by Rose, Callie
For so long, I was kept captive in his house. I had no identity or autonomy. Even as fearful as I’ve been during my time here, I’ve never felt as scared as I was living under Clint’s roof. I’ve tasted the possibility of freedom and the possibility of finally being my own person, and I absolutely refuse to give that up. I refuse to be my uncle’s captive any longer.
But I refuse to be a captive here either.
I can’t stay.
I jam my feet into my shoes—which Ridge has left by the door—and then race toward the kitchen, my laces trailing on the ground. I slam through the back door and out into the tiny backyard, veering away from the garden shed and toward the dark line of forest beyond the dead end road. The same escape route I tried and failed to take last time.
The men out front are speaking in loud voices, and I cringe as I halt by the edge of the road and look around for anybody who might see me sneaking away.
A small part of me knows this is asinine. Ridge doesn’t want to hurt me. He promised he’d keep me safe, and his cabin is definitely preferable to a cave in the wild.
But I think of that group of furious people barreling into his living room and the new men I saw striding past his cabin. I think of the way that wolf’s teeth glinted as it growled. I think of how fucking out of my depth I am in all of this, how outnumbered and vulnerable I am here, and my fear ramps into unnatural, uncontrollable, completely illogical territory.
I see nobody, so I fall into a sprint, one hand wrapped around the waistband of Ridge’s shorts to keep them from falling off as I hurry toward the forest. Too late now to go back and find my own clothes, which are likely clean in Ridge’s laundry room because he’s just so damn kind.
I don’t have time for going back. I have to move forward. I have to be free.
The woods beckon like a shadow beacon of hope. I’m nearing the edge of the road, about to leap off the flat dirt and into the grass, when a hand like iron wraps around my bicep and yanks me back.
I let out a squeaky yelp as my body comes to a vicious halt before I’m jerked back onto the road. Everything whirls around me as I’m yanked around, and then suddenly, the man called Lawson is looming over me, his fingers cutting off circulation in my arm.
Terror makes my legs weak, and I collapse to the dirt on my knees, dangling from his grip.
He glares at me, looking every bit as intimidating as when he challenged Ridge yesterday.
“I knew you couldn’t be trusted, you fucking liar,” he spits, giving me a shake that rattles the fillings in my teeth. “You spying on us? About to run back to your little coven and tell them our secrets?”
“P-please. Please let me go.” My words come out small and shaky, wobbly from the force of his shaking, and I try to pull away from his rock-hard grip.
His eyes narrow. This man is the complete opposite of Ridge, with dusky blond hair and blue eyes. He has a face that would be attractive if it weren’t filled with so much vicious anger, and he’s the size of a small house. I swear he’s channeling the strength of ten men in his grasp on my arm.
“No, I don’t think I will.” He scowls. “I think the council needs to meet you. I think you need to be made an example of to all your bitch, wolf-hating friends.”
“Please.” My voice is hardly more than a breath, and I feel a rush of shame at how terrified and tearful I sound. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m leaving. I just want to go.”
He sneers. “Yeah? Tell that to your executioners.”
Without another word, Lawson literally drags me through the village by my arm as my legs scrape uselessly against the ground. Thank God the roads aren’t concrete, and only dust and gravel grates on my bare skin, but the pain still brings tears to my eyes. He’s moving too fast for me to get my feet beneath me, and my heart beats wildly in my chest as I struggle against his hold.
By the time we reach a metal barn on the outskirts of the village, I’m sobbing. His grip has made my arm numb, and I’m almost certain he’s wrenched it hard enough to pull muscles and ligaments. I’m wishing I never left Ridge’s house, that I’d been smart enough to stay put and keep out of sight.
If Lawson has his way, I’ll be lynched on sight.
He slams open the door to the barn with more force than necessary, and I yank against his hold in a last-ditch, desperate effort to get away. His other hand sinks into my hair and he grabs a handful, dragging me by the roots into a large open space rimmed by astonished faces.
We reach the central area, and Lawson throws me onto the concrete floor. I slam into the ground, barely keeping my head from making contact with the concrete as a hoarse cry falls from my lips.
The room is silent. Dozens of faces stare at me, just as surprised at my arrival as I am.
Shifters, I realize with another wave of terror. I’m surrounded by shifters.
Nobody moves, nobody even seems to breathe, and all I can hear is the rushing in my ears and the unnatural pounding in my chest.
Today is the day I die. After everything Uncle Clint did to me, I never thought it would end like this.
10
Trystan
These council meetings are a waste of my goddamned time.
But I come to them because that’s what I’m supposed to do. The alpha plays nice with the other packs. The alpha builds bridges and shakes hands and kisses rancid ass to ensure cooperation between them and us. Inter-pack cooperation and all that stupid bullshit.
That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I hate this drafty barn the North Pack has built out of recycled materials and spit, and I especially hate listening to fucking Ridge Harcourt droning on about trespassers on their land, or Archer from the East Pack talking about his sick father.
Their problems are real, and they have my sympathies—but their problems aren’t my problems. My pack is doing fine. We’re handling the witch threat, beefing up our own security, and not for the first time, I’m spending every boring second of this meeting wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.
