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“Tell me,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue.
She searched my face, her eyes so full of concern I felt it like a touch upon my skin. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She placed her hand on top of mine. “Captured females can either come quietly and fall in line or endure a cell until they change their minds. While they’re locked away, they’re . . . broken. Chained, tortured, humiliated, and raped. The males do anything they can to remove their will to fight and force them into subservience. Once they feel like the female knows her place and won’t try to escape, they integrate her into the pack.”
But Elle had escaped.
She came home, but in the end, she couldn’t live with what they’d done to her. She took her own life.
Myla didn’t try to comfort me or soothe my pain. She sat with me, her tiny hand squeezing mine as the sun set in the distance.
Chapter 11
Bowen
I sat at my desk in the command center of the Enforcer building, poring over maps and reports.
The increased patrols had revealed evidence of unfamiliar shifters tampering with our borders. The Enforcers were working overtime to ensure it had nothing to do with the Council. Secret communications between our pack and the Silver Fang pack had commenced, and we didn’t need anything to put our plans at risk.
I focused on the scouting reports in front of me. Some of the junior Enforcers had just relayed some unsettling news. Wolves had encroached upon our borders and invaded deeper into our territory than ever before. My gut churned with unease. The timing couldn’t be worse—not with tensions already simmering between our pack and the Council.
We didn’t have the time or mental capacity for a rogue or unsanctioned attack. Unfortunately, all the signs were there.
I scanned the reports again, noting where the perimeter was being tested and cross-referencing the locations with our patrol schedules.
Whoever it was had managed to avoid our Enforcers, which meant they’d been watching our property for some time. The first order of business would be to switch up the patrol routines. We couldn’t have them memorizing any patterns.
My comms tablet chirped. It was Theron.
“Korren’s on the other line,” he said by way of greeting. “I wanted to put you on so he can explain something to both of us.”
His tone put me on alert.
“Morning,” Korren said, his voice clinical.
“Morning,“ I replied. “I assume you’re not calling to say hi. What’s going on?”
“When I performed Myla’s initial physical intake, I noticed a strange mark on her side. At first, I thought it was an old scar, but then I noticed a distinctive pattern. I took note of it and did some research.”
We’d noticed it as well but never asked her about it. She froze when Silas touched the puckered skin, so we assumed she didn’t want to speak about it.
Now, I regretted the decision not to press for answers.
“It’s a Blood Moon pack brand,” Korren revealed.
“Blood Moon?” The unsanctioned pack was located beyond a mountain, deep in wild territory.
“Yes.” Korren’s voice was a sharpened blade. “For most unsanctioned packs, it’s common practice to brand their females in case another pack steals them.”
My wolf growled. The practice was barbaric—inhumane. It reinforced the rumors that unsanctioned packs treated their females like servants and animals. Such methods made most packs believe the Council’s sanction was necessary for survival.
The Blood Moon pack had one of the worst reputations among unsanctioned packs. They were brutal and suspicious, notorious for their savagery and lawlessness. The males were more wolf than man—almost feral.
No wonder Myla was afraid to admit where she had come from.
Many wolves carried prejudice against unsanctioned packs due to their behavior. She was probably scared we wouldn’t accept her if she revealed her sire pack.
