Moon Stalked

Chapter 2-3

I COULD HEAR MY UNCLE’S voice in crisp, vivid memory. “A blade plus your wolf teeth is all you need to protect yourself and your family. A dagger is the weapon of the strong.”

Despite myself, I hummed satisfaction. Because the holder of this particular blade was strong, even though she likely didn’t think she was. The knife point didn’t wiggle even though the woman’s voice, when it emerged, squeaked up, up, up.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a fugitive recovery agent, ma’am. Here to pick up your husband.” I hesitated a moment, then offered further reassurance. “I’m totally unarmed.”

The knife point slid sideways. The overhead light flickered on. To my surprise, the woman behind me laughed.

“I can see that.” Her tone had turned dry.

Which is when I remembered that I was n***d save for the pelt wrapped around one wrist like a bracer. I turned...

...and sprinted toward the man looming in the doorway behind her. After all, Mrs. English might be strong when faced with a n***d female, but she’d let herself be beaten by her husband for years before reporting him.

And that husband was the one who’d snuck up on both of us. His scent was unavailable to my human nostrils. But I’d perused his mugshot. Knew his face.

Jimmy English. Wife beater and bond jumper in the flesh.

He was furious. Our voices must have drawn him closer. Then he’d assumed—what? That his wife had seen him creeping into the treehouse and ratted him out?

Whatever the reason, it wasn’t me but rather his spouse who drew Jimmy’s ire. He charged toward her, wordless rage bellowing. I changed my trajectory to intersect his path.

As I sprinted by, his wife took in the intruder with the same recognition but much more horror than I’d felt at his presence. The barely healed wound along one side of her jaw was bright red now, her face having whitened around it. She flinched as if the two broken ribs Jimmy left her with had shattered a second ago rather than last week.

I was the n***d one, but it was as if Jimmy English’s arrival had stripped his spouse of something far more valuable than mere clothes.

No wonder she cringed, seeming to lose half her height in a second. The knife she’d been holding clattered to the floor.

Scum is awfully good at taking advantage of opportunities. No wonder Jimmy dove past me, stretching for the weapon that would provide the upper hand he should have already possessed by virtue of his bulk.

I couldn’t let him have it. Mrs. English needed the strength of success, not another beating by her husband.

Jimmy’s upper lip curled into a sneer. And I took advantage of his posturing to slide my arm through the gap between his fingers and the weapon.

Too bad my pelt had a mind of its own.

Wolf teeth caught on Jimmy’s elbow, and he lashed out instinctively. I don’t think he even had time to choose a target. Just got lucky when his fist connected with my breast so hard I yelped.

I expected the sound of my pain to send Mrs. English scurrying for cover. Instead, she appeared to have recovered her spine.

Or so I guessed. My eyes were watering too hard to really see her. But I felt the jolt as she kicked her husband with the full force of years of pent-up aggression.

“You bastard! You really think it’s okay to hit a woman young enough to be our daughter?”

Her heel in his groin shook both of us. I rolled sideways away from the burly monster who’d crumpled into a pile of deflated testosterone at his wife’s furious feet.

Mrs. English kept kicking while I leveraged myself upright. Headlights curved across the wall behind me...then stopped.

The timeline had moved up faster than anticipated. Slim must have been out cruising—no wonder the answer to my call had been so prompt.

I’d intended to chase Jimmy into the front yard in wolf form, leaving the capture to my partner. Teaming up with Bastion, the move would have been seamless. Even with a stranger for a partner, I should have been able to stick to the shadows and let Slim cuff our perp.

After that, I would have shifted and called out instructions. Made myself known and ensured I landed my cut of the bounty.

But now I was n***d, in a lit room, watching a marital dispute that seemed destined to continue. Because with every kick, the wife appeared to be learning to inhale.

I could steal some clothes, intervene and talk Mrs. English around until she was confused about my former nakedness. Stick to the plan. Refill the pack’s dwindling coffers.

Or I could walk away and let this wronged wife complete her retribution. Slim would find them at his leisure. Jimmy would go back to jail, so the same end would be accomplished. I’d just fail to make my own contribution clear.

“So much for cash,” I muttered, toeing the knife sideways so it wouldn’t end up part of the marital tussle. Justice would be pissed at the lack of cash flow, but I inhaled deeper than I had in hours. For the first time all day, the name “Honor” hung unwrinkled across my shoulders.

Sliding past the raging wife, I shifted in the stairwell and wriggled out beneath the raised garage door. Then I waited in the shadows until Slim disentangled himself from his seatbelt and made his way upstairs.