Pact of the Pack

by Deidre Huesmann

  “Or sausage, or pancakes,” agreed Jackson as he placed all four in the cart. “But the pancake mix were on sale, and we hardly ever have a proper breakfast. I swear, I’ve lost fifty pounds just eating cereal. I’m going soft!”

  Eva rolled her eyes, but the tiny smile tugging one corner of her mouth gave her away. “Then we’ll have to find the rest of what we need on sale to offset it. If we don’t bring Boss his condoms, he’ll be quite upset.”

  Rachael began to giggle. Glaring at both of them, Jackson said gruffly, “Whatever. What’s next?”

  They finished their shopping in quick order, though Jackson had to put the sausage back when they couldn’t afford it. Rachael stood at the end of the checkout line, helping to put loaded bags in the cart, when a strange, prickly sensation ran up her back and spread across her neck. She tried to be subtle when looking around, but had the sinking feeling her anxiety was all over her face.

  Then she saw him—a lycan, with glittering green eyes and rich hair. A red-tipped moustache decorated his upper lip. They locked eyes for a moment. Rachael stared in trepidation.

  But then his eyes shifted to a point past her. Rachael followed his gaze, puzzled to find her brother. Do they know each other?

  If so, Jackson didn’t give any indication. In fact, he seemed to be completely oblivious as he chatted at his wife. Eva nodded along patiently.

  When Rachael turned back to the stranger, the young man scoffed and turned his back to her. He hurried to catch up with a teenage girl. This one Rachael did recognize; Cindy, one of Olivia’s pack.

  He must have also been of Olivia’s, she realized. Why were they here? Was her pack following them or was it coincidence?

  “RayRay?”

  Her brother jolted Rachael free from her daze. She apologized and finished loading the last two bags. Without question they exited the building and packed the car.

  She thought the two might ask about her moment, but neither did. Instead the ride was tense and silent.

  When they arrived back to the compound, it looked deserted at first glance. No lycans walked around, but here and there some houses—especially the main one, where an older man and the kids resided—had lights on. Rachael could hear muffled music from one of them.

  It was isolating, to be purposefully ignored so hard and all the time. But like the others, she did her best not to allow any emotions to display on her face as they brought the groceries inside.

  Aaron came home shortly after them, just as Eva began to cook. He said nothing about his day—he probably would later, once he and Rachael were alone—and instead proceeded to perform his monthly check of Ana Sofia’s body.

  Lycans all went through rough adjustment periods after their infection, lasting anywhere from months to years. Their gums bled, their joints popped uncontrollably, and they were susceptible to a period called “the fade.” The fade was when a lycan lost time. Often during these periods, they were violent. Ana Sofia’s initial experience with the fade had been particularly violent, since she had been changed and hidden without consent or knowledge of the pack alpha.

  Most lycans grew out of these periods after a couple years, but since Ana Sofia had gone so long unmonitored—and murdered a bunch of kids in their hometown—she was more prone to setbacks. These days she seemed to do just fine, but Aaron was adamant that she continue the regimen for another year before he could sign her off as “safe.”

  Fortunately, Ana Sofia was unusually patient for her age. She went along willingly.

  While Rachael poured drinks for everybody in preparation for dinner, Nathan suddenly became her shadow. She didn’t particularly mind, since he mostly just made small talk, but abruptly he stopped her and looked her up and down.

  Quietly and seriously, he said, “Miss Rachael, don’t you wanna wear your own shirt?”

  She frowned. “I’m fine. If Aaron wants me to change, he can tell—”

  Nathan sighed with exaggerated loudness. “Don’t you like doin’ your own stuff and not always what he wants?”

  His peculiar comments were becoming insulting. Rachael placed a hand on her hip and scrutinized the smaller boy. Nathan stared back unapologetically, his eyes darker than space with the stars twinkled out. He looked so much like Aaron just then—and it was unnerving.

  “Nathan, why do you keep bringing things like that up?” asked Rachael.

  He started to answer, but a metallic jingling sounded from the front door. The entire house seemed to turn toward it.

