I ignored him. He expected me to.
“You stay out here,” I told Dex. “You will be watched,” I told Jaxson. “But I think we could pool our resources, have our betas exchange information, see what we come up with.”
Jaxson bowed his head in relief. “Thank you.” He turned to his brother. “I?—”
“I like perimeter runs,” Dex said. “You know this.”
Jaxson smiled with relief and gratitude that his brother wasn’t kicking up a fuss. “I do.”
“Okay.” I hoped I didn’t regret this. “Welcome to Blueridge Hollow.”
Jaxson lifted two fingers and flicked them toward his pack. A quiet signal. The kind of signal a seasoned alpha used when he didn’t want panic.
The Emberfell wolves moved as one—tired but disciplined. Not stumbling. Not chaotic. Just…drained. It seemed they’d been running for too long and hoping too hard. I understood that feeling more than I liked.
“Killian,” I said without looking at him, “pair them off. No one enters the Hollow proper without being cleared. Children and elders first. Healthy fighters stay outside the barrier until later.”
Killian nodded once and shifted instantly, heading back toward the tree line where the rest of our pack waited. His wolf, sleek and swift, cut through the clearing like a blade.
Diesel was still ahead of him and didn’t slow. He stalked toward the ridge with all the grace of a pissed-off storm cloud.
“He’s friendly,” Jaxson murmured dryly.
“No,” I corrected, “he’s Diesel.”
The man grunted like that explained everything. We led them toward the lower crossing, where the slope curved down into a natural funnel of rock and dirt—the safest place to bring outsiders without exposing the heart of the Hollow. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, thin and cold, catching some of the damage caused by the earlier fires.
Behind me, I heard quiet footsteps—small ones. A child.A boy with amber eyes and soot in his hair walked beside an older female, clutching her sleeve but trying very hard to look brave. He reminded me painfully of Lake.
Wolves shifted along the upper ridge, forming a silent perimeter. Their eyes followed every new movement. My pack held their ground, but I felt the tension running through them like a taut wire.
They trustedme.They didn’t trustthis.
“Your pack will want to know where we sleep,” Jaxson said.
“They’ll want to know you’re not spies first,” I replied flatly.
He accepted that with a tight nod. “Fair.”
We approached the boundary line—Diesel standing there, arms folded, waiting. I couldn’t cross, not if I was letting any of Emberfell into the Hollow.
“Stop here,” I ordered.
The Emberfell wolves halted as one. Children clung to adults. A few of the larger males shifted their stance protectively. Their wolves weren’t aggressive—just alert. Waiting. Preparing for the worst while hoping for the best.
The druid stepped through the brush then, robes trailing pine needles and smoke. Their gaze swept over the newcomers, unreadable and sharp.
“Refugees,” they said. Not a question.
“Rogue attacks,” I said. “Multiple losses.”
The druid hummed, crouching to press their palm into the dirt. I didn’t know what the ground responded, but they looked up at me. “Let the young through,” the druid murmured. “And the oldest. Slowly. One by one.”
I nodded and gestured. “Killian, escort.”
Killian returned in his human form, took one look at the size of Emberfell’s group, and turned to Diesel, who stared impassively back at him. Killian muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience.
He took a step out. “All of your young need to shift into their human form, if they aren’t already.” The first few children hurried past me and into the Hollow, where my pack waited. A few pregnant females followed before the older shifters in the pack.
