by Callie Rose
Tell me again what you saw, Ridge says as he laps up water beside me.
I’ve already gone over it twice now, but I can tell he’s hurting. Worried about his brother, worried about his pack. Just fucking worried. If rehashing my vision helps him cope, I’m okay with it.
Lawson escaped his cell in the North Pack jail, and he left pack territory where he was captured by witches, I say, stepping into the shallows to let the cold water run over my aching paws.
I repeat everything Cleo and Lawson said as quickly as possible, without delving into the stomach-churning details of his torture. That part, I’m not keen to relive—and Ridge doesn’t need to hear it again either.
The massive wolf lifts his head and stares out over the river. The pack wanted to banish him for his crimes against me. I wouldn’t do it, because I didn’t want him to run afoul of the witches. We have safety together, in packs. Out there on our own, we’re prey. Yet he ran and got captured anyway. Idiot.
The last word should sound angry, but there’s too much grief in it for that.
In wolf form, the connection of our mate bond seems strongest, even more clear and pure than when we’re human. It’s so strong that I can sense his emotions in every word.
Anger. Pain. Betrayal.
He’s furious that Lawson ran away, that he got caught and spilled all their secrets, putting all three packs in terrible danger. But he’s heartbroken for his brother too. Lawson was still alive when I raced away from Cleo’s mind, but that doesn’t mean he’s still alive now, or that he will be for long. And we both know it.
The water splashes beneath my feet as I go to him and rub my cheek along his, projecting my love and support through the bond. He returns the nuzzle, letting out a soft whuff as he leans into me.
I’m with you, I tell him. No matter what comes. No matter what happens. If you have to walk through hell, I’ll be there by your side. Always.
Our break by the water is too short to be truly refreshing. My body protests when we get moving again, but my mind is already lamenting the lost time.
We continue moving as fast as we can possibly run, stopping only for food or water, or to rest long enough to keep moving. We run late into the night, and into the morning, and by noon the next day, I’m so exhausted I can hardly stay on my feet. I’ve done my best to keep up, to not complain even when my legs ache and I feel as if my body will collapse, but Archer is the one to notice me flagging and demands we stop to rest.
An hour. Trystan pants heavily, pacing along the edge of a small mountain stream where we just rehydrated. We have no time to waste.
I’m just as exhausted as Sable is, Archer says. Even in my mind, it sounds like a groan. And you are too. Lie down and shut up for a while.
We’ll be no good to anyone if we aren’t rested. Ridge shakes out his fur. I’ll take watch. Get a little sleep.
He needs sleep just as badly as the rest of us do, but it’s too risky for us all to let our guards down. As the other three men settle in around me, I curl up between them on a bed of soft pine needles, feeling as if I could fall asleep immediately.
But there’s something I want to try first.
As Ridge walks a perimeter around our temporary encampment, I shift back to human form, not even bothering to dig into my pack for clothes. I don’t expect to be in this form for long, but I need to access my magic, and it’s pretty much impossible for me to call up and control when I’m a wolf.
Without Gwen’s magic giving me a boost, it’s harder to find the room inside my mind that leads to the tunnel. I get a few false starts and dead ends before I finally dig deep enough into my own magic to find that place.
The tunnel is just as shadowy as it was when Gwen helped me through, and I can’t help but remember all those terrible nightmares again. Always walking dark tunnels, always afraid for my life because of what was waiting for me on the other end. Were they premonitions of this?
Maybe every step I’ve taken since I ran for freedom from my uncle’s truck has been leading me to Gwen and discovering this bond with Cleo. Shit. If I look at it like that, I fear the bond between me and the coven leader even more. It feels… inevitable in some way.
But I want to know what’s happening. Too much time has passed since I saw Lawson being tortured, and I’m terrified we’re too late. I want to know where the coven is and what their next move is, so that we can adjust our plan accordingly. All we know now is that Cleo has the information; we don’t know how she’ll use it.
But when I come out of the tunnel and into Cleo’s mind, the images and sound are fractured. I don’t get the whole picture. I only get hints of sound and dialogue. It has to be because Gwen isn’t here to buoy me up with her magic, and it stings that I’m not skilled enough on my own to handle this.
Will I ever be? Is my lack of control due to a lack of training, or is it because of the fact that I’m not a full witch?
“—closest?” Cleo’s sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. I catch a flash of a man’s broad face and a table covered in a map.
“East Pack, prob—” The man’s gruff voice fades out before he finishes speaking, and colors blur and fade around me.
“—weakest too,” Cleo muses, the words coming in loud and clear once more. The room flares back into view as she taps a segment of the map with a long nail. “We leave at—”
Then they’re gone again.
I’m back in the dark tunnel, and no matter how hard I try to press forward, I’m not able to break through and get any more glimpses into Cleo’s mind.
But I heard enough.
The East Pack.
My heart flutters in my chest as I think of Malcolm, lying in his sick bed and unable to fight for his pack. Turning on my heel, I race into the darkness back toward my own mind and away from the bloodthirsty witch at the other end of the bond.
I open my eyes to find that Archer is sound asleep, curled against my side. Trystan—for all his ranting and raving—is passed out on the other side of Archer, arms and legs akimbo as if he flopped onto the ground and fell asleep where he landed.
