by Sadie Moss
I bristled at his use of the word strays. It sounded derogatory and dismissive.
Wasn’t this entire pack composed of strays? Shifters who had been adrift, alone, but who’d banded together to form something bigger than themselves?
“That’s not fair!” I bit out, struggling to keep my voice from rising. “You can’t punish these two for something they had nothing to do with. They’re victims as much as anybody else.”
“It’s not a punishment,” he said, his voice cool. “And it’s not about ‘fair.’ It’s about doing my duty as alpha.”
I bit my lip so hard it nearly bled, holding back the torrent of angry words that wanted to spill from my mouth. None of it would help, but I didn’t know what to say to get through to him.
The alpha wasn’t an evil man; I was convinced of that. But he’d been pushed too far, and now he was shutting down in fear. There had been too many changes in too little time. Too many new threats to his pack.
But didn’t he understand that as long as Strand was out there, the threat would always exist? Any feeling of security was an illusion.
“Alpha, please.” My voice was softer when I spoke again. “If it’s a matter of too many new members, my mates and I will leave. Once we know the shifters we delivered are safe here, we’ll find somewhere else to go.”
Two large bodies came to stand beside me as I spoke, and I let their support bolster me. I’d blurted the words without thinking, and I hoped my mates would forgive me if Alpha Elijah took me up on the offer. But I knew we’d be okay together. We were our own little pack, and if we had to, the five of us and Sariah could make a go of it… somewhere.
Val’s brows drew together, and she leaned up to murmur something in the alpha’s ear. He cocked his head, running a hand through his shaggy hair as he considered her words. Then, finally, he spoke.
“All right. They can stay.” His eyes narrowed, the wrinkles at the corners deepening. “But I’ll be calling a pack meeting soon. We need to get a few things straight around here.”
Walker and Marcus, who’d been watching our exchange with silent but intense interest, bowed before Elijah’s imperious gaze. I’d never seen anyone bow before—except in movies—and the gesture was less formal and more groveling than I’d expected.
I hated that this was their introduction to the Lost Pack—the supposed haven they’d spent weeks wandering through the wilderness to find. But at least they could stay. For now.
“Thank you, alpha. Thank you,” Walker muttered.
The two men looked up as Elijah dipped his head in a curt nod and spun on his heel.
“Set them up in the northern barracks. With the other newcomers,” he tossed over his shoulder at Val.
She dipped her head in the more customary courtesy given to the alpha. I had a hard time imagining this woman bowing to anyone.
“All right, you two. Come with me.”
She jerked her chin before falling into an easy stride, giving the new shifters a chance to keep up with her. My mates and I all shared a look before following. I trusted Val to take care of the shifter men, but I’d still feel better once I saw them settled in.
As we wended our way through the camp, Val questioned them about where they were from, how well they’d known Beth, and the circumstances of their escape. The two men were dazed and exhausted, their answers short and sometimes almost nonsensical. But her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she pressed for more details—what exactly was the Strand complex like, how many other shifters were being held there, were there any distinctive landmarks nearby?
“There was a… a billboard near the road leading away from the compound. With a half-naked woman on it,” Marcus said slowly.
“Shit. That could be along any trucker route in Wyoming.” Noah shook his head ruefully.
I snuck a glance at Val as we entered the dimly lit hallway of the north barracks. She wasn’t just making conversation or trying to put the newcomers at ease. In fact, her questions seemed to make them more tense, but she asked anyway. She was genuinely interested in the answers, in gathering as much intel about Strand as possible.
Why?
A half-formed thought flickered through my mind that maybe she wanted vengeance for Beth, or maybe she hoped other abducted pack members were still alive.
Then another thought occurred to me. Alpha Elijah clung to the notion of remaining neutral and was dead set against taking the fight to Strand—he’d refused to help us hunt for Sariah to try to break her out.
But I truly didn’t know whether everyone else in his pack felt the same way as their alpha. Was it possible some of them, Val included, weren’t satisfied with just hiding away from Strand?
A wolf pack is not a democracy.
That was as true among shifters as it was among full-blooded wolves.
In the Lost Pack, every single member contributed to the day-to-day upkeep of the camp; there were no societal tiers that allowed some shifters to rest while others worked. We were all part of a community, and even the newer members were included in that, despite the tension that simmered between the two groups.
But that did not mean we all had an equal say in pack matters. When it came to important decisions, only one voice counted—the alpha’s.
Which was why I was a little surprised Elijah made good on his promise and called a pack meeting a few days after Marcus and Walker arrived. Did he truly want to hear what the Elders or other members of the pack thought about the changes that’d disrupted their lives over the past few months? Would he be willing to listen to me or my mates, or any of the barely-welcome newcomers from Salt Lake?
I fucking doubt it.
Immediately after our arrival three weeks ago, my men and I had insisted on a meeting with the alpha. He’d needed to know about what we’d heard on the news—about the death of Terrence Cole, the previous Strand CEO, and the takeover of the company by Doctor Alan Shepherd. About Doctor Shepherd’s determination to funnel more of Strand’s budget into testing and eventually… production.
