Brendan's Fate (Wolves' Heat)

by Odessa Lynne

“Goddammit,” Fletcher said. “I know him. And if I ever get my hands on him, I’m gonna kick the shit out of that son of a bitch.”

  “Get in line,” Matthew said. “He’s taking over the whole damn thing.”

  Brendan gritted his teeth before dragging in a deep breath of the cooling air. “About Trey—”

  They were covering ground quickly and Brendan’s braced foot wanted to snag on everything so he was watching his feet, and he missed seeing Fletcher stop abruptly and turn.

  “He’s—” Fletcher started.

  Whatever Fletcher had been going to say got cut off with a grunted oomph when Brendan jostled into Fletcher and had to grab wildly at Fletcher’s shoulders to keep himself from tripping.

  “I’ve got you,” Fletcher said.

  Matthew grabbed Brendan’s arm, fingers tight over Brendan’s elbow.

  Brendan shrugged them both off. “I’m fine. Just have to watch for shit that’ll trip me up.”

  Fletcher nodded, the shadow of his head barely visible in the dark forest. “He’s alive. He’s waiting for us with the others.”

  The churning in Brendan’s gut eased for the first time since he’d woken in the cabin, his relief more intense than he’d expected.

  Trey had admitted that Brendan considered him an enemy. But although Brendan might not know Trey any better than he knew these people, when it came down to it, at least he knew where he stood with Trey. They had an understanding of sorts. Whereas with Matthew and Fletcher, he had no idea how he really felt about either guy.

  Before his memories were blocked, he hadn’t listened to Matthew about Jay. So how likely was it he valued Matthew’s opinion? Fletcher had come after him, but Brendan didn’t yet know why, didn’t know if it meant they were still friends after having some kind of physical relationship or if it meant Fletcher wanted something from him.

  He wasn’t about to let his guard down, with either of these guys.

  “How’d you find us?” he asked Fletcher, following him again.

  “You set off the micro-beacon attached to your gun. All it takes is a touch.”

  Brendan remembered the tingle that had gone through his finger when he’d rubbed the barrel of the gun.

  Fletcher stopped for a moment, studying the area around them. A low sound vibrated from within his back pocket. He pulled out a small phone.

  Fletcher read something off the screen and then muttered under his breath.

  “What?” Brendan asked, feeling the last of his patience with Fletcher’s unexplained actions disappear. “I thought we were in a hurry to get away from a wolf fight. I thought you said we had transport waiting. What the hell’s going on?”

  Fletcher looked up, the soft glow of the device highlighting the bones of his face eerily. “Kem is on his way.”

  Matthew took a heavy step in Fletcher’s direction. “You keep mentioning this Kim. Who is he?”

  Fletcher shoved the phone back into his pocket and shifted on his feet, and even though Brendan couldn’t see his expression any longer, he had the feeling Fletcher wasn’t intimidated.

  “Kem’s the wolf who’s going to get us the hell out of here and get Brendan back where he belongs.”

  “And just where d’you think Brendan belongs? With the fucking wolves? He’s not safe with them. They’ve already screwed with his—”

  Fletcher grabbed Matthew by the front of his vest and yanked him close. “Shut your goddamned mouth,” Fletcher said, shaking Matthew once, hard.

  Matthew stumbled, bumping into Brendan’s shoulder and almost knocking Brendan off his feet. Brendan cursed and grabbed a branch near his head and caught his balance. The bark scratched the inside of his forearm and left a trail of burning skin all the way up to the inside of his elbow.

  Matthew had clenched his hands around Fletcher’s wrists. In the shadows, it almost looked like they were about to kiss, but Fletcher’s voice was anything but warm when he continued in a rough whisper. “They’re coming. Don’t try anything that doesn’t involve keeping your mouth shut, you got it? They’re going to know you’re one of Brendan’s guys, don’t think they won’t. They’ve got no reason to let you come with us. If you act like an asshole—”

  “I get it,” Matthew said. He jerked free of Fletcher’s grip and took a couple of steps backward, putting himself next to Brendan.

  “If you get left behind, the other wolves will figure out you hid Brendan from them and what do you think will happen to you then?”

  “Fucker,” Matthew said. “I’m not stupid.”

