Abandoned Treasure

Warrior Trainee Nathan Storm’s POV

Oxbow Lake Pack

August 5, 2003 (3 Years Later)

“Maybe next trip will be better,” Darrell said as he sank into the seat behind me. He had a water bottle, hoping to relieve the killer hangover he knew would be coming after last night’s blowout. As the junior wolves on the trip, we’d be trading off the driving of our 12-passenger van. I didn’t say anything; I was waiting for the Beta to finish speaking to Alpha Ulffson, then we would be on the road home.

“Three of us found our matches this trip,” I said. “It wasn’t a total loss.” The East Coast run meant a LOT of driving. We first hit Monongahela in West Virginia, then northeast to Maine for Katahdin. On the way back, it was Adirondack Pack in New York and Oxbow Lake in Minnesota. We’d been on the road longer than we’d been visiting. After checking for mates, a group of single males wore out their welcome quickly in a strange pack.

“And we got out of here without anyone recognizing our scent from Arrowhead,” he sent over the link. “The Alpha was right. Nobody could pick up our scents between the fire and the rain, and nobody knew Bitterroot was involved. Even the Council closed the case two years ago.”

The Beta started walking my way, and I started up the van. “I can’t wait to get out of here. We’re too close to that place for my comfort.”

I could feel his amusement over the link. “Nathan’s superstitious? Afraid of ghosts? Are the spirits of the dead haunting your dreams?”

Yes. I couldn’t tell anyone of the dreams that would wake me in a cold sweat a few times a month. “Too many dead, and they cursed us before they killed themselves. I can’t imagine Luna is pleased with us. Do you see their faces when you close your eyes? Do you see the eyes of the children in the arms of their mothers? Do you wonder if any of those young girls would have grown to be your mate?”

The Beta touched my shoulder as he climbed on board, taking the passenger seat. “Let’s go. Wake me in four hours, and find a decent place for lunch.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. I put it in gear and drove away, letting out a breath as I did so. Darrell never answered me, which was an answer in itself.

I trusted Darrell like a brother; he was the only one I’d confessed my doubts to. It wasn’t the kind of talk meant for general consumption. If the senior wolves heard warriors talk like that, they’d see it as questioning their leadership and squash it hard. They would kill a wolf they couldn’t trust with the secret.

By the time I got to the main road, everyone was sleeping. The partying had gone late into the night, with me begging off at eleven because I had the first shift of driving. Getting werewolves drunk is not easy, but with enough booze, you can get there. Few of us got laid here, as the more traditional Packs were protective of their females and their purity.

The Garmin led me south through Duluth, eventually picking up Highway 10 West across cabin country. Between the summer tourist traffic and the road construction, four hours of driving put us into Wadena, Minnesota. When you have nine hungry wolves, you better find a buffet. “What do you think, Darrell? Pizza Ranch or the Chinese buffet?”

“Pizza and chicken,” he said quickly. “Chinese buffet, and we’ll be hungry again by two.”

I couldn’t argue with his logic. He woke everyone up, and I dropped them by the front door before heading down a block to gas up the van. The staff was trying to restock the buffet after the locust swarm that came through, so I started with dessert while waiting for the fresh pizzas. I had to eat fast to catch up before we left.

Darrell had it easy, hitting the Interstate while I was sleeping. I figured we’d be halfway to Montana by the time it was my turn to drive again. That wasn’t the case. When the Beta woke everyone up ninety minutes later, we were on Interstate 29, north of Fargo, North Dakota. It was a flat, desolate landscape completely unsuited to wolves and hunting. “The fuck,” I sent to Darrell.

“Change of plans,” he sent back.

“We got a report of rogues in the Grand Forks area,” the Beta said. “The Council wants it checked out, and we’re the closest.” Rogues were a danger to us all. Some had left existing Packs, while others lived outside the Pack system. Lacking the structure and guidance of an Alpha, their wolves were dangerous and sometimes feral. Alone, they could go mad and risk our exposure to humans. If they gathered a large enough group, they could threaten a Pack.

“We don’t have weapons,” one of the senior warriors said. “This wasn’t a war party.”

“I guess you’ll have to use your brains, Thompson! I know that’s hard for you,” the Beta responded to our laughter. “We have to find the bastards first. The tipster caught a strong rogue scent from a wrecker belonging to Grand Forks Hauling and Towing.”

Thompson piped up. “So we drive around until this piece of shit van breaks, then we call for a tow?”

The Beta flicked his head. “I told you to use this. We don’t know how many there are. One whiff of the body odor in this van, and he’ll head for Canada. I don’t want to get one guy and scare the rest off. I want the whole fucking group, and we might have to take them with humans around.”

The location made sense for rogues to settle down. Grand Forks was as far from a Pack or cat pride as possible. The college town was on a north-south route to the Canadian prairie, far from the Canadian Rockies. There were thousands of square miles of nothing around, and the land was cheap.

Luna knows we’d never be here if we didn’t get the assignment.

Darrell found a hotel on the edge of town, and the Beta made assignments. One van wasn’t enough, so a few guys rented cars. I went to Walmart to buy binoculars, scent-blocking soap, and food.

We put a few guys on stakeout around the tow yard while the rest of us began a south-to-north sweep of the town looking for their home. It was a needle in a haystack; the city had more than fifty thousand people, plus East Grand Forks on the other side of the Red River in Minnesota had another ten thousand. The university was on summer break, or it would have been worse. I figured driving around with the windows down was as likely to warn them off as to find them, but we followed orders.

The stakeout worked first, with the rogue arriving for work at six. He was a big guy in his forties. We got the license plate of his truck and called the Council. They used their contacts in law enforcement to get us a home address. It was a farm about ten miles north of town.

The Beta’s plan was simple. Three warriors would call for a tow from a remote area near the farm. When the rogue male arrived, they would take him down while the rest of us hit the home.

That’s how I ended up along the edge of a hay field at one in the morning. As the junior wolf, my job was to cover the back in case anyone tried to escape. “Beta, the tow truck is coming,” I heard over the link.

“He’ll figure it out as soon as he gets out of the cab. Stand by.”

I crept forward in my wolf form. It would be almost a half-mile run, much longer than the others since I was upwind.

“GO! Take them down!”

I sprinted across the field while the other wolves reported their progress. Lights began to turn on in the home; the tow truck driver had linked a warning to his family. It wouldn’t matter; we had five wolves converging on them, and the old farmhouse wouldn’t have a safe room. The other wolves would crash through the doors and windows any second.

I was halfway there when I heard the first gunshots and felt the pain through the Pack link. “Take the women alive,” the Beta ordered.

I was almost in the backyard when a scent made me stumble and fall to the ground. “MATE MATE MATE,” my wolf told me.

I growled and shifted on the back porch, ripping the door open as I smelled her blood.