Chapter 15 Archer
Archer
Iwatch Darius half-drag, half-lead Blue toward the cottages, her sneakers kicking up little clouds of dirt as she digs in her heels.
A chuckle slips out at the string of curses trailing behind her.
“Fuck you and your whole goddamn pack of dickheads,” she snarls, baring her teeth. There’s still fire in her voice, but less bite than usual.
She likes it here. She won’t admit it, but her wolf already has. We all saw it yesterday: the playing, the rolling around with us, the belly-up submission.
Her wolf knows… she just hasn’t caught up yet.
Darius grunts, unfazed. His hand is wrapped around her arm as he pulls her along. He’s been different since we discovered the wires. Quieter and more careful. The guilt of chaining her is eating him alive.
I walk on her other side, keeping pace, ready in case she bolts. Not that it matters. We know her scent now. There’s nowhere she could go that we wouldn’t find her.
I glance down at her, and a smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.
Fuck. Stop smiling, you moron.
I don’t smile. That’s not what I do. I’m the steady one, the second-in-command, the one who keeps his face blank and his thoughts to himself. I’ve spent ten years building that reputation, and this scrawny omega is dismantling it in a few days.
Blue senses my eyes on her and looks up.
My smile widens.
She flips me off, her eyes flashing. And that look, the defiance, the fury, the refusal to bend even when she’s outnumbered and outmatched and being marched toward a crowd of strangers against her will—something about it hits me in a place I thought I’d sealed off a long time ago.
My amusement fades as yesterday’s revelation creeps back in—what was done to her.
After everything she’s survived, her distrust makes perfect sense.
The fierce independence, the need to push us all away.
It’s not stubbornness. It’s armour. And she built it because every alpha she’s ever known gave her a damn good reason to.
My jaw clenches.
Whoever hurt her will pay. That’s a promise.
“You okay there, knuckle-knot?” Blue’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You kinda look constipated.”
I smile again.
Fuck.
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth.
Because here’s the thing. When Blue shifted yesterday, when her scrawny little wolf came tearing toward us, everything changed.
We all felt it. The moment she got close, her scent shifted.
The usual wild berry sweetness was still there, but it deepened.
Got richer. Warmer, with a hint of cinnamon.
Like something had unlocked between her wolf and ours.
We all knew at the same time.
Blue is our scent match. Our mate.
We played for hours. All of us except Darius. He hung back, watching but never joining in. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of his.
This morning, Blue woke up human again, back to her prickly, defensive self. She has no idea what her wolf knows, what all of us know.
She’s ours.
And somehow, we have to make her see that without scaring her off for good. Which, given our track record of chaining her to a wall and chasing her through forests in Halloween masks, is going to be a challenge.
But my lips form another smile as I think about it.
What a fun challenge it’ll be.
* * *
We round the corner past the last cottage and make our way to the wide stretch of lawn where the pack gathers for events.
Picnic tables, a swing set for the kids, and a large fire pit at the center.
Looks like the whole damn pack has turned out for Blue’s welcome.
Faces beaming, voices buzzing, everyone jostling for a look at the new omega.
Darius’s grandmother, a tiny woman, makes a beeline for Blue before we can stop her. She wraps the omega in a bear hug.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” she croons.
Blue stiffens. Every muscle in her body goes rigid, and her eyes dart around, panicked, scanning for exits. Her scent turns sharp and sour, fear cutting through the berry sweetness.
“I’m not—” she starts, but a chorus of excited voices cuts her off.
“An omega!”
“We’re so blessed!”
“You’ll love it here, dear.”
“You’re so lucky to have fine alphas such as these.”
I watch her face. I can see the war in those blue eyes.
“Back off,” I growl, stepping closer to Blue. “Give her some space.”
The crowd quiets.
“It’s okay,” I say to Blue, keeping my voice low so only she hears it. “No one here is going to hurt you. They’re just happy to have an omega in the pack. It’s been a long time for us.”
She snorts, trying to cover her discomfort with attitude. “Right. Chaining me to the wall is a great way to build trust. Forgive me if I don’t start wagging my tail in gratitude.”
Fuck. I knew that was going to come back around.
I can’t blame her.
I think back to those dark days after the coup, when we were just kids, really. How we clawed our way back from nothing, four boys who’d lost everything, trying to hold together the scraps of two packs that had been torn apart.
“Everyone here knows exactly how we deal with those who threaten our pack,” I say.
“Trying to convince me you’re the good guys?”
“We do what we have to. The pack’s well-being comes first.”
She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t shut down either.
We guide her through the crowd, introducing her to each pack member. Her posture stays rigid, her movements cautious, but she’s not completely closed off. She shakes hands. Makes eye contact. Mutters a few responses that aren’t insults.
It’s something.
Watching her move through the pack, I feel something I haven’t felt in years. Hope. It’s faint and fragile, and if Blue knew I was feeling it, she’d probably punch me in the throat, but it’s there.
Our community is damaged. We all are. It hasn’t been easy since the coup.
The betrayal. The blood. Our fathers were slaughtered by power-hungry fucks who decided they wanted to run things their way. We were young. Darius was sixteen. Elias, eleven. Silas and I were barely eighteen.
Some of those traitorous bastards died screaming. Others we sent into exile. A mercy they didn’t deserve. We heard rumours of Moss building power again, acquiring a new pack, hopefully he’s learned his lesson, and letting them live was the right move.
We merged what was left of our two packs and became one—built something out of the wreckage.
But the damage runs deep. Ten years later, and you can still see it.
In Silas’s silence. In Darius’s need to control everything.
In Elias’s relentless need to keep things light, because the alternative is going somewhere dark.
We’re all fucked up in our own ways. We’ve just gotten good at working around it rather than facing it.
And Blue. She could be the thing that finally changes everything. The missing piece we didn’t know we were looking for. She’s not afraid to say exactly what she means. She is making us confront our own trauma in ways we never dreamed.
We need that. All of us. Even Darius, especially Darius, whether he knows it or not.
If she could just let us in.
That’s the hard part. And looking at Blue right now, standing in the middle of a crowd of well-meaning strangers with her arms crossed, her chin up, and her eyes still scanning for the nearest exit, I know it’s going to take time.
A lot of time. And patience that none of us are particularly known for. We will need to earn her trust.
But for the first time in years, it feels like something good might actually be possible.
If we don’t fuck it up.
Again.