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Authors: Marcy Jacks
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acceptable. Adam had nearly died, and Nick had been shot. And he knew he wasn’t dreaming that up because he could scent the tiny drops of blood that landed in the grass and not in the water. That was his blood.
There was the scent of more blood. Not his own.
Adam.
Nick told his heart to calm down. There wasn’t nearly enough to
be fatal. Likely Adam had been grazed.
68 Marcy Jacks
He was alive, and the first place he would go to was back to his pack, to warn them. Those werewolves posing as hunters would follow him, too.
Nick shifted into his wolf, his claws picking up dirt as he launched himself in the direction of DeWitt’s pack.
The scent of blood picked up the closer he got. Tree branches that he didn’t move out of the way for snapped over his face and body in his haste to just get there and help.
Grunts and shouts sounded. There was the strange scent of some sort of chemical in the air, and Nick knew the pack had been blinded right before the battle could even start.
Then he heard something, in his mind that damn near made him stop breathing.
I’m coming, Nick.
Adam. Nick recognized the sound of his heartbeat and zoned in on it. Another heart, drumming higher—which meant this man was standing over him—was beating faster, more excitedly.
The way the wind blew around them told Nick everything else he needed to know. Whoever this guy was, he was holding something thin and long and was getting ready to bring it down on Adam’s head.
So am I , he thought, right before leaping into his target.
* * * *
Adam opened his eyes as the giant black blur crashed into Deacon’s side, knocking him down and onto the ground with a loud scream as he fought against the teeth of the werewolf attempting to rip him apart.
Adam didn’t get up. He didn’t move. He was so shocked by what he was seeing that he was basically open season for anyone with a gun to pick off, but no one came for him.
Eventually he was able to look away from the struggle happening before him to see what was going on with the rest of his friends.
The Blind Werewolf Assassin 69
Everyone stopped what they were doing. The sight of Deacon had shocked the hell out of DeWitt’s pack, and for the new werewolves, watching their pack leader being mauled was enough to scare them into dropping their weapons.
Most turned tail and ran away before the same could happen to them.
“Jesus Christ, is that Deacon?” Isaac asked, holding the cut above his eye and squinting at the screaming man under Nick’s body.
Adam should’ve known better. Everyone had been too busy fighting to really hear when he’d outed Deacon’s presence.
“It’s him,” Adam said, getting to his feet. His main concern though, was whether or not that was actually Nick he was looking at.
Deacon still had the machete in his hand, and he eventually remembered to use it.
“Look out!” Adam yelled.
Nick was already one jump ahead of him, leaping out of the way of the attack, but unfortunately, also off of Deacon, who immediately got up and ran in the opposite direction. It seemed Deacon wanted to live to fight another day.
His face looked like ground beef.
“Deacon?” James asked, an angry frown marring his scarred face. “How the hell is it that you’re alive?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, you thieving animal!” Deacon said, though it came out as more of a gurgle with the way his face was so messed up.
He quickly transformed, and even in his wolf state, the blood soaked through his gray wolf hair. He’d definitely seen better days.
He growled at the lot of them, but then, for the first time, seemed to notice that most of his men were either dead or had run away.
He lifted his head and howled, and the few remaining soldiers he’d brought with him howled in return, transforming into their wolves and running in all
There was the scent of more blood. Not his own.
Adam.
Nick told his heart to calm down. There wasn’t nearly enough to
be fatal. Likely Adam had been grazed.
68 Marcy Jacks
He was alive, and the first place he would go to was back to his pack, to warn them. Those werewolves posing as hunters would follow him, too.
Nick shifted into his wolf, his claws picking up dirt as he launched himself in the direction of DeWitt’s pack.
The scent of blood picked up the closer he got. Tree branches that he didn’t move out of the way for snapped over his face and body in his haste to just get there and help.
Grunts and shouts sounded. There was the strange scent of some sort of chemical in the air, and Nick knew the pack had been blinded right before the battle could even start.
Then he heard something, in his mind that damn near made him stop breathing.
I’m coming, Nick.
Adam. Nick recognized the sound of his heartbeat and zoned in on it. Another heart, drumming higher—which meant this man was standing over him—was beating faster, more excitedly.
The way the wind blew around them told Nick everything else he needed to know. Whoever this guy was, he was holding something thin and long and was getting ready to bring it down on Adam’s head.
So am I , he thought, right before leaping into his target.
* * * *
Adam opened his eyes as the giant black blur crashed into Deacon’s side, knocking him down and onto the ground with a loud scream as he fought against the teeth of the werewolf attempting to rip him apart.
Adam didn’t get up. He didn’t move. He was so shocked by what he was seeing that he was basically open season for anyone with a gun to pick off, but no one came for him.
Eventually he was able to look away from the struggle happening before him to see what was going on with the rest of his friends.
The Blind Werewolf Assassin 69
Everyone stopped what they were doing. The sight of Deacon had shocked the hell out of DeWitt’s pack, and for the new werewolves, watching their pack leader being mauled was enough to scare them into dropping their weapons.
Most turned tail and ran away before the same could happen to them.
“Jesus Christ, is that Deacon?” Isaac asked, holding the cut above his eye and squinting at the screaming man under Nick’s body.
Adam should’ve known better. Everyone had been too busy fighting to really hear when he’d outed Deacon’s presence.
“It’s him,” Adam said, getting to his feet. His main concern though, was whether or not that was actually Nick he was looking at.
Deacon still had the machete in his hand, and he eventually remembered to use it.
“Look out!” Adam yelled.
Nick was already one jump ahead of him, leaping out of the way of the attack, but unfortunately, also off of Deacon, who immediately got up and ran in the opposite direction. It seemed Deacon wanted to live to fight another day.
His face looked like ground beef.
“Deacon?” James asked, an angry frown marring his scarred face. “How the hell is it that you’re alive?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, you thieving animal!” Deacon said, though it came out as more of a gurgle with the way his face was so messed up.
He quickly transformed, and even in his wolf state, the blood soaked through his gray wolf hair. He’d definitely seen better days.
He growled at the lot of them, but then, for the first time, seemed to notice that most of his men were either dead or had run away.
He lifted his head and howled, and the few remaining soldiers he’d brought with him howled in return, transforming into their wolves and running in all
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