by J. L. Wilder
Fiona ignored his use of the present tense, and Owen was grateful. He wasn’t ready to start talking about Joel like he wasn’t here anymore. “I think there’s more to it than that,” she said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you see who was in the truck?
“It was the Feral Fangs, wasn’t it?” It occurred to Owen that he had only assumed the truck belonged to the Fangs. But who else could it have been? Those had definitely been claw marks on Joel’s body. How many shifter packs could there be around here?”
“It was the Fangs,” Fiona agreed. “You’re right about that.”
“Then what are you talking about?” Owen asked.
“Damon,” she said. “I saw Damon in the truck. In the passenger seat.”
Owen felt his blood freeze.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “They’re holding Damon as a prisoner? But why? If they’ve got him...if they want to use him against us...why wouldn’t they have made any demands? Why wouldn’t they even have stopped to let us know they had him? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t think he’s a prisoner,” Fiona said softly. She rested a hand on his chest, and Owen had the strange feeling that she was preparing to hold him back. “I think he’s with them willingly.”
It was as if all the breath had been punched out of Owen’s lungs.
“He couldn’t,” he managed. “He couldn’t go against orders like that. I told him to go home.”
“Did you?” Fiona asked.
Owen thought back. It was hard—painful—to remember that last conversation with Damon and Joel. His mind kept trying to cut him off, to force him to think about the fact that if he had handled things differently, Joel would be alive.
But he needed to remember.
He replayed the dialogue in his head.
“I told them to go,” he breathed. “I told them to leave. But I never told them where to go. Not as a command. We talked about them going home, and I...I assumed...why would they have gone anywhere else?”
“You said Damon found out about you and me.”
“And now everyone knows,” Owen said. “I should have just confessed then. I shouldn’t have tried to keep it a secret. I shouldn’t have sent them away—”
“Owen, listen to me,” Fiona said, and the urgency in her voice got his attention. “Damon’s never loved living under your rule. Isn’t that right? He’s always resisted your authority a little bit. I used to see it on him, when he was around here, the way he chafed sometimes when you gave an order.”
“That’s true,” Owen said. “But what point are you making?”
“If he saw an opportunity to get out from under you,” Fiona said, “don’t you think he might take it? Don’t you think he might be all too happy to let you believe he was going home, when instead he was moving against us?”
“Damon wouldn’t betray us,” Owen whispered.
“I saw him in the truck,” Fiona said. “I don’t know what was going on, but he didn’t look like he was there against his will. He looked like that was where he wanted to be. I think he probably went to the Feral Fangs the minute you sent him away. I think he’s joined up with them.”
Owen wanted to protest, to tell Fiona that none of the Wild Grizzlies would ever commit such a treasonous act. But he believed what she was saying about seeing Damon in the truck. And what other explanation was there that made sense? Why would he have been with them, if he didn’t choose to be? Damon wasn’t a fool. If he had intended to make an escape, he would have run straight home. And even if he had wanted to leave the Grizzlies behind for good, he would have had the sense to flee the state, to move away from their scent.
He should never have crossed paths with them. Not unless he wanted to.
He betrayed us.
Owen had to admit that if anyone was going to betray the pack, Damon would be the one to do it. Damon, who always thought he knew best, who made decisions without consulting anyone else. Flighty, impulsive Damon.
But could he possibly still be on their side? After what they did to Joel?
He could be. He must be. Why else would he have been in their truck?
Fiona’s thoughts dovetailed his own. “Joel was a good kid,” she said. “I could tell that about him. I bet he went along to try to stop Damon, to convince him not to do what he was doing. I bet that was what got him killed, in the end. He was loyal to you.”
“And he died for it,” Owen said softly.
“He was killed for it,” Fiona said. “It isn’t your fault, Owen. It isn’t your fault that Damon led him to that place. It isn’t your fault that the Feral Fangs are so violent and brutal. All you did was try to keep everyone safe. If Damon had just gone home, the way he knew he was supposed to, everything would have been fine.”
“If you and I hadn’t tried to have a secret affair, everything would have been fine,” he pointed out.
She took his hand and brought it to rest on her stomach. “If you and I hadn’t been together, a lot of things wouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re really pregnant?”
“I really am.”
“What are we going to do about that?” he asked. “How are we going to manage, when our packs can’t tolerate the thought of us together?”
“If they had learned to be a little more tolerant,” Fiona said, “Joel and Damon wouldn’t have been able to threaten you with exposing our secret. They wouldn’t have had to leave. Nothing positive has come from the fact that our packs haven’t been able to work together and trust each other. Maybe it’s time we all started getting over some prejudices.”
Owen nodded slowly. “I suppose we should try to keep our attention on the real enemy.”
“The Feral Fangs are out there,” Fiona said. “They’ll be back for us. So in the meantime, we need to get ready. We need to make sure that whether we attack them first or they attack us, we’ve got what it takes to win the fight. And that starts with our packs finding a way to respect each other. Do you think we can do it?”