  A loud whir sounded from somewhere to their left and a growing shadow darkened the forest in that direction.

  “Devon.” A figure stepped out of the shadows, eyes glowing. “Here.”

  Chapter 9

  Brendan turned at the sound of the accented voice coming from behind them, his gaze flickering between Fletcher and the glowing eyes and Matthew.

  So Fletcher was actually Devon. It was funny that just a name made a difference, but suddenly Brendan had that same sensation he’d had after hearing Ian’s name for the first time. Something strong and indefinable fluttered around in his head, telling him he definitely knew Fletcher. They’d been—close. He could feel it. But he couldn’t remember a damn thing that told him why.

  Matthew stood stiff and uncomfortable, staring at the shadow of the wolf standing beside a thick oak trunk.

  The glow of the wolf’s eyes narrowed in Matthew’s direction while teeth gleamed in the dark, reflecting the faint moonlight that filtered out from behind a cloud for one short moment.

  “Kem,” Fletcher said and pointed at Matthew. “Sorry, but we’ve got company. This is Matthew. Brendan’s knee-boy, or he was.”

  Matthew’s entire body tensed at the insult. “God, what an asshole you are. I’m not a fucking prostitute.”

  “Boyfriend, then,” Fletcher said, but he’d made his point. Whatever the problem between Matthew and him, Fletcher seemed determined to keep the animosity going strong.

  “Why is he here? Traesikeille won’t like it.” A twig snapped as the wolf moved closer.

  Matthew answered for himself before Fletcher could say anything. “I’m not leaving Brendan alone with wolves.”

  “When the time comes, you won’t have a choice,” the wolf said. “Why are you here?”

  It was startling how intimidating the wolf was, maybe it was the dark woods surrounding them and the eerie glow of his eyes, but his presence had set Brendan’s pulse to rushing in his ears and his neck to tingling. The shadow the wolf’s lean, muscled body made against the trees didn’t help either. Brendan could just see the wolf’s hands and fingers curled at his sides, as if ready to extend his claws at the first sign of trouble.

  Dread tightened Brendan’s shoulders. Matthew shuffled from one foot to another, huffing a breath into the silence.

  “Kem—” Fletcher started.

  “Let him answer.”

  Fletcher exhaled a heavy sigh and scratched at the back of his head. “He thinks—”

  “Devon.”

  “Goddammit. Fine.” Fletcher stomped over to Brendan, who watched him come with a frown forming between his eyebrows. Fletcher snapped Brendan’s flashlight free in one smooth twist of his wrist and thumbed the light on. The stream of light bobbed wildly over the ground and slashed across the trunks of the nearby trees as he turned and walked to stand beside the wolf.

  “Answer,” the wolf said to Matthew.

  “I want him to get his memories back.”

  The wolf snorted loud enough to be heard over the insects. “It won’t do you any good when he does.”

  “That’s bullshit. And—he wouldn’t want me to leave him with a bunch of wolves and a traitor. I know that much.”

  Fletcher speared Matthew in the eyes with the flashlight’s beam. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking about?”

  Matthew squinted and raised his hand to block the bright beam. “Get the damn light out of my face.”

  “L
ike hell I—”

  “Devon,” the wolf said again, and Brendan saw him lower Fletcher’s arm enough to spread the light across Matthew’s chest. The wolf kept hold of Fletcher’s arm for another moment, before releasing him, but only after he seemed sure Fletcher wasn’t going to defy him. He put a hand on the back of Fletcher’s neck.

  Fletcher rolled his shoulders but didn’t try to shrug off the wolf’s touch.

  A bright glint of light behind Matthew caught Brendan’s eye. He looked around, but no one else paid the approaching wolf any attention.

  Brendan fisted his hand and resisted the urge to reach for his gun. He had no idea which side he should take and his gut told him to wait for Trey instead of doing something foolish.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” Fletcher’s wolf said, still speaking to Matthew. His steady tone never wavered. “But it’s too late now. We’ll learn whatever you know about the rest of your renegades and then we’ll find a use for you somewhere.”

  “No,” Matthew said, backing up a step. “Fletcher, you can’t let them—”

  “I sure as hell can’t stop them,” Fletcher spoke over Matthew’s rising voice. “I warned you there’d be wolves.”