The West Pack has never been stronger. My pack hasn’t lost a wolf yet, and those goddamned witches haven’t trampled the slightest blade of grass on our lands. These two are the ones who can’t protect their packs. I’d rather be back home taking care of my people than standing here watching Ridge’s expressionless face drone on about recently lit campfires near the boundary.
So I’m catatonic as if I’ve been drugged, holding up the wall as if it’s my mission in life and trying desperately not to fall asleep.
One of my advisors elbows me every time I nod off, and irritation burns in my chest every time he does, but he’s got a point. I need to play nice unless I want to make enemies of the other packs. I may be a cocky asshole—hell, I’d be the first to admit that’s exactly what I am—but I take the protection of my people seriously. And maintaining good relations is part of that, as boring as it may be.
But my boredom is quickly shoved away when the door bursts open, slamming into the wall so hard the whole rickety shack quivers.
Lawson appears in the doorway, all bulk and no brains with a shadowy figure dangling from his hand.
The edges of my lips curl up, and I fight the inherent urge to snarl at the North Pack alpha’s younger brother. Lawson is as cocky as I am, but he’s got no fucking class, the kind of giant tornado that can do damage to a city but can’t wipe his own ass.
Even my people know he’s been trying to steal the pack out from under Ridge since their father died. I’m not a big fan of Ridge with his serious, holier-than-thou attitude, but I really don’t like Lawson. He’s a sociopath in wolf’s skin, and that ticking time bomb is set to blow at the worst possible time.
The blond man storms into the barn and throws the second figure onto the floor. He crosses his arms over his broad chest before turning to address his brother with a smirk.
“Found your whore trying to sneak away,” Lawson says, his deep voice booming through the room like a gunshot. “Did it ever occur to you
when you brought her onto pack land that she might run away to her friends and tell them all our secrets? Since you’re here and I found her trying to run off into the woods a few minutes ago, I assume that means you left this witch alone in your damn house.”
The entire council reacts to that bomb, people surging to their feet as a ripple goes through the gathered crowd. Loud voices rise around me, every face turning to Ridge for answers.
But I exchange glances with Archer, the East Pack’s acting alpha. I may not like Lawson, but I doubt the ass-hat would walk into a council meeting and accuse his alpha—and his brother—of bringing an unsanctioned visitor onto pack lands if he didn’t have proof to back it up. Not to mention the inflammatory implication she’s a witch.
If all this is true, that means Ridge broke the treaty, and now Archer and myself have to clean up the mess.
Fuck, as if having to come to these meetings isn’t bullshit enough, now I have to do damage control?
The grumblings get louder, nearly all of it directed at Ridge, who’s staring stone-faced at his brother. Instead of joining the growing number of dissenters, I level my gaze on the girl.
She’s small and petite, probably a few years younger than I am—all wide eyes and delicate limbs with so much fear rolling off her, you’d think Lawson had jammed a knife against her throat. Not that he’s been anything but a raging asshole since he dragged her in here, but her level of fear makes it seem like she thinks she’s about to die.
The woman looks like she wants to curl into a ball small enough to disappear into the floor. My jaw clenches as Lawson grabs her once more and yanks her to her feet, yelling at his brother about breaking the treaty.
The woman doesn’t just let him manhandle her again though. She gets her feet underneath her and yanks away from Lawson’s iron grip with a low, breathy shout.
“Let go of me, asshole!”
My eyebrows twitch upward in surprise, and even Lawson looks a little shocked.
Huh. Little thing’s got a backbone under all that fear.
Her wide blue eyes are feral, her gaze darting around as if she’s cataloguing every person in the room while also seeking out the nearest exit. I watch her clock the door Lawson left wide open behind them, and how the crowd of council members isn’t blocking her route of escape. She searches the crowd on either side, and I can almost taste the way she’s weighing her odds of getting past us. Can she outrun us? Can she reach the forest and disappear?
Sorry, hot stuff. There’s not a chance in hell you can outrun and outsmart wolves.
I think she knows it too. But before she comes to any kind of decision on whether to try anyway, her gaze meets mine.
The weight of that gaze hits me like a falling boulder off a ravine.
Something pulls hard and almost painfully inside me, and my wolf growls. Beneath the protective snarl, I feel something so raw and visceral that I can’t even believe it’s happening.
Mine.
I shove away from the wall, my eyes widening as my wolf howls inside me.
She’s mine.
“You know the rules. You signed the treaty yourself. She doesn’t belong here, Ridge,” one of the North Pack’s advisors is saying, trying to maintain some semblance of orderly discourse. “She can’t stay here, regardless of what state you found her in.”
“She’s not a witch,” Ridge growls. “She needs help. Are we to just turn our backs on anybody who stumbles onto our land beaten and bloody?”
“We are when there’s an entire race of beings trying to destroy us.”
“The witch needs to be locked up,” another voice chimes in. “We need to make sure we’re safe from her. Then we’ll discuss what to do with her.”
The blonde woman’s gaze is still locked on mine, her expression a little dazed. Then she shakes her head as if to clear it, dragging her focus away from me. She darts a wild-eyed glance at the door again as the council argues with Ridge.
