Shifted Scars: A Wolves of Forest Grove Novel

by Lawson, Elena

  Piper’s gaze jerked over the scene, searching until they landed on Devin.

  She shifted, falling to her knees, her big eyes watering as she blinked rapidly to clear them. She signed something, and Jared translated for me, kneeling to speak into my ear.

  “She’s asking if it’s really over now.”

  “Almost,” I told her, and her brows crinkled.

  “There’s something I need you to do for me, and then it will be.”

  Jared stumbled through signing my words, and I stopped him, placing a hand over his. “She can read lips. Really well, actually.”

  Piper smirked and signed something else.

  “She says okay. She’ll do whatever you need.”

  My chest squeezed, and something in my face must have given away my pain because she signed again, concern lining her forehead.

  I didn’t wait for Jared to translate this time, launching into an explanation of my own. “I need you to read them,” I told her. “I need you to read each and every one of them and tell me if they did this willingly or if they were forced.”

  Her lips parted and her face, already pale, became impossibly paler.

  “This is bullshit!” Someone shouted behind me, moving to leave.

  “No one leaves,” I hissed, jerking my chin to the retreating man, giving the order to stop him. “Restrain him.”

  “You are not the executioner,” I assured Piper, swallowing past the hard lump in my throat. “I am.”

  I felt the certainty in my decision, backed up by the solidarity of my mates through the bond. They agreed with me. This was the only way.

  “It’s how it has to be. It’s the only way for me to keep everyone safe.”

  Piper’s jaw flexed, considering her role in what would effectively be the murder of several of her previous packmates.

  She nodded once, a sharp bob of her head and the full weight of what I had to do next crashed down on my shoulders. But at least I wouldn’t have to do it alone.

  33

  My dead were carried home on the backs of the living.

  The traitors and murderers were left behind in shallow graves on the barren field. Only one was left to rot—to be picked at by the sharp shiny beaks of crows and other scavengers until he was only bone.

  A risk, to leave him out in the open, even if it was a place that didn’t recognize the touch of mortal souls. But I couldn’t stomach the alternative. He didn’t deserve it.

  A total of eight shifters from my pack would never see another day, but Devin’s losses were far greater. Nearly twenty graves had needed to be dug for them, and the work took us until dusk to complete.

  Then came the long journey home after splinting broken bones with the little supplies we had on hand and seeing everyone properly hydrated.

  It still hadn’t hit me: the loss of them. The hours passed in a flurry of halfhearted orders and miles passed through the tree covered landscape. All the while the reek of blood clung to the inside of my nose, reminding me of the additional lives I’d had to take even after the battle was fought. Six.

  But I tried to remind myself that their deaths would pave the way for peace. The others had, in fact, been commanded to fight until they could no longer. They were repentant. They hadn’t wanted to kill anyone.

  They were welcome.

  The smell of campfire broke through the hard shell of numbness keeping me shriveled inside, and I lifted my gaze from the carpet of the forest for the first time in hours. The weight of Charity on my back ached as I came back to myself, and I winced.

  Jared and Clay carried two others over their canine backs at my sides while the rest walked behind. Most as wolves, though a few shouldered the packs containing our supplies and walked along on human feet, heads bent as we approached camp.

  Wait here, Clay spoke in my thoughts.

  There shouldn’t have been a fire in the pits at camp.

  It should’ve been vacant.

  No, I replied. We go together.

  “This is where we part ways,” Dante said, tipping his head west to give his packmates the order to head in the direction of home. He looked wistfully after a dark wolf who carried a lighter gray one slung over his back. His only loss in the fight. But even one was too many, I understood.

  I nodded, trying to convey the depth of my gratitude without the need to shift.

  “We’ll be in touch,” he added before veering off to join his pack, shifting on the fly until their shadows vanished.

  It’s Hazel, Clay said from several paces ahead, peering through the trees. I can smell her scent.

