by Zoe Chant
Before I could get anything else out, he yelled, “Nick Mackenzie, I challenge you! Do you accept, or do you step down?”
Pack laws say once a challenge has been issued twice, that’s the end of trying to talk them out of it. You have to act on it, one way or another.
I thought fast. I really didn’t want to kill that fucking kid. But if I stepped down, Manuel would become alpha... for about thirty seconds before Price challenged him. And if Manuel felt so betrayed and angry that he took Price’s challenge, which he probably would because I sure would if I was him, then Price would kill him. It looked like that dumb-ass teenager was going to be dead in the next ten minutes no matter what I did.
Manuel shouted, “Accept, or step down?”
Then I realized that there was a loophole. If an alpha steps down from a challenge but stays in the pack, the challenger becomes alpha. But if an alpha leaves the pack entirely, it throws the position open. Any wolf who likes can take a shot at it. And if more than two wolves want it, then it goes to a melee— a huge brawl, basically. It’s not to the death, just to the last wolf standing.
Like I said, that gang had fucking macho laws, but whoever set them up wasn’t an idiot. One wolf killed in a challenge, the pack survives. Five wolves killed, and you’ve just seriously weakened the pack. So there was a provision to make sure that wouldn’t happen. I think it was meant to cover an alpha retiring without any challenger stepping up. But technically speaking, I hadn’t answered Manuel’s challenge yet. If I left right then, I’d be leaving as an alpha.
There were enough wolves who’d jump at the chance to take my place if it didn’t mean dueling me that it would have to be decided by melee. I’d probably be handing the pack to Price, who was a fucking mean fighter when he wasn’t worried that he might get killed. But he’d backed me into a corner where I either had to do that or kill a seventeen-year-old who didn’t stand a chance against me.
I asked myself, Am I willing to risk my life and throw away everything I’ve fought for just so one angry boy doesn’t die today?
My wolf growled, Yes.
I said, “I’m leaving the pack. Line up for the gauntlet.”
Everyone stared at me. Nobody had expected that. They were all so surprised, none of them moved.
“This is my last order as alpha of this pack,” I said. “LINE THE FUCK UP!”
They all scrambled to obey. Next thing I knew, I was facing two lines of wolves.
You remember the rules. I stay human. They all bite me. If I make it to the end of the line, I get to leave. If I collapse and can’t get up, they kill me.
It was supposed to be a test of willpower and toughness, but it was more of a test of what the gang thought of you. If they didn’t want you to make it out alive, you wouldn’t.
I looked down the lines. Some of the wolves were my buddies. Others were older wolves who hadn’t been thrilled with taking orders from a teenager when I first took over. And then there were Price and Manuel. Price would try to kill me for sure. Manuel — who the fuck knew what he’d do.
I hoped to hell that most of the pack thought I’d been a good alpha. And I stepped between the lines.
The first bite was a nip, barely enough to draw blood. The second wasn’t much harder. But those were from wolves who liked me. Next up was one of Price’s buddies. He sank his teeth deep into my thigh. It hurt like fuck, and he tore the muscle. When I tried to take another step, my knee buckled. I nearly fell on my face.
It was just barely within the laws. He hadn’t made it impossible to walk, just really fucking difficult. After that, I was concentrating so hard on balancing with one leg that couldn’t bear much weight, I barely noticed the next two bites.
Then I got to Price. The line-up was in order of seniority, with older members first, so I had to face him three steps in. His yellow eyes were blazing with hate. Wolves can’t break pack laws, but we can bend them. I thought he’d go for my other leg. If he did, I figured I’d crawl to the end and hope that was good enough.
Price lunged up, his mouth stretched wide open like the shark in fucking Jaws, and bit me in the chest.
A wolf can crush the thigh bone of a moose. And that’s a regular wolf, not a shifter. Werewolves are much stronger than that.
Price didn’t bite as hard as he could have, or he’d have killed me instantly and broken pack law. But he bit hard enough. A bunch of my ribs snapped like twigs.
