Bear Ranger's Forbidden Ex-Mate: (Bear Ranger Guardians) by Serena Meadows

Author:Serena Meadows [Meadows, Serena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

***HUNTER***

Luther permitted only a small handful to follow Lloyd, the wolf who arrived with the dreadful news, but included me in the entourage. I loped at Iliana’s side, feeling her tension baking off of her like a heat signal. Two wolves murdered. One shot, the other mauled. Just what the hell is going on here?

Big Ben died bloody. My gut heaved as I gazed at his corpse, his throat shredded, his rear legs split as though he was a wishbone. His entrails lay under him, on him, wrapped in the thorny bushes we’d found him in. Dark blood soaked the ground, but it was his legs my eyes kept returning to.

Luther and two others sniffed the ground, searching for tracks, scents of the killer. Iliana stood beside me, trembling with anger, fear, horror—maybe all of them. Lloyd, too, sat with his muzzle aimed at the ground, shaking for probably the same reasons. Hours before, he and Big Ben had left the village to look for clues as to who killed Lucretia.

Lloyd heard a ruckus, a wolf’s screams, and, racing to the scene, found him. He never set eyes on the killer, he said, his voice dull.

“This is strange,” I muttered.

“We’ve had a few wolves murdered like this,” Iliana murmured.

“I know. Bears have died, mauled with their throats ripped open. But look, Ben was a big wolf. He’s huge.”

“And?”

I leaned toward her. “What kind of strength would it take to rip his legs apart like that? Think about it. Pick him up, and—do that?”

Iliana swallowed hard. “Christ.”

“We’re not looking for an ordinary serial murderer,” I went on, my voice low. “A bear in bear form has the strength, yes, but needs hands to grab each leg. He can’t grip with paws.” I lifted my own and flexed it. “Get my drift?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

“What the hell are we dealing with?”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

She gazed up at me with the first fear I’d ever seen in her eyes. If something scared Iliana, then it was something to be feared indeed. Luther paced toward us, his expression tight with his own tension, perhaps fear. The other two flanked him, constantly turning their heads, swiveling ears, to catch any threat before it landed on them.

“There’s no trace of the murderer.”

I gaped, staring into Luther’s frightened brown eyes. “There has to be.”

“Look for yourself.”

“Luther,” Iliana said quickly, gulping. “Hunter pointed something out.”

I didn’t stay to listen, but paced around the body, searching for any clue as to what killed this wolf. I scented nothing save blood and death when I should have picked up his killer’s odor. There were no tracks on the scored earth. I circled twice before I saw it.

“Luther,” I snapped. “Iliana.”

I shifted as they trotted toward me. Squatting, I stared at Big Ben’s opened mouth, his jutting fangs, his tongue lying limp on the churned ground. I glanced up.

“Anyone have a plastic bag on them?”

The wolves glanced at one another, uneasy. None answered.

“Shit,” I muttered, taking my handkerchief out.

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