Outcast Box Set

by Emilia Hartley

  Killian paced the kitchen, energy pouring out of him. His black hair was pulled into a long pony tail that whipped around like the tail of a cat. When she entered the room, his head snapped up. There was a hint of suspicion there, but it was swallowed by the thrill of victory.

  He swept her up in his arms and spun her around the room. She fought back the rise of bile from her stomach with the clench of her jaw. When he set her down, Killian didn’t let go.

  “Did you see what happened today?” he asked. “I mean, Teddy Bear wasn’t accounted for, but that’s beside the point.”

  Joanna shook her head, unable to talk.

  A smile swept over the man’s face. It was full of teeth and violence. “The Bear of the East Coast didn’t make a show. It was obvious someone tipped them off, but I can’t stand a small loss. The Mart wasn’t that big of a grab anyway.”

  “What are you going to do about Archer?”

  Killian’s grip on her tightened. His hand left her waist and rose to her chin. “You mean your former betrothed? The one who left you at the altar?”

  His words spoke truth and sent a small dart of pain through her heart. Killian’s words were true. No one in this world would help her. Not the Vancourt brothers. Definitely not Archer.

  “The boys left their family behind once. They’ll do it again; it’s just a matter of time.”

  He’s right, she thought to herself. No matter what brought them back, they won’t stay. There’s too many bad memories and not enough love tying them to Stonefall or to their father’s pack.

  “And, if they don’t leave, we just pick them off one at a time. It’s not that hard.”

  His words struck the air from her lungs. She found it hard to breathe. Hiding her struggle, Joanna nodded in false agreement. Quickly, she pulled away from Killian’s grip and ducked out the back door.

  Outside, she fumbled to find her breath again, gasping and clawing at her chest. Why had it affected her that way? She barely knew the brothers. They weren’t her family or her Pack. There were people here who she should care more about, and yet Killian’s blatant statement had affected her.

  She fell to a crouch, her back against the wall of the house. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear her father and brother puttering around the kitchen. She could hear her mother’s surprise when she came home from work to a three-course dinner. The clank of ceramic on wood sang in her ears, as if ghosts danced around her. But, they were only memories.

  A crash behind her snapped her out of the daydream. Straining, she twisted her neck to peer through the door. Killian and another shifter, whose name she hadn’t bothered to learn, marched toward the sink with red dripping down their arms. Her stomach turned, but she watched them wash their hands in the sink as if it were only the blood of a package of burgers before the shifter jerked open the fridge door and tossed Killian a bottle of beer.

  This horror was her life. Not the kiss she’d shared with Archer behind Vancourt house. That was just a moment in time, perhaps the echo of their tangled threads, but nothing more. Gathering herself with a long and steadying breath, she turned around.

  “You alright?” A figure sat on the ground beside Joanna. Her voice was soft and sweet, ringing true even though her body shimmered in the air.

  Ashe was astral projecting again, the only way she visited Joanna anymore. Joanna couldn’t blame her. The soft and sweet woman was prey in the eyes of Killian’s feral shifters.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Sampson?” Joanna asked.

  Worry made Ashe’s face fall. There was guilt in her eyes, her small lips twisting to the side as the words caught in her mouth. Ashe must’ve known, right? She was technically part of the Vancourt pack, even though she was unable to release the animal inside her.

  Joanna shook her head. Ashe probably hadn’t known until recently. Last Joanna knew, the woman tried to avoid pack meetings altogether. They didn’t end well for her. No one could blame her for avoiding that.

  “It’s fine,” Joanna said instead. “It’s nice seeing you again.”

  Ashe smiled, the guilt fading from her eyes.

  “Did you know the Vancourt boys returned to town. I guess I should stop calling them boys at this point. They certainly don’t look like boys anymore.”

  Ashe giggled. It was a sweet sound that brightened the darkness of Joanna’s day. It eased the tension in her shoulders and helped her take a deeper breath.

