THE HUNTER

CHAPTER 3

Tearing along the unpaved road, his motorcycle kicking up thick plumes of dust. An hour ago, he had loaded his tactical vest with his firearms, a custom silver-alloy blade, his Pax-52 tracker, and the remote detonators. He was a weapon built for war, Ronan was already getting close to the place where Elena was being held captive. His hands gripped the handlebars so tightly his knuckles went white. He did not want to ride it. The Bike was built for a lone rider, not for carrying a frightened, possibly injured woman on the back. That slender second seat was practically useless for a real escape. But he knew that rolling up in his BMW would have been a dead giveaway; Wardens drove armored vehicles, not rogues. And right now, he needed to look like exactly what he was pretending to be: a lone wolf with no pack, no allegiance, and no resources. Blending in was survival.

As he rounded a sharp curve, he slowed down, steered off the road into an open field, and aimed for the tree line ahead. Killing the engine, he swung off the bike and stood motionless, straining his ears for any sound of pursuit. The night gave him only the rhythm of a barn owl's call and the dry rustle of fallen leaves shifting in the breeze.The air here was foul, choked with the overlapping, chaotic scents of a lawless, unbonded pack. There were at least a dozen of them guarding the perimeter. Satisfied he hadn't been followed, he allowed himself a moment of relief.

Earlier, within ten minutes of ending his call with Kael, a messenger had arrived with a small package containing a pair of Elena garments. He needed her scent, something to lock onto in case visual contact failed. Now he reached into the leather saddlebag and pulled out the soft purple fabric. It ran through his fingers like silk, and when he raised it to his nose, her sweet, feminine fragrance slammed into him with unexpected force. His gut tightened, his pulse quickened, and despite himself, his body reacted in a way that had nothing to do with the mission. He shook his head roughly, forcing the haze aside. This was not the time for fantasy. He had a job to do.

Lifting his face to the night sky, he inhaled deeply. The crisp November air carried the earthy scent of decaying leaves and then, like a lightning bolt, something else cut through. Elena. Yes, it's her. Her scent was unmistakable... honeysuckle baking under a June sun, sweet and heady, unlike anything he had ever encountered. His eyes squeezed shut as he fought to regain control over his racing heart and the sudden tension coiling in his muscles. She was still three miles into the Woods, according to the aerial map from Intel, yet her scent reached him that clearly. That meant she was radiating terror and fear pheromones so potent they traveled on the wind like a distress signal.

His blood ran hot. Vile images flooded his mind every possible horror they might be inflicting on her. His canines lengthened, his fingers curled into fists, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. It took every ounce of willpower to shove his wolf back down. First, find her. Then, make them pay. Her safety was the only thing that mattered now.

When he reached the compound, he approached with deliberate nonchalance. Two large guards stood outside. Ronan raised his dark sunglasses, locked eyes with the bigger of the two a thick-necked brute with a greasy mullet. He gave a curt nod and deliberately turned his back. That was a calculated insult among wolves; turning your back on another wolf was a sign of disrespect that demanded a response.

“Hey, you!” the guard barked.

Ronan smirked to himself but didn't turn around. He knew the man would take the bait.

“Hey, asshole, I know you heard me!” The guard's voice rose, laced with anger.

Ronan's stomach churned with barely suppressed rage. He wanted nothing more than to tear into the man right then and there, but he held himself in check. Get Elena first. He stayed still.

“Hey, you fucker!”

Okay, the fucker part got him.

That last word snapped his restraint. Ronan pivoted slowly. The guard had abandoned his post and now stood just a few feet away, chest puffed out, wearing torn jeans and a dirty white tank top that did nothing to hide his bulk. With his greasy mullet and sneer, he reminded Ronan of some backwoods caricature straight out of a bad movie.

Ronan slid his sunglasses up onto his forehead, looked the guard dead in the eye, and raised his middle finger.

The second guard burst out laughing. “I don't think he likes you too much, Silas.”

Silas's face flushed with fury. He lunged forward, throwing a wild punch. Ronan sidestepped effortlessly, caught Silas's arm, twisted it behind his back, and planted his boot on the man's spine, shoving him facedown into a muddy puddle with a wet, heavy splat.

Just then, an older man in his late forties strode out of the warehouse, a shotgun hoisted over his shoulder. His gray hair was cropped in a severe military cut, and his leathery face bore the deep lines of hard years. He stopped short at the sight of Silas sprawled in the mud. “Silas, what the f**k are you doing on the ground?”

“He's there because I put him there,” Ronan said flatly, meeting the old man's gaze without flinching.

The second guard howled with laughter again. The older man shifted his disgusted look from Silas to Ronan, then leveled the shotgun at Ronan's forehead. “Who the hell are you?”

