Forbidden Hope: A Werewolf Wars Prequel Novella by Bethany Shaw Page A

herself to the tree trunk. Emily gasped, the branch above her snapping, sending a few twigs flying to the ground. Panic rushed in and she prayed no one had heard. She stumbled and reached out, wrapping her arms around the thick trunk. “Easy my ass,” she muttered, both relieved and terrified at the same time.
    Emily anxiously glanced along the yard before slowly lowering herself to the next branch. She continued her steady pace until her feet finally touched the soft grass. Closing her eyes, she let out a relieved breath before dashing the few feet to the side of the house.
    Emily pressed her back against the vinyl siding, her eyes wide, searching for guards. Seeing no movement, she crept along the house until she reached the edge.
    Her pulse roared in her ears as she peered around the corner. She let out a relieved breath when she saw Marcus standing at the tree they agreed to meet at, a bag slung over his shoulder. A smile slid across her face as he motioned her to him.
    She wiped her clammy hands on her jean shorts, took one last look around, and then darted to Marcus. The space between them stretched indefinitely. Marcus’ arms opened and she ran into his warm embrace, suppressing a giggle as he lifted her up off the ground.
    “Are you okay?” he asked
    “I am now,” she breathed, inhaling his mossy scent. Her eyes closed and she burrowed further into the safety of his embrace. Relief washed over her as she clung to him. This felt right—this is where she wanted to be. As long as she had Marcus, she didn’t care where they went. Her heart swelled with love as she burrowed impossibly closer to him.
    They stayed that way for several moments before Marcus pulled back and set her down. He cupped her chin, his eyes grazing over her.
    “I’m fine,” she reiterated. Technically, she wasn’t fine, but she would be. Everything she needed was right here with her.
    “Hey,” Vincent hissed. “No smooching, we are planning an escape.”
    Emily pulled Vincent into a tight hug. She was certain there was nothing she could ever do to let her brothers know how much their help meant to her. Regardless, she was going to show them every chance she got.
    “Is Devon okay?” Emily asked, concerned. She’d never seen him so ragged before. What if he couldn’t make it out of the house?
    “Why wouldn’t he be?” Vincent frowned.
    Emily opened her mouth to respond, but paused when she saw the guesthouse door open and close. Devon! He trotted toward them a bag slung over his shoulder.
    “Are we ready?” Devon asked, his voice barely audible.
    They all nodded. Devon flicked his wrist, motioning for them to follow him. He led them through the grassy front yard to the back of the property. Footsteps approached to their right and Marcus pulled Emily behind a small building, following Devon’s example.
    They pressed their backs against the cool, steel frame. A radio crackled in the distance as one of Emmett’s men drew closer to them.
    Emily panted, her heart hammered against her ribs. Her arms shook and tears pricked her eyes. “Dev,” she mouthed to him panicked.
    Devon held a finger to his lips and placed a hand over her pale, shaking hand. His eyes drifted to the others, leaning on the cool, hard metal beside them.
    Vincent crouched down; pumping his hands as they slowly transitioned into claws. His golden eyes were alert and he was ready to lunge.
    Emily closed her eyes. Please don’t let them catch us. Devon seemed okay, but she knew he was probably hiding the severity of his injuries. They had accelerating healing, but it wasn’t that fast. 
    Marcus rested a hand on her arm, rubbing small circles around her elbow in an effort to soothe her.
    The shortwave radio cackled again. Emily flinched. He was so close. She buried her face in her hands. Someone gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Her body trembled. The only cover they had was the small shed. If the guard took a few more steps, they would be found. There was no