“I think we’re going to have to,” Owen said. “Not just for the fight ahead, but for the sake of our child’s future.”
Chapter Sixteen
FIONA
They walked out of the woods and back up to the house hand in hand. It felt strange—strange but good—to take Owen’s hand publicly and not to worry about who else might be watching. But of course, there was no reason to worry about secrecy anymore. The secret was out.
And I have to believe that our packs understand that we have bigger problems than this now, Fiona thought as they climbed the stairs onto the porch. If we go into the house and the conversation is about my pregnancy, I don’t know how much hope of defeating the Feral Fangs we have.
She took a deep breath and glanced at Owen before opening the door. His jaw was set. He was looking forward intensely, as if bracing for a fight.
Please, let this not be a fight.
Fiona opened the door.
Everyone was in the kitchen.
That floored her for a moment. The only times she had ever seen both packs assembled together like this were when she and Owen had compelled them to do so. But the alphas had been out in the woods for hours. They hadn’t given any orders.
She looked at Percy.
“Sit down, Fi,” he said. “I’ll fix you a plate. You too,” he added, looking at Owen.
It was then that Fiona realized the kitchen was full of delicious aromas. “What is that?” she asked.
“Tacos,” he said. “Carla and I cooked.”
“We buried Joel on the southwest part of your land,” Angus said. “We put a stone there as a marker. There was some paint in the garage, and we used that to put his name on the stone. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s good,” Fiona assured them, taking a seat at the table. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for it.”
Angus shook his head. “Nothing formal,” he said. “People have said their goodbyes quietly. Listen
, Owen, Nova thinks she saw Damon in that truck.”
Owen had taken a seat opposite Fiona. Now he looked up. “We think so too,” he said, and Fiona was relieved to hear some of the old strength restored to his voice. “We think he ran to them. Betrayed us to them. We think Joel was probably trying to stop him, and that’s why he was killed.”
“I don’t understand how that’s possible,” Angus said.
“He found out about me and Fiona,” Owen said. “He was threatening to tell everyone. And I should have let him do it. I shouldn’t have been so desperate to protect myself that I was willing to put them at risk. But I did believe that they would go straight home. I didn’t even feel it necessary to give an order, because I was so sure.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”
“You told them to leave so that they wouldn’t tell the rest of us what you were doing?” Percy chimed in.
“We were going through hell trying to get any of you to work together as it was,” Fiona said. “If you’d found that out, it would have been enough reason for you to consider defying me and Owen completely. We didn’t need to be fighting each other when there was a real enemy out there. I think we always intended to tell you eventually—but not until the fight was over.”
“What were you going to tell us?” Percy asked. “Were you going to tell us that you were leaving our pack for him?”
“No,” Fiona said. She was surprised at the very suggestion. “I was never going to do that. I would never have left the Hell’s Wolves, not for any reason.”
“Then what?” Percy said. “You were going to keep him here with us? He would have left his pack?”
“I don’t know,” Fiona said. She felt tired, suddenly. “Is this really what you want to talk about, Perce?”
“I guess not,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, Fi. It’s been a big day. It feels like everything is different now...but I guess you’re feeling that more than any of us.”
She nodded.
“Look,” he said. “If you’re pregnant...well, the kid is family. He or she is one of us. We’re not going to turn our backs on family, no matter what. You get that, right?”
Fiona’s eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t dared hope for such a declaration of loyalty. She looked to the other members of her pack and saw that they were all nodding along.
And they weren’t the only ones. Grizzlies were nodding too. Angus placed a plate in front of her, and Fiona breathed in the aroma of warm tacos. For the first time since the bears had arrived on her land, she felt surrounded by family, by allies.
“We can do this,” she said. “We can fight off the Feral Fangs together. They’re tough, but I think we’re tougher.”
“Yes,” Owen said quietly. “We are.”
“But we can’t do it unless we work together,” Fiona said. “We can’t do it unless we’re all on the same side. So we need to get on the same page. We need to talk about our situation. We’ve failed to do that so far, and I think that’s been at the heart of our problems. We’ve tried to make this work, but we’ve never actually had a conversation about it.”
Owen nodded. “I agree.” He looked around the room at his pack. “You all know that I’d never compel anyone to fight if they didn’t want to,” he said. “But after what happened to Joel, I think we have to assume that the Feral Fangs aren’t going to leave us alone. They’re not going to wreak havoc for a few months and then go their own way. This was a warning.”
“We also have to assume that Damon has told them things about us,” Fiona said. “If he’s with them now, that means they’ll know how many of us there are. They’ll know we’re likely to be working together, and they’ll know we want to attack them before they can attack us.”
“If I were them,” Percy said, “I would try to turn the tables on us. I would try to attack first.”
“But they haven’t,” Angus said. “Why not?”
“It’s got to be the same reason we haven’t,” Fiona said. “They aren’t sure they can beat us. Even knowing how many of us there are, even having a bear on their side who can tell them exactly what the bears are capable of...they’re not sure.”
