Now I know why I couldn’t find my father on those surveillance tapes.
Because he’s here.
On Carnage Island.
And he has a silver knife pressed up against my throat.
30
VOLT
Tieran gestures for me to lead, aware that this is my sort of playground.
I take point, using my nose to lead the way. We’ve already doused our scent in mud, using defacing leaves and other woodsy items to make us smell more like the forest around us and less like Carnage Wolves.
But a strong shifter will be able to scent us coming.
Which is why we keep a good distance between us with me leading about twenty-five yards ahead.
It’ll make it seem like I’m a one off at first, potentially encouraging any enforcer-types in the area to attack.
I have two guns loaded with silver bullets and over a dozen knives tucked into various places in my jeans.
One ballsy shifter won’t be an issue.
Fuck, I could probably easily take down a dozen enforcer-types in my current mood.
I move on silent feet, my boots barely touching the ground as I run through the trees. They’re as familiar to me as the island.
Because Drone technology is fucking amazing.
I’ve never actually been here, but I’m navigating the land as though I own it.
All those years of studying are finally paying off.
I palm a blade, aware I’m about to pass into monitored territory.
A rustle to my left is all I need. I throw the knife, lodging it into a black wolf’s throat. His snarl turns into a breathy whimper that calls to the demons inside of me.
Death, I think, inhaling. Sweet. Beautiful. Death.
That silver will keep him from healing.
He’ll be gone in five minutes tops.
Too bad I can’t stick around to watch.
I take down two more wolves in a similar sequence, then dart forward toward the first security hut. The Nantahala Pack only has about twelve wolves on rotating duty per shift—another fun fact learned by the drones.
Two wolves are waiting for me there.
Well, not waiting.
They’re fucking chuckling at something on the television, oblivious to the lethal energy behind them.
“Seriously,” I say. “Killing you is almost a favor to wolf kind.”
I use my gun this time, taking them out before they even turn.
“Fucking idiots,” I mutter, entirely unimpressed.
Until I realize there are four Nantahala Wolves trying to sneak up behind me.
No. Five.
I grin, turning to engage them.
But Caius and Tieran are already taking them down with a round of well-placed bullets.
I sigh.
Caius grins. “Can’t let you have all the fun, V.”
“What fun am I even having?” I ask, annoyed.
Then a bell starts to ring, announcing our attack, and my lips curl again.
“A lot of fun,” I say, responding to myself. “Excellent.”
I take off in the opposite direction of the bell, aware of the security tactic the Nantahala Pack uses when under attack.
We may have let a few drones explode for fun.
Just to see how they react.
The technology was so well disguised and emitting such a low frequency that they never noticed them in the sky. And the ones that exploded were too destroyed for them to even begin to piece back together into something meaningful.
They knew where the explosions came from—Carnage Wolves.
But they didn’t know what they meant.
They went on full alert for months after the first attack.
We were all very amused.
I leap over a log toward the bunker the Nantahala Pack favors. Three shifters are waiting for me, their stature much larger than the others. They have guns, too. And don’t immediately try to shift.
True enforcers.
Interesting.
I thought they would have all been deployed to kill me.
I’m actually pretty fucking insulted to learn that’s not the case.
They pull out their guns, taking aim, but I use a tree as a shield, duck, and fire at a pair of knees. The owner goes down with a howl.
Music to my ears.
Two of our own enforcers join me, using the trees to their advantage and coming up behind the Nantahala Wolves.
But the enforcers hear them, spinning and firing.
Only for Caius to send one to the ground with a bullet through the head.
Just as Tieran takes down the other with a knife to the throat.
“He didn’t send all his enforcers,” Tieran says, reading the scene like I did. “That’s not a good sign.”
“No, it’s not.” It’s a sign that we should have reviewed the identities a little closer to find out how many enforcers remained behind.