I’d been injured before, but nothing remotely like that. One second my leg was a mess but I was basically okay, the next second I was dying. All the strength went out of me. My whole body felt like fucking dead weight. I could barely breathe.
I knew I’d die if I didn’t get through the gauntlet and then to a doctor, fast. But my willpower was pouring out of me along with my blood. I was so tired, the thought of letting myself collapse was really tempting. I knew they’d kill me if I did, but at least I wouldn’t have to keep walking.
My wolf howled, Stay on your feet!
So I did. I have no fucking idea how I managed it, when I was on the verge of passing out and one leg wouldn’t take my weight. But I somehow managed to stumble forward. It was maybe ten steps, but it felt like ten miles. No idea what the other wolves did to me. Whatever it was, I didn’t feel it. Everything started fading out, even my wolf.
I realized that I was blacking out. I slapped myself across the face. It worked. My head cleared a little, and my vision came back.
I was at the end of the line, facing the last wolf to join my pack. Manuel.
He could take me out if he wanted, easy. One more hard bite, and I’d go down.
Manuel closed his jaws over my hand and pressed his fangs into my skin, as if he was picking up something he didn’t want to damage. He didn’t even draw blood.
I thought, He is like me. I wouldn’t hurt anyone who couldn’t fight back, either.
Knowing I’d done the right thing, even if it had killed me, gave me enough strength to take one more step.
And then I was past the line. I would’ve kept going, because I was so fixated on stay on your feet, but that last step took everything I had. My knees buckled and I pitched forward. I thought I’d crack my head open — the whole thing went down in this nasty dark alley — but someone caught me. Then everything went black anyway.
I came to in a car. Manuel was burning rubber out of there. I was slumped down in the passenger seat. Blood was fucking everywhere — my clothes, his clothes, the seat, the floor, even the passenger window. If it hadn’t been the middle of the night, we’d have been pulled over for sure.
I asked, “Where...?”
That was all I could get out, but he knew what I meant.
He said, “To the medic.”
I knew what he meant, too. There was a sleazy underground shifter medic the gang used to go to for anything that wouldn’t heal on its own. I’m not sure if he even had a license, let alone what it was, but he had medical supplies and more or less knew what he was doing.
It might be different where you come from, but in America, shifters don’t go to hospitals if we can possibly avoid it. Human doctors notice that we’re healing too fast. Shifters who go to hospitals and don’t get out quick enough disappear sometimes. I always figured there was some creepy government agency grabbing shifters and doing who the fuck knows what horrible things to them.
Even apart from the “ratting me out to mad scientists” thing, I had about a hundred outstanding warrants and if the black ops didn’t get me, I’d go to jail for the next thirty years. But I couldn’t go to the medic either. If Price took over the pack, he’d be gunning for me, and that’d be the first place he’d look. And my injuries were way out of that guy’s league anyway.
“No,” I said.
“The ER?” Manuel asked. “I know it’s risky, but if it’s your only shot...”
I shook my head.
He looked at me like the whole fucking pack used to look at me. Like, Give me an order, Nick. And he said, “Okay,
then where should I take you?”
I was having a hard enough time staying conscious, let alone talking. Let alone figuring out where the fuck I could go that knew about shifters, was safe, and would be willing to help a fucking gangster wolf.
My wolf said, Protection, Inc.
I thought he was out of his fucking mind. Those were the guys who’d been busting their asses trying to run me out of town.
But then I remembered my first meeting with Hal, when he’d thought he could make a deal with me. He’d made his offer, then said, “Shifters’ honor.”
Shifters never reveal other shifters. Ever. Even fucking Price wouldn’t do that. So if I showed up on Hal’s doorstep, he wouldn’t dump me at an ER.
When my father went to Price for help, Dad had said, “Shifters’ honor,” too. Price refused him. So shifters’ honor didn’t mean you had to help another shifter. But it meant that if you were an honorable type of person, you should.
My wolf said, Hal Brennan is honorable.
I’d fucking had it with him and his team. But I was running out of time. And Manuel was still staring at me with those pleading pup eyes, like, Please make this right, Nick. Please don’t leave me with your blood on my hands.
