The wind shifted and the faint stench of cat teased his nose. He jerked his head in that direction and reached for the infrared binoculars hanging around his neck. His eyesight was excellent but they helped him see farther. He caught the slight movement and zoomed in.
A group of seven strangers were by the creek, about to climb up the embankment on the north side. He started to signal his pack but something odd happened. A tall blond withdrew something from his pocket that he guessed was a phone. He seemed to listen for long seconds and then a quick hand motion had all of them turning and rushing away in the opposite direction.
It worried Brand. They either had fled in fear from the coming fight or they had a new target. Braden hadn’t gone in that direction so he knew they weren’t pursuing his cousin. He used the binoculars to track the strangers through the trees. They were moving fast, running at full speed, heading directly toward the old cemetery. No pack homes were in that area but there was a road.
He climbed higher when the tops of other trees blocked his view and finally spotted the dark line of pavement. No street lights had been placed that far out but lights came on. They were faint. He watched as two sets of twin beams picked up speed, curving out of sight. They were leaving. The road they traveled would take them away from the pack.
Brand climbed down to his original spot on the thick branch, pondering why the seven pride members had fled. Had they scented all the wolves lying in wait and decided it wasn’t a good night to die? A smile curved his lips. They might not have a fight after all. The pride seemed to be on the run. His lips parted to speak, his intention to tell the others but an owl hoot silenced him. He craned his neck to search for the source, finding Rave in another tree a few dozen yards away.
His cousin pointed and he caught a glimpse of movement. He lifted his binoculars again and located nearly a dozen more strangers. They cautiously used the foliage to advance. The wind blew in the wrong direction to pick up their scent but it was obvious they weren’t friendly.
He removed the binoculars and hooked the strap on the tree, staring at Anton. His cousin glanced around, seeming to wait until he had everyone’s attention. A few quick hand motions signaled their orders. Brand removed his shirt but kept the sweatpants on since they would not hinder movement. His shoes had been left inside the house. He bent and crawled farther out on the thick branch until he lay flat on his stomach. It wasn’t the most comfortable position he’d ever been in but it was necessary. It was an easy eight-foot drop to the ground. It was just a matter of waiting for the enemy to draw closer.
He kept still, his rage building. The alpha blood would allow him to shift completely within seconds of his feet hitting the ground. His fingertips tingled as his nails grew into sharp claws and hair sprouted along his skin to protect it against the rough bark of the tree. He and his cousins would attack first to give the other enforcers at least thirty seconds to complete their transformations into full wolves.
The pride inched closer, seeming oblivious to the danger above them. Brand glanced toward the alpha house, his gaze on the uppermost window, near the roofline. Charma had closed the window and it was dark up there but he could sense her watching, waiting for him to return. His determination to kill the invaders and end the war as quickly as possible made him impatient. The pride came forward, using bushes and trees in an attempt to hide their approach. He watched as a few of them took to the trees.
A smile curved his lips when the first pride male came into contact with Rave. A howl ripped the silence as two large figures crashed to the ground in a jumble of fighting limbs. Brand dropped to the ground and attacked a pride member who rushed to assist the one getting thrashed by his cousin. The male hissed before his fingers sprouted sharp claws. Brand snarled, showing his fangs, and tore into the man’s upper shoulder as they clashed.
He ignored the sounds of fighting as his pack engaged the pride members. A lot of pent-up anger surged out of him. He just wished he could take out his rage on the one who’d mated and abused Charma. She’d said the son of a bitch hadn’t been sent to wage war, just amplifying his belief that the guy was a pussy in every sense of the word. The day would come, though, he silently swore, that he’d track that animal down.
“Keep a few alive,” Anton snarled, loud enough to be heard.
It didn’t make sense to Brand but he followed orders, just severely maiming his opponent. The shifter stopped fighting once Brand used his claws to slash the male’s right cheek open and broke his shoulder. He left him huddled in pain and attacked another leopard streaking toward the house.