  Matthew seemed to have realized his mistake, but Brendan knew it was too late for him now.

  He watched Matthew back into the wolf who had come up on them silently.

  Matthew jerked, but before he could turn, a strong arm wrapped around his throat and another wrapped around his waist. He clutched at the wolf’s forearm, twisted in his embrace, bowing his chest and hips out, but his struggle was useless. The wolf merely tightened his elbow around Matthew’s windpipe until Matthew had to gasp for breath.

  The wolf’s chokehold couldn’t have been too severe because Matthew still managed to get out an angry demand of, “Get the fuck off me. Let me go!” that seemed to echo too loud in the darkness.

  A low rumble vibrated through the woods and the wolf holding Matthew spoke over Matthew’s yelling. “Traesikeille is waiting. We should leave before the fight comes this way again.”

  Fletcher dropped the flashlight’s beam toward Matthew’s feet and the light winked out. Full dark had finally arrived and Brendan squinted to make out the shadows of the others even standing as close as they stood. Eyes glowed and after a strangled gasp, Matthew stopped struggling.

  A cool breeze raked through the forest, smelling of damp earth and decaying leaves, to tremble across the sweat at the back of Brendan’s neck.

  Fletcher’s wolf said something that Brendan didn’t understand again.

  “I didn’t hurt him,” the other wolf said. “But he’ll be easier to handle if I carry him.”

  A muffled grunt and a rustle of fabric followed. Then the clink of metal on metal and Brendan thought maybe the other wolf had thrown Matthew over his shoulders. And if Matthew wasn’t putting up a struggle—

  Sure enough, Brendan didn’t hear any objections from Matthew as the other wolf started moving away.

  A hand landed heavily on Brendan’s shoulder. Brendan’s heart jumped, and he turned, but he couldn’t see more than a shadow at his side. He’d never even noticed anyone else come up on them.

  “I’ll help you walk,” the shadow said, in an accent that matched that of the other wolves. “You won’t be able to see the obstacles in your path well enough to keep up otherwise. Traesikeille is impatient for your return.”

  Brendan nodded and exhaled a deep breath, trying to release some of the tension in his muscles. His body ached with a dull exhaustion that felt bone deep at this point.

  He wanted the familiarity of Trey because everything he’d gone through today, all of it felt so overwhelming. He didn’t know how to react to anything.

  The wolf must have been able to make out Brendan’s nod even in the near impenetrable darkness because he didn’t speak again. He wrapped his hand tightly, almost painfully, around Brendan’s arm and started leading him through the woods, behind the wolf carrying Matthew. The thwack and whap of limbs cutting through the air behind him said Fletcher and his wolf were bringing up the rear.

  The trek through the woods ended sooner than Brendan expected, but not a moment too soon as far as he was concerned. He wouldn’t make it another mile tonight. Not a chance in hell.

  He swiped his hand over his cheek, wiping away the sting left by a briar the wolf at his side hadn’t warned him about until it was too late. Just one of many.

  He stumbled to a stop just as light flared around them, illuminating the sparsely wooded area with a stark brightness that highlighted the fact that they were absolutely surrounded by wolves. Ten, fifteen, twenty—he stopped counting.

  The wolf carrying Matthew gently lowered his unconscious body to the ground, a strangely odd action considering Matthew’s apparent status as an enemy combatant.

  Then Brendan caught sight of Trey in the midst of the pack.

  Brendan inhaled sharply at the dark stains and ragged holes covering the front of Trey’s shirt. He raked his gaze down Trey’s body. There was another hole at his thigh, the frayed fabric of his jeans soaked with blood.

  Light streaked across Trey’s face as he strode toward Brendan. The wolf holding Brendan’s arm released him and stepped back. Brendan glanced over his shoulder in time to see the wolf lower his head toward Trey. “First Alpha.”

  “He’s bleeding,” Trey said, dark tone belying the calm look he directed at the wolf.

  “It’s nothing,” Brendan said, swiping again at the trickle of blood on his cheek. “Wasn’t his fault.”

