by Everly Frost
Spinning on my heel, I find myself being quietly observed by a little girl, who doesn’t appear much older than two years. She’s holding the hand of a well-loved cloth doll, smudged with floor dust, that looks like it’s been dragged alongside her a few too many times. She has vivid, brown eyes and dark brown hair.
There are no adults in sight.
“Hello,” I say, thrown by the little girl’s bright and curious stare. “Where do you live?”
This floor feels vast. I sight down the corridor to all of the doors that must lead into apartments.
She points toward an open door three doors down on the left and then lifts her arms up to me, as if she expects me to carry her there. “Up.”
After learning how to flip grown men onto their backs in a fight, she weighs nearly nothing as I prop her on my hip. She promptly sticks the doll’s arm in her mouth and sucks on it. I catch a flash of growing incisors before we reach the open door.
I pause when I sense several female shifters inside, their voices wafting out to me before I can knock.
“Why can’t she stay somewhere else?” a woman with a mature voice says. “She’s not even a normal shifter.”
My hand freezes inches away from the open door. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re talking about me. They won’t realize that I’m here. My scent is so much under my control that even Tristan can’t scent me and they’re likely to be so engrossed in their conversation that they won’t be listening for intruders.
“She’s not like us,” another woman says. This one sounds sour, unhappy. “I heard she doesn’t even have a wolf. I don’t understand why Tristan brought her here. Her pack wanted to kill her. He should have let them.”
Ouch. I tell myself to let it roll off me.
A third woman speaks up. At the sound of her younger voice, the little girl’s eyes brighten, so I can only assume she’s the girl’s mother. “Did you hear what she did yesterday morning?” the young woman asks. “She beat the absolute shit out of Bridget—”
“Yes, and we all know what had to happen after that.” The sour woman snaps. There’s a clunk that sounds like she thumps a glass down on a table. “Jace isn’t telling us anything, but Tristan was with that…” She splutters. “Woman… for a full twenty-four hours before they were seen again this morning.”
The younger lady responds with a laugh. “Well, maybe Tessa is an almighty good fuck.”
“Watch your language, Jemimah!” The first woman—the oldest—sounds overly shocked, but her voice carries a smothered laugh.
The sour woman makes a disgusted sound, but the young woman asserts, “I don’t care if Tessa Dean doesn’t have a real wolf. She’s strong. And fuck knows we need all the strength we can get.”
I bite my lip and back away from the door, sliding the little girl to the floor at the same time. She clings to my hair and I discover that she’s chewing on it. Attempting to extricate myself and finally succeeding, I push the damp strands behind my ear and straighten, only to find myself staring at a twenty-something female with dark brown hair the same color as the little girl’s.
She must be Jemimah.
“I didn’t know you were there,” she says, her eyes wide. “I didn’t sense you.”
I shrug. “One of my strengths.” I step away from her, not wanting to get caught up in any conflict, especially when the sour woman speaks up behind her.
“She’s not even a real wolf at our door.” The sour woman snarls.
I don’t bother glancing back to see what she looks like. Ignoring them, I proceed to the seventh door on the right like Iyana instructed me, welcoming the darkness inside the apartment that tells me Iyana is sleeping, fighting the darkness creeping back into my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Something intimidating, huh?” Iyana asks, pulling yet another flannel shirt out of my duffel bag.
We’ve eaten and showered. It’s nearly time to go to the pack meeting, and now Iyana is attempting to find me something to wear. She scrunches the shirt in her hands. “Your wardrobe needs serious help, Tessa.”
I give a nonchalant shrug. “I like to be comfortable.”
“You don’t like showing off your figure.” Iyana gives me a pointed stare, daring me to contradict her. She’s already dressed in her usual tight black pants and tight low-cut shirt, her black hair piled on top of her head and red lipstick making her eyes appear bright.
I pick at my fingernails while I perch at the end of the couch. “I’m still a target,” I say. “Nothing will change that. Curves make things worse.”
Iyana slips onto the couch next to me, wrapping her arm around me. “I get it.”
She rests her chin on my shoulder and raises her eyes to mine. “But maybe it’s time for you to look like the badass that you are.”
I chew my lip. “Do you have something I can borrow?”
She grins. “I might. Come with me.”
Half an hour later, I hardly recognize myself. I’m wearing a strapless leather bodice that hugs my ribs and pushes up my breasts. It’s cut down the middle to my sternum, revealing the inner curves of my breasts while a belt sits around my waist, making my waist look smaller than it is. I’m wearing a tight leather skirt beneath the bodice that extends down to my mid-thigh and has a serious slit up the left leg. My usual boots look a whole lot sexier combined with this outfit.
“Holy hell, you’re a double D cup,” Iyana announces, grinning at me like she’s going to burst. “Here, you need this.”
She hands me a thigh holster for a small dagger and helps me tie the weapon around my left thigh, where it will be visible.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
I test my movements. The bodice is incredibly supportive and the skirt allows me to move in every way that I might need during a fight. “It feels good.”
“Then you’re wearing it out on patrol tonight,” she says with a wink.