“That’s encouraging,” Owen said. “That makes it sound like we stand a chance.”
Fiona nodded. “I think we do,” she said. “I think if we stick to the original plan, if we bring the fight to them before they can bring it to us, the element of surprise will work to our advantage and we’ll be able to beat them. But we’re going to have to move quickly now. There’s no more time for screwing around. They may not be ready to face us, but you can bet they’re getting ready, and this is going to come down to who moves first.”
“Okay,” Owen said. “Okay.”
Fiona got to her feet. She felt powerful, commanding. What had happened between them sexually no longer mattered, she realized. They were on the brink of war, and in this moment, her authority was stronger than Owen’s. He might dominate her later, in other ways, but in this, she was in charge.”
“Let’s go around the room,” she said quietly. “Yes or no on whether you’re willing to fight the Feral Fangs. If your answer is no, nobody is going to force your hand. You’ll be permitted to sit the fight out. Percy?”
She held her breath. She was unsure of him. She had been unsure of him for months. It all came down to this moment. Would he stand with her, or would he turn away from her?”
“Yes,” he said. There was no hesitation. “I fight with my pack.”
She felt something inside her relax. With him on board, she knew she could get the rest of the Hell’s Wolves. “Wes?”
“Yes.”
“Leo?”
“Hell, yeah. I’m not missing this.”
“Carla?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.”
Fiona nodded. “That’s all of us, then,” she said, turning to Owen. “What about you?”
Owen looked from one of his people to the next. All of them were nodding, but it was Dusty who spoke. “They killed Joel,” he said quietly. “They killed our brother. That’s not something we can stand for. We’re bringing the war to them, and God help anyone who gets in the way.”
“Okay,” Fiona said. “There’s something we have to do before we can fight them, then.”
“What is it?” Owen asked.
“We have to run together,” she said. “All of us. We have to trust each other enough to shift together. We have to learn each other’s scents and appearances so we’ll know each other in the fight to come.”
Nobody spoke for a long minute.
“She’s right,” Percy said finally. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ll do it,” Dusty seconded.
One by one, the others agreed.
“Okay,” Fiona said. “Let’s go now, then. Tonight, we run. Tomorrow we fight.”
THE WOLVES WERE FASTER than the bears, but Fiona adjusted her pace to allow their new allies to keep up. Owen ran alongside her. He was massive. He towered over her. Part of her felt intimidated, and another part of her simply felt awed.
It was amazing—intimate and strange—to see her new friends in their animal state. She had never shifted in the presence of someone outside her own pack before. Tomorrow’s fight would have them in animal form with the Feral Fangs, which was terrifying and empowering at the same time. She couldn’t wait to get her claws into them.
She ran ahead, then ran back, feeling exuberant. The cool night air filled her lungs and ruffled her fur. She jostled her shoulder against Owen’s, knowing that she would have been afraid to provoke a bear like this in ordinary circumstances. But it was Owen, and she had no fear.
Behind them, the rest of the two packs beat a steady pace, sometimes fanning out to the left and right to chase down unfamiliar scents and sounds before reeling back in to follow their alphas. They had mingled together now. At the start of the run, all the wolves had clumped together in a tight bunch, and the bears had strung themselves out in a line one after the other. But now they were a blended gro
up.
I could almost believe, if I didn’t know any better, that we were one pack.
And perhaps they were one pack. Maybe, for the next few days, until the threat was dealt with, they would be able to feel the unity that would help them defeat their adversaries. Maybe they would be able to think as one and act as one the way only a pack ever really could.
If we can do that, Fiona thought, I think we just might win.
It would be the one thing the Feral Fangs wouldn’t know, the one thing they wouldn’t be prepared for, because Damon couldn’t have told them and there was no way they could have guessed it. They would be expecting two separate packs working together, but they couldn’t possibly anticipate a blended group, a brotherhood.
Please, let this work. Let us win this fight. And whatever comes next—with me and Owen, with our baby—we’ll handle that once the threat is over. That will be easy, after this.
She wasn’t sure she was right about that. Asking two packs to come together temporarily and fight for their lives was one thing. Asking them to declare a permanent truce in peacetime was a whole other proposition.
But one way or another, she knew, it was one they would have to face.
As long as we live through this fight, that is.
Chapter Seventeen
OWEN
Owen was of the opinion that they ought to wait until nightfall to attack, that they would be safer moving under cover of darkness. But Fiona disagreed.
“They’re not going to be watching for us visually,” she said. “At least, not primarily so. They’ll have someone shifted at all times, waiting for our scent. It’s what I would do. They’ll know we’re coming that way before they see us.”
“What if you’re wrong?” he asked.
“If I’m wrong, we’ll be able to get a hell of a lot closer to them than I’m counting on without alerting them to our presence,” Fiona said. “Either way, it doesn’t matter what time we move. And I bet they’re expecting us to come at night. I bet they’re expecting us to worry about being seen.”
