Cal accepted his whiskey with a grateful nod. “You know what your problem is, junior? You think too much. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut.”
“Cal's gut once told him to eat gas station sushi,” Mason pointed out. “Maybe not the most reliable advisor.”
“That was one time, and I maintain that sushi was fresher than it had any right to be,” Cal protested. “Besides, we're talking about life decisions here, not food choices.”
“Life decisions require more thought than food choices,” Mason said. “Not less.”
“Do they though?” Cal leaned forward, warming to his theme. “I mean, think about it. When you're really hungry, you don't stand in front of the refrigerator analyzing every option. You grab what looks good and go with it.”
“That approach is how you ended up married to your ex-wife,” Gideon observed.
“Exactly my point,” Cal said, then paused. “Wait, no. That's the opposite of my point.”
I found myself laughing despite the knot in my chest, watching these three men who'd somehow become the most important constants in my life. They didn't know about pack bonds or supernatural politics or the weight of Alpha inheritance, but they understood work and loyalty and theparticular way that belonging could heal wounds you didn't know you had.
16
ROADSIDE RESCUE
EVAN
The air bit sharp against my skin as I led the pack deeper into the forest, away from the house and the mill and anything that might resemble normal life. Pine needles crunched under our boots, and the scent of damp earth and growing things filled my lungs with every breath. This deep in the territory, civilization felt like a memory, something humans had invented to make themselves feel safer from the things that prowled in the shadows.
Perfect.
“Alright,” I called out, stopping in a natural depression between towering pines where the ground was level enough for what we needed to do. “Basic formation drills first. Jonah, take point. Alaric, you're flanking left. Sienna, right flank. Theo, you've got rear guard.”
They moved with the fluid efficiency of wolves who'd been training together for months, finding their positions without the fumbling confusion that marked newer pack members. But therewas something in their movements today, an edge of curiosity mixed with wariness that told me they'd picked up on my mood.
Smart. My wolf had been restless since Dad's conversation the other day, pacing beneath my skin like a caged animal that could smell smoke on the wind. The knowledge of dead wolves scattered across the continent sat heavy in my chest, turning every training session from routine practice into something that felt like preparation for war.
Which, considering what Dad had told me, it probably was.
“Today we're focusing on coordinated attacks against multiple opponents,” I said, pulling out the stopwatch that had become my constant companion during these sessions. “Assume you're outnumbered three to one, no backup coming, and your primary objective is keeping each other alive long enough to either win or retreat.”
“Cheerful,” Sienna muttered, but she was already dropping into the loose stance that meant business. “What brought on this particular dose of optimism?”
“Experience,” I said, which was true enough without being the whole truth. “The world's a dangerous place. Better to be over prepared than dead.”
Alaric's eyes sharpened with the kind of interest that meant he was reading between the lines of what I wasn't saying. “This about those council meetings your dad's been having? The ones where everyone looks like someone died when they come out?”
“This is about making sure you can handle yourselves when things go sideways,” I said, voice carrying enough Alpha authority to shut down further questions. “Now, Jonah, you're our primary target. Everyone else's job is to keep him breathing while he completes an objective. Ready?”
They shifted positions without argument, falling into formation like pieces of a puzzle that had learned to fit together through repetition and trust. Jonah moved to the center of ourmakeshift training ground, hands loose at his sides, while the others arranged themselves in a protective semicircle.
“Go.”
The drill erupted into controlled chaos. I threw myself at Jonah from three different angles simultaneously, moving with supernatural speed that would have been impossible to track if they'd been fully human. But pack bonds gave them coordination that went beyond normal teamwork, awareness of each other's movements that let them react to threats before conscious thought could interfere.
Sienna intercepted my first attack with a block that would have shattered human bones, redirecting my momentum into Alaric's waiting arms. He caught me, spun with the impact, and launched me toward Theo, who was already moving to complete the trap.
Good. They were thinking like a unit instead of individuals, using their bonds to anticipate and coordinate in ways that made them collectively stronger than the sum of their parts.
But not good enough.
I twisted in midair, letting my wolf surge just close enough to the surface to borrow its reflexes without actually shifting. My hand caught Theo's ankle as he moved to intercept, using his own momentum to send him sprawling while I rolled clear of Alaric's follow-up strike.
“Dead,” I announced, tapping Jonah's shoulder before he could react to the opening I'd created. “Theo's down, your formation's broken, and your primary objective just got his throat torn out. What went wrong?”
