Page 28 of Relentless Touch

They tracked the trail where the van had skidded off the blacktop and onto a dirt road. Rio’s hands curled into fists as he moved. Each step took them farther from town.

No porch lights out here. No neighbors to notice noise.

Even the moon struggled to peek through the pine boughs overhead. Sometimes the road would fade then flash out again where a boulder or a rut had forced the van to careen sideways.

Up ahead, Quinn and two others moved away, picking up the edges of the scent line. They fanned out to cover more ground. One of the pack worked the east side, silent and fast.

Every few minutes, a signal was given. Slow down. Tighten in. They worked seamlessly, scanning as they moved.

The van’s path kept to the dirt road, climbing higher every turn. Rio’s legs burned, but he forced the pace. He would’ve gone all night if it meant closing the distance between him and Kevin.

He spotted a structure through the trees.

A cabin perched at a hairpin bend. Someone had built it from cheap pine logs, putting together a porch that leaned crookedly off to one side. Old paint blistered on the door. Every window was boarded from the inside, but light still seeped through the cracks in the frame.

Wolf scent grew thicker. The air felt heavy with it. Someone inside was pacing, their boots loud against wood. For a second, the only sounds were the tick of insects and the faint hum of power lines.

Every step was tension slowly building. Rio could hear his own breathing. Others, too, a little slower, a little more measured, but still there.

They stopped under the eaves, out of the direct line of sight of the windows.

Zeppelin gave the hand signal to surround. Three others vanished into the trees at the back. Another pack member set off slowly along the east wall, watching his footfalls. Somewhere on the far side of the house, a flash of movement told Rio the team was in position.

Rio steadied himself. His snow leopard pressed close inside him, ready to rip and tear, but Rio kept still. He wanted to think, not just react.

A voice drifted out from inside, low and bored. “Put him in the corner. He moves, break his leg.” A second voice laughed, not bothering to keep it quiet. Why should they? No one else would come out here.

Another voice joined in, sounding annoyed. “That’s the last time I let you pick the location, Jireh. This place smells like dead squirrel and outhouse.” Something thumped, maybe a fist on a table. More laughter.

Then a yell sounded from deeper inside the place.

The laughter died. Every hair on Rio’s arms stood up.

A heavy thud shook the cabin, making the porch rattle. For a second, no one moved.

Zeppelin’s eyes narrowed. He signaled a count with his fingers.

Three. Two. One.

He slammed his boot into the door, blowing it off the hinges. The noise echoed through the woods.

Rio nearly gagged from the smell that hit him as they charged inside. Wolf, sweat, bags of trash to the side of the room.

The first guy, Ameer, had been waiting for a fight. He moved fast, arms already up, but Zeppelin caught him square in the chest and threw him across the room. Ameer crashed into a support beam and went down.

Rio didn’t check to see if he got up. He lunged toward the far side of the cabin, pushing past a tangle of furniture. Two more wolves scrambled to meet him, snarling. The first swung a pipe, catching Rio on the shoulder, pain shot through him for half a heartbeat. He used the momentum, closed the distance, and drove the wolf’s head into the wall. Drywall cracked.

The second wolf tried to grab Rio from behind. Cold hands dug into his arm, nails scoring skin. He twisted, caught the bastard by the jaw, and slammed his head against the kitchen counter hard enough to rattle the dishes stacked on it.

No sign of Kevin.

He scanned the space. Not much of a kitchen, just a vintage fridge and a hotplate. Beyond it, a door hung lopsided off its hinges. There was movement behind it.

Rio kicked the door in. A third wolf lurked in the shadows, but at the sight of Rio, he just raised his hands, palms out, and said, “Not my idea, man.” Rio hit him anyway with one cold punch then shoved past him.

And there was Kevin.

He was crumpled in the corner, knees pulled tight to his chest. Both hands were zip-tied together at his back. Swollen purple bruises blazoned on one cheek. Sweat trickled down his jaw, cutting a line through the dirt. His eyes were glassy and wild, but when they found Rio, something flickered to life.