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SASKIA'S POV
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The rogue's claws scratch at my neck, drawing thin streaks of blood, and I hiss in apprehension, ready to retaliate. My blade glints wickedly as I slash at the canine twice at the neck, then deliver a deathly stab to its vulnerable heart. I can't help but flinch slightly when I hear its fury as it howls out in pain while great torrents of blood spurt out of its wounds forcefully.
"Princess! Duck!" I twist my body and head just in time to dodge the dogging beast that had hurled itself at me, crashing into a spindly tree that falls on impact. I had been too occupied by the dying wolf that I lost focus on my surroundings.
"He's their Alpha," I growl out a warning to my men who hurry to take formation as planned, enclosing on the three remaining wolves who have somehow found a place to hide for the time being. "Stay in positions!"
"Yes, princess." The same voice says, and I turn to fix a hard glare on the annoying fool who has suddenly materialised at my side. It annoys me that his stealth still manages to surprise me in moments like this.
"Put a hold to the stupid jokes, for I will not hesitate to rip the head off any man who calls me princess again."
"Sheesh." He says, then whistles. "Just when I thought I'd seen angry. Now that's what I call true princess rage." His smile is taunting, and I take in two deep, cleansing breaths, trying my best to stay calm.
"You've seen nothing, Wade." My tone is menacing, even though I try hard to hide my anger.
"Oh...damn." His expression immediately turns guarded, almost sober, when he notices I am struggling to keep my emotions in check.
Even though the buffoon loved joking around, he knew the Alpha never let the culprits of an unaccomplished mission go unpunished, especially when the misfortune could have been avoided. His words would most certainly fall along the lines of how every werewolf should know that a leader needs a level head in order to conduct a successful operation, particularly when it turns out to be their last time doing so.
"Where are the men stationed?" I ask while I focus my concentration on surveying the clearing—with the help of the half-moon—we have walked into. There could be traps hidden, but then again, I know Wade would have sniffed it out first.
"Sixty-five degrees North lies our new tracker." He stresses on the 'new' while contorting his face weirdly, and I roll my eyes at his childishness. He's never been one to welcome newcomers with open arms. Unfortunately for the younger werewolf, he joined the pack less than three months ago and, not forgetting, after he'd been involved in an altercation with Wade.
Normally I would frown at the idea of recruiting a newbie with little to no experience working with the unit, but Drew has proven himself to be overly useful on many occasions in the little time he has gone on hunting trips with me. His tracking skills and intuitions are also more impressive than Wade gives him credit for. Moreover, if he stepped out of line, I had the orders to reign him in or kill him, if need be.
"Tracker-boy is less than three metres from us now, and four, five degrees West of him are our targets. The men have them locked down." His smug grin makes me want to smile too. "Looks good."
"Great." I let the corners of my lips lift in a smirk.
"Oh, I thought I got the real deal there." He references the fake smiles I often give him despite how hard he tries to make me laugh.
"Well, that's one more thing to add to your wish-list, isn't it, Wade?"
"I love the way my name sounds coming from your lips. Hmm, sexy." He lets out a throaty moan, and I gag as we both creep forward through the hooded night.
When we arrive at a friendly section of the woods that I know will aid our battle, I stop and nod at Wade, who nods back as well. All that is left to be done is leading the fight to our placement in order to gain the advantage.
"Now!" I yell, and beside me, he shifts into his werewolf's form and shoots ahead of the group. From three runnings, familiar wolves burst into the clearing, tearing down all in their way. They all bound past me, but the last one with shaggy, brown fur turns my way with what would seem to be a vicious snarling expression, except I know him well enough to be certain he means a smile.
"Fight safe." I mouth so quietly that I barely catch my words, but I know he did. Werewolves have great hearing and sight, which makes them such formidable foes when fought against and admirable comrades when bonded with over the same experiences. "No one silver the Alpha. He must be taken alive." I call to the unit before hurrying into the chaos.
The sound of a twig crack commands my attention, and I swing at the same time it lunges at me. My dagger sinks into its fur, but it does not yelp and throws itself off me as most supernaturals might have. It instead clamps my blade between its jaws and flings it afar.