Despite the increased numbers and all the attention, the pack didn’t have much trouble sneaking into camp. There were more armed men posted to guard the campsite, but they tended to stick together for safety and, as a result, the holes between them were larger than before. But the pack weren’t interested in the men working on the site this time around. They had scared away most of them and it had become apparent that the only real obstacle left was the boss, Tyler Allen Ceballo. According to the loggers who’d jumped ship, he was a nasty, manipulating, devil of a man who was determined to win the battle at all cost. So far, he’d been pretty easygoing about the safety of his men, and the pack wanted to know how much of a personal sacrifice he was willing to make for the sake of the company.

“It’s this one,” Harlan said, leaning up against the side of Ceballo’s trailer in his werewolf form and sniffing around the doorframe. “He’s in there.”

Noble nodded. “You stay out here with Tora,” he said. “Anyone comes by, you scare them off.”

Harlan nodded, as did his sister.

Noble turned to Argus. “You sure you want to do this?”

Argus smiled. “Are you kidding? I can’t wait.”

The plan was simple. They’d done a good job of scaring off the workers, but Ceballo was still the man in charge. He’d dismissed everything that had happened as simple trickery and “men in fur suits.” The time had come to convince the boss—personally—that it was in his best interest to move his operation a little farther north.

The door to the trailer opened with a sharp squeak. Noble held it still for a moment, but it was impossible to open it any further without making more noise. Finally, Noble shrugged and pulled the door wide open.

The squeak cut through the night air, but Ceballo didn’t wake up immediately. Instead, he snorted and harrumphed a couple of times.

“Who…what?”

There were no lights on inside of the trailer, but there were lights on outside in the camp that cast patches of light on the walls and floor. Noble and Argus used the shadows to their advantage, allowing Ceballo only fleeting glimpses of their faces and bodies as they moved through the trailer.

“Who’s there? Is that you Willem?”

Noble and Argus approached the cot where Ceballo still lay, half-awake, half-asleep.

Noble took a position at the end of the bed, so that only the left side of his wolfen face was caught by the light. Argus stepped up to the side of the bed, his head and legs in shadow, but his muscular chest fully illuminated by the outside lights. Noble kicked one of the bed’s legs.

“What the…” Ceballo sat up in bed. “Who the hell are you?”