by J. L. Wilder
They were off.
As alpha and second, Fiona and Percy rode side by side at the front of the pack. They were followed by Leo, and then by Carla. Wes, who ranked third in the pack, rode at the tail. It was his responsibility to monitor those ahead of him so that no one would be lost or left behind.
It was quite an undertaking, trying to reach Colorado in a single day while still leaving enough time to make it back home, but Fiona had never been one to shy away from a challenge. Her father, she knew, would have been impressed by this undertaking, and there was nothing she liked more than the idea of impressing him. There would be a sense of success and pride that would come along with the completion of today’s ride.
It’ll be nice, for once, to feel like I’m actually doing something right.
They made it to the highway without incident. Fiona even began to settle in, to feel calm and in control. It was a relief to feel that way after so long spent feeling like she was barely keeping her pack together. On the road, she knew exactly what she needed to do. On the road, things were easy.
Suddenly, something fast, so fast that it was a blur, whipped past her.
Only Fiona’s good instinct as a rider kept her from veering off the road in surprise. Another blur whipped by. Other bikers, she realized. And they’re riding dangerously.
She held up her hand again, then extended it to the right, indicating that her pack should pull over onto the shoulder. She veered over herself, then looked back to make sure that everyone under her charge was safely off the road.
The other pack came roaring past, not slowing down. As they passed, some of them rocked their bikes back onto the rear wheel, lifting the front wheel from the ground. Stunting. It was the kind of stupid move that often got people killed. It was forbidden among the Hell’s Wolves, a rule that predated Fiona but that she had no intention of ever redacting. Fiona inhaled sharply as one of the stunters wobbled slightly, looking like he might lose control.
And as she inhaled, a second shock hit her.
Wolf.
These weren’t just bikers. These were shifters. Wolf shifters.
And there shouldn’t be any wolf shifters here.
Southern Montana was Hell’s Wolves territory. It wasn’t unthinkable that a rogue shifter, a nomad or someone too young or green to understand the rules, might drift into the area. That sort of thing had happened plenty of times before, and Fiona’s practice was generally to leave rogues alone unless they sought out her pack.
But this was different.
This wasn’t a rogue. This was a pack. A pack blatantly violating the boundary line that marked out the Hell’s Wolves territory.
She glanced over at Percy, wishing like hell that she had someone else to tell her what to do right now. Being alpha was hard. Being alpha meant taking control when there were tough decisions to be made, and that meant taking the chance that something might go wrong. What if she handled this badly?
What if she provoked this strange pack?
Percy looked just as nervous as Fiona felt. “Is it possible they don’t know?” he asked. “Maybe they’re just passing through, and they don’t know it’s our territory.”
“How could they not know?” Fiona knew every inch of the United States and Canada and how all the different areas split up among packs of shifters. She knew where all the other chapters of Hell’s Wolves lived—those were safe places for her and her pack. She knew where other, rival packs belonged, too.
“Did you see their colors?” she asked Percy now.
“Definitely not ours,” he said. “But I couldn’t make out what they were.”
“Nothing you recognized?”
“No.”
“Maybe one of the others caught it,” Fiona suggested. “I think we’d better get home.”
She expected Percy to put up a fight, to say that they shouldn’t cancel their ride just because someone else was out there, but to her surprise, he agreed. Fiona signaled an about face, then turned and started driving back toward the house.
What are we going to do? she wondered as she drove. She felt frightened, suddenly, and desperate. This was exactly the kind of thing she had worried about since realizing that Percy was agitating under her leadership. Bad enough to have a second in command who didn’t have faith in her when times were good. But what would happen if they were actually facing an outside threat?
Fiona would have to make decisions that would keep her and the rest of the Hell’s Wolves safe. She would need to trust herself, and she would need the rest of them to trust her as well. She would need to believe that everything she was doing was serving the best interests of the pack.
But what if Percy couldn’t believe in her?
What if he decided to challenge her?
If he honestly believed that she didn’t have what it took to keep them safe, she knew, he would have to make a challenge. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to do anything else. He wanted what was best for the Hell’s Wolves, just as she did. He wouldn’t let them languish under a leader he felt to be incapable.
I am capable, though, she thought fiercely. I can keep us safe. Whoever this other pack is, whatever they’re doing in our territory, I can handle it.
Now was her opportunity to prove that to the rest of the pack. Now was her chance to show them that she had what was needed to lead.
I won’t let them down, she said, wishing she believed that as wholeheartedly as she had once believed in her father’s leadership. I’ll secure our borders and ensure that our territory is safe, and when I’m finished, everyone will know what a good leader I can be.
Chapter Four
FIONA
“Don’t smoke in the house,” Fiona said sharply.
Percy scowled, but he complied with her order and slid his pack of cigarettes back into his shirt pocket. Fiona had to admit, she was relieved. Lately, it felt as though every order she gave was a gamble. Would Percy stand against her?
So far, he hadn’t. But that meant nothing. She would be a fool to let her guard down.
