Come Out Swinging (Reach for the Moon Book 2) by Sam Hall (sight word readers TXT) 📕

and I’m four years old!” he declared, and Mason saw that big infectious smile of his that seemed to soften the hardest of hearts. He watched, waiting to see how the teacher would respond to his brother

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Zack!” she replied with a big grin, then held out a hand to take his.

Mason let go of Zack’s reluctantly, but he knew this was how it was supposed to be, what would happen if it didn’t. He nodded to the teacher, pulling back, and when they turned to go, he watched the two of them walk inside with the horde of other kids. But when he turned around, he did so to face down the enemy.

“Got a little brother, huh?” one of the kids from his school said with a slow smile that had my whole body tensing.

Chapter 42

“They’ve got Zack.”

Mason was in high school now by the look of the other kids and the hallways. The messenger who came skidding up to him wasn’t a friend. Mason didn’t even know his name, but that didn’t stop him or others who suffered under the tyranny of the ruling clique from running to him when something was going down. Especially when it had something to do with his brother.

“They’ve got him behind the bike shed.”

“Fuck…” Mason growled and then took off at a run, right as the school bell went.

He was a fish swimming upstream, the student body flooding in response to the sound, but he didn’t care. He tried to weave his body through those walking in, images of just what was happening out at the bike shed flooding his mind, and when that didn’t work, he started to push and shove, force people out of his way.

Stumbling outside didn’t make anything easier, his arms, his legs pumping as he ran to the back of the school where the bike shed was, throwing himself over the low fence when he saw a cluster of people around the back, hanging in the shadows. But it was the muffled cries that had his head whipping around. He put on as much speed as he dared, feeling the burn in his thighs.

“Here he comes!” someone shouted. Maybe more was said, but Mason didn’t hear it. All his training, all his calm, cool tactics lost when he heard the ragged shout of his brother.

It was clear to any who saw what I saw, that Mason had put up with a ton of shit. The trouble was his beast had too. His wolf had seen the family structure he could expect to have around him disintegrate, his home taken from him over and over, his pack, the most important thing for a wolf to have, ripped from him, and all subsequent packs turn on him.

Like they did now.

It was hard to see Zack this small, this vulnerable. Especially when a much bigger hand had a grip on his shirt collar, twisting it tight until the little boy struggled to breathe, the others holding him down so his squirms got him nowhere. But not for long.

Mase, he’d fought these boys before, too many times, so he should’ve had this in the bag. Beat them into submission, scoop up Zack, get him home before Bruce got there, and clean him up before getting a start on dinner. This was a grim routine, but it was one he’d gotten through many times before, so why now?

Mason carried a predator inside him, just like all of us did. It wasn’t in its nature to lie down, stay quiet, keep the peace, though he asked that of his animal all too often. But it had been swimming up and out of the depths of Mason for some time. As his body grew taller and stronger, so did his wolf, until finally, it couldn’t take it anymore.

Zack was his pack, and Bruce to a certain extent. One of his was being threatened, hurt. A film of red covered his vision right before his wolf came out.

The godawful snarl of disgust had everyone freezing still, like bunnies in headlights, eyes slow to slide around as if afraid of what they’d see, with good reason. The huge dark beast of Mason’s wolf stood there, paws planted, haunches coiled, ready to strike.

“Oh fuck…” one of them squeaked as Mason’s jaws dropped open, sabre-like fangs, a rose red throat, ready to tear them apart.

“Let him go! Let him go!” one yelped, jerking his body away from the bike shed and making a run for it, something that tugged at his instincts, but he wasn’t the main prey. It was them, still standing over his brother, his pack, a hand still wound in Zack’s shirt. They were the focus. A continuous snarl rumbled in his throat as he took one step, then another towards the boys. Another’s nerve failed, then another, both boys pelting across the grass leaving him—the alpha’s son.

“You…” There was a pleasure to be had from watching the little bastard struggle to put words together. “You… You shouldn’t be able to… We don’t shift…”

Mason put paid to the conversation with a lunge and snap of his jaws. That was it, the boys let go of Zack and then tore away, hoping to get back to school. Mase saw Zack slide down the side of the shed, tears in his eyes but otherwise unharmed, before he took off after the bullies.

This, this was what he was meant to do.

Mason could feel it in the animal pleasure that came from running with such an efficient, powerful machine of a body. His paws dug into the grass, sent him sailing over the fence, then after a few more steps, launched him at the alpha’s son.

This, this was what was meant to be.

He felt the kid faceplant hard, his paws driving out every gasp of air from the boy’s lungs as he flopped over onto his back, chest working desperately to refill them. Mason was on him in a second, his paws