Free Savage by Nancy Holder

door, dialing back mentally, replaying her actions. No. She had shut the door tightly, carefully.
    There was someone in the house.
    Her phone rang with Justin’s ringtone. He probably wanted to read her the riot act for hanging up on him. Fumbling in her jeans, she tried to turn off the ringer but succeeded only in declining the call. That meant he would probably try again. Panicking, she turned off the phone, not meaning to, but it was too late.
    The wind caught the door and slammed it against the front of the house. Then a gust blew it the other way, and it crashed shut.
    Now there was no way to quietly sneak in the front door. She licked her lips and her heartbeat kicked into overdrive, pounding so hard she could feel the pressure in her head. She transferred her gun to her left hand and wiped the icy sweat off her right palm, then gripped it and held it close to her chest, pointed upward, pushing the air from her lungs slowly, her body so taut it was nearly impossible to make herself exhale.
    Maybe it’s just the thief who took our stuff.
    She didn’t believe that.
    The best course of action was to wait.
    Except . . . she heard a rustle in the shrubs along the garage. So there was someone in her house, and someone behind her. A wave of fear made her sway. She pressed her lips together to keep from making a sound and forced herself to think. Whoever was outside with her was closer, more dangerous.
    She snaked her hand up the side of the gun to prevent it from glinting in the moonlight as she cautiously swiveled toward the sound. Bushes rustled again. The wind blew her hair in front of her eyes and she shook her head to try to clear her vision.
    A stronger wind blew snow around her ankles. The ice pellets tinked on the garage roof.
    She heard a footstep. Another.
    Directly behind her.
    A hand came over her mouth. Something hard — the barrel of a gun — pressed against her temple.
    She had miscalculated, badly. Somehow someone had concealed themselves between the cabin door and her. The roof. She forced herself not to whimper as the voice of an older woman rasped into her ear:
    “Arial Fenner sends her greetings,” she said. “And she sent me, too. To kill you.”

6
    “ YOU’RE MAKING A big mistake,” Katelyn managed to get out. Was there just the one or were there more werewolves? Her own gun was in her hand, but she would never be able to move it in time before the woman shot her.
    “I don’t think so,” the woman said with a short, sharp laugh that sounded more like a hyena than a human. It set Katelyn’s teeth on edge.
    “The new alpha wants me alive and wants to see me now.” Katelyn deliberately refrained from identifying who that might be.
    The woman laughed harshly. “There is no new alpha yet, and if you think for a moment that Justi—”
    “Regan,” Katelyn interrupted. “Regan is the new alpha and she knows I risked my own life to save her husband, Doug. She knows the value her father placed on me and why. And she understands that I’m the pack’s best weapon in this war.”
    “You’re lying. When Arial sent me here she was very clear that no one had won, no alpha exists. Yet.”
    Katelyn continued to lie through her teeth. “Arial’s dead. Justin called me and told me just before I came back outside. Regan fought her and killed her.”
    It was plausible. After all, Katelyn had no idea which of the sisters would have the upper hand in a fight and she was hoping that the woman holding the gun to her temple wouldn’t either.
    “So I’d distance myself from Arial and anything she told you to do as fast as I could,” Katelyn pushed, sensing hesitation and seizing upon it. “That’s the losing side. You need to honor the new alpha.”
    “You’re lying,” the older woman retorted.
    Katelyn felt the gun barrel move a fraction of an inch. Good. She had the other woman off balance and distracted, which was exactly what she needed her to be.
    “Oh, come on. Surely you know the