Chapter 9 A Pack of Problems
Chapter Nine
A Pack of Problems
GABE
Fuck, that felt terrible. Like someone punched me in the kidney, knocking me down to my knees.
Eli was clearly let down. Him slipping his hand away from mine—it wasn’t what I expected.
Not sure exactly what I was expecting, but based on the flirty vibes around the pool table, I thought he’d at least be open to holding my hand.
But he didn’t. He actively avoided it.
That shit hurt just as much as disappointing him had.
Not only that, but I’d been craving this rendezvous since I’d suggested it.
Every nerve in my body felt rewired only to receive and experience Eli’s touch.
I had jerked off three times since waking up and still couldn’t satiate the hunger.
It had even messed me up on the ice. I found myself more distracted than I’d ever been, hyperaware of every move Eli made when I should have been focused instead on our opponents.
Unfortunately, though, there was no time to dwell on the heavy feeling in my chest or the one building in my balls.
Not with the news Dylan had brought me.
An iron collar. Here. In our arena. On our home turf.
The threat couldn’t be more clear.
I hurried down the empty hallway, past the training room, past the administrative offices.
I reached a heavy exit door marked with orange and blue claw marks.
I pushed it open and was met with Emmy, his fists anxiously balled up at his sides.
A thick copse of red maple trees crept right up to this back entrance of the arena.
“The other guys are already on their way. I wanted to hold back for you. Don’t think it’s wise for any of us to be traveling alone right now. ”
That heavy feeling in my chest morphed into something sharper, more venomous. Fear. My pulse quickened, throat tightened. “Thank you,” I said.
We both gave our perimeter a quick once-over.
When we were sure we were alone, both of us fell to our hands and knees and began to shift.
Thankfully, we only had to worry about clothes ripping if it was a full moon and we were shifting into our much larger forms. But for a regular shift—our body mass getting smaller as we changed into a wolf—everything on our possession could phase in and out with the change.
Bones painlessly rearranged themselves; limbs and fingers and toes reshaped themselves into claws and paws and four powerful legs covered in fur. Nose turned to snout, ears grew outward, organs shifted and morphed. And all I felt from the transformation was a soft pressure at the base of my skull.
Emmy’s sleek midnight-black form appeared next to mine.
We were both the same species of wolf but had very different appearances.
He was all one color, as if someone had grabbed him by the tail and dipped him into an inkpot.
He was also a little bulkier than I was, built more for strength than for agility.
I was the opposite. My coat was mottled with beige and grays, and my tail ended in white as if it’d been dipped into a paint can.
My wolf body mirrored the leaner but still-muscular build I had in my human form, allowing me to run extremely long distances without feeling like I overexerted myself in the process.
Emmy gave a low growl at my side before he took off like a black comet into the woods.
I followed close behind, practically nipping at his tail.
Even though the circumstances for this run weren’t good, that didn’t erase the thrill of racing and weaving through the trees with Emmy.
It was an instinctual need to feel the chill wind flowing through my fur, the cold, moist dirt under my paws.
I followed the instinctive ping that tugged at my internal compass.
I already knew the pack was meeting at Raquel’s house, but that didn’t erase the subconscious alarm bells that rang as loud as police sirens, leading me through the woods.
It didn’t matter that I could still scent the trail left behind by the other wolves who had run ahead; I’d still be able to find my way to my destination with my eyes closed.
Fifteen minutes later, we crashed through the border of the woods, directly onto a wide and unfenced yard.
Emmy and I slowed to a stop before quickly shifting back into our human forms. A nasty bruise was beginning to form on his thigh from a hit he’d taken during the game.
His shifter genes would have it healed before the night was over.
The sliding glass door was open. Inside, the energy was tense.
Dylan, Chris, Soren, and Raquel were huddled around something on the dining table.
Yuni Walters, the matriarchal anchor of the pack and the only other shifter who would talk back to our alpha, paced around the carpet, furiously typing something on her phone.
All attention seemed to shift to Emmy once he entered the room.
“Any new information?” he asked, not even a little bit out of breath after our run.
