by Reese Morgan
“What an immature little brat,” Blake muttered as the door closed. “And you’re related. How awful.”
“Half-related,” she corrected. “I’d like to think he takes after his mother.”
The beta gave a considering hum. “It’s evident it comes from the father.”
She leveled him with a look, watching as he grabbed the milk carton from the fridge and drank directly from the bottle. Withholding a biting insult, Hayden settled against the couch and watched as milk dribbled down the sides of his mouth and down the front of his shirt.
Charming.
“Did you find anything?”
At her inquiry, Blake lowered the milk carton and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His spirit instantly diminished as he carefully returned the milk to the fridge and entered the living room.
“No.” He shook his head slowly. “No signs. It’s just as we see it, Hayden.”
“Ordinarily dull?”
His lips twitched. “Safe,” he corrected with emphasis.
Safe.
She mulled over the word. Leaning forward, she clasped her hands between her knees and stared across the living room at the dead grandfather clock.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Blake countered. “We’re safe now.”
Hayden smiled sadly. “We’re never safe.”
The beta ran a hand through his scruffy beard and shook his head. “I’ve been watching from the shadows for over two weeks, Hayden. I’ve even gone past the gates and traveled for miles at a time. I haven’t found anything that would indicate this place is not what it claims to be. As much as I cringe to say it, the Hunters here are our allies.”
“I’ll go tomorrow. Look deeper.”
“I don’t want you out there by yourself.”
Her gaze turned sharp with insult. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” Blake sighed. “But before Nicolas left, he made me promise to keep an extra eye on you.” He turned contemplative. “Are you upset because of his absence? Is that why you’re unsettled? It’s only natural, Hayden. He’s your mate.”
Hayden ran a nail down her torn jeans and played with a loose thread. “Nicolas can take care of himself. I know he’s going to return.” And she truly meant that. “I’m unsettled because things never turn out to be safe or ordinary. They always go south.”
“Unfortunately, you were Sired at the start of all this.” Blake collapsed onto the armchair Julian had recently occupied. The piece of furniture groaned and trembled unsteadily under his sudden weight. “You never caught a break. I can see why something like this seems too good to be true.”
His words did not console her.
“Keep your guard up, Hayden. But I think this may finally be a win for us.”
She stared down at her laced boots and the sword propped next to the couch. The weight of her knives reminded her of Julian’s taunt earlier that morning, about her inability to settle down and relax.
She was ready to go.
Ready to run back into the wild and defend herself and others. Ready for the bloodshed, the decapitation, and the cold, harsh climate.
No matter how comfortable it was here, she couldn’t imagine being unprepared.
“Will you look at that?” Blake exclaimed, standing up quickly.
Hayden jumped up as well, on guard and reaching for her sword. As she grabbed the hilt, she caught Blake’s eyes. The beta’s silly grin fell abruptly and he appeared distraught.
“Hayden,” he crooned softly.
A blush stained her cheeks when she realized there was no danger. Blake was simply gesturing toward Logan and the other fighters. As he watched her straighten from her hunched position, his hand dropped uselessly to his side.
“I was just going to point out Fergus,” Blake continued softly. “That bastard is actually absorbing what he’s being taught. He never paid attention when I taught him.”
She glanced at Fergus from the window, noticing the Omega’s victorious grin as he flipped Nathan on his back. Her eyes unfocused and she fiddled indecisively with her sword.
Turning away, she walked toward the door.
“I’m going on a walk.”
Blake didn’t stop her.
* * * *
His back was proud and tall, the lift of his chin both arrogant and charming. Hazel eyes slanted with amusement, but that did not soften their stubbornness and egotism. He was handsome, but he was also painfully aware of that fact.
Hayden stared unabashedly at his back, watching as he waved off the last male from the snowy field. He’d spent a few minutes correcting the man’s form in private.
“You’re good with them,” she said, announcing her presence.
Logan turned, surprise washing his features. A pleasant and elated smile crossed his lips. “Hayden,” he greeted warmly. “I hadn’t thought you’d search me out for another few years.”
She hated how pleased he sounded. She hated feeling guilty for avoiding him this long. Nonetheless, she took a stance opposite of him, watching as he slowly approached her.
“I saw Fergus today,” she said, refusing to acknowledge his comment. “It seems as if he’s really taking his lessons seriously. Sparring isn’t something we thought he’d really be interested in learning.”
Logan’s blond eyebrows skyrocketed.
“You’d be surprised at how well Omegas can fight. In all my years, the fiercest warrior on the battlefield is always the Omega protecting his pack.”
“In all your years,” Hayden repeated thoughtfully. “How old are you?”
Her father stopped a few feet from her, smiling fondly. “A few hundred now. After you hit a century, it gets a bit more challenging keeping an accurate count.”
A few hundred.
Hayden paused to consider that, marveling. She’d never asked how old werewolves were in Albertville, only because it hadn’t come up. Both Nicolas and Cole were worthy Alpha males, but apparently, they were both very young.
“You must have many children, then. At least that’s what Julian mentioned.”