  “Oh, I know,” Ashe said with a confidence the woman didn’t normally have. It made Joanna’s gaze slide back toward her friend.

  She was enjoying Ashe’s presence until the woman’s eyes went wide and her existence blinked out. Joanna sat up straight to find Killian leaning in the doorway. There was a wild grin on his face and a gleam in his eyes. She couldn’t help but glance at his hands, wondering whose blood had coated them moments ago.

  A human or another of her former Pack? The thought made a defensive growl rise through her, but she shoved it down. She couldn’t afford to show dominance in front of Killian. There was no telling what he would do if she acted out.

  “I’m calling a Pack meeting,” Killian said. The grin didn’t change.

  Her heart hammered inside her ribcage. Had she done something wrong? Could he have figured out what she’d been doing the whole time? Fear surged through her, cold enough to shatter her.

  “I think it’s time for a celebration. Don’t you? It’s finally warm enough here that we could turn the meeting into a cookout.”

  Joanna swallowed. He seemed in high spirits, so she nodded in agreement. She didn’t trust her voice not to waver or betray her. He told her to start making calls while she prepped the burgers, leaving her to the work while he went to pull the grill from the shed.

  She didn’t want to do this. She stared at her phone and wondered if she could lie. Would Killian believe her if she said she’d tried and no one picked up their phone? Of course, making calls meant her old Pack members, those who remained. Killian’s feral wolves stalked in and out of the kitchen while she stared at her phone.

  She counted the faces, coming up with fifteen before she sighed and lifted the phone. Her stomach churned. She didn’t want to have to do this, but what other option did she have? Joanna could deny him and face his wrath, but if he killed her, there would be no one left to defend her Pack.

  The Vancourt brothers had returned, but it seemed their loyalties didn’t even lay between each other. They danced around one another as if they hadn’t lived together for the first fifteen or so years of their lives. She would not place the safety of her family in their hands. There was no telling what they would do with it.

  The calls had been made, each and every shifter responding with a mixture of reluctance and fear. Their voices cut her to her core. Her fault, it screamed every time. She began separating the ground beef and portioning it for patties, all the while worrying what the night would bring.

  Chapter Seven

  Cars arrived, one by one. Some arrived, knocking on the back door to be let in after changing back to human forms. The parlor was filled with faces that had once been familiar. They’d once been family until they turned their backs on a handful of boys aching to be loved. Archer looked at them, feeling a fire starting to burn in his chest. He hated them, each and every one of them. Not only for what they were doing now, but for what they’d done to him, to his brothers. It was a grudge he struggled to shake.

  They looked back at him with similar emotions painted across their faces. Some openly sneered at Archer and his brothers. Whispers filled the room like the droning buzz of flies, wondering why the brothers bothered to return at all. Some glared, doing their best to keep their faces flat and emotionless, but losing the battle when it came to their eyes. Then, there were others, like Nancy, who just looked tired.

  Nancy slouched in a chair, her shot gun thankfully left at home. It would have been useful, but only on the right side and Archer didn’t know which side Nancy stood on. She let her head
fall into her hand, wary eyes watching the room like she knew what was about to happen. Her eyes flicked to the staircase where Sampson was hidden, then to the higher-ranking shifters.

  Archer followed her gaze, trying to read her train of thought. What did she know that he didn’t? For the first time, the Pack was led by an Alpha who was unable to properly fill the role. Sampson was no longer the imposing figure he’d once been. It left a gap in power that needed to be filled.

  Finally, someone broke the silence and called out. “Who called you back?”

  Archer couldn’t place the voice, but he grew to his full height. It made him tower over even the tallest of the Pack members. Some of them shrank back. Nancy perked up, paying attention now.

  “What does it matter who called us back?” Archer challenged them. “I don’t think existing is as great a crime as what you lot thought you were doing.”

  His eyes danced over each of them, searching their faces for regret or sorrow, but not one of them showed anything. What had gone wrong, he wondered? It seemed there was more dissonance in New York than just the Bart Pack.

