by Casey Lane
Wren tugged her back. “Hey, don't do that. Listen to me. I don’t have any interest in being alpha. That was never my place. But I would have done it, if for no other reason than to try to salvage my family’s name. Cain and Dylan weren’t the only members of my family. My little sisters suffered having that name attached to them. One of my sister's died just because she had the misfortune of being born into my fucked up family. My mother never intended for her father’s pack to fall into the hands of a man like Cain. She’s a good woman…at least she was. I don’t know what she is anymore. Either way, the Black Thorne pack deserves better than my father.”
Isa couldn’t imagine what Cain could have asked that would be worth Wren giving up the chance to redeem his pack. “What did he want?”
Wren stroked a hand down Isa’s cheek, and she fought the urge to turn into it. “He wanted me to marry my brother’s betrothed immediately.”
Isa couldn’t hide her confusion that shot through her. “But your brother was betrothed to Neoma.”
“Yes. Why do you think I took her and ran?”
Isa wracked her brain, trying to connect the dots. “Why would your father, alpha and elder to almost every pack in Tennessee, want to marry his heir off to a ten-year-old elemental?”
“That’s a great question. The answer is, I have no idea. I’m missing something. Something huge. I think it goes back to the day I found her.”
Isa glanced at the clock. It was late, and she had to be up in just a few hours. Still, she couldn’t help herself. “Start from the beginning.”
Wren lifted his arm, and Isa scooted underneath, resting her head on his chest, her hand splaying across his stomach. “I was home on leave, for the first time in the six months since I’d enlisted. I’d only been home two days, and I was already regretting my decision, so I went for a run.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wren
It was easy to remember that day, even if it was eight years ago. He’d been up and dressed before the sun came up, finally giving in to his need to run. He’d dressed in shorts and a thin t-shirt. The chill in the crisp, spring air had no effect on him. He just needed to be outdoors. Everything about his parent's house was stifling. He couldn’t breathe in that space.
He needed to clear his head. He should never have come home. He should have stayed in the barracks with his friends. No good ever came from dealing with his parents. Cain would never lower himself to call Wren, which meant Wren only had to worry about ducking his mother’s calls. The woman was an expert at making him feel like the bad son. He managed to avoid her for the first three months, but the woman was like a ninja, somehow guilting his bunkmate into getting him on the line.
Each time she managed to get him on the phone, she held nothing back. She talked about Dylan’s behavior, about Wyn’s terrible driving, lamenting that she was never going to pass the exam. She talked about Tegan’s new habit of cussing like a drunken pirate even in front of company and how not even Cain could break her of the habit. In fact, she suspected, he rather liked her fire. She spared no detail when telling him about Efa’s first period, and her disastrous shift soon after, even though he could hear Efa in the background begging their mother to stop baring all her personal information to her brother. She punctuated each new bit of information with how much easier life would be if he were there, if he hadn’t run away from his life with them.
The last time she’d called, he’d vowed he wouldn’t be swayed by her guilt, that he was going to spend his leave doing something he wanted to do, but then she’d started crying, and he’d caved, trapping himself with his family for the next two weeks. Since there was no escape, he ran, music pounding in his ears, somewhat blurring out the thoughts in his head. He checked his watch, keeping an eye on the time. He’d promised his mother and the girls he’d take them to breakfast and he didn’t want to be late. The only thing worse than his mother’s guilt trips on the phone were the ones delivered face to face where he could see her disappointment up close and personal.
He picked up his speed, deftly moving down the side of the mountain with ease. It wasn’t much of a path, most people wouldn’t dare run this close to the edge, but Wren had been running these lands since he was a kid, the path he followed he’d created by running the same route for years. Running had always been Wren’s stress relief. The only place he could escape where he knew his brother and father wouldn’t follow.