The doctor and his team had spent years tweaking the dosage and delivery of whatever serum forced the change in our DNA. They’d destroyed countless lives along the way and sacrificed untold numbers of innocent victims to death in the name of research.
Once Strand finally got their system exactly right? I couldn’t even fathom how many more people would have their lives ripped away from them, their entire makeup incontrovertibly altered so they could be sold as weapons. As slaves.
But Alpha Elijah hadn’t wanted to hear our warnings. He had refused to listen, accusing us of attempting to inflame unrest and disquiet among his people.
“Hey. Relax your face. You look like you’re about to murder someone,” Jackson whispered, leaning down to brush his lips over my hair as we made our way across the base in the gloomy evening light toward the chapel that had become our makeshift town hall.
“Huh?”
The tickle of his warm breath against my scalp brought me out of my thoughts, and I glanced up at him.
He grinned, scrunching up his slightly crooked nose. “You’ve got murder face.”
Oh. Shit.
I consciously relaxed the muscles of my face, letting my pinched eyebrows drift apart and my pursed lips soften. I wasn’t mad… yet. But my anticipation of what was to come had already put me in a tense mood. Forcing my brain to stop spiraling, I hooked my hand into the crook of Jackson’s elbow, leaning my head against his strong arm as I peered over at the others who walked with us.
Rhys wore a scowl exactly like the one I’d just wiped from my face, and I felt a rush of warmth toward my grumpy-ass mate. I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, but I found I could relate to his anger more and more these days. Trying to watch out for the people you loved was fucking hard, especially when it seemed like the whole world was set against you.
He felt my gaze on him and glanced my way. His expression didn’t soften—in fact, it hardened even more— but the blaze of emotion in his s
tar-blue eyes told me more than a smile ever could.
Every battle he fought was for Sariah, for his pack mates—for me. And he would keep fighting until there was no one left to go up against.
The chapel was small and bare, a utilitarian worship space. As we entered through the metal double doors, the murmur of voices grew louder. The sound wasn’t sociable and boisterous but hushed and suspicious, and I noted that the assembled shifters had divided themselves neatly down the middle. Lost Pack members sat in pews on one side of the aisle, while the Salt Lake City refugees had claimed the other side.
My mates, Sariah, and I remained standing in the back of the room along with a few shifters who’d remained in wolf form. The pews were fairly full, but more than that, I didn’t want to make a statement by picking a side.
Alpha Elijah stepped up to the podium on the dais. A panel of six shifters sat in chairs arranged behind him; there were three women and three men, and they were all older, in their forties and fifties. One man might even have been past sixty.
From what I’d picked up around the camp, the Elders were some of the original members of the Lost Pack, having joined during its inception over a decade ago. They served as advisors to the alpha, and I knew he valued their insight. Val’s quiet reminder earlier that they still supported the Lost Pack’s mission of providing a haven to escaped shifters had been a smart move. Elijah might not think much of me, but he did respect some people’s opinions.
“Thank you all for coming.” The alpha’s voice boomed out across the small space as he surveyed the shifters before him. He gripped the sides of the podium, resting heavily on it as he leaned toward us. “This has been a time of great upheaval, and I know it has affected each and every one of you. Some of you lost loved ones in the Strand attack, and some have struggled to adapt to our new… circumstances.”
Quiet noises of assent drifted up from the crowd. I scanned the backs of heads, finally spotting Walker and Marcus tucked away in the last row, on the far edge of the section chosen by the Salt Lake shifters. My heart went out to the two men. The Salt Lakers may be outsiders, but at least they had each other. Walker and Marcus were one step further removed than that.
“We are at a crossroads.” Elijah’s voice grew serious as he continued. “We may never be able to go back to the way things were, but now is the time for us to decide what kind of shape our future will take. So I open the floor to you. What do you want?”
Pews creaked in the silence as people shuffled in their seats, no one wanting to be the first to speak.
Finally, a Lost Pack shifter with fiery red hair braided down her back raised a hand. “Is it true Strand is planning to create even more shifters? That they’ll sell them as weapons?”
The alpha’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and his accusatory gaze snapped to me. But I hadn’t told the woman anything. Rumors and gossip spread faster than a grease fire, and although some might try to deny it, Strand still haunted the thoughts and nightmares of every person here. Of course the news of Doctor Shepherd’s takeover of the corporation had made its way through the pack.
“That is unconfirmed and unsubstantiated,” Elijah said slowly. “And even if it is true, it’s no longer our concern. We escaped Strand, and as long as we keep ourselves hidden, there’s no reason for them to ever find us again.”
My temper flared, and I squared my shoulders as I took a step forward, already opening my mouth to speak. But strong hands wrapped around my arms, holding me back. When I glanced behind me, Noah shook his head, jerking his chin toward the crowd as if to say, Just watch.
I frowned but clamped my mouth shut, letting the silence settle for a moment before a new voice piped up.
“You don’t know that,” a Salt Lake shifter named Keegan said, his tone haunted. “We didn’t think they’d come for us in the first place. Why should we think we’ll ever be safe from them again?”
