Free Shifters Forever The Boxed Set Books 1 - 6 by Elle Thorne

scent. He was in the house.
    He took his phone out and punched redial. When Mae answered, he asked, trying to keep the panic he felt from invading his voice, “Which room is Chelsea’s?”
    “First one at the top of the stairs, on the left.” At the other end, Mae gasped. “Why are you asking? What is it?”
    “Her car’s here. She’s not.”
    “I’m on my way over.” She hung up the phone before he could tell her that she couldn’t help, and that it wasn’t a good idea for her to come. Dammit. She couldn’t help. She’d get in the way, maybe even end up hurt herself. Who knew what kind of a wild card Jeff was?
    He stormed up the stairs and ran through the open door at the top, on the left. Her door. The room was empty. A cup of tea sat on the dresser. He touched the porcelain. Still warm. It hadn’t been long since she was there. The drawers on the dresser were open and empty. The closet was empty too, no clothing hanging there.
    Grant raged out the front door, looking for tracks. There, barely visible in the blanket of snow that had begun its downward drift: large tires. An SUV. He was certain it had to be Jeff’s.
    He roared, shifted, and began to follow, going in the direction of the tracks, losing them on the main road, but knew there was no other way they’d go. If Jeff had taken her hostage, he wouldn’t go to a heavily populated area. More likely than not, the man had some property somewhere in the area. He’d take her there. An abandoned building... Grant didn’t know where, but he knew he wouldn’t give up looking.
    He kept up a brisk pace, staying hidden by the tree line, just off the road, until he saw tracks on a cut-off. He stopped, studied them, and brushed the light blanket of snow off. Same tread. Had to be it. He took off after the tracks, following them.
    There it was.
    The SUV. Stopped. Parked at the end of the road. Grant couldn’t move for a moment. Concern for Chelsea paralyzed him. He knew where this road led, to the abandoned lookout post. That’s when he noticed the driver’s side door was open.
    His bear’s sharp ears heard it before he saw it. The sound of drops methodically hitting the ground. Coming around the back of the vehicle, he approached the door with caution.
    In the driver’s seat, Jeff, dressed in an impeccable suit, was sprawled out. One hand on the wheel, the other at his side, but dangling out of the vehicle, dripping blood. The immaculate appearance of the suit was marred by a large pool of blood that wove its way down to his fingertips, then plopped on the ground. The blood was becoming solid and the dripping slowed by the cold temperature.
    Grant stepped closer, careful, not sure what he would encounter, and wondered if the man could be alive after losing all that blood. He paused in front of the door. Jeff’s eyes were open, a look of surprise and horror on his face. There was a knife next to him. Grant stared at the dead man.
    Chelsea couldn’t have done this, could she? Had Jeff attacked her, and she’d killed him in self-defense? Where was she now? His bear took over, sniffed for her, and found her scent easily. Found another scent too, a male. Had someone found her? Was that someone helping her, or was it an enemy? He didn’t recognize the scent.
    Grant took off at a fast pace, running between trees, chasing her scent. It grew stronger and stronger, staying on a main path, heading somewhat toward the abandoned post. Was this a local? Who else would know about the post?
    Grant slowed to get his bearings to scent for her location. His breath left tiny puffs in the cold air. That was when he heard them. Voices. One man’s, one woman’s. Chelsea. Who was that with her?
    The man was hidden by a large tree trunk.
    Chelsea was talking. “No. I don’t know what he was talking about.”
    Grant grit his teeth at how disheveled she appeared. And how pale. Clearly this asshole wasn’t taking care of her. There was a fresh bruise on her cheek, on the