I said, “Protection, Inc.”
Lucky for me, Hal was burning the midnight oil, because I sure didn’t know where he lived. But we all knew where his office was. We’d graffitied the front, dumped rotting garbage on the doorstep to gross out his clients, and tried our best to break in. We’d never managed it and their windows were high up and unbreakable, but I did once use a window-washer’s rig to spray-paint on them. I’m sure you can guess what sort of things I wrote.
Manuel pulled up at Protection, Inc., lifted me over his shoulder, and started ringing the bell and banging on the door. I could still see a little bit of graffiti they’d missed when they’d last painted it over.
Hal opened the door with a gun in his hand. We’d broken his closed circuit cameras the night before, so he wasn’t sure if it was an ambush or someone who needed protection right then. He was surprised as hell to see us.
Manuel said, “Don’t shoot! Nick’s hurt really bad, he needs help —”
Hal interrupted him. “Why isn’t his pack helping him?”
“He stepped down as alpha and ran the gauntlet.” Manuel sounded like he was trying not to cry. “To save me.”
Hal asked, “Which of you decided to come here?”
I said, “Me.”
I’m sure Hal could see I really was hurt, but he must have wondered if it was a set-up by someone else. He was still holding a gun on us when he asked his last question. “What do you want me to do with the kid, Nick?”
“Protect him,” I said. Then I started coughing, and I couldn’t get enough breath to talk. But there was something else I had to say, so I forced it out. “Shifters’ honor.”
Hal’s a big guy, but he moves fast. Makes decisions fast, too. Next thing I knew, he was carrying me upstairs himself, with Manuel trailing behind him. He laid me down on the sofa in the lobby. My jacket and shirt were in tatters. Hal ripped them both all the way off.
You’ll probably never hear Hal curse, but he does if something really gets to him. He sure did when he saw what Price had done to me. Then he grabbed a pillow, put it over my chest, and told Manuel to hold it in place. I can’t even imagine how much that would have hurt if he’d done it right after Price bit me, but by then I was in shock and didn’t feel anything but pressure. The only reason I was still conscious was my wolf howling at me to stay awake.
Hal made a bunch of phone calls that I didn’t really follow. While he was talking on the phone, he was moving fast to try to save me. He propped me up with some more pillows so I could breathe easier, got a first aid kit and switched out the other pillow for bandages, and put a bunch of blankets over me. Then he cranked up the heat. I didn’t know anything about first aid then and I was really out of it, so I spent most of that time trying to figure out how he’d known I was cold when I hadn’t told him.
Then his team started showing up, one by one. Fiona was first. I was starting to drift off, so I didn’t see her come in. I just heard this hoity-toity voice saying, “My sofa!”
That woke me up a bit. I opened my eyes, and there was that blonde woman who could turn into a snow leopard, glaring daggers at me and the white sofa that I’d bled all over.
Hal said, “We’ll get a new one. Just help me save his life, all right?”
Fiona stalked up to me, just like her leopard on the hunt. Halfway there, she said, “My carpet!”
I’d bled all over that, too. I found out later that she’d been in charge of decorating the new office.
Hal snapped his fingers. “Fiona. Get to it!”
Then Rafa burst through the door. He caught sight of me and bristled. “What’s that fucking thug doing in our office?”
Hal had a phone in his hand; he hadn’t stopped calling people since I showed up. He covered it and said, “Not dying here, if I can help it. Give Fiona a hand.”
Rafa obeyed, but he sure didn’t look happy about it.
Destiny showed up last. She must’ve been out clubbing when she got Hal’s call, because she was in dance shoes and a sequined mini-dress. She stopped in the doorway, and her tiger glared at me out of her eyes. “So the gangster we’ve spent the last two months fighting gets hurt, and he comes running here for help?”
Manuel had been too worried about me or too intimidated to talk before, but that pissed him off. He said, “Nick called on shifters’ honor. If you won’t help him, what makes you any different from his gang?”
That got to everyone.
