from the outside. Everything seemed fine. There was no broken glass or furniture. No muddy, or bloody, footprints mucking up the floor. All the pictures hung neat and square on the walls.
Yet the hair on her neck was standing straight up.
Just last night, the huge house had been filled with Rissa and Freddie’s friends and family, celebrating their upcoming wedding. Now, late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting intermittent patterns of light and shadows over the hardwood floor.
It was eerily quiet. So much so, Izzy almost wished her wolf would start buzzing again, just to combat the heavy silence. It was creeping her the hell out.
Rissa pointed at a closed door on the right side of the hallway. Luke’s office, she mouthed. Then she put her nose to the keyhole and sniffed. She shook her head and opened the door.
Izzy pointed the shotgun into the opening and swept it across the space. Rissa was right. Nobody home.
As Izzy reached to re-close the door, Rissa stopped her. “Wait,” she breathed. “Fred, you and Dev stay here.”
Good. Better to leave the two injured men in a fortifiable position. While Izzy hoped there wouldn’t be any need for her and Rissa to make a run for it, she wasn’t willing to bet on it.
The litany of fuck-thats Freddie was about to spew were telegraphed across his face. Then, to Izzy’s utter shock, he looked at his broken leg and whispered, “Fine. Christ, I hate being useless.”
Rissa sidled up to him and stroked his chest. “Never that, baby. You’re just a little gimpy right now.”
Freddie grimaced, then gave Rissa a light kiss. “Be careful.” He turned to Izzy. “Both of you.”
“I’ll find them,” Izzy promised.
He nodded and moved into the office. Dev stepped in behind him, his expression pinched, but he only said, “Luna,” before shutting himself and Freddie inside. The lock clicked.
Impressive. Izzy had expected more of a fight from him, too.
“Benefits of the pack hierarchy,” Rissa said. “Only Luke outranks me. And your brother is a practical man.”
“Great. Let’s go.” Time seemed to be slipping away from them. With each beat of her heart, she grew more anxious.
“How many people live here?” Izzy asked.
“Now? Just Lena. Luke refuses to move into the Alpha’s rooms. But there should be almost a dozen people here today, including my mom and your parents.”
Then where the hell was everyone?
Together, Izzy and Rissa moved through the first floor, clearing rooms as they went. At each entryway, Rissa sniffed before they stuck their heads into the line of fire to visually check for signs of struggle or anything out of the ordinary.
It took only a few seconds to inspect each room, yet to Izzy it felt like an eternity. Despite the quiet, undisturbed state of the house, a looming sense of doom made her palms sweat.
At the back of the kitchen, they reached the stairs that led down to the finished basement.
“We have reinforced safe rooms downstairs,” Rissa said in a hushed voice. “That’s where they would go if they couldn’t get out safely.”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d question why a supposedly peaceful group of people required such a thing, but I guess I already have that answer. Don’t I?”
Rissa’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s just go.” Before she’d even made it down three steps, she turned to Izzy with wide, panic-stricken eyes. “Oh, goddess, no.”
* * *
“Dean!”
Luke ran headlong after his cousin, weaving between trees, and ducking under branches that could take off an ear—or a head—given their speed. On his right, Davy kept pace on four paws.
They were miles away from the pack house now.
Too many miles.
His wolf growled low in his head. Where was Nate’s scent? Luke knew the six-year-old’s scent as well as his own. But they hadn’t encountered anyone’s since he’d left Isabelle behind. If he was a proper Alpha like his father had been, he might be able to sense Nate through the pack bonds.
Dean ran on, twenty feet ahead, his long legs eating up the terrain as if there were no fallen branches or shoulders of rock jutting into his path.
“Wait, Dean!” He didn’t. So Luke drew more speed from his wolf and threw some of the power of the Alpha—for all the good it could do—into his voice. “Stop!”
His cousin spun and skidded to a hockey stop as if he were wearing skis, his boots sending up a fountain of snow. “What?” Dean panted. The whites of his eyes showed all around glowing gold irises. “Do you see something?”
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Luke asked. “I don’t smell anyone.”
Davy whined and jerked his muzzle in the direction they had come. Back toward the pack house. He didn’t smell anything either.
The scent of Dean’s fear burned his nose. “I—I...”
“Maybe we missed the trail?” Luke offered. But the way his wolf was pacing and grumbling, he didn’t think so.
Before he could suss out what his beast was trying to convey, Dean said, “Sarah. I—” He rubbed at the center of his chest, where Luke knew he felt the mate bond. The same spot where Luke’s ached like a hollow tooth. “She’s scared...”—Dean’s voice dropped into a barely understandable snarl—“and hurt.”
The muscles in Luke’s neck cranked tight as an inquisitor’s rack. “Where is she?”
Dean took two long strides before stopping with a lurch. “Back at the house, but—” He looked around the woods, his face twisted into a grimace of fear. “Nate,” he moaned, causing Luke’s wolf to surge to the surface.
The image of the pup’s wild blond curls and deep green eyes flashed in his mind. If someone hurt him... Where could he be? They’d have to backtrack.
Pacing in a jerky circle, sniffing and scanning the ground, Dean mumbled to himself, “Where? She said they headed south.”
A nasty, greasy feeling settled in the pit of Luke’s stomach, and he couldn’t rein in his beast’s growl even if he wanted to.
“Who told you they went this way?”