Page 89 of Brandt's Rule
“Who told you to kill my animal?” Brandt growled.
Both males jumped up, one of them snatching up a shotgun and turning on Brandt.
Brandt laughed sardonically, shaking his head. “You might hit me. But you won’t kill me. Can’t say the same for you, though.”
“Put that fucking gun down,” the other one rushed out at his friend.
“He’s gonna kill us,” the gun holder snapped back.
“I’m going to kill you, if you don’t put that fucking gun down,” Brandt demanded.
The male holding the shotgun, turned his attention back to Brandt and pulled the trigger as his friend shoved him off balance from the side.
Brandt lunged to the right and coverered his head.
When the gun went off it peppered the trees behind Brandt, but only one or two of them grazed his shoulder and back. Just as quickly as he went down, he was back up and shifting into his Bear. He went at both males, his roar of outrage filling the woods around them.
With no choice but to defend himself, the second male fought like his life depended on it, because he thought it did. The other male was beaten to a pulp so quickly that he had no chance to land more than a couple of punches on Brandt. Brandt was so enraged, he barely even noticed as he went after the male.
As Brandt fought the second male, he stepped on the discarded shotgun and in one swift motion grabbed it up off the ground, and broke it in half. The male Brandt was fighting, knew he stood very little chance with a male this strong and angry. Without another thought he went to his knees, his arms out, his head tilted back to display his throat in a universal sign among shifters of submission.
Brandt started toward him, then caught himself, realizing the male was leaving his fate in Brandt’s hands. It took a couple of tries because so much adrenalin was coursing through him, but eventually Brandt was able to shift back. He stood over the male, looking down at him. “The hell is wrong with you? You trespass onto another male’s property. Poach animals without his permission, then try to shoot him because you committed a crime?!” Brandt bellowed.
“I told him to put down the gun. You heard me. I said it!” the male said quickly, defending himself.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brandt demanded.
“We’re just hunting. We’re starving. Got no income. Nothing. Got no way to get work. Just trying to feed ourselves,” the males exclaimed.
“You setting traps on my land?”
The male quickly nodded.
“Why my land?”
“It’s easy to hunt. Lot of animals here. Far enough away that we usually ain't even noticed. We ain’t trying to do nothing but survive.”
“Get a fucking job like everybody else!” Brandt growled, kicking what remained of the gun more than twenty feet away from them.
“I told you. Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Got no identification. No birth certificate. No I.D. Nobody will hire somebody they can’t identify.”
“Then how in the hell did you last this long?” Brandt asked, his irritation slowly dissipating.
“Our families left this area years ago when our Alpha got into a standoff with a shifter clan. They killed him, and instead of staying and trying to reorganize our Pa went north. We been living off the land. We ain’t joined another skulk. We just kept to ourselves. Then Pa died, and Ma, too. Our little spot started growing up, no more animals to hunt. Worked our way back here. I got my mate I’m trying to feed, and we got a little boy. Her sister is with us, and he’s my brother, dumbass that he is.”
“You should have come to me.”
“Why? So you can run us off, too? We’re on our last leg. We’re out of options! We have to eat!” the male exclaimed.
“You know who I am?” Brandt asked.
The male, still holding his arms out, shook his head. “I know you’re Alpha. Anybody with any sense would know that.”
“This is my land. My clan lives here. This animal,” he said, pointing to the dead boar, “is my animal. Left to roam free on my land, because that’s what I wanted.”