  Rachael already knew who it was. They all did. She stifled a sigh.

  Olivia Wolfe strode through the threshold, allowing the door to fall shut behind her. She entered the foyer with the billowing presence of a barely-controlled fire. Tight, springy black curls bounced behind her as she climbed the short flight of stairs, bringing her to the small platform between the kitchen and living room.

  She ignored everybody but Aaron, her intense gaze zeroing in on him. “We need to talk. Now.”

  That was a mistake. Though Aaron remained calm, Rachael sensed his ire rising. He was the sort of man who took better to suggestion over orders, and certainly didn’t take kindly to the latter.

  Aaron rose from his crouching position before Ana Sofia. “Miss Olivia. What a pleasure to see your smiling face while we are preparing for dinner. Thank you for announcing your presence. Please, do not wait outside; come on in. Welcome into our humble abode.”

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed. They were mesmerizing to look at; even Rachael couldn’t help but be fascinated. All colors that could possibly make up hazel were there; brown, green, blue, red, and of course the tell-tale golden specks of a lycan. But her irises were so colorful that Rachael really had to look hard for those specks.

  “I still own this house,” said Olivia quietly. “I don’t need an invitation.”

  Aaron flashed his teeth in a cold not-quite-smile. “Then cease cashing my checks. I pay you for privacy, not for space. That you owed me.”

  “I owed you,” snarled Olivia. “Not your entire entourage.”

  “As far as you are concerned, they are me.”

  For a moment it looked as though Olivia were going to erupt. Then she took a deep breath and her features relaxed. With much more composure, she said, “Please, Aaron, step outside with me. I need to ask....”

  Her voice trailed off as she finally took notice of the other occupants in the room. Namely Rachael. For a long moment the only sound in the house was the television yammering in the background.

  Rachael stared back at Olivia, discomfort shifting in her bones. The alpha’s eyes raked over her, until Rachael realized she was staring at her shirt. Namely, that it was obviously Aaron’s.

  Shit.

  “Lovely outfit,” said Olivia with too much calm. “I’ve wondered why I never see you outside.”

  Now was the time for a perfect snarky comeback. But while Rachael was far better at those than she had been in high school, at the moment she drew a blank.

  Instead she glanced at Aaron and said, “You pay her rent?”

  “It seemed the thing to do, although I am seriously reconsidering it,” muttered Aaron. He never took his eyes off Olivia. Rather than interest, his gaze sharpened with suspicion.

  “Well,” said Olivia with a smile. “I can see I’ve interrupted a family meal. If you’ll excuse me.”

  She spun on her heel and left. Despite her pleasant demeanor, the door slammed shut with far more force than necessary.

  In the living room, the television continued on, but the kids abandoned it to join them in the kitchen. For a couple tense minutes, silence ruled the air as the previous scene weighed down on everyone.

  Rachael closed her eyes, kicking herself mentally. It was the shirt. She knew it was. And Olivia was infuriated. “Not good?” she asked, hoping she was wrong.

  But Aaron’s mouth pulled down into a grim line. “Not good,” he confirmed quietly. “Jackson, Eva; take the kids out back. Rachael, get your shoes.”

&
nbsp; She hadn’t even had a chance to change—though, again, Rachael realized that was her own fault for placing sentiment over practicality that morning. Out of everybody in the pack, only Aaron had even an inkling of how Olivia’s mind really worked. If he said to run, they had to run.

  So Rachael didn’t even bother to grab socks. She hurried to her old bedroom and shoved her bare feet into a pair of worn sneakers. And while she realized it didn’t matter in that immediate moment, she was also dismayed that she hadn’t put on a bra that day. Or underwear.

  Damn it all.

  As she bounded back down the stairs, Aaron met her with a solemn look. “Go. Out back,” he ordered, though without his usual edge.

  Rachael stopped. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “I told you before,” said Aaron firmly. “I did not expend all that energy looking only to lose you.” He reached out and tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Now go.”

  She didn’t ask again. Though it hurt Rachael to leave him, she hurried out the back door where her brother and the rest of the pack were waiting.