  “We did what we could,” Nancy said, her gravelly voice rolling against everyone in the room. “Without a true Alpha, there isn’t much we can do.”

  “You have an Alpha, still,” Cohen warned them.

  Archer nodded. “He’s right. Sampson Vancourt is still your Alpha.”

  “But he’s weak,” someone hissed. It was hard to pinpoint voices, especially when he’d forgotten so many faces.

  “We’re losing this battle because of him!”

  Archer snarled. Where had their traditions gone? Where was the respect they’d carried like torches in the night? The Pack he looked out at had become nothing more than a mass of whining voices. He understood their fear, but no one seemed to carry any kind of strength.

  It was clear that Sampson had been their strength. He’d been tall and strong so that no one else had to stand. He carried them with that alone and, once it was gone, the Pack had crumbled. Archer’s eyes rose and sought the place where his father’s bed would be sitting above them. Pride had crippled them.

  It left them weak while gluttony weaseled its way onto the edges of their territory. The so-called Alpha leading what had been the Bart pack was a monster. His disregard for the traditions that’d kept them hidden and safe for years was going to lead to trouble.

  One man rose and stalked toward Archer. There was a streak of silver on the man’s temple now, but Archer recognized him. Grover was their father’s third in command, another bear shifter, albeit a black bear. Grover looked him in the eye as his lips split into a snarl, an open challenge.

  “Don’t think you can come back here and take the old man’s place. You aren’t Pack and you never will be after what you did.”

  Archer wanted to wrap his hands around the man’s throat, but he kept his fists at his sides. While eye contact was a challenge, Archer couldn’t let himself get baited so easily. He was outcast and the same rules that would apply when he challenged the sadist Alpha applied here.

  Archer could feel a presence behind him, but didn’t turn to look. It was dark and crept along his skin, making it crawl. Cohen, he figured. Grover’s eyes flicked over Archer’s shoulder, and he could see the man’s face drain of blood, but he didn’t back down.

  “We don’t want your Pack,” Archer said, his voice low. “We don’t want your outdated traditions and blasted hierarchy. What we do want is for you assholes to step up and do your job. Another Alpha is hurting people on your territory, risking exposure to the local humans. Hell, a human was openly attacked.”

  The room grew silent. But, it didn’t last long. Grover wouldn’t back down. There was heat in his eyes, righteous as he pulled himself upright.

  “Your father isn’t fit to run this Pack. He hasn’t been our Alpha in anything more than name for a long time now.” A grimace touched Grover’s lips. Archer didn’t like where this was going. “It’s time for a new Alpha.”

  Grover shoved past the two brothers and marched toward the stairs. Cohen shouted, but the third in command paid no attention. Archer’s heart leapt into his throat, betraying him. He leapt forward and tackled the tall shifter. They crashed onto the stairs. Sharp corners bit into his sides, but he fought to wrangle the shifter.

  While Sampson might not have been the best father, Archer wouldn’t stand by and let his own Pack murder him in cold blood. Grover, it seemed, wasn’t going to lay down without a fight. A roar escaped the man’s body. Archer could feel the man’s body begin to shift beneath his grasp. Muscles contracted and spasmed. Grover’s back arched and fur flowed over his skin.

  Archer didn’t give in to the change. He had better control. He was stronger. His fist reared back before he pummeled the black bear.

  ***

  Lights lined the back porch as if this were a joyous festivity. Music pounded from the speakers her father had bought a few years before he died. On the surface, it was just another family cook out. As she walked through the crowd with a platter of burger patties, she could see it for what it really was.

  The feral shifters lounged on nearly every surface, loud and raucous in their laughter. They were having the time of their life. Where Killian found them, she’d never know. He’d managed to find a Pack who happily followed the trail of blood he left everywhere he went. They lapped up the fear and laughed in its face.

