The red eyes in the tree line didn't blink. They multiplied.
Through the rain-slicked windows of the command transport, the dark woods flanking the state highway seemed to come alive with steel and fur. The heavy, modified tactical trucks of the rogue packs—welded with scrap iron, their engines screaming without mufflers—surged out of the ditches, boxing Marcus's vehicle into a narrow three-lane corridor of death.
"Hold on back there!" Marcus roared, his hands wrestling the heavy steering wheel as a lifted ram-truck slammed into their front passenger side. The impact sent a violent shriek of tearing metal through the chassis, the reinforced glass spiderwebbing but holding against the pressure.
In the back seat, Nora choked back a scream. The movement re-fractured the bone in her right f
