by Dakota West
In the driveway were two armored cars, bristling with men in tactical vests and guns.
I’m an idiot, he thought. I’ve thought that they were up to no good for how long, and I go back today?
I’m sunk.
He felt like an icicle working their way through his heart.
Someone banged on the door again, and he heard his mother padding along the entryway.
“I’m comin’!” she shouted, sounding even more hungover than usual.
Trevor sat on his bed and buried his head in his hands, feeling utterly beyond hope. He could hear his mother open the door and then scream. He curled his good fist into a ball, his fingernails cutting into his palms, and he listened to the men crash through his house. His mom kept on hollering, screaming and shouting something unintelligible. Then he heard the heavy sound of footsteps up the stairs.
His heart felt like it was made of lead, the blood pumping through his veins shards of glass.
He stood and went to the door, hands in the air, and stood calmly in the hallway as the men with the vests, helmets and guns charged up the stairs.
“On the ground!” the first man shouted. He was human, but armed. Heavily armed.
“There are kids,” Trevor said, getting on his knees, feeling his whole body run hot, then cold. His wolf itched and howled, but he fought it down.
Shift and you’re dead, he reminded himself. If you go out like this, you’ll never see Sloane and Austin again.
Right now, you’ve got a fighting chance.
“The last two doors on the right, there’s kids,” he said, and then he could hear doors slam open, and Tim and Lizzy’s crying mingled with the shouting men.
Trevor felt like he waited for an eternity. They’d taken all the wolves from his father’s pack that they could find and then stuffed nearly fifty of them into a couple of small holding cells. The Ponderosa County Sheriff’s office wasn’t made for that kind of volume, and Trevor wound up sitting on the floor, his back against the wall.
He didn’t speak to any of the other wolves. He didn’t want to. Instead, he just watched the men in suits take them away, one by one, then return them later.
The men in suits weren’t Ponderosa County deputies. He didn’t know who they were, other than the officers seemed to be deferring to them.
Something very bad seemed to be happening. In Trevor’s experience, men wearing suits were almost always sinister, signs of something bad to come.
Then, at last, it was his turn. This time it was a woman in a suit, a human, and she walked into the cell, looked at him, and said his name.
“Trevor Reynolds?”
He got to his feet, towering over her, even as she straightened her backbone. She had a helmet of blond hair, tucked into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck, and everything about her screamed no-nonsense.
“Follow me,” she said, leading him into an interrogation room.
He sat at the metal table and she sat as well, facing him.
“So you’re Buck Reynolds’s son,” she began.
“That’s right.”
“And a member of the Ponderosa wolf pack,” she said. “Though is it fair to say you’re not a member of the inner circle?”
“Very fair,” he said.
“And what can you tell me about the events of last night?” she asked.
Trevor looked at her and paused. She stared back, a pen poised above a yellow legal pad.
Then he took a deep breath, and told her everything: the surprise meeting, the teenager, the running, ending up at the Double Moon, ending in a confession that he’d spent the night there.
The human didn’t particularly seem interested in that detail, beyond double-checking Austin’s name.
“What can you tell us about your father’s plans to raise a militia and incite a revolt?” she asked.
Trevor stared.
She raised her eyebrows.
“I’m sorry,” Trevor said. “What?”
“What knowledge did you have of his… activities?” she asked, tapping the pen against the paper.
Trevor looked at his bandaged hand and then his other hand, totally dumbfounded.
Then, things began trickling back into his head.
“My sister shot that kid that Sloane found in the woods,” he said. “There was a tranq gun in the workshop, and Tim — my nephew — was playing with it.”
He licked his lips, more coming back to him.
“They had an arsenal in there,” he said softly. “I don’t know what or how much, but there were a lot of guns. Sometimes I’d come in, and he and Scarlet would be looking at something and hide it real quick.”
He shook his head.
“That’s it, though. I mostly kept the ranch running, tried to keep my mom sober, help Lizzy and Tim out with their schoolwork, all that stuff,” he said. “I just didn’t pay them too much attention.”
The woman nodded, very officially, still writing things down. Then she flipped backwards through the notes she’d made, as if considering them carefully.
It took a long, long time.
She thinks I’m lying, Trevor thought. Why didn’t I ask for a lawyer?
Then the woman leaned over and very nearly smiled, like she was sharing a secret with him.
“You’re not on their emails where they organized the militia,” she said, her voice low. “No one can put you at the fire last night. If your alibi checks out, you’re free to go.”
It took all afternoon and then half the evening, but at nearly nine, a Ponderosa County deputy came and got Trevor from his holding cell, handing him a small bag that contained his wallet and keys, both of which had been taken from him.
“Sorry about that, Trevor,” he said, and Trevor looked at the man, whose face he vaguely recognized. “You can go on your way, now.”
“Hey!” shouted a voice from the other holding cell. “Why’s he get off?”
It was Trevor’s father. He felt his fur stand on end beneath his skin, prickling underneath.