“Because you are with the Lost Pack now,” Elijah intoned. “And we protect our own.”
“But if we protect our own, shouldn’t we try to do something to help the other shifters who are trapped in Strand labs?” another voice added from the crowd.
A chorus of agreement followed, and although it was louder on the Salt Lake side, I noticed murmurs rising across the aisle too.
“No!” A woman in the front row stood up, turning to face the gathered crowd. “Why should we risk our lives for them? For shifters we don’t even know? Strand has already tried to kill me more than once. I’m not giving those demons another damn chance!”
“Claire’s right.” A Lost Pack shifter with graying shoulder-length hair nodded. “We already let them”—he jerked his head toward those across the aisle—“join us, and it’s only made things worse. What would we do with more if we got them out?”
“So we should just leave them to rot so they don’t inconvenience you?” a burly shifter blurted, leaping up to glare over at the other man. “So you don’t have to share any of your precious fucking territory?”
The gray-haired man snarled, but his response was lost in the torrent of voices that filled the space as people shouted over each other, laying down accusations and placing blame.
Alpha Elijah allowed chaos to reign for a few moments, watching with an almost satisfied look on his face, as if the outburst had proved some point he was trying to make. What that could be, I wasn’t sure. The only thing he’d proved in my mind was that he was failing his people as a leader. Finally, he raised both hands, his deep voice booming over the crowd.
“Enough!”
Every one of the gathered shifters responded to the commanding tone, breaking off mid-shout to turn toward him. Some gazed at him with slightly resentful eyes, but no one spoke out against his authority.
In a quiet, solemn voice, he continued, “I know you all have concerns—on both sides. I have heard your fears and your struggles, and I will do what I can to address them.” He turned to speak to his long-time pack members, gesturing to the other side of the room. “These shifters from Salt Lake are a part of us now. I expect you to treat them fairly and as equals. But I promise you, this is the end of it. We have been a haven for many years, opening our arms to any who found their way to us. Now it’s time for us to look inward, to look after our own. To be a haven to those who are already here.”
My brows pulled together as he spoke, disbelief tightening my features. I was sure my murder face was creeping back, but I was too stunned to try to fight it.
That was it? That was what he’d called everyone here for? Not to offer genuine solutions to the unrest in the pack, but to use people’s high emotions as an excuse to shut out any other shifters?
The alpha turned his attention to the Salt Lake side of the room, drawing in a breath. “I’ve spoken to the Elders, and they are—for the most part—in agreement with me on this. We are not warriors. We are not freedom fighters. We are, and always will be, refugees. As alpha, my duty is to keep my pack safe. And to allow the shifters who follow me to risk their lives against an opponent like Strand would be in direct opposition to that duty.”
Rhys let out a low growl beside me, and Sariah cast a worried look in his direction. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a gentle reminder not to lose his cool. I’d done the same thing myself just a few days ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it now—mainly because I was too busy fighting down the anger that boiled inside me, tinting my own vision red.
Soft whispers and murmurs broke out among the pack on both sides, but Elijah ignored them, moving on to address other business as he began laying down rules that would make cohabitation between the old and new arrivals easier.
I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t stand here and watch him make mundane proclamations about territory and common spaces. As if that was all that mattered.
For the first time since we’d come here, I imagined spending the rest of my life at this base, constantly on edge, never comfortable—never able to truly live.
Angry words beat against my
clenched teeth, begging to be released. But he wouldn’t listen, and if I berated the alpha in front of the entire pack, it wouldn’t end well for me or my mates.
So I shrugged out of Noah’s grasp and made a beeline for the door, reaching it in three long strides. I looked back over my shoulder as I slipped out and saw Alpha Elijah watching me, an inscrutable look on his face.
Then the cool night air hit my flushed skin and moonlit darkness swallowed me up.
Chapter Eight
I paced away from the chapel, heading toward the outskirts of the base. A few other shifters slipped out behind me, and I wondered if they were as pissed and disappointed in their alpha as I was. I noticed Marcus and Walker leave the chapel and walk in the opposite direction from me, their heads hung low.
Jesus. Some welcome they’d gotten. What must they be thinking right now?
Alpha Elijah’s deep, muted voice carried through the walls of the small building, and I walked faster until it faded away.
The only shifters who hadn’t attended the meeting were those on patrol, and a wolf with dark fur glanced at me as I stormed past. I nodded at them but didn’t stop to explain myself. They were here to keep Strand out, not to keep me in. And I needed to get away. To get myself back under control before I had to face the alpha again.
As I passed the last building and stepped into the tree line, a low voice called out behind me. “Alexis! Hey, wait up!”
I bit my lip, suppressing a smile despite my anger.
Jackson.
Of course my mates wouldn’t let me wander off alone, no matter how pissed I was. I wondered if he’d drawn the short straw or the long straw to be the one tasked with chasing after me. I could see it going either way.
I stopped, watching him over my shoulder as he jogged to catch up. As soon as he drew up alongside me, I started walking again.
He tilted his head down, squinting to see me better in the dim light. “So… whatcha doin’?”