by Sadie Moss
Shit!
My heart rate skyrocketed.
I’d seen that movement before, and it had never preceded anything good.
Chapter Six
I was moving before I even gave my legs the command.
Cresting the rise, I leapt forward, a howl spilling unbidden from my throat as I galloped down the hill toward the two men. My mates ran alongside me, snarls pulling at their lips.
The man in black raised his hand, and silver metal glinted.
Not a gun, I realized. A knife.
And I didn’t plan on giving him a chance to use it.
His hand shook as he raised the blade, and Rhys let out a growl from somewhere near my left flank—I’d outraced all the men, gravity and rage making me faster than usual.
I was half a dozen yards away from the man when he decided he’d rather live than fight. The blade slipped from his fingers as he pivoted on his feet, sprinting in the opposite direction.
He didn’t make it far.
I lunged, catching him squarely in the back with my front paws and following him down as he stumbled. He hit the ground hard, and I was on him, teeth clamping around the back of his neck.
“Wait!”
The panicked shout from behind me arrested my movement. Without letting go of the slight pressure pinning the man’s neck, I tilted my head, looking over my shoulder out of the corner of my eye.
The taller one stood stock still. My mates surrounded him, and his gaze flicked wildly from me to them. His dark blond hair was slightly shaggy, and he was probably in his thirties, although his haggard appearance made his age hard to guess.
“Don’t—don’t hurt him. Please.”
The man took a step toward me but stopped when Rhys growled. The gray wolf had circled around to face the stranger and now advanced with violence in his eyes.
But as Rhys neared him, the man’s brows drew together. He held up a hand, palm out, as if that would stop any of us. Then his body shivered and rippled, morphing and changing as his clothes tore away and fur sprouted. A moment later, a brown wolf stood before us.
The man pinned beneath my body whimpered, and I realized I was still holding my teeth poised against his neck. Slowly, I drew them away, although I kept my paws pressed to his back.
The new wolf crouched low, dipping his head and craning his neck to look up at my mates, a gesture of obvious submission. Then he rolled onto his back, showing his underbelly.
I blinked.
He’s a shifter.
They probably both were, although the other man had remained human, even under attack. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to shift. And they were clearly desperate—they must be, to make such an overt show of submissiveness. West and Jackson hadn’t approached Val like that when we’d found the Lost Pack, and we’d been pretty desperate ourselves.
I backed away from the man, allowing him to scramble to his feet. He turned around to face us as my mates herded the brown wolf closer, forming a circle around the two strangers.
My mates all moved closer, and we sniffed at the newcomers. They stank of fear and stress, of too many days without a shower and too many nights in the woods.
To be fair, I hadn’t taken a shower in weeks, but there were streams nearby the base that we bathed in to keep clean.
“Please,” the man who was still human muttered, his voice strained. There were red marks on his neck, though my teeth hadn’t broken his skin. “Don’t hurt us. You’re… you’re shifters, right? Can you help us? Please.”
At the sound of the man’s voice, his friend dipped his head again, peering up at us as his tongue lolled.
I shot a glance at Rhys, a whine spilling from my throat. With all five of us in wolf form, we could easily take on the two intruders, even if both of them shifted. Honestly, they didn’t look like they were up for a fight in any form, but I didn’t want to take the risk that this was some kind of trap.
He dipped his head, turning to nip West’s ear to get his attention. The two of them moved to flank the newcomers on either side, and as soon as they were in position, the rest of us shifted. A burst of pain flooded my body as my bones broke and reformed—but it wasn’t nearly as sharp or acute as it had once been. By the time I straightened, standing before the men in human form, the pain was already fading.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Noah stepped forward, adopting his unofficial role as the diplomat of our group. His tone wasn’t unfriendly, but it lacked the warm resonance I was used to hearing from him.
The wolf before us whined softly, and his friend sucked in a deep breath before answering. His brown hair was cut short, and his broad face was peppered with pockmarks. “We’re looking for the Lost Pack. We escaped from a Strand complex in Wyoming a few weeks ago. We’ve been running and searching ever since.”
“What makes you think they’re here?” I demanded, careful not to confirm that they’d guessed right.
I was back in human form, but the skin of my back still prickled, hackles straining to rise as my wolf growled inside me. The Lost Pack had been based in Washington state for nearly a decade—the guys had heard rumors of its existence from others at their compound in San Diego before they broke out.
But the move to this new location had been recent and precipitated by a devastating attack on the old village where they’d lived. How could shifters who’d been held in Wyoming have heard about the new location? Why weren’t they wandering the Washington woods like we had?
The man blinked at me, ignoring my nakedness as he absorbed my question. “Another shifter told us. A woman named Beth. She was a member of the Lost Pack, but she was brought to our complex after being captured by Strand.”
Nerves made my stomach harden like a rock. The hunters had taken some shifters alive? Maybe I hadn’t been the only one transported away from the scene of the attack, strapped to a gurney in a makeshift ambulance.
I knew Strand wanted me back, in particular. They had to have spent thousands—maybe millions—of dollars raising me in the ‘elite facility’ where they’d administered DNA altering serums under the guise of curing an imaginary illness. But other escaped shifters were probably seen as important test subjects too. The doctors would jump at the chance to study shifters who’d spent time in the wild.