  They laughed at her Pack. They huddled in the far corner, a small group surrounded by monsters on all sides. Some of them watched the feral shifters with wild eyes. They were submissives, too meek to find the strength to leave. Others stood behind them, darkness in their eyes, and their arms crossed over their chests as they watched the feral shifters.

  Three of the more dominant shifters had stayed. As much as they hated Joanna for what she’d brought into their lives, they stayed to protect the weaker submissives. She gave them an apologetic smile that they ignored. As much as she cared for them, she couldn’t help but wonder if they would leave her given the first opportunity.

  She wouldn’t blame them, no matter how much it hurt. In the end, everyone would leave her. The thought made her throat close. Her lynx brought her back to the kiss she’d shared with Archer just as she approached Killian at the grill. She could feel Archer’s lips on hers, the press of his tongue in her mouth. Her body warmed. It set her core alight.

  Killian’s nostrils widened, scenting the air. Her heart gave a hard thud. She was no submissive, but she’d learned to be one for Killian. She paused, wondering what he’d scented. Had she not cleaned herself of Archer? Could he smell the sudden desire that swept through her?

  “Did you use the burger seasoning in the cupboard?”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding, sparing a moment for her heart to steady before nodding. Killian smiled and took the plate from her.

  “They smell great,” he said, true praise in his voice. Here was the man she once dated. He was chill and suave, appreciative of her efforts. But, she could see the spark in his eyes for what it was. Violence. Now that she knew, she couldn’t look away from it.

  The feral shifters descended upon the burgers like they’d never eaten before, leaving a full plate for Joanna, but almost nothing for her Pack. Her Pack didn’t move from where they sat, though. They only stared her down when she dared grab a plate.

  The feral shifter moved to sit beside her pack and her heart surged into her throat. They encircled the submissives and the shifters standing back, lazily lounging around the groups as they ate their burgers and coleslaw. She could see their eyes dart to her Pack every once in a while, sly smiles slithering across their faces. One feral shifter winked at a submissive before chomping his teeth at her. She squealed and jumped back in fear.

  Joanna felt words rise through her, ready to burst, but she forced them down. It wasn’t her place anymore. As much as she wanted to make it hers, it wasn’t. Still, the lynx shoved its way into her eyes and glared at the shifter as she
moved to sit in front of her Pack. There were no chairs, but she gladly took a place on the concrete patio.

  “I’m glad you all came to celebrate this day with me!” Killian jumped to stand on the wall of concrete, the planters empty since he’d arrived. He threw his hands to the air with exuberance. “Today might not have been the victory we’d hoped for, but we got an even better victory out of it.”

  Laughter rumbled through the feral shifters. They whispered among themselves, clearly excited for Killian’s announcement. Joanna watched her so-called Alpha with wary eyes. She knew what was coming next.

  “The Vancourt pack is without an Alpha to lead them! Before long, our territory will stretch beyond what we ever expected.”

  The feral shifters cheered. There was no sound from behind her. The lack of sound caught Killian’s attention. His smile dropped almost immediately. He jumped down from the wall and prowled toward Joanna. She expected him to come for her, but he kept going past her.

  He went for the table of trembling submissives. They watched him with eyes wide with fear, sinking into their seats as he approached. He hovered over them. The scowl etched into his face darkened and revealed the monster hidden within.

  “Is this not a day for celebration?” Killian asked.

  No one answered. The submissives had no voice with which to answer. Killian scared it out of them. When one of the more dominant shifters stepped forward, Joanna leapt off the ground.

  She moved, placing a hand on Killian’s arm. “Would they have even bothered to come if it weren’t a celebration?”

  He slowly twisted to look at her. The spark had grown into a gleam. She knew he hated her submissive Packmates. He despised their weakness and inability to grow into what he wanted. They would never be like his feral shifters.

  “If they agreed, they would celebrate,” Killian growled.

  Joanna tossed a nervous glance to her Packmates, trying to convey a silent message. She pushed. Her father had been able to compel his Pack into obedience with just a look. Moments like these made her strain and reach for any scrap of power she might have inherited from him.