  Before she could say a word screaming erupted, mostly a woman’s voice. Rachael stared along with the others, waiting in apprehensive silence. Something like a window smashed from inside, followed by a small whoosh.

  Not seconds later, Rachael smelled smoke.

  Ͼ

  Whether Olivia’s more unhinged nature had always been there or had exploded forth after the death of her brother, Aaron wasn’t certain. All he knew was that the woman was dangerous and they needed to leave.

  Quickly.

  When Olivia calmly walked back through the front door, one hand clutching two bottles of clear alcohol by their long necks, Aaron was aware of the danger he was in. Still, he was not looking to start a war amongst lycans. He had enough problems with his former charge-cum-alpha, Holden, and he didn’t need more stacked atop that.

  “Olivia,” he said quietly. “Do not be rash.”

  She stared at him, her full mouth curving on one side. “I’ve had the feeling. Always did. You lied to me when you said she was nothing to you.”

  Aaron shrugged. “You lied to me when you said you were a no-kill pack.”

  Her smile dropped. “I did not lie,” she snarled. “Etan always was a handful. I was the only one who ever could keep him in check. But after what Nadine did to him—”

  “Run?” suggested Aaron scornfully. “From a man she was clearly afraid of? Tell me, Olivia, how much of your brother’s abuse did she endure?”

  Olivia’s nostrils flared. “Don’t you talk about Etan like that.”

  Egging her on might just tip her over the edge. Tempting as it was, Aaron still had to think of his pack—and girlfriend—waiting for his signal in the back yard area.

  So he said, “My apologies if you feel misled.”

  “Misled?” she demanded, her voice rising. “You lied to me. How could you spend days comforting me only to turn and fuck her? Because she’s younger? Prettier?” Her scarred hands shook as she brought them up, still clutching the bottles. “Unscathed?”

  Aaron narrowed his eyes. “I never lied when I called you beautiful,” he said. He truly had meant it. Olivia was gorgeous, even with her arms burned from elbow to fingertip. Objectively, even with her appearance in her early thirties, Olivia was the one who immediately drew the wandering eye.

  She just wasn’t Rachael. So his eyes no longer needed to wander.

  His words failed to placate her. “You took advantage of me. Of my kindness; of my generosity! Moving your pack into my home. Not to mention you just watched your bastard charge murder my brother!”

  Aaron felt his patience slipping and struggled to hold on to it. That she had kept him tied up—as a ruse at the time, but even so—had apparently slipped her mind. He was beginning to realize Olivia could not be reasoned with in this state. She seemed determined to spew her bile and do what she came to do.

  Evenly, he said, “I comforted you in spite of the fact Etan murdered your nephew’s mother, and you did nothing to stop him. You cannot claim to be no-kill and allow your pack to do as they please, Olivia. You are the alpha.”

  She curled her lip in disgust. “Well, don’t you sound just like Holden.”

  Aaron stilled.

  Seeing she’d gotten to him, Olivia said, “I hope you’re happy with damaged goods. It’s pretty clear what he did to her. That child is a basket case.”

  Aaron did not become a pack alpha over the centuries by behaving recklessly. Far worse had been said about him or his brother, yet he often managed to keep his cool.

  But Olivia was cutting dangerously close to the quick by mocking the horror Rachael had survived two months ago.

  Through his teeth he snarled, “I highly suggest you leave.”

  Her eyes flooded with disdain.

  “Fuck you, Aaron Moreno.”

  She swung the hand gripping the alcohol bottles against a nearby wall. Glass and alcohol sprayed. Aaron flinched back but was unable to avoid getting hit by either. Without waiting to see what her next move was, he darted toward the back of the house. Olivia screamed at him. A metallic flick of a lighter reached his ears.

  The fire burst to life thanks to the alcohol’s accelerant quality. Heat erupted behind Aaron’s back and threatened to scald him. He kept running.

