Callum #2
“I felt it when you got here.” His laugh is short, bitter.
“Again. Thought I could ignore you and go to bed without having to come out here.” He yawns again.
“As you can see, that didn’t go so well.
” He stares out into the trees, uncannily close to where I’m standing, when I know that it’s too dark for him to see me this far back.
“We arranged the funeral today. It’ll be happening quicker than I expected.
I know it’s going to be shit and my mum’ll be a mess, but I want to get it over with so she can .
. . not move on, exactly, but start to accept it.
” His next breath is shaky. “It’s like we’re in limbo until the funeral’s done, and I hate seeing her so upset. ”
I hate seeing you so upset.
Once again, I have to grab the tree beside me, claws sinking in deep to keep me here and not next to him on that bench where I’m desperate to be.
“Thank you.” He sits forward, hands clasped between his legs. “For staying out of sight. I know it’s really fucking selfish to make you do this, but I’m just . . . I’m not ready.”
I close my eyes and rest my head against the tree.
It hurts more tonight than it did last night.
Coming here night after night is eventually going to break me.
But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
It takes over a week for the FB’s to finally agree to a meeting.
The clearing off the A493 is empty when we arrive. We’re early, but I’m surprised we’re the only ones. When Birch was alpha of the Feral Beasts, there was no way he’d have let us get here before him.
He’d have had people watching our place the way we’ve been watching his.
Lynx gets off his Dyna and scents the air.
“Anything?” I ask, taking a deep breath of my own. The forest is full of different smells, but I can’t detect any sign of who we’re supposed to be meeting.
“Nothing,” Lynx snaps, shoulders tight with tension. It’s taken longer than any of us wanted to set this up and emotions are running high. I hope for the FB’s sake they aren’t fucking late.
Lynx brought me, Jet, Flint, and Beth with him. Mal is busy watching the house, and Morgan is with Ash at the funeral. I push that thought to the back of my mind, can’t afford to be distracted right now.
I’ve spent the last week watching from the shadows, night after night, as Ash works through everything Morgan told him about us.
Each night I hope he’ll let me talk, let me in…
but he hasn’t yet. He’s come close a couple of times—I heard it in his voice, caught the faint traces of scent that tell me he still wants me.
But it’s not enough, and I don’t know if it ever will be.
I allow myself to feel the hurt one last time, then lock it away and focus on the now.
There’ll be plenty of time for that later.
The five of us check out the clearing and the trees beyond, scenting the air and listening for anything that shouldn’t be there.
It’s about twenty minutes later when we hear the rumble of approaching motorbikes. I glance at Lynx. That sounds an awful lot more than the five we agreed upon.
Typical.
Fucking Beasts.
He growls, hands curling into fists, but he’s about as surprised as me that they’ve not stuck to our agreement. That’s why it’s the five of us here waiting for them. Doesn’t matter how many they bring; they’re no match for us.
Ten bikes enter the clearing, Phil West at the front. They stop about ten feet away.
Lynx smirks. “A few more than we agreed upon.”
West shrugs. “Figured you’d do the same.” His gaze sweeps over the five of us. A flicker of irritation when he realises we’ve made him look weak. “Let’s get this over with. We’ve got places to be.”
“And where might that be?” Lynx’s voice turns cold, lethal. “With Birch?”
West spits on the ground. “Told you we haven’t heard from that fucker since he ran off.”
“And yet your people were in the same fucking forest that he ran out of last week.”
There’s a ripple of unease through the FBs.
“What? You thought we wouldn’t notice him crashing into the car of one of ours?”
One of ours.
He means because Ash is Morgan’s, but all the possessive wolf inside me hears is ours.
“We didn’t know about that.”
I tilt my head, assessing. As much as I hate to say it, I think he’s telling the truth. Lynx huffs, but I know he’s thinking the same. “So what were you doing there?” I cut in, already bored of listening to them.
West scowls at me, like he’s offended I dare speak to him. He can fuck right off with that. He knows damn well who I am to Lynx. “Well?”
Lynx raises an eyebrow but says nothing, letting me lead this time. We wait West out until he’s forced to answer or stay here all day in a standoff.
“Yes, we were looking for him,” he grits out.
“Why?”
“What the fuck business is it of yours?”
“Just want to make sure you’re not about to invite him back in.”
West sneers this time, lip curling back over sharper-than-normal teeth. “What we do with our pack or our club is none of your business.”
“It is if you’re running with a traitorous cunt who sold out the rest of us to hunters so they could run a fucking fight ring!” Lynx snarls and the tension in the air ratchets up to dangerous levels. Jet, Flint, and Beth move in to flank us, and all ten FBs get off their bikes.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I gape at him, lost for words.
“The fuck I don’t.” Lynx clearly isn’t suffering from the same problem. “Birch bit my mate and gave him to Ethan Fox to put in one of those rings.”
It’s the smile that does it.