He wasn’t even sure why his mother had wanted him there. All it ever did was piss Cain off and put him in a foul mood. Whenever he looked at Wren, he only saw the son who’d defied him, who’d thrown away everything to pretend to be human. He’d made his feelings about Wren very clear the day he enlisted. He’d said the military was no place for a wolf. He’d sworn Wren would never be able to suppress the wolf enough to hide in a barracks—in such close quarters—with so many other people. He’d promised Wren it would end in disaster and that he’d end up killing somebody. “What if you get hurt and can’t control the instinct to shift fully? What if you get moon mad and tear out the throat of your fellow soldiers? It’s irresponsible. Childish. Why can’t you just accept your place in the pack, like Dylan? Dylan understands how the game is played.”
Cain had been wrong. He suppressed his wolf just fine. Away from his father and his brother, it was surprisingly easy to control his temper. The exercise, the discipline, the mission—all of it—it kept Wren in control, kept him focused. He excelled in the military, and it killed his father to see him proven wrong.
Not that he’d admit it. He couldn’t keep from pointing out that only six months had passed, that there was still plenty of time for him to kill somebody and expose shifters to the world. When that didn’t provoke a reaction, Cain found other ways to soothe his wounded ego. The subtle digs about Dylan’s promotion to his father’s left hand, the constant need to try to pit his brother against him.
Wren tried not to engage, tried to enjoy his time with his mother and his sisters, but it was hard. In a pack as large as theirs, it was damn near impossible to avoid the drama. There were always internal struggles, and disputes in the smaller packs that lived in neighboring areas under the blanket protection of his father’s pack and Cain tried to drag him in every time.
But Wren didn’t want to worry about territory and land; he wanted to focus on being a part of the solution. That’s why he’d left. He had no interest in helping his father expand his kingdom.
Wren stopped beside a stream, kneeling to splash water on his face. The water was bracing, frigid enough to give him a second wind. He stood, checking his watch one last time, sighing as he noted the time. His mother and sisters would be looking for him soon, and his mother would be expecting him to take her and the girls some place nice. He needed to start heading back so he had time to shower and change but he found himself just standing there, staring at the tree line ahead. He just didn’t want to go home.
Maybe it was the distraction of his thoughts or the music blaring in his ears but when something brushed against his hand, he jumped, eyes narrowing at the tiny child inexplicably standing beside him. He looked around for somebody…anybody…a parent, a sibling, anyone who could explain why there was a toddler out in the woods, but there was nobody.
She was naked, filthy, lean but not underfed. Mud and dirt coated most of her body, caking leaves into her hair. She didn’t appear to be distressed or scared. Her heart beat was steady as she gazed up at him with serene, wide blue eyes. He crouched down to eye level. Jeez, she couldn’t be more than two, maybe three at the most.
“How’d you get out here?” he asked, hoping his tone sounded sufficiently non-threatening. This close, he could pick up her scent beneath the leaves and the mud, she wasn’t human. She smelled of the fae, a sprite or an elemental, maybe. The girl said nothing. “Can you tell me your name?”
When she spoke, her words were nonsense, more noises than anything else. How long had she been out there? Where the hell had she even come from? He couldn’
t call the police, not if she weren't human. She was too young. She might not be able to control whatever gifts she possessed.
He heaved a sigh, knowing what he had to do. He snagged his cell phone from his pocket and dialed, praying he got a signal out this far.
His sister’s voice was chipper as she said, “Mom’s pissed. You were supposed to be home an hour ago.”
“Efa, let me talk to Bronwyn.”
“Wow, okay cranky,” Efa said, tone hurt. His baby sister was the easiest to get along with but also the most sensitive. She was also only twelve.
“Sorry, E. I’m not trying to be cranky, I just need Wynnie, please.”
There was a shuffling. “What’s up, bro?”
“I need you to meet me at the southwest corner of the property, over by the bridge. Come alone. I’ve got a problem, and I need time to think.”
“Haven’t you been out thinking since like five am? Why do I need to drive out to get you? You’ve made that run a million times.”
“Wyn! Please don’t give me a hard time. I’ve found something…someone…I can’t carry her all the way back. Just please come?”
