As I sit, my body automatically checks the room for exits and potential threats. Old habits.
Nic settles back into his own chair before he states, “The pack has grown significantly since you left. We’ve absorbed members from other territories and integrated wolves who didn’t have anywhere else to go. Silvercreek isn’t the same insular community it was when we were kids.”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
“Have you heard about the Cheslem situation?”
“I’ve done more than hear about it.”
“Right,” Nic replies with a curt nod. “Your work with the agency. I received a few redacted reports over the years. Enough to know you were involved in some of the cleanup.”
I snort and reply, “Cleanup is one word for it.”
“What word would you use?”
“Extermination.”
The bluntness settles between us like smoke. Nic doesn’t flinch, which tells me he already knew more than he was letting on. Good. I’m not in the mood to explain myself or justify the things I’ve done.
“The Cheslem threat has been largely neutralized,” he explains after a pause. “We had a major confrontation a few years back. Lost some good wolves, including Elder Victoria, butwe broke their power structure. Most of the survivors have been cleansed and integrated into various packs, including ours.”
“I know. I was part of the reason their leadership fell apart in the first place.”
Nic’s eyebrow rises. “That explains a few things I’ve been wondering about.”
I don’t ask what things. I don’t want to know how much of my work has filtered back to Silvercreek or how many of my kills have been tallied and discussed in this very office. What’s done is done. I can’t take any of it back, and I wouldn’t if I could.
“So.” Nic leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Why now? You could have come back anytime in the past decade. Why today?”
“The agency dissolved my unit three months ago. Budget cuts, officially. Unofficially, we’d accomplished what we set out to do. The major supernatural threats in our region have been eliminated or contained.” I spread my hands. “They don’t need assassins when there’s no one left to kill.”
“And you decided to come home.”
“Silvercreek seemed as good a place as any to figure out what comes next.”
Nic sighs as he rubs a hand over his face in a gesture that makes him look younger, more like the friend I used to know. “Look, I’m not going to pretend the past decade didn’t happen. You left without a word to anyone except—” He stops himself, but we both know whose name he almost said. “You left. People were hurt. People are still hurt. But this pack takes care of its own, and whether you like it or not, you’re still one of ours.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
“The lottery is tonight,” Nic continues with his tone shifting to something more businesslike. “You should attend.”
The mating lottery. I haven’t thought about that tradition in years. Every so often, the pack gathers, and the elders draw names—one male, one female—and ancient magic supposedly guides the selection toward compatible pairs. The matched couple is bound together, expected to complete the mating bond and strengthen the pack’s unity. My parents used to talk about how their parents were matched that way, back when the tradition was taken more seriously.
“I thought those were only held every ten years,” I muse.
“We’ve increased the frequency. After everything the pack has been through—the Cheslem attacks, the integration of new members—the elders decided we needed to strengthen our bonds more actively. The magic chooses pairs who complement each other. We’ve had several successful matches already, including my own.”
“Congratulations. But I’m not interested in being matched with anyone.”
“If you recall, attendance is mandatory for all pack members, matched or not. It’s a community event.” Nic’s mouth twitches as he adds, “And since you’ve just returned to Silvercreek territory, that includes you. Consider it a welcome home celebration. You can see how things work now, meet some of the newer members, and remind people that you exist.”
“I’m not planning to stay long.”
“Maybe not. But while you’re here, you follow pack rules. That’s not a request, Bryan.”
I’ve spent ten years answering to no one but my unit commander, and my mouth opens to tell him I don’t take ordersanymore, that he can take his mandatory attendance and do something anatomically creative with it.
Instead, I nod. Picking fights with the alpha on my first day back won’t help anything. “Fine. Where and when?”
