by J. L. Wilder
What am I going to do? he thought, anguish tearing at him as he made his way across the yard and toward the porch. I can’t tell her. I can’t tell any of them. I’m just going to have to keep it to myself until the fight is over and our pack can head back home.
The thought of going home with his pack, of leaving Fiona behind, made him sick to his stomach.
I wonder if there’s any chance she would come with me? But that was a stupid thought. Of course she wouldn’t come. She had her own pack to look after, and one of the things he loved best about her—it was becoming easier and easier to use that word—was her loyalty to them. He admired how protective she was of them, even when they gave her no reason to be, even when they challenged her authority at every turn. Even when she had had to do battle just to win her rank in the first place.
She only ever wants what’s best for them, he thought. She doesn’t want to be alpha because she craves power. She wants it because she knows she’s the best possible alpha for the Hell’s Wolves. And it was for that same reason that she would never be persuaded to leave them behind.
So that option was out. But what if he were to leave his pack? What if he let Damon take over, as Damon so clearly wanted to do, and stayed with the Hell’s Wolves?
It was a painful thing to consider. He hated the idea of stepping away from his family. He didn’t want to do it. But the idea of losing Fiona was equally painful. He felt as though he was being torn in two.
I can’t decide this anyway, he realized. The Hell’s Wolves might not want me here. They might refuse to have me on their land, in their house. Fiona’s alpha, but if it makes her pack unhappy, she’s likely to go along with what they want. And I would never try to stay with her against her wishes.
He felt miserable. Was there no good solution, then? Was he just doomed to be unhappy?
Stop being dramatic. You’ll get over it. She’s just a woman.
She looked up at him and gave him half a smile, and he felt his stomach turn over. He wondered if she was feeling any of the things he was feeling, or if it was all him. “Are you feeling better?” he asked solicitously, trying to distract himself from the millions of other questions racing through his mind.
“A bit,” she said.
He nodded. He wanted to tell her that he had been concerned for her, that he had been distracted all day, that he hadn’t been able to keep his focus on anything important. He wanted to sit down beside her and put his arm around her and tell her how worried he’d been.
He wanted to ask her if she felt any of the things he was feeling.
But he couldn’t.
They had to keep things strictly business, especially where other people could see them. And even in private, he didn’t think he would dare to confess his feelings. Not yet, anyway.
So he swallowed hard and force his mind to other things. “Hand to hand combat went well today,” he said. “I think they might be ready to try shifting soon.”
She looked up at him. There was anxiety in her face, and it twisted something deep in the core of him. He wanted to ask her what was wrong. But she would tell him if it was something he should know. He needed to keep a distance.
God, it was all he could do to stop himself from running to her side.
“Do you think so?” she asked quietly.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe if we go two at a time, you know, so things don’t get out of hand. One wolf and one bear. Practice bouts. And everyone who’s not involved in each bout can watch and learn. We can also get to know your wolf forms—your coloring, your markings—so we’ll know who’s on our side when the real fight starts.”
She nodded. “That’s a good idea,” she said quietly.
“Is something on your mind?” He hadn’t meant to ask the question, but it spilled out before he could stop himself. “You seem...I don’t know. Distracted. Upset.”
She looked up at him, and he could see that her eyes were brimming with tears. He ached to embrace her. But they were right in front of the house. Anyone could see them here.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he suggested. “Talk privately?”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” she said finally.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Before she could answer, though, the front door swung open hard. It banged against the wall of the house, then swung closed, shuddering in its frame.
Percy had emerged. He stood now, arms folded across his chest, glaring daggers at Fiona.
The sound of the banging door had caused her to jump about a foot, and now she stared up at him. Owen was surprised to see that he knew her well enough to read the expression on her face. She was nervous—Percy’s anger had caused her anxiety to spike. But she was trying to stay under control. To maintain her authority.
“Percy?” she said. “What’s going on?”
“Maybe I should be asking you that,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you think I wasn’t going to find out?” he asked. “Did you think you could keep it from all of us? You must have known we’d figure you out eventually. You’re not stupid, Fiona.”
Fiona glanced back at Owen. “Maybe you should let us talk alone,” she suggested.
Owen was only too happy to excuse himself, but Percy shook his head. “I’m pretty sure this involves him too, but tell me if I’m wrong.”
Fiona was white as a sheet. “What do you think you know, Percy?”
“You know what I know,” he said. “We share a bathroom, Fiona. Were you even trying to keep it a secret? Or has your brain just evaporated that much? I hear that happens to women in your condition.”
“What are you talking about?” Owen snapped. He was beginning to feel really angry. How dare Percy talk to Fiona like this? He itched to defend her, but he knew that if he tried he would undermine her authority over her own pack. She wouldn’t thank him for that.
Percy jerked his head toward Fiona, as if he were talking about someone who wasn’t there. “She’s pregnant,” he said.
