Waking was a nightmare. My skin felt like it was on fire and everything ached. Everything thumped. My head, my heart, my body. Even whatever it was I was laying on. It was a thick, heavy beat that was both monotonous and relentless, going on and on and on.

It took me a while to realize that it wasn't actually me, that things were thumping. It was an engine. Not a very powerful engine, but an engine all the same.

With that realization, my other senses came online. The air was thick with smell offish and the tangy saltiness of the ocean, but behind it came the smell of diesel and man.

Jared. Or Jorn. Or whatever his real name was.

And given the fishy smell and that endless, relentless thumping, it was pretty much a given that neither he nor I were anywhere near the club.

I took a deeper breath, trying to find Rhoan.

Wherever he was, it wasn't close. His leathery, spicy scent was absent.

I shifted and realized my hands and feet were tied - and had been for some time if the cramps shooting up my legs were anything to go by - and cautiously opened my eyes. What met my gaze was metal and wood.

A box.

A cage.

The bastard had caged me. Like an animal.

But this was one animal mere wood and metal would not contain - although there was no point in busting out until I knew the whole situation. I might very well step from the frying pan into the fire.

It was something of a habit, after all.

I twisted my legs around so I could look at my feet. My shoes were gone, and the ropes that were binding my ankles were thick and strong. They were also damp, meaning they were tightening as they dried out, digging into my skin. There were blood smears under the ropes already - I must have been struggling against them when I was unconscious. The knot itself didn't look too hard to undo, but with my hands bound behind my back, undoing it was next to impossible.

But maybe I didn't need to undo them. Maybe I just needed to change shape, and the ropes would slip off. I mean, they'd been tied to a human, not a wolf, and therefore I should have plenty of maneuvering room in my wolf shape.

I called to my wolf, felt the power of her sweep right through me, only I didn't expect the pain that came with the change. It burst through my mind - a blinding, hot, bone-breaking pain caused not only by limbs twisted into positions not natural to a wolf, but by the presence of silver. I might not be able to see it, but it was close. Close enough to be affecting my shapeshifting.

I bit back a howl and twisted around, desperate to get my legs free. The ropes fell away, releasing my limbs, allowing my legs to fall into a position more natural to a wolf.

The pain eased into a deeper throbbing ache, but the burning presence of silver didn't go away. It was all around me - under my feet, near my sides, over my head, Yet there wasn't a bit of silver in sight. Only wood and the metal strapping holding the cage together.

I scrambled to my feet. It made the ache worse, my abused and overstretched muscles shaking under the additional pressure of my weight. I ignored both and sniffed out the confines of my cage. If it had been used before, then I couldn't tell for what. There were no odors caught in the wood, no fur or scent markings to hint at what might have been here before me.

I stepped to the corner and pressed my nose against the wood. The familiar burning got stronger, a warning that silver was close. My frown increasing, I shifted back to human form and pressed a hand to the wood. My fingers burned with the same awareness of silver that my nose had. It wasn't in the wood, it was beyond it. How far was anyone's guess. I was so sensitive to its presence these days, it could be one inch away or it could be one foot.

There was only one way to find out. I clenched my fist, drew it back, and punched at the wooden side of my cage with all the force I could muster.

My fist went through the wood as easily as a hot knife through butter, then was stopped abruptly by something thin and metallic. Something that burned as soon as my hand touched it. I swore and jerked my fist away, shaking it to ease the pain and seeing the red welts already forming across my fingers.

The bastards had covered my box with a mesh of silver. Anything else I could probably break, but this was beyond me. I guess I had to be thankful the silver wasn't touching me. I might be uncomfortable right now, but at least it wasn't killing me. I shifted position and carefully peered out of the hole I'd created.

Little more than darkness and the metal struts of the boat greeted me. If I was in a hold, then it either wasn't a very big one or I'd punched a hole in the wrong end of my cage.

I shifted again, and kicked out with a bare foot, being careful not to get anywhere near the silver mesh. The wood cracked and splintered, falling away in chunks rather than smashing into splinters. The space beyond the mesh wasn't much different. A little bigger, a little less dark, but otherwise, the same. I was alone in this fishy-smelling hold.

