Chapter Three
Crossfire at the Border
Theresa had stopped knowing which direction she was running.
The forest had become a maze of black trunks, frozen earth, and jagged stone.
Her lungs burned.
Her legs ached.
Branches clawed at her sweater as she stumbled down the steep slope, nearly losing her footing twice.
Behind her came the howls.
Closer.
Too close.
Theresa glanced over her shoulder.
Nothing.
She kept running.
Don't stop.
Rachel's voice echoed in her head.
Run.
She had no idea where the boundary was.
She didn't know what would happen if she crossed it.
She didn't even know what a territorial boundary was supposed to look like.
Then she heard water.
Theresa pushed through a wall of pine branches and found herself staring down into a ravine.
A river cut through the bottom, black beneath the moonlight.
On the opposite side, the forest looked darker.
Deeper.
Unfamiliar.
Behind her came the snapping of branches.
Theresa's heart lurched.
Carl emerged between the trees.
Two men followed him.
Silverpine.
Carl looked almost pleased.
"You've made this difficult."
Theresa backed toward the ravine.
"Go to hell."
Carl smiled.
"Your father wants you alive."
"Then tell him I'm unavailable."
One of the men laughed.
Carl didn't.
"You're not in a position to be difficult."
Theresa glanced toward the river.
The water was fast.
Freezing.
Possibly deadly.
Behind her were three armed werewolves.
Her choices were terrible.
Carl stepped forward.
"Come quietly."
"No."
"Don't make me hurt you."
Theresa's eyes narrowed.
"You tried that already."
Carl's expression hardened.
Then he lunged.
Theresa twisted away.
His fingers caught the back of her jacket.
The fabric tore.
She stumbled toward the ravine—
And the forest exploded with light.
Three blinding flashes erupted between the trees.
Theresa screamed and dropped to the ground.
Gunfire cracked through the night.
The Silverpine soldiers scattered.
"Blackthorn!"
Carl roared.
Figures emerged from the darkness.
Men and women dressed in black tactical gear moved through the trees with brutal precision.
Theresa barely had time to register what she was seeing before one of the Silverpine wolves shifted.
His body convulsed.
Bones cracked.
His silhouette collapsed and expanded.
Fur erupted across his skin.
Seconds later, a massive gray wolf stood where the man had been.
Theresa stared.
"Nope."
The wolf charged.
Theresa scrambled backward.
Another wolf collided with it.
The two animals crashed into the snow-covered ground, snarling and snapping.
A woman appeared above them.
Dark hair.
Hard eyes.
Weapon raised.
"Left flank!"
Her voice cut through the chaos.
Two Blackthorn soldiers moved immediately.
The woman fired twice.
Two Silverpine men dropped.
Efficient.
Cold.
Terrifying.
Theresa stared at her.
The woman looked back.
For a fraction of a second, something like surprise crossed her face.
Then she shouted.
"Get down!"
Theresa ducked.
A bullet tore through the tree behind her.
She ran.
Straight toward the river.
She didn't make it three steps.
Something hit her from the side.
Theresa screamed as she went over the edge.
The world disappeared.
Ice swallowed her.
The river was freezing.
It punched the air from her lungs.
She tried to scream but swallowed water instead.
Her body sank.
Darkness surrounded her.
She kicked desperately.
Her coat dragged her down.
She couldn't breathe.
Then a hand closed around her wrist.
Strong.
Unyielding.
Theresa was hauled upward.
She broke the surface coughing.
A man stood waist-deep in the river.
He pulled her toward the bank as though she weighed nothing.
Theresa coughed again.
"Let me go!"
The man ignored her.
He dragged her onto the rocky shore.
Theresa rolled onto her side, gasping.
Then she looked up.
And forgot how to breathe for an entirely different reason.
He was enormous.
Not simply tall.
Powerful.
Broad shoulders stretched beneath a black tactical shirt. Dark hair clung slightly to his forehead. A jagged scar ran along one side of his face, disappearing beneath his collar.
His eyes were cold.
Almost silver.
He looked like a man who had spent his entire life surviving wars.
And winning them.
"Are you injured?"
His voice was deep.
Controlled.
Theresa stared.
"No."
He looked at the blood running from the cut on her forehead.
"You're bleeding."
"I noticed."
Something flickered in his expression.
Almost amusement.
Then his gaze locked onto hers.
The world stopped.
Theresa's heartbeat stumbled.
The strange sensation from the forest returned.
Only stronger.
Heat surged through her body.
Every nerve seemed to ignite at once.
The man's fingers were still wrapped around her wrist.
The instant Theresa looked down at his hand, an electric shock ripped through them.
Both of them froze.
His eyes widened.
Theresa gasped.
A pulse of energy surged from her wrist through her entire body.
For one impossible second, she heard a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
Then another.
His.
Loud.
Racing.
The man released her as though he'd been burned.
Theresa stared at him.
He stared back.
Neither spoke.
"What the hell was that?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
Behind them, a roar shook the trees.
The scarred man turned.
His entire expression changed.
Cold fury replaced the shock.
"Carl."
Theresa followed his gaze.
Carl stood on the opposite side of the river.
Blood ran down one side of his face.
His eyes narrowed when he saw the man beside Theresa.
"Victor Powell."
Theresa's stomach dropped.
The name meant something now.
Not personally.
But she'd heard it.
Rachel had mentioned Blackthorn.
This was their alpha.
Her enemy.
Victor stepped between Theresa and the river.
Carl laughed.
"Interesting."
Victor's jaw tightened.
"You crossed my territory."
"Your territory?"
Carl glanced at Theresa.
"She doesn't belong to you."
Something dangerous moved through Victor's eyes.
"No."
He stepped forward.
"But she isn't yours."
Carl charged.
Victor met him halfway.
The impact shook the riverbank.
Carl swung first.
Victor caught his fist.
The crack of bone echoed through the ravine.
Carl screamed.
Victor twisted his arm behind his back and drove him against a tree.
Another sickening crack.
Carl collapsed.
Victor released him.
"Tell Arthur," Victor said quietly, "that his war stops at my border."
Carl clutched his broken arm.
"This isn't over."
Victor looked down at him.
"No."
His eyes hardened.
"It isn't."
Carl staggered backward and disappeared into the forest.
Theresa watched him go.
Then she looked at Victor.
He was still staring at the darkness.
"You're Victor."
His gaze returned to her.
"Yes."
"The Blackthorn alpha."
"Yes."
Theresa slowly stood.
Her clothes were soaked.
Her teeth were chattering.
She was exhausted.
Terrified.
And somehow, standing three feet from the man she'd just discovered was her enemy felt more dangerous than the wolves.
Victor looked at her again.
That strange pull returned.
He seemed to feel it too.
His expression tightened.
Donna approached from behind him.
"Victor."
He didn't respond.
Donna looked between them.
Her eyes narrowed.
"What's wrong?"
Victor finally looked away from Theresa.
"Nothing."
Donna clearly didn't believe him.
Neither did Theresa.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
Victor noticed.
Without a word, he removed his jacket.
He held it out.
Theresa hesitated.
"Why?"
His expression was unreadable.
"Because you're freezing."
She took it.
Their fingers brushed.
Another spark.
Both of them jerked back.
Theresa stared at him.
Victor stared at her.
And somewhere deep inside Theresa's chest, the wolf whispered one word.
Mine.
She recoiled from the thought.
Victor's face went utterly still.
Because he had heard it too.
Not the word.
The bond.
And for the first time in twenty years, Victor Powell looked genuinely afraid.