“What?” The words didn’t make sense. Owen didn’t understand what he was hearing.
“She’s pregnant,” Percy said. “She left the test right on top of the garbage. It was like she wanted to be found out.” He glanced back at Fiona, his face wrinkled in disgust. “She’s the only woman who shares my bathroom. It has to be hers.”
“Fiona?” Owen asked.
She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on Percy’s face. She didn’t look angry, Owen realized. Just troubled.
“I can’t believe you,” she said quietly. “I can’t believe you would confront me like this. In front of Owen.”
“Owen ought to know about it anyway,” Percy said. “He’s the father, isn’t he? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I thought you were too smart to let anything happen. But I gave you too much credit. I thought you had the sense to put the pack ahead of some stupid crush.”
“Everything I’ve done has been for the pack,” Fiona said. Her voice trembled. “I went alone into a den of bears to protect this pack. I brought them back here to protect this pack.”
“You didn’t even let us voice opinions about that. We didn’t want them here. We’ve never wanted them here.”
“My whole life has been about trying to take care of our pack,” Fiona continued. “When I fought Tank, I could have been killed. But I did it because it was what was right for the pack.”
Percy shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure we weren’t better off under Tank.”
Fiona froze. “You don’t mean that.
“Fiona, you had an affair with the alpha of a bear pack. You’re pregnant with his child.”
Somebody gasped.
It took Owen several seconds to understand that the gasp hadn’t come from any of the three of them. He turned, looking for the source.
Riley stood only a few feet behind him. She must have heard what Percy had said.
Her eyes were wide, and she looked horrified.
“Riley,” Owen said.
But she ran inside, ran before he could order her not to tell. Owen’s stomach dropped. It was all going to come out now.
Percy looked unabashed. “They should know,” he said mulishly. “Everyone should know. You two may be our alphas, but we all have rights. If we’re being led into danger, if we’re going to die in this fight because you can’t keep your hands to yourselves and your focus where it should be, we have a right to know.”
Owen wasn’t listening anymore. He strode up the porch steps and into the house, determined to find Riley and to control the spread of the story as much as he possibly could.
His head was spinning. Fiona’s pregnant. He knew the baby had to be his. That gave rise to so many questions, questions he couldn’t hope to answer on his own without talking to her.
Suddenly, the matter of how she felt about him seemed much more relevant.
He stepped into the living room where had been sleeping and stopped short.
The entire pack was assembled in there. Riley had worked fast.
They were all looking at him now, expressions of shock and betrayal on every face.
Chapter Fourteen
Fiona stayed out on the porch, unable to face anyone. Percy had disappeared into the house, his disgust with her etched plainly on his face. After a few minutes, Wes appeared with two cans of soda. He sat down beside her and handed one of them to her.
She gave him a grateful look, popped the can open, and drank deeply.
“The bears are packing,” Wes said.
Fiona nodded. She supposed she couldn’t be surprised that they’d chosen to leave. She had always known that she would risk losing them if the truth of her relationship with Owen came out.
“Is it true?” Wes asked. “What Percy’s saying?”
There was no point in trying to hide it anymore. “Yeah.”
“You’re pregnant? And it’s his?”
She nodded.
He said nothing, merely nodded in response, and Fiona felt deeply grateful. He couldn’t have been impressed with what she had done, and she imagined he had plenty to say about it. But it looked as if, for the moment, he was going to hold back.
It was more kindness than she deserved. How could I have let this happen? She should have resisted Owen from the start. She should never have let things go as far as they had.
And yet...even now, in the midst of this crisis, she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it. The pain she felt now, she realized, was at the idea that he was going away and she wasn’t going to see him anymore. Their child—but no. She wasn’t ready to think about that part of the equation. Not just yet.
The door opened. Single file, the bears walked from the house out onto the porch, down the steps, and into the yard. Owen was the last one out the door. Fiona couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“I’m going to ride north with them,” he said.
She nodded. “I figured you would.”
“I have to see them safely home.”
“It’s your responsibility.” Something inside her cried out at the wrongness of the situation—he has other responsibilities now—but she couldn’t put words to her objection. She couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. If he refuted it, she would die.
“I’ll come back, Fiona,” he said. “As soon as they’re safe at home, I’ll come back.”
“Don’t do me any favors.”
“No, we need to talk about this. Together.”
“I’m not sure she wants you here, man,” Wes said.
“We have to at least have a conversation,” Owen pressed. “Then we can make a decision. If you tell me to turn around and go, Fiona, I will. But we have to talk.”
“They’re really leaving?” she asked dully.
Owen sighed. “I can’t make them fight against their will,” he said. “I can’t order them into a battle where they could get hurt or killed. That would be wrong. It’s against what I stand for as an alpha. And right now they think the best thing for our pack is to get as far away from yours as possible.”