  Sure enough, her floral aroma found me on the breeze, and despite everything, a comforted half smile stole onto my lips.

  Stubborn woman, Jared put in. She was supposed to stay at the warded cabin until we returned.

  When have you ever known her to listen, I asked them both, giving a pointed look.

  Clay grunted and began walking again, pausing near the edge of camp, where the moon chamber crouched low in the grass. He gently knelt, bowing his head to allow Luke to slide gracefully from his shoulders and onto the ground next to the moss coated stones.

  I nodded, looking at the small patch of land next to the chamber. It was perfect.

  The rest of us followed suit, and I paused to push my snout against Charity’s forehead after setting her down, feeling the gravity of her loss like a thousand pounds on my shoulders.

  Goodbye, my friend.

  A ball grew in my chest as I pushed through my wolf to the surface, feeling her aches in my smaller human muscles as I opened my eyes again.

  A muscle in my jaw twitched as I took in the cabin, and the quiet camp beyond. Barely forty-eight hours ago I’d been forced to wonder if there was a chance I’d never make it back here. Seeing it now, I thought I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my whole damn life.

  This was home.

  My home.

  “We’ll take care of the graves,” came Archer’s voice from behind me, and I turned to see several of them already marking out an area to inter our friends. “When they’re ready to be...uh...buried, I’ll send someone to get you.”

  “I should help,” I muttered, my voice sounding far away even to my own ears.

  A strong arm slipped around my back, and I inhaled warm spice, sighing as the exhaustion finally began to set in. “You’ve done enough, baby. Come on, you need to rest.”

  I hadn’t the strength to fight Clay as he guided me around the cabin and the smell of cooking meat and sharp vinegar assaulted my senses.

  My brows drew together as my mates and I rounded the cabin to find Hazel, sweat beading over her forehead as she worked two barbeques near the crush of picnic benches where stacks of paper plates were weighted down with heavy stones and bowls sat piled high with cabbage slaw and macaroni salad.

  Trays of steaming steaks and chicken piled higher as she pulled them from the grill, dual wielding tongs like a ninja.

  She barely turned around as we approached, casting a narrow-eyed stare over her right shoulder. “Took you long enough,” she tutted, and I stared openly at her.

  The woman who didn’t doubt for even a second that I would return with both my mates in tow and mostly unharmed. So sure of it that she’d cooked a damned feast to welcome us back.

  “I assume we have guests? How many? I need to know how many steaks need cooking. And we’ll have to put in another order, this is pretty much the last of—”

  I looped my arms around her back, squeezing tight as my throat tightened and my eyes burned, overflowing with stinging tears that dampened the back of her long dress.

  She tensed at first, but then relaxed, patting my trembling arms.

  “Now, now, it’s all going to be—” Her hand stilled on my wrist.

  Tongs discarded, Hazel twisted in my embrace, holding me at arm’s length and drawing my hands into hers.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, trading in my hands to press two palms to my stomach.

  “Um..
.Hazel?”

  I shared a look with my mates as a wide grin broke over Hazel’s face, her blind eyes searching as though she could see something we couldn’t.

  “Hazel,” I exclaimed when her lips quivered and a tear fell from her chin. “What’s wrong?”

  She sniffed and stepped back, her shoulders shaking with something halfway between laughter and sobbing. “You’re with child, my daughter.”

  “No,” I uttered uneasily. “I can’t be, I take pills for…”

  Oh fuck. When was the last time I’d taken them? With everything going on, swallowing a tiny pill every morning wasn’t exactly high up on my priority list.

  “Are you sure?” Clay asked, his jaw clenching and unclenching just as rapidly as his fists.

  “As sure as I’m standing here,” she replied as whispers bloomed behind us, and I sensed the rest of the pack join.

  “You’re going to be a mom?” Layla asked hopefully, a crooked grin showing the dimples you could almost forget she had. She wrapped me up in a big hug, her jasmine scent erasing whatever remained of the stench of blood from my nose.