I wondered where Rhoan was. Wondered if he was locked up like me. I wasn't getting any sort of sick feeling that he was in trouble or hurt, so wherever he was, he was obviously okay. For the moment, anyway.

So where the hell was the Directorate? Why hadn't they come riding to the rescue? That was the whole idea of the trackers in our ears, wasn't it?

Maybe they just didn't know we were in trouble. Hell, I don't think either of us bothered to tell Jack what we were intending to do this morning. Hard to come riding to the rescue if they didn't know they were needed. I pressed the stud in my ear, and said, "Hello, hello? Anyone listening?"

There was no immediate response. Not surprising, I guess. We were out on the ocean and the corn-unit didn't have a huge range. The tracker did though, so sooner or later they'd realize something was up and come a-hunting. All we had to do was hang on until then.

But just in case they were picking me up, I added, "Rhoan and I need help, ASAP. We're on a boat and traveling to God knows where."

I flicked off the send function, but left the receive one on, just in case someone tried to contact me, My next step was finding out who was on the damn boat with me. I lowered some shields and carefully reached out, telepathically searching for minds - human or not. There was an odd sort of blankness coming from what I gathered was the front of the ship, given we were moving in that direction, but other than that, I might as well have been alone. Which I wasn't, so either the boat driver was mind-blind, or he was wearing a psychic wire to protect him from telepathic intrusion.

With that avenue of investigation going nowhere, I checked my pockets to see what I had to work with, but they'd been cleaned out. The laser, my wallet, phone, everything was gone. The only thing left was lint and the remains of what had once been a tissue, and neither of those were going to be a whole lot of use for anything. Not even blowing my nose. With nothing else to do, I laid back down and waited.

It was a long wait. The engine droned on and on. Footsteps would stride across the deck above me occasionally, but I couldn't hear voices. Couldn't hear anything to indicate there was another living soul on this boat besides me and the owner of those footsteps.

The day stretched into the evening, a fact I knew only by the lengthening of the shadows and my own innate awareness of the night and the moon.

Eventually the aroma of earth began to run underneath the scent of fish and ocean. The ship bumped against something hard and the footsteps moved across the deck and then disappeared. A few seconds later, the thumping of the engine stopped. For a while, there was nothing breaking the silence but the creak of the boat and the lapping of the waves.

Then a car - maybe even a truck, given the low note of the engine - approached and came to a halt. Doors opened, footsteps echoed, and then, finally, I heard Rhoan - swearing like a trooper.

I sat up quickly and looked through the hole my fist had made. Nothing. The cover was still well and truly in place over my hold. "Rhoan! Where are you?"

The swearing stopped. "In a goddamn box," he yelled back. "It's silver meshed. You?"

"Same. You know where we are?"

"I think it's safe to assume we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto."

I snorted softly. If Rhoan was making wiseass remarks, he was neither hurt nor worried.

Another engine fired up, this one more spluttery. Rhoan cursed again, then, his voice barely audible over the noise, said, "They're hauling me up from the hold. There's a truck waiting."

So obviously, we had not yet reached our final destination. Part of me wanted to ask what plans he had, what he wanted me to do, but given our captors were close, that would be pretty damn pointless.

"You any idea what is going on?"

"Nope. Hang on, Riley. I'll get us out of this."

He would, or I would. One or the other of us would find a way to get free, of that I had no doubt. We'd been through too much together to let a couple of murdering thugs defeat us now.

There was a thump, another curse from Rhoan, then chains rattled and the truck reversed away, the sound of its engine quickly fading into the distance.

I waited in my dark little hold, wondering when my turn would come. I could hear movement and the rattle of chains coming from what had to be the dock, but so far, no other truck had appeared.

An hour passed, my awareness of time sharpened by the rising of a moon that I couldn't actually see. The power of it burned through me, a silvery warmth that flowed through my bloodstream and offered me strength. Offered me comfort. The full moon was some days off yet, but its beauty still filled me.