Danika rushes into the apartment just then, glowing, her hair windswept. “Damn, it feels good to fly again. But I know! I’m late!”
Iyana gives her the eye. “And you need to shower.”
Danika hurries past. “I’ll only be a minute.” She misses a step, breaking into a smile. “You look good, Tessa.”
True to her word, Danika emerges a few minutes later, dressed in similarly intimidating black jeans—distressed at the knees—and a black tank top that shows off her wing tattoo, scar and all. She scrapes her hair back into a tight ponytail and holsters several pistols in a belt around her hips. Then she grabs a duffel bag and stuffs some spare clothing in it, along with a rifle. “We can carry our weapons in here while we walk through the streets,” she says.
“Are we ready?” Iyana asks.
“Ready.” I take a deep breath, sensing the shifters milling outside in the hall waiting for the elevator.
We file from the room into the corridor.
It falls silent.
A woman with pinched lips glares at me from the side, holding the hand of a boy who looks about five years old. She must be the sour one. I consider the other women, all of varying ages, all with children. None of the children appear older than fourteen. None of the women appear to have mates with them.
I take a moment to assess their reactions, accepting the way they clear the corridor ahead of us, standing aside so we can pass.
When we reach the elevator, the shifters who were about to get into it also stand aside so we can walk right in. They don’t attempt to join us.
I let out my breath as the doors close.
“They’re not going to treat me as anything other than a threat,” I say, leaning against the back of the elevator as I turn to Iyana and Danika. “You could have walked out of here days ago, escaped from all this shit.”
“Not on your life,” Iyana says.
Danika smiles. “We’re here for you, Tessa.”
“This might sound stupid,” Iyana continues, “but we’re your pack now. Tristan says that anyone can be p
ack. Well, that’s us. We need each other.”
I shake my head at her, fighting the tears that fill my eyes. “You’re going to make my mascara run, aren’t you?”
“Making you smile is my favorite pastime, Tessa,” Iyana says.
We exit the elevator at the sixth floor and enter a conference room to find it nearly full already. I scan the crowd for the women I beat yesterday, finding them sitting together with Bridget at the back of the room. Only a couple of them glance my way. The others quickly look to Bridget, who fixes her focus on a spot at the front of the room.
Tristan stands at the far window, but he turns the moment I step into the room, a move that isn’t lost on the shifters. Iyana and Danika follow me closely as I stride to the front of the room, where Jace waits.
Jace has taken up a military pose. Like Bridget, his focus is firmly fixed anywhere but on me.
Tristan seems surprisingly relaxed, considering the growing friction in the room. He takes a moment to look me up and down, a smile growing on his face as he approaches me while Iyana and Danika stay with Jace at the side.
Leaning in, Tristan murmurs, “Now they really want to kill you.”
I arch back, tipping my head. “That’s why you’re smiling? That’s not a good thing.”
“Wait and see.”
His smile vanishes as he turns to the crowd, giving a low growl that hushes them. We wait in silence for the remaining families to enter and take their seats.
“This is going to be quick,” Tristan says, the corners of his mouth turning down as he levels his gaze on them all. “The rumors stop. Right fucking now.”
If the room was silent before, now it’s deathly quiet.
“Bridget broke the rules yesterday. She challenged Tessa without my permission. She’s lucky Tessa didn’t kill her. In fact, you’re all lucky to be alive.” Tristan’s voice rises. “I have rules for a fucking good reason. Your pack was nearly destroyed.”
He pauses, scanning them, before he announces. “Tessa and I have melded.”
Gasps and murmurs fill the crowd before they quickly fall silent again.
“Tessa Dean is now a lone alpha, allied to the Western Lowlands,” Tristan continues. “She’s here as my guest. She will fight beside us, protecting our border. You will treat her with the same respect that you would treat any visiting alpha. Do not challenge her. Do not look sideways at her. Do not displease her. Or I will kill you for dishonoring me. Do you understand?”
They’re all silent.
Tristan roars into the silence. “Do you fucking understand?”
His shout is like a trigger. The entire congregation breaks into a roar in the affirmative and, surprisingly, the tension breaks.
Tristan grins at them and they all grin back.
I’m not sure how his speech broke the friction, but the danger of conflict instantly disappears.
“Now,” Tristan says. “Let’s fight to live another fucking day. Get the fuck out of my sight.”
I return to Iyana and Danika and we wait while the shifters mill about and take their time leaving. I don’t want to get pulled into the crowd, so I stand clear of them all. The other females leave quickly, but I’m surprised when Bridget approaches us.
I glance at Tristan, who has remained at the center front of the room, to gauge his response to her approach. He seems calm but watches us closely.
She stops at a respectful distance away from me, her hands folded in front of her. “If you’re going out to the bridges, I’d like to help.”
There are any number of reasons why she could be offering assistance. Sabotage is the most likely. She could be planning to undermine me, either in a fight or to spy on me and report back my failings to the others. Worse, she could get me killed.
“Do you have Tristan’s permission?” I ask.
She nods. “I asked him before you arrived.”