“Because I didn’t do anything,” Trevor said. “I didn’t set fire to anyone’s house and I didn’t try to raise a militia.”
“Yeah, but how could you prove it?” his old man asked. A grin crossed his face, showing all his teeth, and Trevor bit back a snarl.
Trevor took a step forward, almost to the bars of the holding cell, his father leering at him.
“I was at the Double Moon Ranch all last night,” he said, softly. His heart felt like it was soaring in his chest.
His father frowned.
“Do you want to know why?”
No response. Trevor felt giddy, and he was suddenly afraid he might laugh in his father’s face.
“That’s where my mate lives,” Trevor said.
“You don’t have a mate,” his father said, disgust in his voice.
Trevor just smiled and crossed his arms.
“Yes, I do,” he said.
Then he walked away.
“Wait!” shouted his father. “Who?”
Trevor opened the door to the lobby of the police station.
“It’s that bear, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
Trevor could hear his father kicking the bars of the cell, the other wolves murmuring behind him.
“You’re no son of mine!”
Trevor let the door shut behind him.
When he walked into the waiting area, Austin and Sloane were there, and they both jumped out of their seats, embracing him hard.
“Are you okay?” Sloane asked, anxiously.
Trevor shrugged.
“They’re letting me go,” he said. “Though they’re charging my dad with treason, apparently.”
Sloane’s mouth fell open, and Austin’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh,” Trevor added. “And arson. Thanks for being my alibi.”
Austin and Sloane still stood there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
Sloane was the first to speak.
“Are the people in suits the FBI?” sh
e asked.
Trevor nodded.
“It sounds like they’ve been keeping tabs on the Red Sky for a while,” Trevor said.
“Did they send that kid to try and take the wolf pack down?” Austin said, his voice a stage whisper.
Trevor shrugged again.
“They didn’t tell me their plan,” he said. “They just let me go. Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together, then wincing. “I’m starving. Can we go get dinner?”
For another moment Austin just looked at him, a funny expression on his face.
Then, slowly, he smiled, until he was beaming so hard it seemed like his face might crack.
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go on a dinner date. The three of us. In public.”
He leaned forward and kissed Trevor on the lips, right in the middle of the police station.
Epilogue One
Sloane
One Month Later
Sloane rested her hand against her fist, leaning on the bar.
“That’s insane,” she said.
“I know,” said Charlie.
“That has to be a cover-up or something,” Sloane said. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them. “That’s just not something a regular person would do.”
“Honestly, I always thought Director Brown seemed kind of unstable,” Charlie said. “I sure wasn’t sorry when I stopped working for him.”
She reached into her glass and grabbed a maraschino cherry by the stem, then crunched it between her teeth.
Charlie — aka Charlotte — had once worked for the FBI. She’d also been sent on a mission to take down feral shifters, and she’d also nearly been killed in the process.
But she’d also met her mates, Daniel and Kade, and according to her, it had all worked out.
“He got fired last week,” Charlie said. “It on the news, on the ticker-thing across the bottom of the screen, you know? For a little while I was worried that they would just demote him or something. I mean, it did work, eventually.”
“He deliberately almost got two of his own people killed,” Sloane said.
“The FBI’s done way, way worse,” Charlie said. “I mean, I’m alive, James is alive, the militia wolves are in jail, and this asshole director’s out of a job and probably being brought up on charges. You want another beer?”
Sloane just nodded.
She’d decided against finishing the Pacific Crest Trail, and once she had, she was surprised that she was okay with it. Instead of feeling like she’d failed at something, she felt like she’d done a great job of hiking for two and half months, and how many people could say that?
Besides, she’s started the project with some crazy notion of getting her life together or finding herself and, well, she had.
When she walked into the ranch house at the Red Sky ranch, Austin and Trevor were arguing over something, though she couldn’t hear what it was from the front door.
“I’m home!” she shouted, and for a moment, she was thrilled at how true that felt.
She was home. It was a wolf ranch in Cascadia, sure, and not the kind of place that she’d ever thought she’d call home, but life was funny sometimes.
“We’re in here!” called Trevor.
“There’s toxic stuff below the sink,” Austin was saying. “There’s bleach, there’s drain cleaner…”
“They’re thirteen and eight, Austin, they’re not toddlers,” Trevor said. “We don’t need to childproof the cabinets. Lizzy and Tim aren’t going to drink bleach.”
Austin just sighed.
“Hi guys,” Sloane said, walking into the kitchen. She gave them both a kiss. “Still nervous about the trial run with the kids this weekend?”
“I’m not nervous about the kids,” Austin said, cracking his knuckles. “Just about the social worker, because they’re so picky.”
Trevor sighed, and then took Austin’s face in his hands.
“You’ll be great,” he said. “I know you will. Just relax.”
Austin took Trevor’s wrists in his hands.
“I just don’t want to fuck it up,” he said. “This is really important.”