Not that it would do me much good here in my little wooden prison.

I hoped they didn't plan to keep me penned until the bloom of the moon. I'd felt the fury of a bloodlust once before. I didn't ever want to go through that again.

After another few minutes, the sound of the truck began to bite back into the silence, drawing closer. Obviously, they only had the one to move us.

Above me, doors crashed open and moonlight filtered in. Someone jumped down into the hold, and the thick, musky scent of a human filled the air. I peered through the hole, and saw grimy jeans and grimier work boots. He was tall and thin, with hands that were so covered in dirt, grease, and God knows what else, they looked black. Because of the darkness, it was hard to get a definite image of his features, but he wasn't young. His hands were the hands of an older person.

Chains rattled around my prison, then straps were drawn up over the box and suddenly I was rising into the air. I gripped the floor of the box hard, not liking the way the thing swayed. It felt too much like falling.

Goose bumps trembled across my skin, and bile rose. I bit it back and closed my eyes, trying to remain calm. It was only old fears rushing in. It wasn't a premonition. I wasn't going to fall. Not here in this crate. Not anywhere.

The crate thumped down on something solid, making me jump. But it didn't ease the crazy fear running through my system, so I continued to breathe slow and deep, trying to keep calm as gears crunched and the truck began to trundle away from the dock.

The scent of eucalyptus gradually replaced the salty scent of the ocean. I shifted, peering out one of the holes, watching trees and thick ferns pass by. Oddly enough, this island looked almost tropical. The plant life was thick and lush, and many of the plants weren't the types to survive in the colder climes of Victoria.

The truck bumped along the track, occasionally bogging down and sending sand spurting into the air as the wheels spun then gripped. The incline got stronger, suggesting we were going up.

After about half an hour, the road flattened out and the crunch of stone under the tires replaced the squeak of sand. Light twinkled tantalizingly in the darkness, and the scent of barbecuing meat touched the air, making my taste buds water and my stomach rumble.

Unfortunately, I didn't think we were going to be the recipients of that barbecuing meat.

And indeed, the truck trundled past the lights and the smell, coming to a halt in an area of darkness. We weren't in the middle of nowhere, though. Through my peephole I could see the shadowy form of a building. It seemed more barnlike in structure than houselike - though if it was a barn, I couldn't smell any of the usual scents that went along with it. Definitely no horses or hay, that was for sure.

Then another engine kicked into gear and the box was on the move again. I gripped on tight as it swung into the air then around to the right, swaying crazily as it was lowered. I let out a relieved breath when the box hit something solid, then I was being wheeled toward the barn. My box was dumped, doors slammed shut, then footsteps retreated.

Alone again.

This was making no sense whatsoever.

"Rhoan?" I said into the silence. "You here?"

I didn't hold much hope that he was, simply because I couldn't smell him.

The continued silence was my only answer. I peered through my hole again, seeing concrete and heavy metal bars. The type even a werewolf would have trouble getting through.

It actually took me a moment to realize that my box was no longer covered by the silver mesh. I kicked out with a bare foot, smashing open the box in an instant.

Even though my cage hadn't been small, the feeling of freedom that hit when I was no longer confined was immense. I sucked in the cool night air, then stood up and looked around.

The barn was a large one, and had at least a dozen pens just like this one. Some had hay, some didn't. Some had the silver mesh nets covering the heavy metal bars, others had nothing but metal and concrete floors. Some, like mine, had bunk beds in them - though given the filthy state of the mattress, it'd be pretty much a given I'd be sharing the bed with more than a few bugs. I shivered. Give me cold concrete any day.

I turned and walked closer to the front bars, giving them a shake to test their strength. They didn't budge. They might not be meshed like some of the other cages, but there wasn't a hope in hell of me breaking out of here. Which made me wonder just what the meshed cages had been designed to hold.

I leaned my arms against the metal and studied what lay beyond the open doors of the barn. A wide road swung away down the hill, lined on either side by thick greenery. The house and lights I'd seen earlier weren't visible through that door, and the one to my left was shut.