“Beth?” Noah’s brows drew together thoughtfully.
We hadn’t met anyone by that name when we’d first come to the Lost Pack, but that didn’t mean much. Things had gone to shit too fast for us to meet many pack members.
“Where is she now?” Jackson asked. “She didn’t escape with you?”
The man’s face fell, a look of acute grief pinching his features. “She… she didn’t make it. The Strand doctors wanted information from her, but she wouldn’t give it to them. They gave her more of “the source”—that serum—whatever the fuck it is that changes us, and… it broke her. Her wolf tore itself apart.”
His body seemed to collapse in on itself as he spoke, his stout frame hunching over as if a great weight bore down on him. The wolf beside him whined, a plaintive sound.
Noah clenched his teeth, making the muscles of his strong jaw ripple. I didn’t know exactly what the man’s words meant, but from the expression on my mate’s face, he had seen that very thing happen before. Acute gratitude that I’d been raised in a facility where those kinds of horrors didn’t occur flooded me—followed almost immediately by guilt that I’d escaped them.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said softly, pity sparking in his eyes. “We’ll have to verify your story, of course, and check you both for trackers. But if you’re clean, we’ll take you back to camp with us. The Lost Pack alpha can confirm the existence of a pack member named Beth, and you can tell him your story. I’m sure he’ll have questions for you too.”
“Thank you.” Stark relief colored the man’s tone as he dropped his head, clasping his hands together. “Thank you!”
An uncomfortable feeling crawled through my stomach. There was something about th
ese men, an over-the-top meekness that made my skin itch. Like they were beaten dogs, skittish and desperate for approval. Not even the shifters we’d rescued from Salt Lake had acted like this, and I’d seen firsthand the kind of conditions they’d been living in.
What have these poor men been through? What did Strand do to them?
Noah nodded. “Of course. Shifters have to stick together. What are your names?”
“Marcus.” The man pressed a hand to his chest before gesturing toward his companion. “And this is Walker.”
Noah introduced all of us, including Rhys and West, and we each nodded solemnly in greeting. I couldn’t help but notice that Jackson and Noah had closed ranks in front of me as Marcus spoke, partially obscuring me from the newcomers’ view. I wasn’t sure if it was to cover my nudity or just to cover me, but I didn’t try to elbow my way through the space between their bodies. After everything we’d been through, I didn’t begrudge them a little alpha male protectiveness.
They both stepped forward to search the men for trackers, checking the space between their shoulder blades before moving on to the rest of their bodies. Both the man and the wolf submitted willingly, holding perfectly still with gazes cast downward.
Jackson shook his head as he dusted off his hands. “You’re clean. No trackers.”
“Can you shift?” Noah asked. “We’re several miles away from the Lost Pack base. We can travel faster if we’re all in wolf form.”
Marcus nodded hesitantly. “I can. It’s just… slow.”
He stripped quickly then closed his eyes. The shift was slow, and watching it brought back memories of the first few times my wolf had come out. He whimpered as his body grew bulkier and he sprouted fur and a tail. When the change was finally complete, he shook out his fur as if trying to cast off the remnants of pain.
My two mates already in wolf form stepped closer to our new guests, bodies tense, but Walker and Marcus showed no signs of even considering an attack. I reached inside myself for my wolf, and she rose willingly to the surface in a brief flash of pain.
The newcomers’ scent of fear hit my nostrils again. It hung off them like a pungent cologne, arousing a protective instinct in me I hadn’t even realized I possessed. My wolf was bigger and stronger than either of them, but their weakness didn’t make me want to dominate them.
It made me want to protect them.
Jackson laid Marcus’s discarded clothes over the wolf’s back before he and Noah shifted too, and the five of us formed a loose ring around the two new wolves. Then West led the way as we headed back toward the base. I’d recovered from our earlier run and would’ve been happy to sprint full out, but we kept up a slow and steady pace to accommodate the weaker members of our group.
Walker and Marcus matched our stride, but I could tell it took tremendous effort. They’d been exhausted, on the verge of collapse, when we’d stumbled upon them; likely, the only thing keeping them moving now was the promise of finally reaching the haven they’d sought for days.
Damn it, I wish we could speak in this form.
I had a million things to say, a million questions for them. They cycled through my mind on repeat as we walked through the forest, our hunt abandoned. Delivering these two men safely to Alpha Elijah was more important than fresh meat at the moment.
Just before the gray buildings came into view through the trees, a keening howl rang through the trees, carried on the wind. The patrol had picked up our scent. West howled back, his lips drawing forward as he lifted his head. Two shifters in wolf form bounded up to us from the direction of the base; they paused a few yards away before turning around to race back toward the Lost Pack hideout.
A small breath of relief fell from my lips as my tongue darted out to lick my muzzle. It was good to know the patrols really were effective. If we’d been a true threat, the early warning would’ve given pack members a chance to flee before we arrived.