I don’t remember what all they did, but I’m sure I would’ve died without them. Mostly I remember Hal kind of coaching me, telling me to listen to my wolf and let him help fight for my life. I don’t know, it seemed to make sense at the time. Manuel sat on the floor and held my hand, which was about the only part of me that wasn’t bleeding all over the place.
Between him and Hal and my wolf and Hal’s team, who were trying hard to save me even though they didn’t like me, I felt like I had something to hold on to and people who’d catch me if I fell. All I had to do was stay awake and keep breathing. It doesn’t sound like much, but believe me, it was just as hard as walking the gauntlet. Only it went on for hours. There was no way I could’ve done it alone.
Finally a doctor showed up. Not that sleazy maybe-not-a-real-medic, an actual doctor. A black woman with cornrows and little wire-rimmed glasses. I found out later that her name was Dr. Bedford and she was a bear shifter from Hal’s hometown, and that he’d arranged a helicopter pickup for her. It landed on the roof, just like you did.
Hal asked if I should be transported to her office, but she said I’d bleed out if I was moved and anyway there wasn’t time. She gave me a shot to put me to sleep. Once I realized what she’d done, I said I was supposed to stay awake and she had to give me an antidote.
Hal put his hand on my shoulder and said, “It’s all right. You can rest now, Nick.”
My wolf agreed. Go to sleep. Your battle’s done.
I tried to ask, Did we win?
But I was out before I heard the answer.
When I woke up, I was still on the sofa, but I was wrapped in bandages like a mummy and had tubes fucking everywhere. Fiona was watching over me, or maybe I should say glaring over me.
She said, “Don’t shift. The doctor said it’ll make you bleed out. Don’t try to get up. Same thing. Just lie still. You should be fine with that. You’re causing all the trouble you could possibly want just by being here.”
There was obviously nothing worth staying up for, so I went back to sleep.
I found out later that Dr. Bedford couldn’t do surgery on a sofa, so she had them lift me onto the nearest flat surface that could be disinfected. That was the lobby desk, which was an antique, and that was the end of it. After my gang and I spent months trying to trash the office without doing mu
ch more than annoy the team, I did thousands of dollars worth of damage just by bleeding on stuff. I had no idea carpeting was that expensive.
The team spent the next few days taking care of me. In their lobby, which meant they couldn’t see any clients as long as I was there. Except for Hal, they were pissed as hell about the whole thing. Whenever Hal and Manuel were off getting some sleep or something, Rafa would lecture me on how crime is bad and gangs ruin everything for everybody, Fiona would pull out a ledger with a running total of the money I’d cost them and demand that I pay them back the instant I was on my feet again, and Destiny would give me inspirational speeches on how it’s never too late to turn over a new leaf. It was exactly as annoying as it sounds, especially since I was on too many painkillers to make any comebacks.
But I’ll give them this: that was the only way they got back at me. I was in such bad shape, I couldn’t do anything for myself. If I wanted a drink of water, someone had to hold the glass and lift my head. Every single one of them did stuff like that for me, and they all did it like it was no big deal so I wouldn’t be embarrassed. Much. The reason I was loopy on painkillers was that they made sure I was never in pain for longer than it took them to notice and give me a pill.
I wasn’t crazy about being that dependent on people, especially my enemies, but my wolf didn’t mind at all. The water, especially — that’s a thing with wolves. If someone offers to let you drink from their hands, that’s a really big deal. It’s like becoming blood brothers. It made me feel weird, even though the team obviously had no clue about that. But my wolf thought it meant something whether the team knew it or not.
Wolves are pack animals. We’re supposed to depend on each other. Protection, Inc. wasn’t my pack, but my wolf was reacting like they were. So something about it felt all right to me.
Plus, they didn’t scold me the entire time. Hal never did, and after a while the others either got bored or felt guilty, and started talking to me like I was just a guy who was hurt and could use some company. I couldn’t talk back much — I mean, I physically couldn’t — so I mostly listened. Rafa and Destiny and Hal had all been in the military, and the way they talked about it, it sounded a lot like being in a pack. I could relate. Fiona’s traveled a lot, and she told me about parts of the world I’d never even heard of. It was a lot more interesting than I would’ve expected.