She dropped her voice. “Is somebody hurt?”
“What? Who’s hurt?” he heard Efa asking before Wyn shooshed her. There were no secrets in a pack of wolves.
Wren didn’t have time to try to explain the unexplainable. “Just please come and don’t say anything to mom and dad yet.”
“Okay.”
“And Wyn, bring a blanket.”
It took his sister fifteen minutes to get there and another ten to get Wyn to stop sniffing the girl. His sister was in love, but the little girl seemed to only have eyes for Wren. She tracked his movements, her eyes filling with tears when Wyn swept her up to put her in the backseat. Her cries turning into full-blown wails until Wren picked her up and wrapped her in the blanket, cradling the girl in his lap. Wyn drove home.
Once she was back in Wren’s arms, she gazed up at him under heavy lids, tears glittering like stars against insanely long thick lashes as she gazed up at him like he was the sun. It made him uncomfortable but weirdly protective. She trusted him. When her lids finally drooped closed, Wren endured his sister’s wild theories about who the child could be and where she may have come from. Wren was only half listening, knowing the actual battle would begin when they arrived home.
The whole family was waiting in the living room. Tegan and Efa sat on the sofa, looking almost identical despite the two-year age difference. They both shared his mother’s strawberry blonde hair and navy blue eyes, both fair skinned and freckled. Bronwyn favored Cain in looks, like Wren and Dylan, eyes a brighter blue, skin a golden tan, hair a darker blonde.
As always, his father sat in his beat-up recliner, expression mutinous from the moment Wren walked in the door. “Where ya been, boy. You promised your ma you’d take her and the girls to town.”
“Something came up,” Wren managed before Wyn entered with the little girl in her arms, still wrapped in the blanket.
“You kidnap a baby, bro,” Dylan asked, tone bored but expression amused, muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t they frown on that in the military?”
“Fuck off, Dylan,” Tegan said from the couch.
“What’d I tell ya about that language in the house, girl. You’re not too old to put over my knee. You’ll not be talking to your brother that way. He’ll be your alpha someday.”
Dylan smirked at Tegan. “Yeah, know your betters, girl.”
“You’ll never be anybody’s better,” Tegan promised with an eye roll.
“What’s this, then?” his mother asked, cleaning her hands on her apron as she came in from the kitchen. Wren felt a pang of regret as he saw his mother already dressed for lunch under her apron. She’d even put her hair up with a fancy clip. “Oh, you’ve brought me a foundling child from the woods, then Wren Rhion? Not quite what I had in mind when I said I’d wanted grandbabies. Here, give her over.” When Wynnie looked reluctant, his mother gestured for her to relent. “Come on, give. Give her over.”
Once in his mother’s hands, she untucked the blanket. “Oh my, what’ve you gotten into then?” she asked the sleeping child.
“Alis, don’t you go gettin’ attached to some wee babe. We can’t take in every stray on the market.”
A shadow crossed his mother’s face before she gave his father a look. “Piss off, Cain. I’m going to give the child a bath and get her some real food. Call Oggie, and maybe he can help us locate her people.”
This time it was his father who scoffed, jaw tightening. “I’ll not be calling a bear for wolf business.”
“It’s his job to know such things. Besides, he’s your friend.”
“Is he? It seems he’s much more your friend than mine, these days. I’ll call Maggie. She’ll know what to do.”
Wren’s mother flinched at the affectionate name he gave the pack’s witch, but she said nothing, disappearing around the corner with the baby, leaving the rest of them to stare awkwardly at each other, none of them knowing quite what to do with themselves after their parent’s exchange.
There was a gasp from down the hall before his mother shouted. “Cain! Come quickly.”
They all stood at the hint of alarm in his mother’s voice, but Cain turned on them, glaring, pointing a finger at the lot of them. “Is your name Cain? No. Then stay put.”
Wren’s stomach dropped as his father disappeared into the hallway. The quiet was almost too much for Wren’s nerves. His family was a lot of things, but quiet was never one of them. Especially his father.