A soft, dark warmth on my other side tells me Dare is resting against me, though I can tell he’s awake and watchful. Ridge is the only one of my men not lying down. He’s sitting a few feet away, his nose tilted toward the sky and his mind probably a million miles away.
“Ridge,” I whisper urgently, standing up and extricating myself from the pile of warm, furry bodies that surround me. When I’m clear of the others and won’t disturb them, I shift back to wolf form.
Beside me, Dare’s ears perk up. He’s clearly awake, but he remains still even as he listens carefully.
Drawn by my voice and my movement, Ridge turns and looks over at me with his beautiful honey eyes. You should be sleeping.
I saw into Cleo’s mind again.
Tension ripples through his body at my words. He stands and pads closer, his hackles bristling up along his spine. What did you see?
I relay the few words I managed to hear and finish with, I think they’re going to attack the East Pack first.
He nods once, and even his wolf’s face looks grim. Then we readjust our course for Archer’s pack.
18
Ridge
I’ve never been more happy to see another pack’s territory than I am when we race into the East Pack village.
I lost feeling in my legs ages ago. I’m running on fucking autopilot, putting one paw in front of the other because I have no other choice. If I feel this exhausted, this much like a worn out piece of shit, I can’t even imagine how Sable feels. She had no time to get used to her wolf form before we ended up racing all over the fucking state of Montana.
But she hasn’t said a thing. Wolves are built for running, and shifters can go harder and faster than most, but even still, we covered more miles in the past twenty-four hours than I ever thought possible. I want to get her to Archer’s cabin where she can rest and recuperate. All of us, really. We don’t need to be racing he
adlong into war while our bodies collapse.
The East Pack village is untouched since we last saw it, and for that I’m thankful. The whole way here, I worried we would be too late. I worried we’d find the village in flames, bodies strewn everywhere, Malcolm dead in the hospital-like bed in his house…
Whatever held the witches back long enough for us to reach Archer’s pack was a godsend. Because as much as it sucks to admit, Cleo is right—the East Pack is the weakest, the smallest, and the easiest to overtake.
We slow outside Archer’s small house. Only when I’m no longer running does the pain kick in. The pads of my paws are on fire, and my joints ache. I want nothing more than to fall onto Archer’s couch and crash for days.
Not gonna happen. The day’s not over yet, and I gotta be ready to run again.
In the cool, dim living room, we all shift back to human form, and it’s almost funny how we all look just as strung out in our human forms as we did in wolf. Archer has dark circles under his eyes, and Trystan’s slumped over like his shoulders don’t even want to hold him up. Dare limps casually to the couch and sinks into the cushions, oblivious to the fact he just put his bare ass on another man’s sofa.
Sable looks between all of us. “What now?”
Her eyes are red from sleeplessness, and she stands gingerly as if her feet hurt. I want to gather her into my arms and fix it all. Take away the pain from running, take away the worries she harbors over the witch she’s been psychically bound to. I just want to fucking rip all that away and leave her with only the good stuff.
That’s impossible though. So the next best thing I can do is fight for her. Keep pushing until we come out of this one the other side—hopefully all alive and whole.
“I have to go prepare the North Pack for war,” I tell her, a note of apology in my voice. “But I’ll be back.”
Trystan holds up a finger where he’s still hunched over catching his breath. “Yeah. Same. My pack.”
I draw close to Sable, breathing in her scent, now coupled with sweat and sunshine and fresh earth. It’s an intoxicating smell. I tuck her long, wild hair behind her ear, wishing I could stay longer. I haven’t even left yet, and already I’m worrying about her. Plus, she looks sad, like she’s carrying the weight of something even heavier than everything else.
“What’s wrong?” I say softly. “Other than the obvious, I mean.”
Her gaze drops to the floor as she catches my hand in hers. Our fingers entwine, and she clutches my arm to her chest, tears wetting her eyelashes.
“I’m sorry,” she says with a shuddery breath. “I never meant to come between you and Lawson. Or for any of this to happen.”
I stare at her, stunned by what she’s implying. “You think Lawson challenged me because of you?”
“Didn’t he? He used me as an excuse to make members of your pack rise up against you. You were gone with me at the cabin when he tried to take over, when he challenged you…”
She trails off, still avoiding my gaze.
“Sable.” I disentangle my hand from hers and then cup her face, forcing her to look at me so I can gaze into her beautiful blue eyes.
It’s hard to remember the delicate, frightened girl I found in Devil’s Ditch, battered all to hell and smelling like every dream I’ve ever had. She’s grown so much since that night. I’ve loved watching her reclaim her strength and find the power and drive inside herself that I knew was buried beneath everything her uncle did to her.
I kiss her lips, slow and sweet, trying to channel my emotions into it. I love this woman, but that’s only the half of how I feel. I’m proud to have her as my mate. I’m proud that she’s found her strength and discovered who she is, and fought tooth and nail to get where we are right now. But I’m also proud that despite it all, she still maintains an openness and vulnerability about her.
I hope she never loses that sweetness.