I stepped back, my gaze rising to the ceiling. Even that was barred. Which meant a lot of thought had gone into construction of this cell, and that sent a chill skittering down my spine. This wasn't just a one-off, nothing-left-to-lose capture. This was something else entirely.

But until someone popped along with an explanation as to what the hell was going on, I wasn't about to guess. My imaginings would probably be far worse than the reality. After all, I'd been in some pretty shitty situations over the last year or so - and I seriously doubted whether fate could throw anything else at me worse than a god of pain set on world domination.

So I sat on the floor and waited yet again. I hated waiting, but there was nothing else to do but pace. And that would get old very quickly.

The moon had passed its zenith and had begun the long track toward dawn before someone finally got motivated enough to visit.

His scent touched the air long before I actually saw him - musky, spicy human. Jared. Or Jorn, as the case may be.

His footsteps were light, measured. A man who was sure of himself. A man who was used to power and getting his own way. I reached out telepathically but, like on the island, felt nothing except an odd sort of blankness. Only it didn't feel electronically induced, but rather natural. He had shields every bit as strong as mine. Meaning, I wasn't going to be able to read him or control him - not without a lot of time and effort.

And I had a bad feeling time was the one thing I didn't have much of.

Jorn strode through the door, dressed in jungle greens and thick boots, and stopped in front of my cell. His expression was an odd mix of arrogance and excitement. Not sexual excitement, but the sort of excitement that went with a chase.

I looked him up and down, noting the sheathed bowie knife strapped to his left leg, and a pistol holster attached to his hip.

"Shall I call you Jorn? Or do you prefer Jared?"

Amusement played about his lips. "You worked it out."

"Took me a while. I never realized there was a branch of humanity who could alter their features."

"It's a family gift."

"Just like the family trait of madness?" I said sweetly. "Tell me, was it you or Yohan in the truck and the car?"

"that was my brother. He never was a very good driver."

If he had been, I might have been squished meat under the truck's tires. "And the shooter?"

He grimaced. "A misjudgment on our part, because we were foolish enough to believe his assurance that he was good enough to take you out."

He almost had been, but I wasn't about to mention that.

"Why choose an exclusive island like Monitor to set your trap? Why not choose something more accessible to the masses?"

"Because there is something decidedly delicious in hunting the spoiled wealthy. It's the eyes," he added, expression almost dreamy. "The realization in those final moments that, despite all their wealth and power, there is nothing they can do to stop death. Plus, of course, it was bitches like them who killed our father. None of them deserved to live."

"So did you sleep with said bitches?"

He snorted. "I've seen what you lot can do to human flesh. No thanks. Besides, flirting got me all the information I needed." He hesitated, and grinned. "You women are so careless with your purses."

My missing driver's license, I thought suddenly. That's how the shooter had my address, and probably how he knew the addresses of the others. "How did you handle all the other staff at the island?"

"We adjusted the memories of a few. With the rest, it was just a matter of timing. We simply ensured our appearances coincided with the downtime of those we were copying."

These boys might be insane, but they were damn clever as well.

"Why did you attack us at Mirror Image? If you had let us go, you could have made an easy escape."

He raised an eyebrow. "But we already have. It'll take your people a very long time to trace us to this island, and by then, we'll be gone."

"But by kidnapping us, you've only crystallized the Directorate's suspicion and ensured they'll come after you. And trust me, that's never a good thing."

He smiled. "Perhaps. But we've never hunted a guardian before. We thought it worth the risk."

"One you will not live long enough to savor."

He shrugged. "The threat of death is all part of the glory of the hunt. There's no thrill where there is no danger."

I raised an eyebrow. "Only the insane would consider hunting two guardians fun. Most people tend to run from us, given any sort of choice."

"We are not most people. And our last hunt was a disappointment. We need a good challenge before we move on."

I studied him for a moment, wondering why he was so damn confident that he felt no qualms about telling me everything, then said, "So why have you been hunting them? Why not just shoot them, then slice off their heads, like you did your first victim?"

"Because we were young then, and blind to the prospects of the hunt." He paused. "Was Adrienne the reason you appeared on the island and the Directorate began investigating the club?"