“You’re supposed to be strong,” she said, looking up at him, feeling a hot stab of anger. “You’re the alpha. And you’re letting yourself be manipulated by what your pack wants. You’re supposed to be the one to decide. Don’t shift the blame to them.”
He shook his head. “A good alpha takes his pack’s feelings into account,” he said quietly. “You know that as well as I do, Fiona.”
“Go, then,” she said. “And don’t bother coming back.”
He looked agonized. “You don’t mean that.”
“Sure I do,” she said. “Who knows if we’ll even be here? The Fangs are probably going to run us out of town, and that’s if they don’t attack us and kill us.”
“I’ll fight with you.”
“You belong with your pack,” she said. “I belong with mine. And they’ve made it clear that they can never mix. You chose your side, Owen. You chose them. I don’t even blame you. I wouldn’t leave my pack behind to go with you.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” he said quietly.
“So this is goodbye, then.”
“I guess it is.”
A part of her couldn’t believe he was just giving up. The baby she was carrying was his too. Didn’t he care about that at all? Didn’t he want to do his duty to her, to their child? Didn’t he feel anything for them?
Apparently he didn’t. He gave her one last lingering look, as though he was assessing something, and then turned and walked toward the garage.
Wes nudged her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“I kind of thought he’d fight you on that.”
“Did you really?” She turned her gaze on him. “I thought you hated all bears.”
“Well, I don’t know.” He looked uncomfortable. “It’s different when you know them as people.”
That was true. But did she know Owen as a person? She’d thought she did. During those stolen moments in the forest, in his arms, heat building between them, she had felt more in tune with him than she’d ever felt with any other person. But she had never expected that after all the time they had spent together, he would leave her like this. She had never seen him as the kind of person to be driven away from someone by a surprise pregnancy.
The pack must have forced his hand. It was the only thing that made sense. If they declared that they wouldn’t fight, he would have had to get them out or risk seeing them killed by the Feral Fangs.
She did respect his decision not to force them to fight. It was the same way she felt herself, although Percy might have guessed otherwise. It was unfair, cruel, for an alpha to compel his or her packmates into a conflict that could cost lives.
She wouldn’t have forced her pack to fight either, if they’d stood up to her about it.
Maybe she was being too hard on him. She got to her feet, thinking to go after him and tell him she hadn’t meant what she said, that she did want him to come back once he’d seen his pack safely home. I’m probably just being hormonal, she thought wryly.
Before she could make it to the garage, however, she was distracted by the roar of an engine.
It was too far away to be the Grizzlies’ bikes in the garage, and it didn’t sound like a motorcycle anyway. What the hell? She took off at a jog down the path that led to the highway. It was rare for anyone to come this way.
A moment later, Owen fell in beside her. “I don’t suppose you know who that is?” he asked.
“No idea. But I think it’s getting closer,” she said.
Owen held up a hand, listened for a minute, then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her off the road and behind a tree. He pressed her up against it so that the bark scraped her back, and Fiona was forcibly reminded of all the other times Owen had held her against a tree like this.
“Owen,” she protested, squirming, struggling to break fr
ee.
“Shh.” He covered her mouth gently. That brought back memories too.
The engine grew closer...closer...and then, suddenly and shockingly, a green pickup truck rumbled through the forest just a few feet away from them. Fiona felt her eyes grow wide as she listened to the truck pass. Her eyes stayed on Owen’s face, watching as he tracked the movement of the vehicle.
“It’s heading toward the house,” he breathed.
Fiona was out of his arms and sprinting back home without knowing exactly how she had done it. She was panicked, desperate, and she knew she would never get there in time. It’s the Fangs, she thought. It has to be. No one else would come out here. They found us, and they’re ready to fight.
She had never wanted this. She had always planned on having the initiative, being the one to bring the fight to them. Having that small measure of control.
And now the Grizzlies were leaving. They would refuse to fight. Would the Fangs allow them to walk away? Or would they attack the bears too, forcing them to defend themselves?
How many will be lost today?
She heard the first scream just as the house came into view.
Owen sprinted past her. She had never seen him run hard like this, and she was amazed at his speed. The trees gave way to the backyard, and Fiona saw members of her own pack streaming out the front door, racing across the porch and onto the grass.
The fight is starting.
But was the fight starting? The truck was turning in the yard, reversing direction, heading back the way it had come. Fiona skidded to a stop as it passed her. She was able to get a look at the patch emblazoned on the shoulder of the driver. It was the Feral Fangs, all right.
And the face in the passenger seat was familiar.
Why were they leaving?
She looked back at her own pack. They were standing in a semicircle, backs to her, and beyond them she could see the Grizzlies in a tighter circle, as if they were standing around something.
She caught up to her own pack and turned to Percy. “What’s going on?” she asked.