Blood Trail

Grace

Mercy's been clawing at my insides for weeks, desperate to break free. Three months is too damn long to cage a wolf, but between clinical rotations and lab research at Princeton Medical School, I've barely had time to breathe, let alone shift.

Medical school is too boring. Human world is too dry. I need wildness and freedom, Mercy grumbles in my head.

We're going for a run, Mercy. Just calm down, I respond silently.

Next time, don't wait months, she retorts, her frustration palpable in our shared consciousness.

She's right. But I know how the Packs fight, especially in Moonshade Forest. I haven't wanted to risk getting caught in a Pack War, or worse, being found by Blake.

I'm too smart for him to catch us. Besides, he has no idea we're still this close to the Pack, Mercy argues.

By "this close" she means two hours away, but that's practically next door in wolf terms. A determined wolf can run nearly as fast as a car, and when that wolf is an Alpha on the hunt?

In the past, I've always taken Mercy in the opposite direction of Blackthorn Pack territory. The Pack once led by William Blackthorn, the man who took me in after my parents were killed in a Pack War. His son, Blake, is a dangerous control freak who loves to fight and inflict pain. For some twisted reason, Blake set his sights on me. I'm an orphan with no rank, yet William's son became obsessed with possessing me.

When we reach our running spot deep in Moonshade Forest, I stop and sniff the air, making sure there are no other wolves nearby.

Mercy? I ask, double-checking her superior senses.

No other Pack members, she confirms, her tone tinged with longing for Pack companionship.

After one final scan of the area, I walk deeper into the forest before carefully removing my clothes and tucking them onto a high tree branch. I let Mercy take control of the Shift, feeling my bones crack and reshape after months of suppression. The pain shoots through my body like lightning – sharper than it should be. Soon enough, Mercy is shaking out her chestnut coat with copper highlights, delighting in the freedom as she takes off into the woods.

I'm not sure how long we've been running when we smell it – blood. Not just a trace, but the metallic stench of a massacre. Mercy freezes, lifting her nose to the air.

Pack War, she says through our Mind-link. Multiple wolves. Death.

Is it Blake's people? I ask, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Can't tell yet. But it's bad. Really bad.

The sounds hit us next – snarls, flesh tearing, bones snapping. Howls of agony cut short. Then we hear frantic panting and the desperate scramble of claws on dirt.

Someone's running this way, Mercy warns, ears perked forward.

We duck behind a massive oak as a group of wolves – four, maybe five – burst through the trees ahead, jaws dripping crimson, eyes wild with bloodlust. Their fur is matted with gore that isn't their own. Hunters, not injured.

They're tracking someone, Mercy realizes. We need to go. NOW.

Wait, I whisper, medical instincts battling with survival sense. If someone's hurt—

If we're caught, we're DEAD, Mercy snaps back.

The pack ahead suddenly stops, heads turning in unison toward something we can't see. Then comes the unmistakable sound of a wolf being cornered – growls of defiance mixed with pain.

The largest wolf lunges forward. What follows is a blur of teeth and claws, the sickening crunch of bone, and a strangled yelp that cuts through the night. The pack surrounds their prey, tearing and ripping in a frenzy that makes my stomach heave.

They're killing him, I gasp.

Then, in an explosion of power that sends two attackers flying through the air, a massive black wolf emerges from the center of the melee. His fur is torn open in multiple places, exposing muscle and sinew. Blood pours from a deep gash across his flank, but he fights with the fury of an Alpha. His jaws close around the throat of one attacker, and the sickening crack of a snapped neck echoes through the trees.

The black wolf limps badly, leaving crimson paw prints on the forest floor. When an attacker leaps onto his back, teeth sinking into his shoulder, the sound of tearing flesh turns my blood cold.

The black wolf somehow manages to throw his attacker, then bolts into the underbrush, trailing blood. The hunting pack regroups and follows, their snarls fading slightly.

Mercy, we need to be careful. This is way beyond us, I warn, torn between the urge to run and the pull to help.

I'll be careful, she promises.

We follow the blood trail, using our wolf's stealth. When we reach a dense thicket, Mercy adopts a hunting crawl, belly pressed to the ground. As the wind shifts, her entire body goes rigid. An amber-warm scent floods my senses, making my body tingle with unexpected hunger and desire.

Mate, she whispers, voice thick with shock and longing.

WHAT? No. That's impossible.

That's our Mate, Grace. Our Mate is dying.

The wounded wolf's head snaps toward us, nostrils flaring with our scent. His massive form is barely visible in the shadows, but I can see the gleam of his eyes – forest green with flecks of gold, intelligent despite the pain. Blood pools beneath him, too much blood.

We inch closer, and my heart nearly stops. He's caught in what can only be described as a death trap – silver teeth clamped around his hind leg, the metal gleaming with a sickly light in the darkness. The trap has shattered his leg. Bone fragments jut through fur and flesh, the wound edges already blackening with silver poisoning.

He should be dead already, I think clinically, medical training assessing while my emotions reel. The blood loss alone...

He's fighting to survive, Mercy whispers in awe.

I can hear the pursuing wolves in the distance, getting closer again. The black wolf's eyes lock with mine – even through Mercy's wolf form – with an intensity that steals my breath. There's no plea in that gaze, only fierce determination... and recognition.

He knows, Mercy says. He knows we're his Mate.

My heart pounds against my ribs as panic sets in. If I help him, I'll be pulled back into Pack life. If Blake discovers where I am... everything I've built, everything I've escaped from – gone. My medical career, my freedom, my life away from Pack politics.

We need to go, I think desperately. We can't risk this.

Grace! He's our Mate. We can't leave him to die, Mercy protests.

We've survived just fine without a Mate for years. This complicates everything.

The black wolf makes a soft chuffing sound, his eyes never leaving mine. I can see his strength fading with every passing second. He doesn't beg. He doesn't plead. He simply accepts whatever choice I'll make.

The others are coming back, Mercy warns. I can hear them. We don't have much time.