“My issues with Lawson go back long before you came into my life,” I assure her when our lips part. “Back to before our father died and I took over to lead the pack. He supported me, but over the years, he got more and more bitter. Seeing me as alpha made my brother feel like a lesser man. His issues aren’t yours. None of this is your fault.” I kiss her cheeks, one at a time. I kiss her forehead, both eyelids, and her nose until she’s smiling. “I don’t regret a single moment since I met you.”
Then I kiss her mouth again, wrapping her tightly in my arms. She’s warm and safe, her lips as delicious as a top shelf whiskey.
I know I have to leave. It’s imperative I get back to my pack and mobilize them before the witches breach our protective boundaries. I know it’s just a short time we have to be separated, but every moment I’m away from Sable is painful. My heart aches at the thought of leaving her, and the way she clings to me, kissing me with a kind of desperation, tells me she doesn’t want me to leave any more than I want to go.
I finally break the kiss, though it takes every last bit of my willpower to do it. “Stay safe.”
“You too. Come back to me,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing lightly over my stubbled cheeks.
I relinquish her to Trystan for another goodbye, since he’ll be racing off toward the West Pack soon. I don’t even recognize myself at this point—passing her off to another man willingly, knowing he’s about to kiss her the same way I just did. I hate letting go of her, but I don’t have an urge to rip Trystan’s heart out as he tugs her against his naked body and kisses her thoroughly. It’s something about the bond that keeps my possessive nature in check. My wolf recognizes that Sable belongs to all four of us. I trust Sable with Archer, Dare, and Trystan as if they’re merely extensions of me, which is batshit considering sharing has never been in my wheelhouse.
Turning away to give Trystan and Sable a moment to themselves, I offer Archer my hand. “Need anything before we go?”
He shakes his head, but I can tell he’s afraid. I can also tell he’s ashamed of himself for being afraid—I can smell his shame, see it in the slump of his shoulders.
“Hey,” I say gruffly. “Fear isn’t the weakness here. Even alphas feel fear. The weakness is hiding, running, not doing your part. And you, of all people, aren’t capable of those things. Courage is action in the face of your fear.”
Archer squares his shoulders and nods. “You’re right. Thanks.”
I release his hand to nod at Dare where he’s sprawled on the couch cushions. “You’re staying, right?”
“Stupid fucking question,” he grunts.
I hold up my hands, grinning wryly. “Your reputation precedes you.”
For a moment, I think maybe I’ve gone too far, too soon. When Dare ran away from us after Sable began her transformation, it hurt her to her core. I know it’s been a point of contention between them a few times since he returned, and it probably wasn’t cool of me to make a joke about him leaving. Unfortunately, you can’t take words back once they’re said.
I’m not sure I’d want to even if I could. Things are a lot better between us now than they were in the aftermath of Sable’s witch transformation, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget my anger at him for abandoning our mate. I hope he doesn’t forget it either. We all need to remember it, as a reminder to always do right by her.
“I’m not going anywhere ever again,” Dare shoots back. He sits up, his tone grave as he holds my gaze. “We’ve got it here. Get to your pack, then get the fuck back here.”
A grin tugs at my lips as I reach down to take his hand like I did Archer’s. I think the asshole might actually miss me while I’m gone.
Strangely enough, I’ll miss him too. Things never feel quite right unless the five of us are together.
After Trystan finishes his goodbyes, the two of us leave the cabin side by side. I don’t look back, because I know if I do, I’ll see tears on Sable’s cheeks, and I can’t handle that right now. Not on top of the worry I’m drowning in for my pack. She’ll be safe with Dare and Archer, and can help get the East Pack ready
for what’s coming.
Out in the sunshine of Archer’s yard, I clasp Trystan’s hand in a goodbye. “Be careful out there. We don’t know where they are right now.”
He nods grimly. “Yeah, you too, man. Let’s both make it back in one piece.”
“And as fast as possible,” I agree.
Then we shift again and split away from each other, heading for our respective packs.
The sun is setting by the time I lope into my village. My sense of urgency has grown with every step I’ve taken away from Sable. I’m alive with nervous energy, and for the first time since I became alpha, I’d rather give the job to someone else so I can return to the East Pack and be with my mate. But my loyalty and duty run deeper than any river in the mountains.
I howl at the twilight sky to announce my presence and head straight for Amora’s cabin. The elder council will need to be told what’s going on, as well as the pack itself, but right now I need the steady, stable presence of my right hand.
Her door whips open before I even reach her yard, and she bounds down the porch stairs, looking around for me. By the time she reaches my side, I’ve shifted to human form.
“Lawson’s gone,” she greets me, worry etched in the lines between her dark brows.
“I know.” My jaw tightens as I nod. “But it’s even worse than that.”
She eyes me warily, concern burning in her eyes. “Ridge, where’s Sable?”
“She’s safe,” I assure her. “But Lawson isn’t.”
As quickly as possible, I tell her what happened in the mountains with Gwen the witch, about Sable being bound to the leader of the local coven, and how she walked through their psychic connection and saw Lawson being tortured for information. Amora’s hard expression falls away piece by piece until she’s staring at me slack-jawed, stricken mute by what I’ve told her.