Page 9 of The Alpha’s Heir

“Rabbit?” I called again.

Nothing. Damn it.

“Lieutenant, we’re ready.” The radio buzzed at my side. Staff Sergeant Marcus gave the all-clear, tactfully ignoring my rants about Rabbit. They were used to it by now.

And that was my cue.

On my way to the stairs, I paused to inspect the troops in place on the western watch tower. A nervous tension crackled in the air. The people below in the Fringes and the citizens behind us in the city carried on with their normal lives, ignorant of the very real threat approaching.

“Now,” the all-coms relayed.

My radio went silent again, as did my earpiece.

A quick shimmer, invisible to the untrained eye. The forcefield meant to keep the mutants out collapsed. My trigger finger twitched involuntarily and I paused between breaths, watching an older model, solar-powered Kia that looked to be on its last legs come driving through the energy fields flanked by an all-terrain vehicle I’d seen before. It was driven by Ethan, a human techie who traveled between the city and Anubis Pack, serving as a liaison between the southern gates.

I raised my rifle scope to count heads.

There was Ethan as expected. And four more in the all-terrain vehicle. One of which must’ve been Alpha Jareth of Anubis, and the red-head beside him was Alpha Kera from Cerberus. Beta Coral, and her mate, Skoll, made up the other two.

I recited their names from memory, having studied their images during training. My scope went to the Kia. I quickly counted three female heads. The side of a brunette had me lingering a moment too long before the Kia disappeared from view into the Fringes.

Seven shifters. So far, so good. They were sticking to the plan. Rumor from some of the intelligence officers said this was a ploy to get us to open the gates, but I didn’t hang out with them enough to fall for their tin-foil-hat conspiracies.

I wasn’t sure why the wolf shifters requested a meeting here in city limits, nor why the council had arranged it. That was all above my paygrade. As long as they followed protocol, we were good.

“Lieutenant,” Sgt. Lutten, the fresh-faced corporal who’d run on patrol with me a time or two in my old unit and was now a full-grown sergeant, looked at me for direction.

I was still getting used to this paygrade and title, but leading them came naturally. There hadn’t been much of a transition for them to heed my command.

They’d done it long before I had this officer’s insignia on my collar.

“Eyes on the horizon,” I told him. “Anything alive moves in that field that shouldn’t, shoot on sight.”

“Roger that, LT.” Sgt. Lutten fell back to position and relayed the order down the line of troops guarding the wall.

The metal stairs clanged under my feet as I hurried down to the street level. We were ready, and moving fast, but I’d told them this was a bad idea. Operations like this took time to prepare. Too bad the colonel was an ass-kissing boot-licker who wanted another star. He—and the rest of the military leadership—said “How high?” whenever the council told them to jump.

My job was to keep things moving smoothly, and handle any issues that arrived swiftly, by whatever means necessary. For the sake of my men, I prayed to science that whatever means never came to pass.

History showed what had happened the last time wolf shifters felt slighted by the city of Ethica. I hoped not to repeat the mistakes of my forefathers.

In the parking lot, the tanks were lined up facing the fenced entrance of the research center. This area had been cleared of civilian personnel for the meeting. The lecture hall on the first floor hadn’t seen much use in recent years, but it served as a good location for today’s event.

The first of the black armored cars drove onto the parking lot as I pulled the radio back to my lips.

“Someone please tell me they have eyes on Rabbit.” I released the speaker button.

“Cover for me, bro,” came through my earpiece.

I’m going to kill him. I tightened the grip on the radio. “Brass is landing.”

“Roger that, LT.” One of my men gave the signal that they were watching from above.

“Rabbit,” I called into the speaker once more. “If you don’t fuc—”

I dropped the hand holding the radio and raised my arm in a smart salute as Colonel Williams stepped out of the vehicle, followed by Councilwoman Troy.

Whereas the colonel’s belly stretched the seams of his uniform, and his greasy mustache curved the width of his round mouth—pushing regulations—Helen Troy was all sharp angles, tall and slim with a harshly trimmed bob I’d never seen grow past her shoulders.