  “We’re going to be aunties?” came Viv’s exclamation. Her eyes turned red-rimmed as she clenched her hands together and fought back against the urge to cry.

  My heart pounded in my chest, a whole new kind of fear taking root in my belly.

  Hesitantly, I placed a hand to my belly, trying to feel what Hazel felt.

  “Where there is death, there is also life,” Hazel whispered, almost inaudibly.

  Jared’s hand slid over mine, and I looked up to see him smiling, his amber eyes alight with an astonished kind of joy that made the dark emotions flee from my mind.

  I looked to Clay, my throat desert dry.

  “Clay?” I hedged, concerned at the red tint to his face. At the distant look in his eyes.

  He cleared his throat and lifted his chin, swallowing a breath. “So,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he glanced at his best friend. “What are we going to name our son?”

  My chest ached as a hard laugh left my lips that quickly turned into an aching sob of relief.

  Jared laughed, too, pressing a hard kiss to my temple.

  “Hey,” I sniffed. “Who said it’s a boy? What if she’s a girl?”

  “Pfft, that’s easy,” said Jared, wrapping an arm loosely around my waist.

  “We’d name her after the strongest woman we know.”

  I glanced at Hazel as though she could feel my eyes on her; she shook her head.

  “They mean you, stupid,” she said, swiping at the papery skin beneath her eyes.

  Another laugh-sob twisted in my chest and I snatched Clay, drawing him close until the bond connected all three of us. He brushed my dirty hair back and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth that made my belly flutter and my toes curl.

  A speck of light formed in all the darkness and I smiled against his lips. Terrified, but knowing that no matter what happened, I’d always have them. Together, we could do this.

  It was time for a new kind of adventure.

  Bonus

  Thank you for reading this standalone companion novel to the main Wolves of Forest Grove series! The fans of Allie and her guys have been some of the most supportive in my author career and I am incredibly grateful for that. I hope you enjoyed reading Shifted Scars as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  As a bonus, there will be exclusive chapters from Clay and Jared’s points of view available to read in my Facebook Fan Group as well as in my Newsletter. These chapters will include scenes from after the ending of Shifted Scars, giving you a peek at what comes next for these characters.

  Thank you again for sticking with me through this series! Though this may be the end of The Wolves of Forest Grove, I plan to visit these characters again through the eyes of others in future planned works set in the World of Thorn.

  Turn the page for a sample of Soul Bound, a new release set in the same world as The Wolves of Forest Grove. Find out what the alchemists are up to in this series that follows a young witch who unwittingly forms an unbreakable bond with two shifters!

  Soul Bound

  CHAPTER ONE

  Harper

  That thieving bastard.

  Did he really think I hadn’t seen him stuff the necklace into his sleeve? My teeth clenched and a furious heat sizzled down my spine, pooling in my stomach like acid. And who the hell wore a long-sleeve shirt in this weather, anyway? Even in a tank top with a headband holding back my long hair, my forehead was still varnished in a tacky layer of sweat.

  The creep peeked up at me under his black and blue hair, smirking, before going back to leisurely ‘browsing’ through the wares at our booth. He picked up another necklace before placing it back down to fiddle with the potions, reading their attached tags.

  They told me it would be easy when they left this morning. Putting me in charge of our tiny stall right at the heart of the French Market. It shouldn’t be too busy, they said. You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.

  But they were wrong. The city square had come alive in the few hours since dawn. The sun came out to play, and with it came the morning shoppers and the fanny-pack-toting tourists. I groaned miserably, wishing to be anywhere but here.

  Any excuse to go to New Orleans had my guardians here in an instant, speeding the old caravan down I-65 while singing about country roads and open highways. Lots of witches made New Orleans their home. It was easier to blend in when there were palmisters, psychics, and occult shops all over the place. Made it harder to decipher fakes from the real thing.

  It was accepted here—more than that, both the locals and the tourists had come to expect it over the years, so long as the money kept raking in.

