Macy frowns. “That doesn’t look big enough to support a pack.”
“Oh, no. This garden is just for the Alpha’s house,” says Clay.
“And it looks a littletoobig for that.”
Clay gives her a tight smile. “Don’t worry. Anything we don’t use gets canned for storage. Nothing goes to waste.”
I’m not quite sure if he’s that dumb or if he’s purposely ignoring Macy’s point. Macy scoffs under her breath, but doesn’t say anything, motioning for Clay to continue.
He leads us past a building at the edge of the clearing. I wouldn’t call it a shed—it’s way too big for that—but it isn’t living quarters either. There aren’t any windows, and there’s a large lock on the door.
Macy points to the building. “What’s in there?”
“Nothing much.” Clay chuckles. “At one point, the pack tried to keep horses, but they didn’t do well with wolves. Plus, if we need to get around that badly, we just shift.” He gestures to the space around us. “There’s no one else around for miles, so this place is a shifter paradise.”
The funny thing is, the building doesn’t look like a barn either. Macy’s gaze slides to me and I nod. There’s definitely something they’re trying to hide in there.
Clay keeps walking and Macy and I hurry to catch up.
“Where are we going?” asks Macy.
“The chicken coops are right up here and—”
“What about where I used to live?” I break in. “Can we see that?”
Clay flashes me a forced smile. “Sorry, but there’s someone else living there now. We wouldn’t want to disturb them.”
Macy’s brows pull together. “But if you’re really hoping to jog Ollie’s memories…”
Clay shrugs, his expression one of forced nonchalance. “I can ask my mom about setting up something for later. Or maybe tomorrow.”
We end up following Clay as he takes us around to see the chicken coops—the birds and their eggs also solely for the Alpha’s house. Then he shows us an actual barn where he says they keep a fleet of UTVs, a few snowmobiles, and a couple dirt bikes before leading us back toward the main house.
A delicious smell fills the air as we enter and Clay takes a deep breath. “You guys are in for a treat,” he says. “Smells like she had them roast a few chickens.”
Earl and Luke are still sitting where they were when we left, having a bit of a staring contest. Luke’s gaze finds me and he jumps up from his seat, moving to my side. He doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Wanda calls everyone to the dining room.
We all take seats at the long table, Earl at one end with Luke and Clay on either side of him, and Wanda at the opposite end. I take the seat next to Luke, and Macy sits down across from me. Once we’re all seated, Wanda snaps her fingers and betas move into the room, carefully setting down a plate in front of each person and filling their wine glasses.
Like the young man from earlier, two of these betas wear metal bands around their necks, and the sight sets off an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Nothing outside might have jogged my memories, but there’s still something about those collars that’s setting alarm bells off in my head.
The beta filling my wine glass glances up at my face and her eyes widen. Her gaze darts to Wanda and then back to me.
“Would you like—”
“Jessie,” snaps Earl. “Don’t disturb my guests.”
There’s a thread of command in his words, and Jessie clamps her mouth shut, topping off my glass and leaving the room without another word.
Once everyone has some wine, Earl raises his glass. “A toast,” he says. “To the return of the prodigal son.”
Twenty-Five
Luke
The Rockcastle pack’s dinnertable couldn’t be more different from the cozy, comfortable atmosphere in Madison. The entire meal feels like a production of a sort, Earl playing the part of benevolent host while practically snarling at every servant—there’s really nothing else to call them, they aren’t treated like pack members at all—who enters the room.
He reminds me a lot of Randall in that way.