We reached the building where we’d left our clothes, shifting back and redressing quickly. Walker and Marcus remained in wolf form as we led them between the storage building and what had once been a gym. Just as we were about to turn toward Alpha Elijah’s quarters, the man himself rounded the corner with long strides. Val and a few other shifters trailed after him, and they all drew up short at the sight of us.
Our footsteps halted too, and if the wolves we escorted had been submissive before, now they practically licked the alpha’s boots. The broader one with brown streaks in his fur—Marcus—crawled forward on his belly, snuffling and whining. Walker followed, slithering forward like a wolf trying to impersonate a snake.
Alpha Elijah’s eyes popped wide open before he narrowed them suspiciously. “Who are you? What are you doing here? Shift. Tell me.”
“They came looking for us,” I supplied. “They escaped from Strand and—”
He gestured sharply, cutting me off. “I didn’t ask you. I asked these men.” Turning his focus back to them, he added, “Now shift.”
They obeyed his command, although their strain and exhaustion showed in their transformation. It was slow and seemed particularly painful, as if they had to drag their wolves up from the very deepest parts of themselves.
“She’s right, Alpha. We’ve been searching for your pack for weeks. We escaped a Strand complex in Wyoming, and we didn’t know where else to go,” Walker murmured, his voice quiet and halting.
He and Marcus told Elijah the same story he’d told us, fleshing out additional details as they went along—describing their escape through a drain pipe in an unused part of the complex and their exhausting, fear-fueled trek through the wilderness.
When they got to the part about Beth, elaborating on her role in all this and the fate that had befallen her, Alpha Elijah’s face hardened, and a murderous look glinted in his eye.
But it was Val who spoke, stepping forward as her shoulders tensed. “Beth? She’s dead?”
Marcus nodded, and the shifter woman’s face fell. She’d always held a sort of mythic, legendary place in my estimation. Her no-nonsense demeanor, confidence, and wicked scar had always made me think of her as a hardened warrior, someone who had seen too much of the evil in the world to be affected deeply by any of it anymore.
But she was affected now.
She had known Beth, and she had cared for her.
Val swallowed hard, dozens of micro-expressions rushing across her face as she grappled with her emotions. Her eyes glistened, the sharp hazel color of her irises highlighted by their glassiness.
Then she nodded, accepting one more piece of grief from a world that had dealt her too much already and shoving her private hurt away for a time when she could properly mourn.
“She... will be missed. She would’ve been glad to know that at least some others got out.” She took a breath, straightening her spine. “And you two are welcome here. The Lost Pack is and always has been a haven for shifters who’ve escaped from Strand. We will—”
“No.”
The gruff voice cut across her words like a knife, and silence hung in the air for a heartbeat.
She turned slowly, facing Elijah. “What, Alpha?”
“I said no.” The grizzled man shifted his gaze from her to the two men before him. “They’re not welcome here.”
Chapter Seven
My heart skipped a beat, hanging suspended in my chest for a moment before it took off at a gallop.
I shot a glance at the two shifter men we’d delivered to the camp, half expecting them to turn on us with fangs bared, like wild animals forced to defend themselves. But they didn’t attack. They just stared at the alpha with such disbelieving, stricken expressions it broke my heart.
“Alpha Elijah.” Val spoke carefully. “I don’t understand. You founded this pack with the vision of making it a haven for shifters in need. Shifters who had nowhere else to go. The pack Elders still support that vision—all of us do. Why—”
“They do have somewhere else to go. They’ve escaped Strand; the worst is over
. They can go anywhere they like.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, affecting an air of nonchalance, although I could see something like guilt pinching the corners of his eyes.
“Oh, like it’s that fucking easy?” I blurted, before my brain could tell my mouth to shut up. A large hand wrapped around my upper arm in warning—Noah, probably—but I ignored it, my gaze locked on the alpha shifter. “With no money, no identification, no idea how to get by in the human world? Where are they supposed to go? They’ll end up homeless on the streets somewhere, just as likely to die out there as they would’ve been at Strand!”
Marcus and Walker winced at my words, their bodies seeming to deflate slightly.
Shit. I’d scared them. But what I’d said was true, and everyone here knew it. Strand did more than just fuck with our DNA. They fucked with our psyches, leaving us unfit to just rejoin human civilization as if nothing had happened.
Because we truly weren’t human anymore. We were wolves too. We needed a pack, needed our own kind.
Alpha Elijah puffed his chest out, taking a step forward. “This pack is supposed to be a haven. And every time a new member joins us, every time we allow a new wolf in, we jeopardize that peace. For years, I took that risk without thought. Then you and your friends came along.”
Hot anger burned in my veins. “That’s not—”
“You brought Strand down on us. You led hunters to our doorstep. Shifters died. Yet still, when you came back a second time, bringing nearly thirty others with you, I welcomed you all.”
A snort came from behind me, followed by a yelp as someone elbowed Jackson in the ribs. But Elijah’s gaze didn’t even flicker toward him, remaining locked on me.
“You and your men have disrupted a peace we managed to preserve for nearly a decade before you arrived. I am the Lost Pack alpha, and I owe my leadership and allegiance to the members of my pack. I will do whatever it takes to protect them. Even if it means turning away strays.”