How has no one felt that ocean of terror rolling off her? How can they not see how frightened and vulnerable she is?
The wolf inside me is raging to get to her, to wrap his body around her and protect her from these assholes.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I take two strides forward. This isn’t normal—Trystan, alpha of the West Pack, having fuck-all to say during a council meeting. I certainly don’t put myself on display like this, and that’s evident in the way people abruptly stop talking and look at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“That woman is a wolf,” I say, pitching my voice loud enough to be heard over the low grumble of unease still filling the room. “I know it as sure as I know my own name.”
Ridge cocks his head at me, though his face doesn’t change. I can see the thoughts working in his head—he’s trying to figure out my endgame, what I get out of saying such a thing and fighting for this strange woman.
Before I can speak again and declare her my mate, Archer comes forward, joining me in the center of the room.
“It’s true,” he says, and his quiet voice is stronger than I’ve ever heard it. He’s a pretty boy with gold hair and green eyes, and if his father wasn’t back home dying, he wouldn’t even be here. But he motions to the woman and says again, “Trystan’s right. I know she’s a wolf, because my wolf has claimed her as its mate.”
Shock thrums through me, making the back of my neck prickle as hackles try to rise even in my human form. What the fuck? How is that possible?
My wolf has claimed her.
She’s mine.
But Archer clearly doesn’t think so.
Across the room, Ridge lets out a long, low growl that leaves no room for interpretation.
11
Sable
Ridge’s growl finally fades, but I swear I can hear an echo of it bouncing off the stark walls of the large building.
The room has grown so silent, I feel as if I can hear every breath being taken. Beyond the breathing, I can also feel the weight of every gaze latched on to me, made heavier by the thick tension that clogs the air.
I don’t like being the center of attention like this. I don’t like all these eyes on me—not Ridge’s concerned gaze or Lawson’s pissed off one or any of the different levels of emotion in between.
My heart pounds with such force that I’m sure every predator here can hear it or sense the blood pumping overtime through my veins. I stand with my feet shoulder width apart, ready to run at the first glimpse of violence, even as fear threatens to turn my knees to jelly. Lawson left the door open, and I will absolutely make my escape if it looks like my only option.
Two nights ago, I decided to live life on my terms for once.
If it comes to it, I’ll die on my terms too.
The beautiful blond man with the soft voice stands closer to me than most, and his expression is calm even as he stares down the rest of the crowd. He looks gentle and not at all like the hard, angry shifters around us.
But of all the people in the barn, he’s the one I’m most afraid of right now.
My wolf has claimed her as its mate.
What does that mean?
What kind of crazy cult have I walked into?
“You’re wrong.” Ridge’s voice is like gunfire in the silence. He steps forward, irritation flashing across his face. He looks even more intense than he did in the moment when he kicked the mob out of his living room. “She cannot be your mate. My wolf has already claimed her.”
My heart lurches in my chest, and if it weren’t for the fact that my feet are rooted to the floor, I might fall over.
Ridge’s amber gaze seeks mine, and I can sense him trying to calm me. He must know I’m about three breaths away from another panic attack.
Despite everything, despite my fear and confusion and rising hysteria, my body responds to him like it has every other time. I drink in that soothing look, my mind going back to last night and the scent of his skin, his wet shirt beneath my cheek, his heartbeat steady in my ear.
; Buoyed by the reminder, I set a firmer stance and shove away the fear that tightens my throat.
The first man who spoke inches farther into the open circle in the middle of the barn-like structure. He has chocolate brown hair and vivid blue eyes tinted green like the ocean. I recognize him by sight—he was one of the big shifters walking down the street that frightened me so much I ran. He carries himself with a kind of lazy, predatory lean that says he’s highly comfortable in his own skin.
Turning those blue-green eyes on Ridge, he shakes his head. “That’s not possible. My wolf has claimed her.”
“Then it’s equally not possible for your wolf to do so when mine already has.” Ridge glances around the room as if to check that everyone’s attention is on him before he says, “I found this woman two nights ago, half-dead in Devil’s Ditch. I was compelled to help her, though I didn’t understand at first why.” His expression softens as he turns to look at me, something I can’t even name burning behind his amber irises. “But it makes sense. My wolf knew before I did that she belongs to me.”
His words are like a match to dry tinder, setting off a flurry of emotions inside my chest.
Panic.
Confusion.
Anger.
And a strange sort of thrill.
I don’t understand what the hell is going on here, and I have to fight down the urge to scream my frustration to the heavens. To lash out recklessly like an animal trapped in a net.
I’m not so stupid as to be unaware of how tenuous my position is right now. Any one of these creatures could rip me limb from limb, and the unfortunate truth is several of them look ready to do just that. I don’t know what the hell is going on with Ridge and these two strange men all arguing that they have some kind of claim on me, but at the moment, it’s the only thing keeping teeth away from my skin.
So despite the fact that I’m still terrified and confused, I stay silent and wait it out.
The rest of the group isn’t so startled into silence, however, and a steady rumble of low voices starts up amidst the crowd.