Still, I narrow my eyes at Bridget. To my left, Tristan watches me and I consider what he’s feeling. It’s somewhat of a shock to me to realize that he wouldn’t deliberately put me in danger right now. If he said yes to her, then he thinks it’s safe for her to come out with us tonight.
As my resolve softens, Iyana nudges me. “Second chances,” she murmurs. “That’s a thing your human soul probably believes in, right?”
Hmm. “Not always. Some acts are unforgivable.”
It also means I’ll have to keep my wolf hidden. I won’t be able to let her run free, which I was looking forward to doing under the cover of darkness, since Iyana and Danika both know I can separate from her.
I spin to Bridget. “Don’t slow us down.”
She stands straighter. “I won’t.”
Before I can turn to the door, Tristan catches my eye again. I stride back over to him, aware of the way Bridget and the other shifters watch us with alternating expressions of surprise and quiet observation. It’s starting to unsettle me.
Tristan doesn’t touch me, but he lowers his voice and bends his head, his cheek very close to mine. “You’re struggling with my pack’s emotions.”
I can’t stop my wry smile. “Just a little. Why did they cheer when you shouted at them?”
“Because their greatest fear is that I’ve changed—primarily that you’ve weakened me.” He pulls back so I can see his eyes, always fierce.
I allow myself to smile. “You showed them that you’re still the same aggressive asshole they’re used to dealing with.”
The corners of his mouth turn down into the snarl that I’m used to seeing and I relax a little. Odd that I feel more at ease when he’s irritable and aggressive than when he’s being considerate.
“And the way they’re looking at us now?” I ask.
“Because they can see us predicting each other’s moves and emotions. Even our breathing is visibly in sync when we’re standing this close to each other. Jace saw it this morning. They’re coming to terms with what that means for them.”
A glance at his chest tells me he’s right. We’re breathing in unison without any conscious thought—at least not on my part.
He lowers his cheek to mine again. It’s not a possessive move. A gentle brush. “Be safe out there.”
Even with melding, Tristan Masters treating me gently and telling me to be safe is as unexpected as me suddenly developing a wolf’s soul. “If by ‘safe,’ you mean be aggressive and kill things, then sure, we’ll be safe.”
I pull back, giving him a bright smile that makes him pause, his focus shifting quickly from my lips to my eyes before he relaxes. He folds his arms over his chest. “Jace and I will patrol the neighboring bridges. We won’t be far if you need us.”
I give him a confident smirk, hoping I’m not about to bite off more than I can chew. “We’ll be fine.”
Turning on my heel, I stride back to my pack.
My pack.
I give them a firm nod, a sense of anticipation rising inside me as we head out on our first patrol together. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The air is moist, the threat of rain imminent, when we reach the bridge. We find a spot in the shadows of the enormous parking lot beneath it to plan our defense.
We concealed our weapons in the duffel bag on the way here so that we wouldn’t raise the alarm among the humans. Now, I retrieve the dagger Iyana gave me and slide it into the holster at my thigh.
Once we’ve taken all but Danika’s rifle and her spare clothing from the duffel bag, Danika shifts into her hawk in the shadows, takes hold of the bag in her talons, and flies it up to the top of the nearest building. She’ll leave it there until she’s ready to take up a sniper position on the rooftop and cover us with firepower.
Beside me, Iyana checks the daggers and pistols on her hip holster, readying herself. I only have the single dagger, but I’m planning on using my strength and my power tonight.
While I know that Danika can hit any target with a gun and that Iyana can take down any opponent in a fist fight, Bridget’s skills are
unknown to me. I’ve seen her grapple with her enemy in wolf form, but she didn’t overcome me with her combat skills yesterday.
“What is your strength?” I ask her bluntly before we leave the shadows under the bridge.
“I’m here to learn,” she says, awkwardly keeping her distance. “I’m a good defender. I can take a punch. I’m not too shabby with a blade. But I’m not as fast or as strong as you.”
It’s an honest answer that puts me more at ease. “Okay, then. Stay out of danger tonight. Only get involved if you feel confident about the situation you’re getting into. Whatever you do, don’t get in our way. Iyana, Danika, and I will train in the gym before we come out on patrol each day. You can join us if you like.”
She nods. “I’d like that, thank you.”
“Okay, let’s find our positions.”
Tristan pointed out the biggest challenge about defending the bridges today: Baxter Griffin can send whole convoys of his pack straight into the heart of Tristan’s territory within seconds. Worse, it’s difficult to scan for supernaturals in vehicles, so we need to be on high alert.
On top of that, we need to avoid being seen by humans. I’m already regretting my choice of clothing, since I’d blend in more easily in jeans.
After considering our options, we take up position in the shadows at the side of the building opposite the parking lot, deciding to remain as close as possible to the exit ramp. The parking lot extends across at ground level under both the exit and entrance ramps onto the bridge, which means we’ll have plenty of room if there’s a fight.
As the hours pass, we switch positions, alternating between the building to the left of the exit ramp and the second, smaller parking lot across the street, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.
I relax a little when the human population disappears and the stream of oncoming vehicles thins out as the night goes on.
Close to midnight, when the place is mostly deserted other than a sprinkling of parked cars, my senses prickle.