  When he threw the back door open he nearly collided with his girlfriend. Fear and rage ran his adrenaline to unspeakable heights. He grabbed Rachael by her shoulders and shoved her away from the house without releasing her. She stared past him with enormous grey eyes that didn’t seem to completely focus on any one thing.

  She was in mild shock, realized Aaron. While she’d never fully divulged all that had happened to her in captivity, he was aware it had left some psychological wounds that had yet to heal.

  But right now he needed her attention. So Aaron did something he rarely ever did.

  He shouted.

  “When I tell you to run, I expect you to never turn back. NOW GO!”

  Rachael’s stricken expression snapped back to him. But his tactic worked, because she immediately turned and ran back toward his pack. They had already begun to flee. Behind him, Aaron heard another piercing scream, followed by a howl. Within seconds several others joined in, and he knew Olivia had just sent the signal to give chase.

  His pack wouldn’t get far this way. They needed to find better transportation, and fast.

  Preferably before the lycans caught up with them and dove for Rachael’s weak, human throat.

  Chapter Two

  There was once a time it gave Holden Cavanaugh joy to fantasize about his former alpha’s grisly death. He’d spent years plotting to do it and nights dreaming about the look on the bastard’s face when Holden forcibly removed his still-beating heart.

  Lately it was hard to be enthused about anything at all.

  He was supposed to be planning the grand take-down of Aaron Moreno’s pack. It was, his girlfriend said, the only way she would forgive him for his failures.

  It was also a hell of a tall order. Holden began to think Lacey made her demand borderline ridiculous on purpose. Either way, Holden was at a loss.

  The last plot had been doable: kidnap and tie Rachael up to keep her out of the way, use her presence to lure Aaron to the dead end of Nevada, and face his pack in relatively even numbers: 5-on-4.

  Except Rachael had somehow broken free of her bonds during the fight, and Aaron had acquired a new member for his pack as well. Not to mention Holden’s forced ally betraying him, and her brother murdering one of his betas.

  Shockingly, Rachael had killed the other.

  Between Sage and Nadine, Holden missed Nadine the most. She’d been vibrant, cheerful, and mischievous. Even when she gave him a headache for bringing a local farmer’s wrath down on them for the slaughter of his chickens, Nadine had managed her breeze her way through hardship and come out grinning. Right up until Etan murdered her, of course. The pleading in her eyes haunted hi
m still.

  For Lacey, it was the exact opposite. Though she had finally come around to spending more nights with Holden, it was clear she missed Sage terribly. Daily, Lacey used to wear a blue ribbon choker Holden had helped her fashion years ago. Lately she had traded it in for a ribbon-woven bracelet with a charm Sage had given Lacey for one of her birthdays.

  The two women hadn’t just been lovers; they had also been close friends to the point Holden had occasionally wondered if they conspired anything together. He even had an idea of something borderline traitorous they might have done. But with Sage dead, it seemed pointless to pursue.

  Especially since Lacey would bite his head off if he tried.

  That he was failing her once again was why Holden chose to remain alone tonight. Well, he thought gloomily, that and Lacey had revoked their former practice of sleeping with other members of the pack. He felt it was only helping them to fracture further, but she was the Primary. She still held veto rights.

  Still, he felt Lacey was doing a fine job of fracturing them on her own.

  Since he couldn’t sleep with the only beta left, Laelia had been absolutely despondent. She tried to make a move on him at least twice a day now, but Holden always had to turn her down. Slowly but surely, it was starting to piss him off.

  It seemed to be getting under Laelia’s skin as well. More than once she and Lacey had ended up in a screaming match at each other. The first couple times this had happened Holden had done his best to break them up. That had only earned him the cold shoulder from Lacey for over three days—in each instance. So he reluctantly stepped aside and allowed the women to vent their frustrations with each other.

  Soon, he knew, the blood would flow. Holden didn’t think he could do much to stop it once it started.

  He lay in bed one weekday night, alone. The evening had been surprisingly peaceful. He and Lacey ate dinner and then watched a movie. She’d actually asked about his plans, which Holden had no response for. So when bedtime came she’d swept up and into her—and Sage’s old—room and locked the door.