Page 61 of Ice King

“Hopefully, the assholes will get tired of using us for target practice.”

The subject was obviously a sore point since Ken let out a slow and deep growl. “From what I heard, a few wolves who were attacked retaliated. All self-defense, but instilling fear of our kind.”

“That’s what they want,” Mike added.

I scanned the forest, wondering how long it would be before our quiet sanctuary of a town would lose its innocence. “Then I guess we need to ensure we don’t give it to them. I better get inside.” I clapped Ken on the shoulder before walking away.

Just as Jack Knight rounded the corner. He’d been my best friend what felt like a hundred years before. We’d done almost everything together, including playing hockey. Where I’d gone on to play professionally, he’d taken a couple of tours in the Marines. Now he owned a regional sporting goods and tourist location, utilizing his hefty inheritance after the death of his parents.

He stopped in his tracks, saying something to one of his friends. Whatever it was, the guy offered a nasty look before heading into the building.

Jack’s sneer was a typical reaction, which was mild in comparison to his usual behavior. Sure, we were adults, but we carried significant baggage with us.

I’d been insistent he’d betrayed me.

He believed I’d killed his sister.

Or at least had been responsible for her death. He didn’t need to remind me of the hatred he felt. Or the intense burning agony that never left, never allowed you to breathe or fully enjoy any aspect of your life. Always feeling guilty and unprepared for the wave of despair that shot over you when you least expected or wanted the heavy-handed emotions.

Yeah, I had that too. In spades.

He rubbed his jaw and took a few steps closer. For the most part, we’d simply stayed away from each other, accepting that nothing could repair our friendship.

Then there’d been the incident the night before. He’d gone from being a decent guy to being a bully, something his parents had blamed me for before their deaths. The older I got, the more I realized everyone handled grief differently.

“Ford,” he muttered, nodding while he glared me in the eyes.

“Jack.”

We did nothing but glare at each other, but between the testosterone and the pent-up rage that had never abated, we were sticks of dynamite ready to be lit. One false move and the day would turn bloody.

“What the fuck was that shit last night?” he tossed out.

“You mean the two assholes who decided to harass a woman in the ladies’ bathroom? Is that what you’re talking about?”

His entire body bristled. “Ah, are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” I asked, laughing easily. “Of two dudes with zero finesse and brains the size of peas?” For whatever reason, whenwe were caught together, we both resorted to the jerks we’d been in high school.

Although the bantering we’d once shared had an entirely different tone.

“Just another puck bunny whore spreading her legs for you? That’s all you can handle. Plus, there isn’t a real woman out there who can’t see through your bullshit. You’re a monster.”

I couldn’t care less what the asshole called me since we had similar canine blood running through our veins.

However, allowing him to disparage Georgia or any woman for that matter was unacceptable and whether I or my wolf reacted first didn’t matter in the equation. My reaction was exactly the same as the night before.

I did so without thinking of any consequences.

My fist landed against his jaw, the force pitching him backward by several feet. When he slammed into the tree, the brutal sound wasn’t made from a crack in his jaw but by a live tree limb breaking from a massive oak tree.

Down both went, the limb smashing into a dozen pieces.

But the man was right back on his feet, his eyes a wild reflection of his barely controlled beast as he lunged toward me. Even as he managed to get off a savage gut blow, I didn’t fall prey to any pain, issuing one jab after another.

Soon, we were in a ruthless fist fight, neither one considering backing down.

The scarred, fractured hatred had been brewing for years, our emotions and the circumstances of our friendship ending fueling the brawl.