  So, I understood why they liked it so much. Less hiding. And even the earth under the soles of my flip-flops seemed to buzz with power like nowhere else, eagerly waiting to answer a witch’s call.

  Where are they?

  I looked over the heads of the throng of people, the heady scent of roasting meat and the tang of fresh oranges wafting over from the food vendors. The smooth rhythm of sax and guitar rose from where two buskers played for nickels and dimes in the square. I couldn’t see them anywhere.

  Damn. I set my jaw. Guess I’d have to deal with the douche myself.

  Clenching my hand into a fist, I drew in a deep breath, squashing my body’s instinctual reflex to draw magic.

  “Uh, hello? Anybody home?” The nasally voice broke my concentration and I cleared my throat, turning to find two chicks in their early twenties. Both icy-blonde with honey-colored eyes and showing off a generous amount of their perfectly bronzed skin. They looked like they belonged on the streets of Beverly Hills rather than a noisy square in New Orleans.

  “Did you hear what I said?” the one on the right whined.

  I eyed the guy still sifting through our booth, running his immoral fingers over the rings Leo had crafted the week before, lifting one to inspect the topaz gemstone.

  Don’t even think about it…

  He put the ring back down. But the weight in his sleeve seemed larger than it was a moment before. I took a steadying breath.

  I’d deal with him in a minute.

  “No, I’m sorry, what did you say?” I answered blonde number one in a rush, keeping a wary eye on the thief.

  She huffed, holding up a potion bottle filled with a shimmery red liquid, matching her perfectly manicured crimson nails. “Does this stuff work?” she asked haughtily. Her eyes narrowed as she shook the lust potion in front of my face. “And, like, did you brew it? Or was it brewed by—you know, like, an actual witch?”

  An actual witch? Was this bimbo serious?

  There were true Alchemists and then there were those who attempted to replicate our natural abilities with crude science. They made some admirable attempts, but never quite accomplished the things they set out to do.

  Metal into gold? Even I could do that with a simple sigil, and I was only seventeen and technically
not allowed to practice underage magic—at least not without proper adult supervision.

  But alas, it was frowned upon to use our abilities for direct monetary gain in mortal society.

  Pretty much all the fun stuff is forbidden.

  Philosopher’s stone? Well, once our people had the knowledge and the formula to do it, passed down through generations, but it was lost somewhere along the way from our homeland of Emeris to our new home in the mortal lands. But I really don’t think people should live forever anyway, and we live longer than most already.

  I smiled sweetly at the pair of them, pitching my voice to match my expression. “Of course I didn’t brew it.” I clasped my hands together at my front and batted my eyelashes. “It was made by the Wicked Witch of the West at the stroke of midnight under the light of a full moon.”

  Blonde number one sneered at me, curling a pink lip over blinding white teeth while blonde number two’s eyes widened, backing away from her friend. “You think you’re so edgy in that baggy tank top with your stubby nails and your pale skin and that obviously dyed red hair? Well, you’re not. And you just lost a paying customer.” Blonde number one sniffed, tossing the potion back onto the table. “Come on Fiona, lets go get a smoothie.”

  I wanted to shout after her. Tell her my bright red hair wasn’t dyed, and that I could see her ass hanging out of her shorts as she walked away. But it wouldn’t be worth my time. Ignorant humans. Must be nice to not have to live in hiding. Afraid to be yourself. Avoiding discovery at every turn.

  They were probably born and raised here.

  I didn’t even know where I was born. And I was raised in the back of Leo and Lara’s caravan after a human woman begged them to take me when I was barely six months old. All I knew was what she told them. That my father was a witch and he was dead. That she was my human mother and didn’t know the first thing about raising a witch. She never said how she knew Leo and Lara were witches.

  The woman left me with them, and she never came back.

  It was no wonder I’d lost all respect for humanity. Girls like that just solidified my views. Selfish, cowardly creatures.