"Yes." Better to let him think the Directorate had been wise to their ways, when in fact I'd only been investigating thanks to Blake's blackmailing insistence. God knows how many other women they would have taken before the Directorate had become aware of their activities. The number might even have been as high as the seventeen that went missing in England. "Is that why you left the UK and came here? Because the authorities got wind something was up?"

"The regular authorities we could have handled. It was only when the Directorate took a serious interest that we had to move on." Annoyance flickered - a brief, black cloud in his otherwise cheerful expression. "We had hoped to source quite a few more hunts here before we were forced to go elsewhere."

"So why Adrienne? She looked nothing like the woman who killed your father."

Something flicked through his eyes. Anger. Or madness. It was hard to tell which. "We had no option when she appeared on the island asking questions. Plus, she had that sketch."

"Which was you, I take it."

He nodded. "Unfortunately, it turned out your pack-mate had an interesting psychic skill that allowed her to read a person's past. She ran into me at the club, and apparently caught glimpses of our murderous little habit."

"She told you this?"

He smiled benignly. "Of course she did. She thought it would help her live."

"So she and the others are dead?"

"Yes. Though they do live on in our memories. And through our trophies."

I stared at him for a minute, my stomach turning as I remembered the fact that the head of their first victim had never been found. "You take trophies?"

He chuckled, and it was a cold, inhuman sound. "Of course. All hunters do. The heads of all our prey line the walls of our lodge, so we and others can admire the beauty of their death. Although Adrienne has not yet joined them. Our taxidermist went on holidays."

Oh God, that was just... beyond sick. These weren't just animals we were talking about, these were people.

Living, breathing human beings. Or rather, nonhuman beings.

And how in hell did they find a taxidermist who'd even do such a thing?

"You will pay for those trophies," I said, my voice flat, devoid of the anger that was running through me. Just like Rhoan, when he stepped into his guardian shoes and became the efficient killing machine he'd been trained to be.

A shiver went through me, and deep down something screamed no. But I had to wonder how much longer that voice would last if I kept getting thrown up against the psychos of this world.

"That's the whole idea," he said cheerfully. "We hunt. You try to make us pay. Of course, there are rules."

I snorted. "Like I'm actually going to obey any of your rules once I'm out of here?"

Perhaps not the wisest thing to say, but hey, if he knew anything about guardians, then he knew rules didn't often figure in our actions.

"You will obey, or your partner pays."

Yeah, like that was a surprise. And of course, I would obey their rules because there was no way on this earth I'd risk my brother's life. "The problem you're faced with is the fact that if you do manage to kill me, there is nothing left to make my partner obey your rules."

"There is no if in the equation." He dug into his pocket, and pulled out what looked like one of those keychain garage doors openers. "And we have this as our security on your partner. He has a miniature bomb planted in his armpit. If he disobeys the rules, the top half of his torso will be blown apart. Hard to get revenge when you only have half a body and no brain."

I stared at him, wondering what was worse - his matter-of-fact tone or his obvious delight at his handiwork.

"The first thing any sensible person would do is rip the device out of their body."

"The device's power is sourced from the body's heat. Disconnect that source and it will instantly detonate."

"That's not very friendly."

"We may enjoy our hunt, but we are not fools." He glanced at his watch then pushed away from the bars. "We will release you at five. Walk down the path and out the red gate. Go anywhere else but out that gate and your partner will lose his life. We will give you a ten-minute head start."

"Gee, thanks," I said dryly.

"Use the time wisely."

He turned around and walked out of the barn. I flicked to infrared vision, watching his body heat push through the thick shrubbery to the left of the path before disappearing from my line of sight.

So the hunter had become the hunted. Nothing new in that situation. Question was, why was he so damned confident?

Granted, he and his twin had a good number of kills under their belts, and those kills were either weres or shifters who were traditionally stronger and faster than humans.

But Rhoan and I were guardians. Trained killers. Well, Rhoan was. I was still very much the new kid on the block, and more than happy to stay that way. Yet Jorn had showed no fear of either of us. Had absolutely no doubt that he could track me down and kill me.

