She found a clear surface and spread out what she had: her notebook, her phone, and a map. If pack members were going to start arriving confused and anxious, she wanted something to show them. Something concrete. A fire here, a response there,thisis who went,thisis what we know,thisis what we’re waiting on. People steadied faster when they had something to look at.
She kept one eye on the treeline and one hand on her phone. Rex hadn’t texted—no clothes, so no phone—but the bond was still there, still him, and she was learning to trust that.
It had been ten, maybe fifteen minutes, when the young man came out of the trees.
Part of the pack—she knew that. And he was dressed, which she was genuinely grateful for. She didn’t know his name, but she remembered him from the last run: early twenties, thoughwhat that meant in werewolf years she still hadn’t worked out. Quiet. A little aloof. Nothing unkind about him, just distant. “Zoe?” He said her name carefully, like he wasn’t sure of his welcome.
She was ready for questions on what was going on—what's happening, where’s Rex, should we be worried—but that wasn’t what came.
“There’s a plant a little further in,” he said. “I’m not sure it’s the one we need. Would you come take a look?”
She blinked.
Oddwas the first thing that came to mind. He’d been at the last run; he knew what they were looking for as well as she did. And there was a new, insistent, prickling sensation at the base of her neck...Stop being dramatic,she scolded, giving herself a firm internal scoff. Someone’s house was burning, Rex was gone, and she was left kind of in charge. Of course everything felt slightly wrong. That was nerves, not instinct.
She made herself shrug. And followed him into the forest.
SOMETHING WAS WRONG.
Rex felt it more the closer he got to the fire. He saw the black smoke, smelled it in the air. A fire was always bad; even a small one could cause a lot of damage, without even thinking about the danger. But this was different.
This was deeper. Meaner.
He turned into the trees that surrounded the property, then crossed over them and into the open field that led to the house. A house untouched by flames. No, the smoke and the smell came from the dilapidated shed he knew no one ever used. It could have been great news.
Except five pack members waited in a line between him and the fire—all part of the pack he’d taken in. All those who’d been looking for a way to challenge him.
He shifted, stood his ground. “What’s this?”
Dante, the wanna-be leader, stepped up. “This,” he said, “is proof.”
“Of?”
“Proof that an Alpha who takes a human Omega can’t lead wolves.”
Rex looked at the shed, then back at him. Took his time doing it, as if his words weren’t worth much. “The pack loves her.”
“Oh, I know.” Dante’s mouth curved. “Which is exactly why we’re here. For you, and for them, to wake up. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. You want her? Give up the pack. You want the pack? Give her up.”
It was a non-choice, and they all knew it. Once the bond was set, there was very little that would bring a wolf to sever it. There was nogiving her up. It was a loyalty, a commitment, stronger even than the one to the pack. Every wolf understood that. But this was exactly how he’d feared it was going to play. “And I assume,” Rex said, “you’d be claiming the pack?”
“I’m the strongest.”
“Bullshit. Owen is, after me, and you know it. But I digress.” Rex chuckled, stepping forward. “It will be a great pleasure,” he said, “to make you bleed.”
“Will you now?”
Fear.
It sliced through him—brain, heart, soul, and kept going, down into the marrow, into the place where love for her lived. Not his fear. Hers. It hit the bond like a current hitting water, and there was nothing to brace against because it was coming from inside him, and it cut him cleanly in two.
The man tried to reason:it’s a tactic, stay on your feet, don’t give them this.
The wolf didn’t hear a word of it. The wolf knew only that its mate was somewhere, terrified, and he was standing in the wrong place, and it threw itself against every rational instinct he’d ever had. The burned air, the smoke, Dante’s face: gone. There was only the bond, and what was moving through it, and it was so thick with panic he could barely breathe around it. His hands had gone to fists. His heartbeat had doubled. His body was already turning, already orienting toward her, mindlessly.
Zoe.
Years as Alpha, and no one had ever once put him on his knees. Ten seconds of Zoe’s terror, and the thinnest, most pathetic shell of what was left of his composure broke. His knees hit the ground before he could do anything to avoid it. The words that came out of his mouth were barely words at all. “What did you do?”
