Denali
“They’re in,” Sam reports.
“Roger,” Garrett replies via walkie talkie, rising along with his wolves. “We’re ready.”
“Roger, wait for my signal.”
For a few tense moments, we wait in silence, the wolves giant statues, shirtless in readiness to shift. A breeze rustles through the trees and the shifting shadows play over the tattooed muscles.
A shout, and gunfire clatters in the distance.
The walkie talkie crackles. “Cover blown. Go, go, go!”
I surge to my feet, letting the lioness take my skin. I claw up the wall and hit the lawn at a dead run. Ahead of me, wolves race, noses pointed toward the hacienda, tails streaming. A flash of white from the left. I duck my head until I realize it’s Laurie, his large feathered form swooping in. Sparks flash as he draws gun fire. A yelp ahea