“I know,” Trevor said. “We’ll be okay.”
Sloane stepped between them, and all three of them looped their arms around each other. She stood like that for a long time, soaking in the warmth and love of her two mates, and puzzling over how extraordinarily happy she was.
I can’t believe that this worked out, she thought. I went hiking because I lost a job and a boyfriend, and now I’ve got two mates and I think I’m about to try and raise teenagers with them.
The thought made her feel oddly elated, which confused her a little. Two months ago, the thought of settling down and helping to raise teenagers would have horrified her.
“Guys,” she said, snuggling between them, “I like this.”
Austin kissed the top of her head.
“I like this too,” he said.
“Same,” Trevor joined in.
They stood like that in the kitchen for a long moment.
Then, someone’s stomach growled, and Sloane started laughing.
“Stop it,” Austin said, acting annoyed. “I’m hungry, I can’t help it.”
“You’re always hungry,” Sloane teased.
“Let me go and I’ll make chili,” Trevor said.
Sloane squeezed them both tight one more time, and then turned her mates loose on the kitchen.
Epilogue Two
Sloane
“You’re doing fine,” whispered Austin, leaning over to Sloane and, past her, Trevor.
Sloane smiled and held his hand, while Trevor just nodded a little stiffly. Frankly, Sloane thought that Trevor looked like he was anything but fine. He looked uncomfortable in the deep blue three-piece suit, even though Sloane couldn’t help but notice how it set off his gray eyes, and he kept looking around the inside of the barn like he was afraid everyone was talking about him.
Someone probably is, Sloane thought. Austin brought a wolf to a bear wedding.
At least it’ll give the gossip machine something to talk about.
Sitting in front of her, Charlie turned around and hung one elbow over the back of her chair, anxiously looking at the back of the room.
“Have you seen her dress yet?” she said.
The girl next to her turned around too. Her red-gold hair was in a bun at the nape of her neck, and she had jade earrings that almost exactly matched her eyes.
“She wouldn’t show me,” Olivia said.
“Me either,” said Sloane.
She didn’t know Olivia, Austin’s cousin, all that well. For that matter, she didn’t know Charlie, Austin’s other cousin’s mate all that well either, but she was glad that both of them were at the wedding with her. It was good to have female comrades, especially since she was still relatively unfamiliar with how shifter stuff worked.
“Did she show anyone?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t think so,” Olivia said.
Sloane took a moment to look around the inside of the barn. There was lights strung up everywhere, and big bouquets of white flowers and evergreen boughs hung from the second story, filling the air with their sweet, spicy scent. At the front was a simple white arch, decorated with the same evergreen and white, and a row of tiny lights lit the aisle.
“She has more family than I’d have thought,” Sloane said, eyeing the opposite side of the aisle.
Charlie and Olivia glanced over.
“No, that’s us too,” she said.
For just a moment, Sloane closed her eyes.
I thought I was doing so well, remembering everyone’s names, she thought. There’s twice as many as I thought.
I’m going to have to make flashcards or something for when Austin and Trevor and I get—
She blinked and cut off her own train of thought.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Garcia. It’s been six weeks.
“What does—” Olivia murmured, but then the music started. It was s
omething classical that Sloane didn’t recognize, but she knew it could only mean one thing.
On cue, the three women sat up straight in their seats and looked over their shoulders toward the back.
The first to walk down the aisle, looking perfectly calm and collected in his dark gray suit, was Julius. He managed to keep a straight face, but Sloane could tell from the crinkles around his eyes that he was practically giddy, just about ready to do somersaults down the aisle.
Of course he is, she thought. He fought for this so hard.
Next came Hudson. He looked nervous, and even the slightest bit uncomfortable, but happy.
The two of them kissed briefly under the arch, and Julius whispered something in Hudson’s ear.
Hudson smiled.
The music changed. Now everyone stood, and Sloane got on her tiptoes, trying to see over the sea of bear shifters blocking her view. She tugged on Austin’s arm, and finally, he moved to one side a little.
Sloane gasped.
Quinn looked beautiful. She was wearing a mermaid-style lace dress with a high neck, her hair coiled in the back of her head. A young man — probably her brother, Sloane figured, since they looked a lot alike — walked her down the aisle, and the swish of the lace in her dress and its train was almost mesmerizing.
As she passed Sloane, Charlie, and Olivia, Quinn looked at them and winked, along with a grin that lit her face up completely.
Olivia sniffled and put a tissue to her face, and Charlie’s eyes were a little brighter than they should have been. One of Olivia’s mates — Sloane thought it was Jasper, but there were way too many people to keep track of — put his arm around her and held her close.
Sloane felt tears pricking at her own eyes.
“Friends, family, and loved ones,” said the justice of the peace, “We are gathered here today to witness the union in love of Hudson, Julius, and Quinn. Please be seated.”
Sloane sat. Then she reached under her seat and went through her handbag for a tissue.
“Shots!” shouted Cora.