Logan’s grin died and he sighed. “I have a few,” he confessed. “I’ve also had a few lovers, wives, brothers, cousins… all who have come and left either by choice or by murder.” He stared at her. “It gets lonely living this long without a solid companion.”
She could only imagine.
It sounded lonely.
Desolate.
“But you’re my one and only daughter,” Logan continued, sounding especially proud of that fact. His fond regard relayed just how much he admired her.
She shifted under his affectionate stare, feeling a reluctant smile pull at her lips.
“In fact, you’re the first female born to the Crow line in…” he paused. “Oh, I can’t even remember the last female. It might have been a distant aunt several decades ago. I believe the Slayter line is also an old, male-dominated lineage.”
“When did you meet Celeste?”
“The early 1900s.”
Hayden lifted her chin, watching her father closely. “Did you know she was your lifemate at that point?”
Logan did not miss a beat. “Of course I did. Wasn’t it the same for you? Didn’t you know Cole was your lifemate as soon as you met him?”
Hayden’s face contorted and she took a step back. “How did you—”
“Kieran.”
She shook her head. “Figures.”
It shouldn’t have come to a surprise. She lost track of who knew Cole was her lifemate. Many of the werewolves in Albertville knew that fact, the Alphas were especially privy to that bit of information. They probably trusted Kieran with that information, and in turn, Kieran told her father.
“You haven’t finalized a bond with Cole,” Logan observed quietly. “Why?”
The question irritated her. “Don’t you regret finalizing your bond with Celeste? Your life is now tied to hers indefinitely and she’s being hunted down like an anim
al.”
Logan’s lips twitched. “I’m old and weary, Hayden. If this is the end of my days, then so be it. I’d prefer to capture and subdue her, but if it comes down to it, killing her may be our only option. However, I still don’t regret anything.”
“Lifemates are far too permanent. Too damning.”
Upon her proclamation, her father looked away and toward the distance. “You’re far too young to finalize a bond with Cole anyway. You don’t understand the gift you’ve been given.”
“Cole isn’t even here.” Hayden took a deep breath.
She didn’t understand him. He sounded as if he never regretted mating with Celeste and that it had actually been a blessing. But he committed infidelity while he was with her and Celeste committed horrible crimes.
Moreover, he was willing to die if it meant stopping her.
From an outside perspective, it sounded like a damned, sad relationship.
“Not here now, but I promised you I’d bring him back.” Logan stepped forward again, his expression softening. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown, Hayden. You don’t know how good it is to see you again.”
Standing opposite of him, Hayden felt something inside her crumble.
He was still her father, still the same man who raised her and loved her. He had personally created childhood memories she would never forget. She’d seen his flaws, detested him for them, but she could no longer pretend to hate him.
A weight lifted from her shoulders and she slumped.
Swallowing her pride, Hayden closed the distance and embraced him.
Arms wrapped around her fiercely, readily, pulling her close. His face buried in her hair and he inhaled greedily. Feeling like a little girl again, Hayden pressed her face into his chest. She’d idolized this man growing up. She still did. Despite his sins, she couldn’t help but continue loving him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything, Hayden.”
“I don’t want you to die for Celeste,” Hayden mumbled, her voice tight.
A deep chuckle resonated through his chest. “That is only a last resort.” He stroked her hair. “What I did with Xavier and Troy… the lives I ruined… I know I can never come back from that. I was simply trying to make it a better place.”
Her thoughts took her back to the tunnels underneath Xavier’s old cabin. Corpses lay in heaps, encompassing her from every angle. There were just some sins Logan could never atone for, his mass killings especially.
The werewolves here adored him, respected him, but they did not know what Logan was capable of and the mistakes he made.
“Now we have an even bigger issue,” Hayden responded gloomily.
Logan pulled back but kept a hand curled around her shoulder. He studied her face obsessively. “We do. But let’s not talk about that tonight. I want to hear more about you. Everything that I’ve missed these past few years.”
He pulled her along, guiding her toward the streets.
“I heard you’re one hell of a fighter,” he said, his tone delighted.
“I don’t know about that,” she commented slyly. “But I did beat Julian in a duel.”
“That’s my girl.” Logan chortled, his hazel eyes shining brilliantly. “I’d love to see you in action. I’d also like to know how you managed to get Adolf to train you. If anyone fits the definition of a male chauvinist, it’s him.”
Hayden stared up at him, feeling something stir inside her she hadn’t felt in ages. Hope. A hope that she could enjoy the present as opposed to always anticipating a catastrophe for the future.
Movement near the gates caught her attention, halting her response.
Nicolas strode down the street, his open coat swaying at his knees. Dried blood lined his features, making Hayden wonder if it belonged to him or an enemy. Usually, Nicolas went unarmed, but she could see the sword strapped to his back.
He promised he was simply scouting Celeste’s base.
Not engaging in any battles, he said.
Uncanny blue eyes stared at her before dropping to Logan’s hand around her shoulder. His features remained blank, unreadable, but his lips thinned into a severe line.
“Nicolas?” Hayden inquired, concerned.
