“Shut up,” Dean retorted as he put on the sweatpants.
Dillon motioned for everyone to follow him to a group of logs arranged as a seating area. About fifteen wolves, including Kevin, Gabe, Rusty, Wade, and Dean, sat down. Dillon noticed five more wolves standing at the back of the group, arms folded and suspicion in their eyes. The loyal disciples. He met their gazes. One by one, they looked away. Dillon had yet to find a male in Jeremiah’s pack who was more dominant than he.
“The reason Jeremiah asked me to work with all of you is to find your weak points,” Dillon began. “I didn’t fight you to make you feel inferior,” he added, looking at Dean. “Do you understand?”
Dean nodded, and Dillon realized he had hit the nail on the head. These wolves had been humiliated when they had failed or were defeated, instead of being taught where they went wrong and then given another chance. If rogues attacked Jeremiah’s pack, they would likely not stand a chance because these wolves did not fight like a pack. It was every man for himself.
“You’re only as strong as your weakest fighter,” Dillon continued. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, growls erupted around him. But they were quickly silenced as the wolves at the back of the group took aggressive steps forward. “What?”
“Jeremiah has expressed that same sentiment,” Kevin said softly. “The weak ones must be cut loose.”
Dillon recoiled as if someone had slapped him. “What? No.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “You must find their strengths and use them accordingly. Every pack member is essential, and every pack member has a purpose. Not everyone is meant to be a warrior.” Dillon watched in shock as the eyes of the wolves staring back at him widened. It seemed as though light bulbs flickered on over their heads. It was as if Dillon had just informed them that they were Canis lupus, and despite all the evidence already present, they were only now coming to understand it.
“So if someone isn’t a warrior,” Dean spoke up, “then what good are they?”
The fear of rejection was evident in the young male’s eyes. This was a wolf that Jeremiah had undoubtedly shamed many times before. “He or she could do lots of things. They could be good at gathering intelligence, being a liaison with other supernaturals, or someone who helps take care of the pack compound. It’s not like werewolves go easy on things,” Dillon explained. Chuckles filled the group. “Just like humans have their strengths, so do we. Some of you are probably good teachers. Some of you are good with numbers and can handle pack finances. There are roles for everyone. And when you do have to work in an area that isn’t your strong suit, you just try harder, and those around you will offer more patience and grace.”
Dillon’s stomach turned at the idea that Jeremiah had shredded the confidence of his pack and made them feel shame for not being the best or even good at something. But then, that was how tyrants operated. They kept the people under their control oppressed, so that they felt too weak to rise against them. Only insecure men led in such a way. An alpha who knew his worth as a male and leader didn’t need his pack to fear him. He earned their respect and, therefore, their willingness to follow him. They trusted him because he showed he cared for them as individuals and that the pack valued them.
“Why aren’t you with your own pack?” Wade asked.
Dillon glanced down at his clasped hands and then made a decision. If Tanya would accept him as her mate, and Jeremiah didn’t try to kill him, he’d hopefully become a member of this pack. And these males deserved the truth. “My parents were killed by hunters over a decade ago. And I couldn’t deal with losing them.” As he shared his story, the males who had been standing at the back of the group slowly dispersed until all that remained were the fifteen and a few females who had joined them. “I’m here because I need a new home, a pack. I have no ill will toward my former pack, and they hold me no ill will. Sometimes we just need a place to start over.” When the time came for him to face off with Jeremiah, and Dillon was now convinced it would come, he wanted them to trust him.
“What about those marks?” Kevin asked. Dillon had seen the questions in the three males' eyes since they’d gone hunting together and they’d seen him shirtless. Anyone else who’d seen them hadn’t been brave enough to ask, or they thought Jeremiah would punish them for doing so because it would essentially look like they were questioning his judgment to let Dillon stay.
“I’ve met my mate. But it’s going to take some time and trust building before I’ll say more about it.”
Heads nodded around the group as they all seemed to understand, like any Canis lupus would, that true mates were a private matter until they decided to make it public.
“Even though we might not all be great at fighting,” Dillon said, focusing back on the matter at hand, as the afternoon wound down, “it’s still important that we all learn to fight.” He looked at the group of females. “Even the females, maybe especially the females. If ever a coven of vampires or pack of rogue wolves descended on this place, you’d have a better chance of surviving if everyone had training.”
“The females aren’t allowed to fight,” Rusty whispered and leaned forward from where he sat on a log.
Dillon bit back his snarl. Of course they weren’t.
“Well, except for T,” Kevin added. “That’s Tanya. Jeremiah and Rose’s daughter. He allows her to learn to fight.”
“Only because she’d do it behind his back, anyway.” Gabe laughed.
There was a murmur of agreement, and Dillon smiled. He liked that his mate hadn’t lost her fighting spirit under the stern thumb her father most likely kept on her.
“Same time tomorrow?” Dillon asked the group. They all nodded and dispersed. As Dillon stood up, Dean jogged over to him.
“I know I’m not great—” he started, but Dillon held up a hand.
“You haven’t been given the opportunity to see what you’re capable of, Dean. Most of us are natural fighters. We’re wolves. Predators. It’s what we do,” Dillon explained. He wrapped a hand around Dean’s neck and pulled him closer, his hold firm but not cruel. “You’ve been held back. Don’t count yourself out just yet, okay?” He was careful not to say that it was Jeremiah who’d been holding him back. That was understood by the look in Dean's eyes.
Dean’s eyes widened, and he appeared almost teary as he met Dillon’s gaze. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
After Dean left, Kevin stepped up beside Dillon and nudged him with his shoulder. He leaned in close and spoke in a low voice. “Dean’s parents died a few years back. The alpha claimed it was rogues. He’s had a rough time ever since.”
Dillon glanced at him. “You don’t believe your alpha?”
“Do you? He sent us out hunting for them, remember? Did we find any?” He shook his head.. “We haven’t had rogues around this pack for a decade, Dillon,” Kevin replied. “I’m one of our six patrollers. I’d know if there were rogues. That’s why I was surprised when he sent us out yesterday. But I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut and my head down.”
Dillon was incredulous. “Why do you all put up with it? Why not challenge him?”
“He doesn’t fight fair.” Gabe came up on Dillon’s other side. “He was challenged back when he first took over the pack. When the challenger submitted, Jeremiah killed him anyway. The male had a mate and a child.”