“We can take a break,” she said. “If you want to go outside and have one.”
They had been sitting around the table in the kitchen since returning from their aborted ride, trying to decide what they were going to do. Only Wes was absent. Fiona had sent him to ride south, along the same path the intruders had been following, and to see if he could learn anything about them. If they really were just passing through, even if they had disrespected her territory to do so, Fiona would let it go. She wasn’t looking for a fight.
“I don’t need a break,” Percy said.
“Are you sure?” She wanted to placate him, to let him know she was on his side by offering something. He was probably already mad that she had chosen Wes to run recon, a job that would traditionally have gone to the second in command. It showed that she trusted Wes more than she did him.
Which was true. But it must have rankled to have that pointed out.
But he seemed not to appreciate her offer of a break. He glared at her. “I’m fine, Fi.”
He felt condescended to, she realized belatedly. He thought she was saying he couldn’t handle what they were dealing with unless he was given regular breaks. She wanted to correct the impression, to tell him she knew he was strong and could handle anything he was faced with, but that would just exacerbate the problem. “Okay,” she agreed, and let the matter drop, hoping the damage to their already rocky relationship wasn’t too bad.
“Here,” Carla said. She turned the book she had been examining so that everyone could see it. “These are the colors they were wearing, aren’t they?”
Fiona examined the image. It was hand drawn, so it was hard to be sure. The book they were looking at was older than anyone at the table, and it contained the combined wisdom of members of the Hell’s Wolves handed down generation to generation. Someone, at some point in the past, had had dealings with this pack, and they had recorded it for posterity.
The image was of a hum
an hand, the fingers curled inward as if to scratch at something. In place of fingernails, each finger ended in a wolf claw, and a drop of blood ran down one of the claws. It was rendered in white on black, except for the blood, which was bright red.
“Yes,” Leo said. “That’s definitely it.”
“You’re sure?” Fiona hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the pack’s colors to say with certainty whether this was what she had seen.
Leo and Carla nodded confidently.
Fiona pulled the book toward her and read—
The FERAL FANGS — While their territory is in northern Nevada, this pack of outlaw shifters has been known to drift into other territories simply out of boredom. While there, it is not uncommon for them to terrorize the human population, taking advantage of the fact that they are not on their own land to commit crimes and perpetrate acts of violence.
In 1995, the New Mexico chapter of the Hell’s Wolves was run out of the state thanks to the Feral Fangs’ actions. The Hell’s Wolves went east, and the Feral Fangs eventually departed the state, but the human population of New Mexico has a record to this day of the crime spree that occurred in that year. Since then, it has not been considered a safe place for wolf shifters to live.
“Shit,” Fiona whispered.
The others had been leaning over the book and reading too, and as they looked up, one by one, nobody said anything. They were looking to her. They were waiting for her to tell them how they were going to handle this.
And Fiona had no idea.
But something would have to be done. That much was clear. The Feral Fangs were obviously a dangerous pack. They would no doubt engage in crime and violence while they were here, and Fiona couldn’t just sit back and allow that to happen.
For one thing, they would make the area unsafe for all the humans who lived here. Fiona didn’t have to care about that, strictly speaking—they weren’t a part of her pack—but she did care. She felt a kinship with them. Montana was their home, just as it was hers.
For another thing, the Feral Fangs posed a threat to her pack directly. If it became obvious that someone was starting trouble in the area, people would start to ask questions about the strange motorcycle gang that lived on the outskirts of town. As things stood, they were largely left alone. But Fiona knew that the Hell’s Wolves fit the profile of a criminal element only too well. That was probably why they’d had to leave New Mexico in 1995. They’d probably fallen under suspicion for something.
But this was the house they’d lived in since she was a little girl. She had lived here with her father. And more than that, this was her territory. She didn’t want to go down in history as the alpha who lost the Hell’s Wolves a piece of territory that had been theirs for generations. She couldn’t allow that to be her legacy.
Percy was looking at her as though he expected her to fail.
She couldn’t let him be right about her.
“We’re going to have to confront them,” she said. “We’re going to have to fight them, to get them off our land.”
Percy made an incredulous noise. “Fight them?” he asked. “We can’t hope to fight them, Fiona. Did you see how many of them there were?”
“I saw,” she said.
“There are only five of us,” he said. “And only you and I are fighters.”
“Wes can fight,” Fiona said.
“Okay, maybe Wes. My point stands. We don’t have a chance against a group that size. And you read what it said about them in the book. They’re used to confrontation. They’re violent. If we try to fight them, people are going to get hurt.” His gaze cut sideways, to Leo.
Fiona felt her heart twist. He was right. People would get hurt if there was a fight. Her people. It was her job to protect them. There could be no greater failure for an alpha than to allow one of the pack to come to harm. They were depending on her to keep them safe.
“We’ve got to run,” Percy decided. “It’s the only way.”
Carla turned to look at him.
She was taking this seriously. She was considering Percy’s idea, considering it as more than just a suggestion.