As he passed, he did not say a word, he merely stared Logan down.
Something was not right.
He walked as he typically did, cloaked with his usual pride and indestructibility. However, a horrible impiety settled around him, instantly striking fear within her.
“What was that?” Hayden demanded, turning to look at Logan as soon as Nicolas entered the pack house. The rogue Alpha clearly had identified the safe haven by smell alone.
Her father appeared grim. “It looks as if he ran into problems.”
She searched for any hint of deceit, but Logan appeared truly bemused as he looked after Nicolas. Her lips thinned and she turned away. Fortunately, her father stayed behind, anticipating his presence would not be appreciated.
As she entered the house, the rest of the pack were already looking at her from their positions in the living room. Fergus pointed wordlessly towards the bedroom off the main level. Her bedroom.
“He’s in there.”
Under the flabbergasted stares of her pack mates, Hayden hurried towards the bedroom. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the door shut behind her. Turning, she spied Nicolas watching her steadily, a hand outstretched and pressing the door closed.
Hayden’s eyebrows furrowed and her fear mounted as soon as she smelt silver.
“You’re hurt.”
Perspiration lined Nicolas’ hairline and his eyes seemed unusually bright.
“I’ll be fine,” he reassured hoarsely.
He lifted a hand and reached towards her. His fingers barely touched her shoulder before they ran up her neck and gently cupped her cheek. Judging from the dimness in his stare and the unnerving stillness in his body, something went horribly wrong on his mission.
Nicolas closed the distance and kissed her firmly on the lips.
Closing her eyes, Hayden felt him channel a certain desperation into his kiss. The hand on her cheek was tender, treating her preciously as if she’d break. The kiss was firm, yet far more emotional than she’d ever experienced before.
He was relieved to see her, just as she was relieved to see him, but a part of her knew that Nicolas’ relief stemmed from the fact that he probably never thought he’d see her again.
That assumption suddenly chilled her.
Nicolas had faced death and barely escaped.
She touched his cheek, her fingers tracing over his raised scar.
Slowly, she pulled away, her heart beating with distress. “I have a tonic for you.” Hayden took a step back, watching him, but he simply gazed at her with a mask of impassiveness. “We all received a supply when we arrived.”
Making sure he would stay put, Hayden turned her heel and escaped into the adjourning bathroom. She grabbed disinfectant, bandages, and the water-like tonic used for treating silver poisoning.
When she returned to the bedroom, Nicolas remained fully clothed.
“Come on.” Hayden stopped and motioned to the foot of the bed. “Let me treat your wound. I don’t know how you’re still standing.”
He appeared disinclined and stubborn. “I’ll do it myself.”
She held the tonic close to her chest as he approached her.
“You came here for a reason.”
“To see you,” Nicolas clarified.
Unimpressed, Hayden remained firm. She stood tall in face of his stony authority. He held a hand out to her, silently asking for the tonic. Any other time, his cold stare would have raised the hairs on the back of her neck with exhilarating intimidation.
But tonight, he came to her.
Nicolas sighed softly and withdrew his hand. Slowly, he removed his sword holster and shouldered off both his coat and his shirt.
Hayden’s attention immediately jumped to the open wound on his side. She inhaled sharpl
y but made no other comment. Nicolas knew it was bad. He probably felt miserable. He was running a fever and Hayden was certain he wouldn’t have made it much longer.
Stepping closer, she pressed a tonic-soaked cloth against the wound.
From experience, she knew the tonic application stung far worse than the initial stab wound, yet Nicolas never even flinched. His jaw clenched, but other than that minor gesture, he made no outward complaint about the discomfort.
She made sure to soak the wound with the tonic before pressing a clean bandage against it and securing it by wrapping a gauze around Nicolas’ waist.
Satisfied she dressed and secured the stab wound well enough, Hayden addressed other abrasions across his body. For the most part, his torso was unharmed, though the scratches and bruises could have already healed.
Pouring disinfectant onto a cotton cloth, she ran it across his tense shoulders. The cooling liquid seemed to loosen the tenseness around his joints. She cleared away the blood, the dirt, and peered at his side profile.
His face was hard, his eyes harder as he stared ahead at nothing in particular.
Hayden frowned. “What happened?”
He didn’t respond right away, though she hadn’t expected him to. She kept a close watch on his expression as she moved around his large frame, inspecting for any other wounds.
“I lost men.”
She looked up at him through her lashes, her hand settling on the small of his back. Nicolas turned his head marginally, looking at her from over his shoulder.
Hayden locked eyes with him.
“Too many men.”
At his confession, she felt a tremor run through his body.
“And you believe it’s your fault.”
Nicolas’ pupils dilated. “No.” He turned back around. “It was a trap.”
Her hand slipped from the curve of his back. “You think Kieran or… Logan…?”
“Anyone.” Nicolas stepped away from her and collected his discarded shirt.
He was unemotional—closed off—Hayden found it nearly impossible to read him. She knew he was upset, probably even distraught. Nicolas took the safety of his rogue werewolves seriously. To have lost many men would surely create a turmoil of emotion.