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At least I’d saved Margarette. Alpha Samuel had assured me she would be fine, though Van’s blades had been coated with silver, so every one of the dozens of cuts he’d made on her would scar. The wounds he’d inflicted on Alpha Hillier were life-threatening.
The visiting Enforcers had called for Council troops to be stationed at Southern. Mountain troops were already en route. Apparently, Alpha Samuel had predicted the need for more boots on the ground right after he got here.
We were all in lockdown in the main Pack House until they arrived, every able-bodied visiting shifter armed to the teeth and on guard. I realized I’d never seen Trevor during the battle, or after. So he was still a threat, along with any of his friends who’d survived and slunk away like the cowards they were after the fight.
The worst news was that Alpha Callaway had escaped. With Alpha Hillier out of commission, that meant Callaway still technically had control over the Southern shifters. Even if he couldn’t return—as he would be killed on sight—his old commands would hold until he was killed and a new Alpha took his place.
Glen’s dad was still unconscious, one kidney and both lungs punctured with silver. An Eastern pack doctor who had come for the mating events was being run ragged, keeping him and a few others alive. While Alpha Hillier was unconscious, Finnick’s father was serving as Interim Council Alpha. He had appointed Luke as Acting Alpha of Southern, until Callaway could be found and executed.
Calling Luke Acting Alpha meant nothing. His fight against the other Southern Enforcers had established him firmly on the wrong side, if the hatred and mistrust on the faces of all the Southerners I’d seen after the battle could be believed. He had no power to compel the others to obey him, and I knew better than anyone just how deep the evil ran in Southern. He’d need to watch his back.
From what I’d overheard, most of what the visitors were calling the “Southern traitors” were being kept in housing close to the main compound. The detention cell had been compromised, the silver bars and locks somehow sliced through for the Alpha to escape. In the meeting, Glen had muttered something about witchcraft, but no one had pursued the idea.
I fiddled around with the steak knife, trying not to look as antsy as I felt. It was still against pack rules for me to have a weapon—and there was no denying that was what it was—but I felt safe enough. Safer than I would if the Hunt came in the night and I was caught unarmed, dressed in a t-shirt and boxer shorts. Clean laundry was at a premium after the fight, and I had no idea whose clothes I was wearing.
Safe. I had never known what that word meant, not really. I closed my eyes for a moment, wondering if I would learn what safe felt like at Northern.
“Little flower, I brought you food.” I jumped, shocked that I hadn’t heard Brand approach. He was wearing sweatpants and a black, tight-fitting cotton t-shirt, and no shoes.
“Thanks, Bearman.” He settled next to me, placing three foil-wrapped, oblong packages on the floor between us, and a metal bottle of water. “Mm, tacos.” I tore off the foil. “My favorite.”
“You’ve had them before?” He picked up one, not opening it. I got the feeling he was going to wait and see if I wanted all of them myself.
“Go ahead and eat,” I said, nudging his leg with my bare foot. That strange warm feeling started up again. I stifled my annoyance, and ate for a few minutes before answering his question. I liked that he hadn’t asked it again, as if I hadn’t heard him or had forgotten. He was patient.
I hadn’t met many males who were patient. Especially not big ones like him. Usually, I hated the way I felt when a male loomed over me, but for some reason being next to him, in his shadow, made me feel protected.
Not safe. But maybe something like it.
“I worked in the kitchen, so I had leftovers,” I said at last, the last bit of my second taco vanishing as I remembered. “Sometimes, Del and I would put super-hot peppers in the breakfast tacos, so the ranked assholes would stop halfway through.” I laughed. “Some of them would pick out the bacon and leave the rest. After I cleared their plates, I’d just roll it all up—egg, cheese, tortilla, salsa—and eat like a queen.”
Brand’s angry growl was so low, it was more a vibration than a sound, and it shook the wall behind us. “You are a queen,” he mumbled around a mouthful of taco.
I fought back my smile. “What do you like to eat?”
“Meat.”
I waited, knowing more had to be coming. But he didn’t say anything else. I laughed. “Seriously, that’s it? Meat? Not any specific kind? Well done, rare?”
“I hunt,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching, like some part of him wanted to laugh along with me. “There’s a lake near our Alpha’s Den. Not too near, so there’s a lot of game.” He paused, and I waited him out this time.
“I hunt alone, sometimes. I like the quiet. The water is dark in the mornings, when the deer and elk come down to drink. As the sun rises, the lake takes on the colors of the sky. Pink, orange, and turquoise. Before the sun peeks over the mountains on the far side of the valley, the lake and the sky are mirror images of each other, framed by pines. The only sound is the breeze, like the earth is breathing, the land itself waking up. And birds, calling out softly to each other.”
I sighed. His words revealed a part of his own heart I had a feeling not many were allowed to see. “I wish I could see that.”
He offered his warm hand to me, and I took it, marveling at the size of his fingers next to my own. For the first time, that strange heat that pulsed between us didn’t irritate me. “I would like to show you. I know you’re going to the Northern Pack. But after that, would you be my guest in the Mountain Pack? I could show you my lake. We could hunt.”
Hunt together? “I’ve only ever hunted squirrels. Ground game.”
“You could come on a pack hunt with us. We go for elk sometimes, deer more often. You can shift now. You would be very welcome.”
It was strange to think that I could shift. I didn’t feel strong enough, somehow. There was no inner wolf pacing inside me, wanting to get out. Or if there was, I didn’t know how to hear her, or find her.
Alpha Samuel had assured me that plenty of shifters had trouble connecting with their beasts outside of the full moon, especially for the first few months. He’d told me not to worry. The mere thought that Alpha Callaway was out there, alive, waiting to take over the pack while I was trapped here made me desperate to shift and run, though.
Brand waited for my answer, giving me all the time I needed to consider what it might be like, the good and bad of traveling so far.
“I’ll come,” I told him, settling my other hand over our joined ones, like a pact. “After I go to Northern, I’ll come to your lake. We’ll hunt.”
