Witch Wolf (Camren) Book 1

Chapter 28

Dylan and a few cops that I didn't know leaned over the dead werewolf. "Why is he all clawed up?" Dylan gave me a look. I shrugged and winced again, wrapping an arm around my stomach like that would help protect me from the pain in my ribs. "Camila..." I held my hand up. The best excuse I could think of was... "There were other wolves," I said, blinking. "They saved me." 

"Where did they go?" he asked. "I don't know." One of the EMTs came in and looked at me. He dropped his little bag by the chair that I was sitting in. The leather straps and the blindfold that had been used on Seth Hansen were shoved into the pockets of my leather jacket, which I'd found on the floor in the corner of the room. I really didn't want to know how it got there. "It looks like he was tortured with a spray of bullets," the only female cop in the room spoke. She looked at me with eyes that were crystal blue. Her long redish hair fell in a braid down her back.

"Tortured?" I asked. "If I was going to torture him, I wouldn't have used a gun." Her eyes went a little wide around the edges. I crossed my arms. "When you're fighting a werewolf, keeping them from coming at you is a necessity." "Wrap it, folks." Dylan stood, stepping away from the body. He carefully took the gloves off his hands. They had to examine the body so they could put all those spiffy little notes in their file. "I'm glad you did what you did." Dylan stepped up to me as the EMT started cutting my shirt. I'd already taken off the holster. The leather jacket was on the floor with it by my feet.

 "It's my job," I said. The EMT's cold gloved hands prodded at my ribs. "Ow!" I yelled. Dylan chuckled. The EMT shook his head. "You have two broken ribs that are going to heal improperly if I do not reset them," he said, and I was glad that he hadn't noticed the fact that they were probably already beginning to heal. I said, "Just do it." Which I learned was a complete mistake, because he did. I think it was the first time Dylan had ever heard me scream. 

  Once I could breathe again, I turned to look at Dylan. "The wolf's name," I said, "is Austin Mahone. He used to live in Denver, Colorado." "What about Evan?" he asked. "Innocent," I said. "It was Austin the whole time."

 "Is Evan a...?" I shook my head. "I don't know," I lied. "I don't care. I just know he's innocent. You should contact the police in Denver. There were three killings there that match the ones here. It looks like his handiwork." He wrote it down. When he was done he gave me a long look. "You need a ride?" I smiled. "That would be nice." I stepped outside of the small shack and into the blue-and-red haze of the police lights. The shack was a few miles away from the clearing where the pack met. That much, I'd figured out on my own.

 How else could Lauren, Dinah, and Evan have found me? They'd traced my scent through the woods.   

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It is not an easy thing to take another's life, no matter how many crimes they have committed. No matter how many people they have killed. Ridding the world of some small evil does not ensure a good night's sleep. Neither justice nor vengeance comes with a guarantee that you will not doubt yourself. What helps is that I know I did what I could for the victims and their families. 

That I ensured Austin Mahone would never again hurt anyone else. There wasn't anything I could do about Taylor Swift. I didn't like her, but since Austin was trying to dethrone her, she hadn't been involved in his little murder escapades. I still didn't trust her, though. There was something about her that I saw in her brother. Not the insanity bit, as Taylor didn't seem like a complete whack-job like her brother, but there was a darkness there that I don't think either of them dealt with in healthy ways.