Time seemed to slow, Wren’s anger and tension ratcheting up with each pass of the clock’s second hand. When Dylan noted Wren’s agitation, he laughed. “Oh, don’t fret, little brother. You know mom loves kids. I doubt they’re drowning her in the bathtub.”
Efa snapped her head in her brother’s direction. “Tegan’s right. You should totally fuck off, Dylan.” Wyn and Tegan giggled at the absurdity of their quiet baby sister cussing at Dylan, but Efa kept going. “You only show up when Wren’s here, and it’s always just to be a jerk. Nobody cares what you have to say.”
Dylan grinned, the insult rolling off him. “Well, you should care. Someday-”
“-you’ll be our alpha,” the three girls intoned in perfect sync.
“Just you wait,” Dylan promised, pointing at each of them, grin widening. “I’m going to marry you all off to fat, smelly old wolves from the sticks. Mark my words.”
They each snorted, Efa adding in a middle finger just as her father came around the corner and shook his head at his youngest daughter. “I’m raising savages.” He looked to Wren. “The child stays. I’ll call an emergency meeting and confer with the other elders.”
Dylan’s jaw dropped, staring at his father in confusion before looking to Wren. Wren shrugged, he had no idea what his father was on about either, but he felt a small comfort knowing that his father didn’t have plans to pawn her off on another family. Something inside him felt a need to keep the girl close. Dylan turned on his father. “You can’t be serious. She’s not a wolf. She’s just some foundling. She smells of fae. You know their offspring never fare well with the wolves.”
Cain’s eyes cut to his eldest son. “Well, luckily, she’ll have you to look out for her.”
Dylan scoffed. “Dad, I don’t think I need another sister to look after.”
Cain grunted. “Good, she’s not your sister, she’s your betrothed.”
Dylan’s mouth fell open. “What? She’s a toddler.”
Wren’s mother came around the corner then, the baby scrubbed clean and wrapped in a thick towel. She patted her eldest son on the cheek. “Oh, don’t you worry, darlin’, she’ll not be of marrying age for a good sixteen years.”
Tegan giggled. “Looks like the only one who’ll be marrying a fat, smelly old wolf will be this poor dear.”
Dylan flipped off his sister, earning a smack on the head from his mother.
; “What’ll we call her, ma?” Efa asked, running to get a closer look at the girl.
“Neoma, after my sister,” Alis said, petting her fingers over the girl’s shiny, blonde curls. “Aye, I think that suits her just fine.”
“She looks like one of us,” Efa promised.
Tegan plucked the baby from her mother’s hands. “Welcome to the family, little one.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, let’s take her shopping with us.”
His mother clasped her hands together in delight. “That’s a fine idea. Wren Rhion can take us shopping for the wee one.”
“And that was it,” Isa asked, drawing Wren from his memories and back to the present.
Wren shook his head, gazing down at Isa. “My mother considered the matter settled, but Dylan and I knew better than anybody not to trust Cain. There was something so…strange about how he’d been adamant that Neoma couldn’t stay, and then an hour later she was betrothed to his first-born son, but I didn’t let myself think about it because I wanted Neoma with us…with me…in some strange way, I felt like she was mine.”
Isa’s hand spasmed across his stomach. “I haven’t thought about that day in so long.”
“What do you think your father saw that made him change his mind?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
Isa yawned so hard her jaw cracked. “We can finish talking about this tomorrow. Get some sleep, Isa McGowan.”
Isa snuggled closer, curving her body into him, her leg slipping over his, eyes already drifting closed as she mumbled, “Don’t tell me what to do, Wren Davies.”
Chapter Fifteen
Neoma
Dylan's claws dug into the flesh of her upper arms, drawing blood as he dragged her from the truck. Overhead, was a sea of churning black clouds, obliterating the sun and the sky above. They were back at the corn maze. The one from her dream with Ezri, the one she'd played in, three years ago with the girls. All roads led back to that maze. She didn't know why. She was sure she didn't want to know.
