FABIAN
I felt the explosion of rage before I even registered what had happened. The SUV's momentum carried us into a brutal skid as glass rained over me like deadly confetti. My wolf, Kael, surged forward, clawing at my consciousness, demanding release.
"Ambush! Three o'clock!" Marcus shouted, already drawing his weapon.
I didn't need the warning. My senses had kicked into hyperdrive the moment our vehicle was hit. I could smell them—seven, no, eight rogues—their scents wild and tinged with adrenaline.
The second SUV in our convoy screeched to a halt behind us. My men were already pouring out, weapons drawn, shifting mid-stride into their wolf forms.
"Stay in the vehicle," Marcus ordered me, his voice tight with protective instinct.
I almost laughed. "Not a chance in hell."