  Trey didn’t take his gaze off the other wolf, who inclined his head another inch or so. “You had a simple task, and your actions reflect on your alpha. Did this happen while he was in your care?”

  “Yes, Alpha. I accept full responsibility for his injuries.”

  Brendan couldn’t keep the frown off his face. What the hell was the problem? So he had a few new scratches from a few briars. What the hell did it matter?

  He started to say just that, but he’d barely opened his mouth when Trey caught his gaze with those piercing eyes of his and said, “Do not speak.”

  Brendan went stiff at the order.

  Trey turned back to the wolf. “Did you think I wouldn’t suspect the motives behind your lack of care?”

  The wolf raised his head momentarily, before dropping his eyes to the ground and lowering his head again. “I apologize,” he said, voice thickening, accent becoming harder to identify as he began to speak in his own language.

  “You shamed your alpha today, and me. You shamed my daughter’s memory.”

  Brendan glanced over to Fletcher to see him watching with a frown on his face.

  “I am ashamed,” the wolf said.

  “She is dead, Obetishiki. Nothing you do will bring her back, and this one, he isn’t—” Trey said something else Brendan didn’t understand, a word he didn’t know the meaning of, or a phrase, in the wolves’ language. “His fate is yet to be determined. All you’ve done here is let harm come to an innocent, one under my protection. This one can’t answer for the crimes you want him to answer for.”

  The wolf dropped to his knees and covered his face. A harsh sob wracked his body.

  Some of Trey’s words hadn’t been easy to translate, since he had spoken in the wolves’ language, but Brendan understood enough.

  The meaning of the scene before him came together in his mind in a flash of insight.

  For one crushing moment of stomach-clenching intensity, he thought he was going to be sick.

  Trey had had a daughter, who had died.

  Her death might have been Brendan’s fault. For all he knew, he’d actually killed her.

  How could Trey even stand to look at him? Much less—

  God. Brendan could feel the sweat beading along his skin, and the absolute fear that rose up in him at the idea of how easy it must be for Trey to imagine killing him.

  Maybe he wanted Brendan to refuse to submit, just so he could—

/>   Brendan clenched his fists and stared straight ahead at Trey and the other wolf. He couldn’t react because he didn’t know how to react.

  Trey had to be older than he looked. His gaze cut between Trey and several of the other wolves. Maybe many of the wolves were. None of them actually looked old.

  Maybe he had it wrong. Maybe he wasn’t understanding the real meaning of what was happening. These wolves were strange creatures to him and a lot of things Trey said didn’t make any sense.

  Trey stood over the wolf, placing a hand on his shoulder, and Brendan saw the dark claws dig into the wolf’s shirt and all he wanted to do was tell Trey to stop. That it wasn’t this wolf’s fault, that a few scratches were nothing—nothing at all.

  The wolf tensed, and then raised his head and met Trey’s gaze. “I submit to your punishment, whatever it might be,” he said. “I won’t shame her memory again.”

  Brendan stared around at the wolves, but none of them watched him. Their eyes seemed glued to the wolf kneeling before Trey. But that wasn’t true of Fletcher. Fletcher glared back at him with something like anger or disgust, and Brendan couldn’t hold his gaze for long.

  He looked down at his feet and swallowed hard and tried to breathe past the tightness in his chest.

  “You’ve shaken my trust in you today, Obetishiki,” Trey said. “I leave your punishment to your alpha.”

  The collection of syllables that Brendan took to be the kneeling wolf’s name fell off Trey’s lips with ease, but Brendan knew he’d never be able to replicate those sounds, and he wanted to regret that he wouldn’t be able to remember them later but a part of him was grateful.

  Trey brushed his hand across the top of the wolf’s head, a gentle touch, and turned his gaze to Brendan.

  Brendan shifted his weight. “I’m sorry,” he said, fists clenching, voice tight, “I’m sorry. But I don’t know what I did, because I don’t remember anything.”

  “You’ll ask for forgiveness when it matters.” Trey sounded confident.

  The noise level picked up as the other wolves began to move around again. Fletcher’s wolf offered his hand to the one still kneeling on the ground. Brendan tried not to watch, but he could see it all from the corner of his eye. The wolf looked around at Brendan once, but his gaze didn’t linger.