Why?

He obviously knew what guardians were capable of - they'd moved out of England to get away from Directorate interest there.

So why the confidence?

Was it just another pointer to their obvious insanity? Or had they done to me what they'd done to Rhoan?

I felt under my armpits, but there didn't seem to be anything foreign there. Which didn't mean there wasn't a bomb somewhere inside me, just that I couldn't feel it. And I couldn't remove something I couldn't feel. Though if what Jorn had said about its power source was true, then removing it wasn't the best option right now anyway.

Which left me with only one thing to do - nothing. Just wait for the hunt to begin.

Another hour went by. I rose and began stretching, readying muscles but trying not to think about the hunt that was coming.

Then, finally, the door clicked open. I remained where I was, nostrils flaring, trying to catch any scent that would indicate that either Jorn or Yohan was close. There was nothing. Just the freshness of dawn.

I stepped out of my cell, the concrete cold under my bare feet as I looked at the ceiling. No cameras. Nothing to tell them I was on the move. What would happen if I waited here? The barn might not be the best fighting arena, but there were plenty of shadows to hide within. How would they know just where I was?

Unless, of course, there was a sensor at the red gate he'd told me to go through.

I blew out a frustrated breath, then walked forward. I couldn't afford to risk Rhoan's life on what-ifs, If Jorn and Yohan wanted a hunt, a hunt they would get. And this hunter fully intended to see the tables turned.

Hints of red and gold touched the predawn sky, and the air was crisp, holding the scents of eucalyptus and sea. I padded along the edge of the path, keeping to the shadows, ears attuned to the growing hum of the day, listening for any sound that was out of tune. There was still nothing to indicate either man was watching. Maybe they were intending a fair hunt.

And maybe tomorrow I'd become human.

Yohan and Jorn might want a good hunt, but in the end, they also wanted - needed - to win. Which meant, if it got down to the nitty-gritty, fairness would go out the window.

The red gate came into view. It was a big, wooden affair that merged into the surrounding ferns and was stained almost black. The gated opened as I neared, meaning someone was watching, even if I couldn't see them. Maybe the whole island was dotted with cameras.

I walked through, realizing as I did that the gates weren't actually black, but a very dark, reddish color. A dark red that smelled of death.

Blood stained that wood, not paint.

A shudder went through me, which was probably the precise reaction they were after. It had to be a tactic to unnerve their targets, to make them think about what might happen. After all, not everyone was like Rhoan and me, and used to the scent of death.

I headed into the shadows of the nearby forest. The trees and ferns closed in, surrounding me with shadows. I pulled them closer, hiding my form, and followed the rise of the land. I needed to get up higher and see just what was around me. Maybe even get some idea of where the buildings were, and where Rhoan might be.

I ran up the steep slope, trying to slip past the heavy fern fronds without breaking them, keeping to firmer ground so my footsteps weren't as visible - a difficult task when the ground was so covered by leaves and other forest rubbish.

Sweat began to trickle down my spine and my leg started to ache. Too much more and I'd probably begin to limp. Not what I needed right now. I blew out a breath and struggled on, only to slip on a bit of rotten leaf matter and come down hard on my knees.

And noticed then, as I was biting back a yelp of pain, that the cheery songs of the birds had suddenly silenced.

Felt the sting of silver fly over the top of my head and punch a hole in the tree trunk three feet ahead.

Ten-minute head start my ass.

Though why I had been stupid enough to believe it was anyone's guess. I mean, it wasn't like I was unfamiliar with bad men making promises they never intended to keep. Swearing softly, I swung around and sucked in the air, trying to scent my pursuers.

Nothing.

No giveaway aromas, no sound. The forest was deathly quiet and very still, yet an odd sort of tension seemed to run through the trees.

Human tension. The sort of tension that came with excitement and danger.

I might not be able to see or smell them, but something within me could feel them. Or rather, feel what they were feeling. Which normally would have pissed me off, simply because I shouldn't have been able to feel such a thing. But right now - and for the first time in my life - I was actually thankful that the drugs were producing a talent that was immediately useful.

