“Sira, females are not prizes. I do not regret my decision.”
Sira's expression darkened at that. Whatever her reservations about bringing humans into the pack, she despised Broken Ridge's practices with a fury that had only sharpened with age. She'd been vocal about it at every gathering for as long as I could remember, calling Karik's pack an abomination before the Great Mother, demanding the other alphas unite against them. Few had listened. Karik was powerful and his territory controlled the best river crossings. Politics, as always, trumped principle.
She bowed her head in submission. As close as Sira ever got to that concept.
"As you say, Alpha."
We continued further into the camp and my pack closed around us, wary but curious. Visitors were uncommon, andthese strangers, with their unusual attire, were even more fascinating. Faces appeared in doorways and children peeked from behind their mothers' legs. The elderly, freed from the hardest labour, settled by fires to watch, gossiping quietly between themselves.
I felt every gaze like a brand. Felt them cataloguing, weighing,judging.
I cut that thought off before it could finish forming. Focused on the practical. As much as I hated the thought, I needed Daska to focus on the woman. I had seen a wolf die from the blood curse and I needed to know she was going to survive. I turned sharply and snapped at him.
"Daska, take her to your hearth. Get her treated. I'll handle the rest."
Daska didn't need telling twice. He was already moving, shifting Ellie's weight against his chest with that careful tenderness that made my chest ache. She stirred in his arms, a thin sound escaping her cracked lips, and I saw his jaw tighten as he murmured something low and soothing against her hair.
I watched them go for exactly two heartbeats longer than I should have, then turned to the matter at hand.
"Fen, take the wolves and the injured male to the visitors hearth. Make sure they’re comfortable. Miska and Jarak, start unloading the hunt. Torin, can you grab some help and get the meat stored away. We brought back enough to ease the lean stores, and I want the pack to see that before they start worrying about extra mouths."
My wolves moved without hesitation. The stretcher bearing the man was lifted smoothly, the two carriers navigating the familiar paths between shelters with an ease born of a lifetime's knowledge. The stranger's eyes were wide, taking in everything with the sharp attention of a man cataloguing his surroundingsfor potential threats. Smart. Even flat on his back with a broken leg, he was mapping the camp. I respected that.
Ryke fell into step beside me. My brother served as my second, and despite his lighter temperament, he was nobody's fool. He'd already taken stock of the strangers with a few quick glances, and I could practically hear the questions stacking up behind his teeth.
"The wolf shifters," he said quietly, nodding toward the strangers, who were standing at the edge of the camp looking like two deer surrounded by a hunting party. "They're… unusual."
I nodded. “They are. I do not recognise their language, but I was hoping Sira might. I thought they might come from the southern tribes. Their wolves are much smaller than ours. The man you see, I believe he is the alpha, and she is his mate, but why they travel with two humans, I have no idea.”
“Karik wanted the females?” Ryke asked, his voice low. “Their pack must be getting desperate.”
“Aren’t we all? Our pack would never enslave females just to breed though. He wanted to claim them. If we hadn’t intervened, they’d be on their way to Broken Ridge as little more than prizes and the males would have been slaughtered.”
“I understand, brother. But if you’ve taken something he believes is his, Sira is right, he won’t let it go. You may have acted with good intentions, Rivik, but it may lead to more complications.”
"I know." The words came out sharper than I intended, and I forced myself to soften my tone. Ryke didn't deserve my frustration. He was doing exactly what a good second should—pointing out the dangers his alpha was too close to see clearly. "I know, Ryke. But I'd make the same choice again."
He studied me for a moment, something careful moving behind his eyes. "I believe you. I just want to make sure you've thought it through."
I had. I'd thought of little else for three days. Every step of the journey home, every time I'd carried her and felt the bond tighten its grip around my heart, every time I'd watched Daska hold her with that devastating tenderness, I'd been thinking. Running scenarios. Weighing costs.
None of the calculations came out in my favour.
"The wolf alpha," Ryke said, changing tack as we walked toward the central fire. "He's not happy."
I glanced over at the two strangers. The male stood rigid, his arm around his mate, scanning the camp with an expression caught between wariness and barely concealed hostility. The female pressed close to his side, her chin lifted, projecting a confidence I suspected was mostly performance. They looked like what they were—displaced wolves in unfamiliar territory, stripped of everything that gave them power.
"He submitted to Karik without a fight," I said. "Rolled over the moment he saw the size difference. As though his pack meant nothing. As though the females meant nothing."
Ryke studied me for a moment, his expression shifting from concern to something more searching. He knew me better than anyone alive. We'd shared a litter, shared our first shift, shared the grief of watching our father die while I held his hand and Ryke held our mother upright. He could read me the way I read tracks in snow.
"Brother," he said carefully. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing that can't wait." I clapped his shoulder and steered him toward where Fen was settling the strangers into the visitors' hearth. It was a smaller cave alcove near the eastern edge of the settlement, used for travelling traders and the occasional lone wolf seeking temporary shelter. It was modestbut dry, with a fire pit and enough room for three. "Right now I need you to help me communicate with their alpha. I think if I have to see him again soon, I may slaughter him myself. You were always less hot headed than me, little brother.”
The rest of the day fractured into a dozen small crises, each one pulling me further from Daska's cave. First, the strangers needed feeding. Maren, Ryke’s mate, had taken one look at the wolf alpha and his mate huddled in the visitors' hearth and bustled over with bowls of hot stew before I'd even asked, because Maren had been feeding people since before she was fully grown and wasn't about to stop now. The alpha accepted the food with a stiff nod that managed to convey both gratitude and resentment simultaneously, an impressive talent, I had to admit. His mate ate in small, precise bites, her eyes never stopping their restless sweep of the camp.
Then the meat from the hunt needed distributing. I oversaw the process myself, making sure every hearth received a fair share before setting aside portions for the strangers. The pack needed to see abundance, needed to feel the reassurance of full stores before the whispers about extra mouths could take root. Torin and Jarak worked efficiently, breaking down the larger cuts while the younger wolves carried portions to each family group. We'd had a good hunt before everything went sideways, and the meat would ease the worst of the lean season's bite. But "ease" wasn't the same as "solve," and I could feel the pack's anxiety like a low hum beneath the surface of every interaction. I made a point of being visible throughout, steady and calm, the alpha who'd brought home a successful hunt alongside a few temporary guests. Nothing to worry about. Everything under control.
