Chapter 7
“Dayax!”
Having shifted into his wolf form under cover of night, Lincoln Adams eased farther into the dilapidated two-story building, shot-up and abandoned long before he and his team had arrived in Taifa, a war-torn village in southern Somalia and home to the Yeeyi pack.
Wahyas, an ancient species of wolf shifters who were caught in the middle of escalating human conflicts, faced a greater likelihood of unintentional exposure. To minimize the risk, the Woelfesenat, the secretive international wolf council, developed elite Special Forces teams called Dogmen. Their primary function: safeguarding Wahyas in harm’s way while aiding human allies in their worldwide peacekeeping endeavors.
Since their arrival in Taifa six months ago, Lincoln’s Dogman team had been providing support to UN forces defending the area against militant insurgents and administering humanitarian aid.
Dayax, an orphaned wolfling who’d made himself somewhat of a daily pest at their base of operation, had disappeared from his village during the guerillas’ morning raid.
Tonight, Lincoln’s mission, though not officially sanctioned, nonetheless fell within the scope of his sworn duties. Still, he’d chosen to conduct the search and rescue alone.
Sensing movement behind him, Lincoln spun around, baring his teeth, and issued a low, threatening growl. Five dark, stealthy figures covertly closed in on the building.
Damn ass-wipes.
Affection flooded his wolfan body while he watched his team, in their human forms, fall into position as they had done on countless missions. Handgun drawn, Lila Raycen quietly and quickly entered the building, snapped a quick look around and then gave a hand signal to her teammates. Her gaze sweeping the street, she whispered, “Sorry, Cap’n. All for one and all that jazz.”
Lincoln couldn’t speak the words floating through his mind. Wahyas could only telepathically communicate with other Wahyas if both were in their wolfan forms. Unless, of course, they were mated, which he and Lila were not. Nor would they ever be.
Although grateful at the show of Lila’s support, he growled to officially express displeasure at her disregard of his direct order for the team to remain on-base.
“You can thank me later—” she smirked “—with a fat, juicy steak.”
She had a long wait. On deployment, Dogmen’s diets consisted of water and rations—canned and freeze-dried. Lincoln couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a real meal. But once this assignment ended and they returned to HQ, his first home-cooked meal would be fried, shredded beef empanadas. His weren’t as good as the ones his mom made but she had the actual family recipe handed down from her bisabuela, while he had to make them from memory, since Dogmen weren’t allowed contact with family or friends while in the Program.
One more team member entered the building; the remaining three set up watch outside.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Damien Marquez asked. A member of Lincoln’s team for less than a year and a royal pain in the ass, but the fresh-faced Dogman made a damn good soldier.
Lincoln
