Closing the bond had been the reasonable call—Zoe’s, Owen’s, the pack’s, all of it. Tactically, obviously, indisputablythe right call. Her panic had been pulling him apart, and Owen’s rescue would have done the same. He’d sent the order and shut it all down before he could feel any of it.
He didn’t have the luxury of distractions, and shutting off was the only way to concentrate.
Or so he’d thought. Because now he was slower than he should have been, his attention split too many ways. On one side, Dante. Then the gnawing worry about Owen getting to Zoe in time. And the biggest one, the silence where Zoe should have been. He’d lived with that bond for weeks now, had stopped noticing. You don’t notice your heartbeat. And now there was nothing, and it was louder and scarier. At least her fear had meant she was alive, somewhere, and now he had only worst-case scenarios to cling to, each one worse than the last, cycling through his mind every time Dante landed a hit that Rex was half a second too slow to avoid.
Dante bit down on his shoulder, and Rex snarled, twisted, and threw him off, but it was not clean, not fast enough.
He heard the truck, his truck, before he saw it, coming down the road too fast. Dante’s people were shouting. Some of the pack were shouting back. Rex couldn’t afford to look. Dante was already circling, looking for another one of the openings Rex kept giving him. But he caught Owen’s scent when the doors opened, and then —
Zoe.
“Rex,” she screamed.
She was here. She washere, meaning she was okay, upright and moving. He needed one second, just one, to turn his head and find her— she was standing just behind Owen, chin up, watching Dante with a rage, a scorn, he never thought he would see on her beautiful face. His concentration snapped where it was supposed to be: on the fight.
It was time to put an end to this, and now he could.
Dante charged him.
Rex let him.
Let him think the distraction had worked, let him come in fast and overconfident, and then he moved. Not away, but into it, inside Dante’s speed—and hit him like a wall would.
The field went quiet.
Rex had his teeth at Dante’s throat in under two seconds. Felt the pulse there, rapid and frightened, the arrogance choked out of him all at once. The law, packandhuman, would have been on Rex’s side if he decided to go for the final twist. The one that would have killed Dante. No one would have questioned it.
He held the thought for a long moment.
But it was not who he was.
He let go, shifted, and stood over Dante, who lay sprawled and shaking on the hard ground. “You and yours have until sunset to pack your things and leave pack territory. If I catch you within pack lines again, I won’t be as merciful.” His voice came out even. “The law will deal with the burning of the shed. You’re done.”
He didn’t watch them go; he didn’t care enough to.Shewas all that mattered. When he turned toward her, Zoe was already moving, crossing the field toward him at a full run. He closed the distance between them in four strides and got his arms around her before either of them said a word.
She was shaking. So was he.
So he pressed his face into her hair to breathe her in, let the bond open up between them like a window thrown wide on a spring day, and for a long moment, that was enough.
That was everything.
Then she pulled back just far enough to look at him. Not pleased. At all. “Never,” she said, “do that again.”
“Zoe—”
“I’m serious, Rex. Never. I couldn’t feel you, I didn’t know if you were —” She stopped. Her jaw was set, her eyes were bright, and she was clearly running on adrenaline and fury in equal measure. Some of it for him, he was sure. “You don’t get to just turn me off. I don’t care what the tactical argument is. Never again.”
He opened his mouth.
“Never,” she said again, in a tone that left no room for discussion.
From somewhere behind him, Owen said, “She’s right. Full on right. Cutting me off.” Owen’s voice was drenched in outraged incredulity. “YourBeta. In the middle of afight. Tactically, strategically, by any measurable standard, it was the dumbest thing you have ever done, and Rex, I have known you for years.”
“I didn’t want the distraction—”
“Iamthe distraction manager. That is the entire point of me.” Owen spread his hands. “You sent me to a fight blind—no information, no coordination, and no way to tell you Zoe was safe. You cut off the two people you’re supposed to keep the closest, at any damned time. What exactly did you think was going to happen?”
“You handled it.”