They were down the hill and to my left. Not close, but obviously close enough to use a rifle sight. Which they were probably using right now to get another fix on me. Maybe the shadows weren't as deep or as thick as I'd presumed, and the gathering light was enough to break my cover.

Either way, I couldn't stay here. I scrambled upright and pushed through the ferns, keeping low as I ran, not worrying about leaving a trail for them to follow. It was better to simply get some distance between us again.

Fronds and branches whipped across my body as I ran, making me wish I had a sweater on. Preferably a dark one. But I was stuck with a bright yellow tank top, which meant that I might as well stand still and wave a target in the middle of all this lush greenery.

Which had me wondering again just where this island was situated. We couldn't be along the coast anywhere near my home state. Victorian islands were more scrubby than lush, and it certainly would have been a whole lot colder at this early hour of the day.

I continued to scramble upward. The smell of my sweat stained the air, and my lungs were beginning to burn, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps that echoed across the silence.

Easy enough to track, if the twins had good hearing.

And they obviously did, because they were still behind me, still chasing. I might have vampire speed, but in this environment it was damn hard to use it. And every now and again I felt the quiver of silver approaching, heard the ping of a bullet off a nearby tree trunk.

The crest of the hill finally came into sight. The trees didn't thin out, however, remaining as thick at the top as they'd been on the slope. I paused, reaching for that sense that allowed me to "feel" them. One was heading to my left, the other to the right. They were still below me but not climbing any farther just yet.

I had time to see where the hell I was.

I quickly scanned the trees until I found one that was ripe for climbing. I scrambled up the trunk then through the gum's leafy branches, my heart going a mile a minute.

I swung out on a thick branch, walking along carefully until the bough dipped and quivered under my weight. The island stretched before me, a small dot of green in the otherwise blue surrounds of the sea. We had to be in Queensland - or at least the top end of New South Wales - somewhere, given that blueness. Victorian waters looked a whole lot darker and colder. There didn't seem to be any rooftops poking out through the trees below me, but there was a sandy-looking road that wound up from the beach. I followed the course of that road, edging around on my branch, and finally spotted a building sitting in a clearing one hill over.

It didn't appear to be a house, or even a barn like the one I'd been taken into. It was small and squat, and very, very strong looking. A cell, I thought, for dangerous quarry. That's where Rhoan would be.

All I had to do now was get rid of my pursuers then get over there and free him. Easy.

Not.

Another bullet burned through the air, this time slicing past my ear and drawing blood. I yelped softly and dropped to the ground, the shock of the jump reverberating up my spine and sending shooting pain through my healing leg. I brushed my fingers against the ground to regain my balance and sucked in the thick, aromatic air.

This time, I smelled Jorn. He was to my right, and moving fast. I called to my wolf form and shifted shape, then ran left and down, intending to come up underneath him. I ran fast - limping only a little - and kept to the shadows, my wolf form more suited to this sort of landscape, making little noise and leaving nothing in the way of a trail.

He shouldn't have seen me. Shouldn't have heard me.

Yet somehow, he did.

This time I was close enough to hear the muted sound of a gunshot before the bullet even neared me. I threw myself sideways, restraining a yelp as a rock dug painfully into my side, then rose and ran straight for his scent.

Another gunshot.

Another bullet dodged.

Then his scent filled the air and he was before me. I launched straight at him, teeth bared, a growl rumbling up my throat.

He scrambled backward, excitement and fear flashing across his features as he attempted to raise the rifle and use it as a club. I was on him before he succeeded, my teeth slashing past cloth and deep into flesh. Blood filled my mouth, exciting the wolf, sickening the human. I ignored the latter, ripping my teeth sideways, taking a huge chunk of flesh with me.

He screamed and hit me hard in the side. It felt like iron, that blow, and pain rose - a red tide that momentarily blotted out the wolfs eagerness. Winded and aching, I leapt away, spitting out his blood and skin as I twisted around to face him.

His left arm was a torn mess. Blood poured from the wound, soaking his shirt, filling the air with its scent. He was lucky. I'd been aiming for his neck, and I hadn't missed by much.