“Roman.” Ronan knew better than to give his real name, but he kept it close enough that he'd respond if someone called out to him.

“What kind of name is Roman?”

“What kind of name is Silas?” Ronan shot back, holding the older wolf's stare with unbroken confidence.

For a second, the man's eyes widened. Then he barked out a laugh.

“What the hell you laughing at,” Silas scrambled to his feet, wiping mud across his face with the back of his hand, only smearing it worse. “He don't belong here!” He jabbed a thick finger at Ronan.

“Shut your mouth, You ain't running this show. I am.” Ben kept his eyes locked on Ronan. “What Pack are you with?”

“I don't have a Pack.”

Ben raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “No Pack? That means you're either lying or you've gone rogue.”

Ronan growled. “Like I said, no Pack.”

“Then what brings you here?”

“Passing by. Didn't realize I was crashing a private party, you guys seem to be having a lot of fun.” Ronan nodded and never broke eye contact with Ben.

He lowered his shotgun. “Not every day a wolf admits he's looking for a fight. Most Packs these days are all about tolerance and being politically correct.” He spat on the floor 'Bunch of goddamn p*****s, if you ask me.”

“f**k those rules. Why be so civilized? Wolves are animals, wild, unrestrained.” Ronan snarled, feeding the old man exactly what he wanted to hear.

Ben's face cracked into a grin. “Seems like we think alike, boy.”

“Don't call me 'boy.'”

Ben chuckled. “Fair enough. I like your spine. You got more balls than half these dickheads.” He cut a glare at Silas, who promptly dropped his gaze.

“You looking to join a Pack?” Ben tilted his chin up. “We could use somebody like you as a part of the Pack, what do you say?”

“I don't play well with others, it's not my thing.”

“I like that attitude. But I bet I can change your mind.” Ben smirked, resting the shotgun on his shoulder.

“Doubt it.” Ronan crossed his arms, careful not to seem too eager.

“Once you see what we got stashed in that warehouse, you'll be begging to sign up.” Ben snorted with smug confidence.

“Ben, you promised I could have her, once your done enjoying her,” Silas whined, pressing his lips together like a spoiled child.

"She ain't ready yet. Keep complaining and I'll do you a favor by cutting off your balls; then you won't be having anyone at all!"

Silas's eyes went wide, and he bowed his head in submission. Ronan snorted inwardly. So the brute does have a survival instinct after all.

He let his gaze drift casually toward the warehouse. Elena's scent hit him like a wall overpowering, close, undeniable. His stomach clenched so hard it hurt. He needed to find a way out fast.

“You got a female, so what?” Ronan said, keeping his voice bored. “ Females don't go into heat until spring.”

Ben leaned in close, a sly smirk curling his thin lips. “Well, we got ourselves a special formula. Forces her into heat early.”

Ronan's arms dropped to his sides. “That's impossible.” Every wolf knew females only went into heat for 3 days of a month.

Ben grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Our formula shortens the pregnancy cycle and keeps her in heat continuously so she can pop out litter after litter within a single year, doesn't it sound wonderful no more waiting.”

Ronan's stomach turned. Wolves reproduced three times yearly, and twins were rare considered as a blessing. What Ben described was "monstrous nightmare." He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and forced his expression to remain neutral. All he could think of in his head is how to get her out of there. As he followed them in. Then Ben said " why don't you explore and get comfortable, you won't want to miss the party." Slapping his back laughing.

"Sure, I can't wait." Ronan said.

Once Ben was out of sight, he followed the scent deeper into the warehouse.

Inside the warehouse, Ronan found Elena bound and gagged on a table. He pulled out his knife. Her eyes went wide with terror, and she tried to scramble away from him.

“I'm not going to hurt you, Elena.” He pushed his sunglasses up and made sure she could see his eyes. Her gaze flicked to the scar on his left cheek.hardly made him look reassuring. He knew that.

“I'm cutting you loose and getting you out of here, alright?” He raised his hands, palms out, waiting for her permission.

She gave a single, shaky nod.

He untied the gag from her mouth and swiftly sliced through the thick ropes. The moment she was free, she scrambled off the table, snatched a shard of broken glass from the floor, and brandished it like a weapon.

“Who the hell are you?” Her voice was sharp with fear, still trembling.

“I'm Ronan. I'm here to rescue you.”

“How do I know you're not one of them or are you lying to me right now?” She jerked her head toward the empty doorway but kept her eyes locked on him.

“Trust me okay, I'm nothing like them.” He slid the knife back into his boot and straightened up. “Elena, we can't stay here. I have to get you out before they come back.” He extended his hand, hoping she'd take it.

If she refused, he wouldn't give her much choice. He'd throw her over his shoulder and run like hell.