Jessie Ann stepped forward; her eyes locked on Sissy’s. She snarled, baring her fangs. In that split second Sissy realized Jessie Ann was unbelievably pissed off that the wolves dared to cross territorial lines.

Refusing to believe Jessie Ann would be stupid enough to challenge her, Sissy gave a warning growl. Warning Jessie Ann not to even try it. Not to even think it. She sucker punched Sissy once, but that wouldn’t happen again.

Sissy motioned to Ronnie Lee, who took several steps back before turning completely around and trotting off, the other She-wolves right behind her. Sissy growled and barked one last time before she turned and slowly followed after her She-wolves. Once again, Smith wolves didn’t run. Besides, she only had to get to the territorial line between the dogs’ and Shaw’s properties.

That’s exactly what she kept thinking as she came in sight of that territorial line. Then Jessie Ann Ward dug painfully sharp fangs into Sissy’s left thigh and flung her nose over tail back into dog territory.

Smitty laughed as Shaw backed away from Ricky Lee and the moonshine-filled Mason jar.

“Keep that crap away from me!”

“Now don’t go turnin’ into a big pussy. Drink up, boy!” Ricky Lee winked at Smitty. “Trust me, Bobby Ray. We’ll turn this Yankee into a good ol’ Southern boy in no time.”

“Hell you will!” Shaw laughed.

Watching the Reed boys torture Ronnie Lee’s mate, Smitty debated about whether to get some food from the fridge or go take a nap. A good sleep often did wonders when he needed to figure out a problem. But before he could do either, the scent hit him first.

The scent of panic.

By the time he made it down the front porch stairs, a She-wolf slid to a stop in front of him. She barked and turned, running off. The others shifted and followed after her. Smitty took a second to look back at Mace standing on the porch stairs. “Stay here. Protect Erik.”

“Got it. Go.”

He did, running and shifting simultaneously. He caught up with the rest of them as they neared a ridge.

Smitty could smell they were nearing another breed’s territory. Wild dog. Jessie Ann’s territory.

Lord, what had Sissy Mae been thinking?

As Smitty and the others made it over a small ridge, they saw them. There were about three dogs to every wolf, and there were at least four dogs on Sissy.

Shaw roared in anger and charged toward the dogs tag teaming Ronnie Lee. Smitty headed right for his sister and Jessie Ann, immediately recognizing her scent and markings.

Besides, only a dog with a grudge would go after Sissy Mae the way she was. Sissy held her own, but she was weakening fast. Still, Jessie Ann kept at her. Sissy would turn and try to take a chunk out of her and Jessie would dance away from her. Then another dog would attack her flank, and when Sissy would turn to fight them, Jessie Ann would come back.

Smitty knew he had to get his sister and the She-wolves overthe territorial boundaries they were mere feet from. He had to do it fast.

But the wild dogs cut in front of him, zigzagging past, blocking him. Blocking him from Jessie Ann.

Pissed, he batted the dogs out of his way, barreling through them when he could, and, without hesitation, went straight for Jessie Ann. Fangs sank past fur and into vulnerable flesh and muscle. She let out a cry of pain and twisted away from him, releasing Sissy Mae in the process. Jessie Ann jumped back several feet and stared at him. Then she tried to dodge around him to get back to Sissy. Smitty cut her off, baring his fangs in warning. She snarled back and again tried to go around him.

His Packmates were desperately trying to get the other dogs off Sissy Mae so she could limp her way back to Shaw territory, but the dogs wouldn’t let her go. When two were knocked off, two more attacked.

When Jessie Ann tried to go around him again, he batted her back. She stared at him and he wondered if she’d run off. Lord, what if he made her cry?

Then, in a moment that he’d remember until the day he died, sweet, innocent Jessie Ann Ward charged him head-on.

They went up on hind legs and clawed at each other while biting at the most vulnerable areas. She bit into his muzzle and he clawed her throat.

Her Pack, hearing their Alpha’s fight, came running. Smitty let them. He let them go at him, tearing into him. He let them, but he didn’t back off Jessie Ann. Not until he knew his sister was safe.

And Jessie Ann never backed off him. Not once. She went after him like she would have any other predator. Coldly.

When Brendon Shaw roared again, Smitty knew his Pack had gotten Sissy over the boundary. He snapped at the dogs on his ass and shoulders, and backed up until he made it back into Shaw territory. The dogs came right up to that line, one long row of them. That’s how they attacked—in a line, until they slipped off to surround their prey, ran it down, and ripped it apart.

Smitty knew this was part message, part revenge. The message letting the Smith Pack know that, without an invite, traipsing onto wild-dog land would get them killed. But the revenge... Well, apparently eighteen years of resentment had just exploded way past that punch in the face.

Brendon stepped forward and stared at Jessie. Her eyes moved from Smitty to Brendon and back again. Finally, she gave a brief yip, turned, and trotted back into her territory. Bushy white, brown, black, and blond tail up and swishing proudly. With another yip, Jessie’s Pack followed.

With one last shake of his head, Smitty turned and followed after his Pack and wounded sister.

Chapter 24

With all those stitches covering a good portion of her body, Sissy looked sewn together. The dogs had done a lot of damage but none of it lethal. Just painful. She probably wouldn’t even get the fever, that important step their bodies took when fighting infection, but she would definitely have scars. A lot of them.