"For this," he said, moving his bloody left arm, "you will pay."

I bared my teeth and growled, then hunkered down low and launched myself at him again. He swung the rifle around, using the stock like a club, the weapon swishing through the air with enough force to break bones. I twisted away, felt the breeze of it skim past my already bruised side. My claws dug into the soft soil as I hit the ground, the dirt flying free as I jumped at him again.

I was in the air when I felt the burn of approaching silver. Heard the crash of steps through the trees behind us.

Yohan, coming to save his brother.

Rhoan and I might not share the telepathy of twins, but these two sure did.

I twisted awkwardly, making bones crack along my spine as I dropped to the ground. The bullet crashed past the tip of my ear and exploded into a nearby sapling, sending leaf and branch matter flying. I lunged forward, tearing at Jorn's legs, slashing through his skin and drawing blood. He lashed out again, the rifle butt coming down hard on my side. I yelped, and dove for the shadows of the nearby trees.

I might be a guardian, I might be speedy and strong, but a silver bullet could still bring me down. And it was far better for me to tackle them one at a time. Especially when it was becoming increasingly obvious that while these two might be human, they had reflexes and senses as sharp as any nonhuman.

Killing them wasn't going to be as easy as I'd presumed.

I shifted back to human shape, using the change to help ease the ache in my side, then ran on, down the hill, up the next one, trying to get some distance, some maneuvering room, between us. But they remained annoyingly close.

I wasn't making that much noise, not now, nor was I leaving that much of a trail. Running as I was, there was always going to be signs to follow, but they shouldn't have been able to track me this easily while running flat out. And yet they were.

Did they have psychic skills other than telepathy? I was beginning to think that was probably the case. I'd never actually heard of a talent that allowed people to track nonhumans, but as Rhoan was wont to say, there were more strange things on this earth than we would ever know about.

I ran a hand across my forehead, flicking away sweat, my gaze searching the trees ahead. The scent of the sea was growing stronger, and the treetops where beginning to shiver with a sea breeze. The last thing I needed was to find myself out on the sand. I needed the trees as protection from the bullets until I found a way to separate the two of them again.

Awareness of the twins surged again, and a second later the air screamed a warning that several bullets were hurtling toward me. I threw myself down, sending leaf matter and dirt flying as the bullets burned over my right shoulder and pinged into a nearby trunk. Bark exploded into the air, raining down around me. For several seconds I lay there, listening to their light steps, the easy way they seemed to move through the forest. Was it worth confronting them? I could take the two of them, I had no doubt of that. The only problem was the silver bullets. It would only take one to end my fight, and with Rhoan still captive, I dared not risk getting hit. Better to run, to wait for the right moment.

Only patience had never been one of my virtues, and I was getting more than a little pissed off at being shot at so much.

I blew out a breath, then scrambled to my feet and ran on up the steep slope. The thick lushness of the island's interior was giving way to a wilder, scrubbier look, and the wind was stronger, battering its way through the trees and finally reaching through the wool, chilling the sweat against my skin. It was an almost pleasant sensation.

The rise in the land sharpened abruptly. The leg that had been shot with silver previously was beginning to not only burn, but feel weak. Like the barely healed muscles just couldn't go on. My limp was certainly getting more pronounced.

Sky came into sight, a pale blueness peeking through the trees, calling me on. To what was anyone's guess, but it had to be better than this goddamn slope and the bastards hunting me.

Another bullet burned through the air. I dropped, winding myself even though I didn't think that was possible, given my current breathless state. The bullet cracked past and disappeared into the inviting blue-ness. If I could get down the other side of this slope fast enough, I might buy myself enough time to find a way to separate them. And once I did that, the bastards were dead.

I surged to my feet and ran on, my gaze on that blue-ness and the promise it offered.

But I should have been looking at where I was going. Or rather, where the land was going.

Because I reached the crest and suddenly there was nothing underneath me.

No ground, no leaf matter.

Nothing but air.

And I was falling, tumbling, down into that emptiness.