Free Red Rose Moon (Seasons of the Moon) by SM Reine

over the ruff of fur at his neck. “Be careful,” she said.
    Abel jumped around the wall.
    She watched through a crack in the boards as he rushed on the Union soldiers. She couldn’t see much, and she was glad for it—their screaming was horrible, and every time a gun fired, she feared that it would mean Abel’s end.
    But he was a blur as he leaped through them, growling as he ripped into the men with his teeth and claws.
    Rylie seriously doubted there would be any survivors.
    Seth took cover behind the presents’ table to reload his gun. The rush of adrenaline made everything around him brilliant with clarity.
    More than half of the Union men had turned on them when Cain attacked. Yasir’s estimate of having five or six people on their side had been seriously optimistic. And what was worse, it looked like some of the wolves had turned traitor, too.
    Seth jammed the magazine into his gun and rose, bracing his arm against the table to aim.
    It was hard to tell who to shoot. Everyone was tangled in a knot of spraying blood and screams.
    His gaze zeroed in on Stephanie Whyte. A werewolf had his hands around her throat.
    Seth let out a breath, took aim, and fired.
    A silver bullet buried in the shoulder of Stephanie’s assailant—one of the traitorous wolves, who was named Manny. He grabbed his arm with a cry of surprise, then rounded on Seth as Stephanie fled.
    Seth fired again, and again. Two more to the chest.
    Manny fell, most likely dead.
    He didn’t let the kill distract him. He swiveled, knocking a box of china off the table. It shattered on the ground next to him.
    Cain stood at the end of the aisle.
    “Hello, brother,” he said.
    The werewolf moved too damn fast. One second, he was a few feet away, and the next, he was on top of Seth. The handgun flew from his grip and bounced across the snow before he could even think to.
    They wrestled, knocking over the table and rolling out from under the shelter of the gazebo. Snow fluttered around them.
    Seth’s skull rang as Cain punched him hard, right in the jaw.
    “Sorry to crash the party,” Cain growled, “but I think my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”
    Twisting free of Cain, Seth clambered to his feet and searched for his gun. He didn’t waste breath on banter. Cain was too strong for him—much too strong.
    The gun was a few feet away.
    Cain jumped, and Seth rolled under him, avoiding the blow.
    His unbroken hand fell on the gun. He aimed and fired.
    The shot went wide.
    Cain smacked the gun out of Seth’s grip and punched him—hard.
    He flattened on the snow. The werewolf straddled him.
    “This is for our mother,” Cain growled, drawing back his clawed hand and aiming for Seth’s heart.
    A gunshot cracked just behind him.
    Red fluid fountained from Cain’s shoulder. Another gunshot, and it poured from his chest. He looked down as though shocked by the wound.
    Yasir walked up behind him and pointed his gun straight down at Cain’s skull.
    “Watch out,” the commander told Seth, and then he fired a third time.
    The bullet exploded from his skull and hit the snow right next to Seth’s head. Cain’s face blanked. He slumped to the side.
    Seth pushed Cain’s limp body off of him with a shout and scrambled to his feet.
    “You almost hit me!”
    “But I didn’t,” Yasir said, turning to pop off a couple more shots at the crowd. His aim was fantastic—he had once been a military sharpshooter, and every bullet hit a traitorous Union member. Two men fell.
    Seth couldn’t argue with his reasoning. He crouched beside Cain to inspect the wounds.
    It seemed too easy. Three shots, and the half-brother that had menaced Rylie for weeks was gone. “Guess I shouldn’t complain,” he muttered with a scowl at all the blood. It had ruined his tuxedo.
    He grabbed his handgun and stood beside Yasir.
    There wasn’t any fight left to speak of. Everything had sorted itself out in the fastest, bloodiest way possible—the beautiful gazebo was