Fiona was on the verge of losing control of her pack.
She was saved by the door opening. Wes burst in, looking stressed and upset. Fiona jumped up from the table, indicating that he should take her seat. He cast her a grateful look and sat down. Carla turned away from Percy to look at Wes.
“What happened?” Fiona asked.
“They knocked over a liquor store,” Wes said. “They shot the guy at the register.”
“They shot him?” Fiona was stunned. Carrying firearms was unusual for shifters. None of the Hell’s Wolves had them. What would they need them for? They were more than capable of fighting off any predator they might encounter—in wolf form.
But, she supposed, a wolf was ill equipped to rob a liquor store.
“Tell me they left town,” she begged Wes.
He shook his head. “They were well disguised when they committed the crime. They’ve checked into a nice hotel, disguised as a group of businessmen. I don’t think anyone’s going to connect them to what happened. Not for a while. I only know it was them by the scent.”
“Which means people are going to be looking for the guilty party.” Percy shook his head. “We can’t stay here. We need to leave Montana.”
He wasn’t even addressing Fiona, she realized. He wasn’t trying to convince her. He was talking to the others. He was trying to convince them.
He’s trying to overrule me.
“We’re not leaving,” she said, doing her best to make it a command. She didn’t know if the others felt the weight of it the way they should. She felt insecure, unsure of herself. That could keep her alpha abilities from working fully, she knew. “We’re staying here. We’re going to fight.”
Wes looked worried. “I don’t think we can take these guys, Fi.”
“We won’t be alone,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Percy asked.
“The Wild Grizzlies.”
There was a collective intake of breath.
“You can’t be serious,” Percy said.
“Grizzlies?” Wes asked.
“It’s their territory too,” Fiona pointed out. “They’re going to have just as much of a problem with the Feral Fangs being here as we do. They’re going to want them out just as much.”
“So what?” Percy snapped. His neck had gone bright red.
“So we team up with them,” Fiona said.
“We team up with bears?” Wes said dubiously.
“We’ve always gotten along with them,” Fiona pointed out.
“That’s a pretty generous characterization,” Percy said. “I’d describe it more as managing not to kill each other. And that’s with them a hundred miles away from here. You actually think we can work together?”
“Against a common enemy?” Fiona said. “Yes. I do. I think we want to stay here, in the land that belonged to our fathers, and I think the Wild Grizzlies probably feel the same way. I think when we tell them that the Feral Fangs are here, they’ll realize that they have just as much to lose as we do, and they’ll want them off our land too. And I’m willing to bet that between our two packs, we have enough strength to fight the Feral Fangs off.”
Wes was nodding slowly, as if the idea made sense.
Carla was starting to look convinced too. “We should at least talk to them before we make a decision,” she said.
Percy scowled. “Nothing good ever came of talking to a bear.”
“You’re prejudiced,” Fiona said.
“And you’re crazy.” He shook his head. “Leave it to a woman to think you can handle any problem by making friends.”
She leveled her gaze at him. “Leave it to a second to run away from a fight,” she said evenly.
Percy looked as if he might explode, but he fell silent.
“I’ll ride up to the Wild Grizzlies tomorrow,” Fiona said. “I’ll let them know what’s happ
ened, and we’ll talk about options. Maybe they’ll be willing to help.”
“You shouldn’t go alone,” Wes said.
He had a point. Fiona definitely wouldn’t have sent any of the other members of her pack into a bear den alone. But this was different. She needed to prove herself as alpha. She needed to show not only her pack but the Wild Grizzlies that being a woman didn’t mean she wasn’t in control. Taking one of the guys with her would only cut her legs out from under her.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I need the rest of you to stay here and keep an eye on things. Make sure the Feral Fangs don’t find our house and trash it. We’ve got to have our guard up all the time now that we know they’re in the area.”
The others nodded.
“If we smelled them on the road,” Fiona said, “then I’m sure they smelled us too. They may not have known this was our territory, but they know we’re here now. And that means it’s only a matter of time before they come looking.”
Chapter Five
OWEN
“It happened again,” Angus said, coming through the front door with an armful of groceries. “In town. Another robbery.”
Owen, who had been engrossed in a book, set it down. “Another one? The same MO?”
“The same stench, if that’s what you mean,” Angus said. “Wolves, definitely. They’re all over it.”
“It’s that pack that lives south of us,” Damon spoke up from where he stood over the stove, frying himself an egg. “Got to be. Town’s right in between us and them, and there are no other wolf shifters around for miles.”
“We don’t know it’s them,” Owen said.
Damon scoffed. “Who do you think it was, then? Real wolves?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Owen said.
“I’m not the one being stupid. We’ve got wolves committing violent crimes in our town, and we know it. People are going to start hunting for the perpetrators. Who do you think they’re going to think it is? Their friends and neighbors? Or the motorcycle gang that lives forty miles outside the city limits and only comes to town to drink? We’re going to get pinned for this unless we put a stop to it fast. We don’t have time to be delicate.”