Three people tried to answer at once. Soren, the highest-ranking beta in the group, took the lead.
Our pack had a simple hierarchy that kept things functioning smoothly.
Emerson was our alpha; he made final decisions and kept everyone in check.
Under him were the betas—Soren, Chris, Dyl, Myself, Yuni, and Raquel—each of us knowledgeable and skilled in different aspects of pack life but always adhering to the final word said by Emmy.
To round out the family, there were the omegas.
Our pack had three of them: Nicky, the baby of the group, her biological grandfather Fredrick, and Cody Richfield, who was Dylan’s younger cousin and a bit of a recluse.
These were the ones in the pack who were more vulnerable and weren’t as involved when it came to big decisions or tense moments like these.
“The Savannah pack is threatening us,” Soren said.
He wore a loose-fitting white button-up shirt with most of the top buttons undone.
“Leaving this right underneath our noses. On our own home turf.” Soren moved aside and motioned at the iron collar on the table, lit by the harsh white overhead lighting.
It was smooth and seemed to pull light toward it.
There was a hinge and a lock that allowed it to open and then clamp shut.
Through the center of the collar was a thread of tightly braided and woven rowan leaves underneath a slick-looking coating of resin to hold it in place.
My fists balled up tight. I instinctively fell into fight-or-flight mode, not wanting to get any closer to the collar.
Touching it wouldn’t necessarily hurt me, but if that thing found its way around my neck, then I’d be incapacitated, rendered completely useless and at the whim of whoever managed to put it on me.
It was one of a shifter’s biggest weaknesses.
“Fucking flea-ridden dickhead furry chucklefuck assholes,” Dyl said. That got a dry laugh out of Chris and Raquel.
“Who found it?” Yuni asked. She had no qualms about picking up the collar and examining it closely. I had the urge to smack it out of her grip.
“I did,” Dylan responded.
Chris looked as repulsed by the collar as I felt. His eyebrows pushed together, and his nose flared like he had picked up on the stench of rotten milk. “Where was it?”
“In the hallway. Outside of our training room. It was after the game and right by where the Sharks had to leave to get out of the arena. One of them left it there. Had to be. I think it was Viktor—I saw him lagging behind his entire team. He was talking to Harrison.”
“Why would Viktor be talking to our GM?” Chris asked.
“He might be wanting to poach him,” Dylan suggested. “Either way, I know Viktor was around that hallway during a time no one else was. He easily could have had that in his duffel bag and dropped it on his way out.”
“But why would they have that with them?” Raquel asked. “Couldn’t it backfire? Not like they’re immune to it, either.”
“Maybe they planned on taking one of us hostage? And thought it was wiser to threaten us instead?” Soren said.
He glared at the collar as if it were seconds from growing legs and launching itself at his throat.
“And their alpha has been vocal about pushing their pack in this direction. Viktor’s been wanting Burlington for years. ”
They were right about Viktor. He had stepped into the alpha role after the previous alpha died suddenly in a car accident.
He’d been next in line, determined by a vote from the pack.
We’d never had issues with land grabs before, but Viktor came from an extremely well-connected and absolutely rotted political family, who taught him that the more he could bully into his hands, the better, no matter the consequence, no matter the pain inflicted.
But… still. Something wasn’t really adding up for me.
“It is interesting, though,” I said, following Raquel’s thread. “That’s not a typical way these pack wars are handled. That kind of move feels too dirty. Where’s the new moon treaty, the attempt at diplomacy first before a final faceoff is called?”
That would have been the correct way to handle territorial disputes in the shifter community.
At least in the wolf subset. We had certain claims on land that meant no shifter could live or stay for too long without requesting approval first. If another pack found that an issue or if they simply wanted to make a power play and grab at more territory, then a formal faceoff was called.
That was when the two alphas and a select group of betas met and fought in their were forms under a full moon.
The fight was brutal and primal and went on until the death of an alpha.
The winning pack claimed the territory and could either decide to kill the remaining members of the losing pack or let them live and relocate.
Brutal fucking shit and normally avoided at all costs.
“Gabe is right,” Emmy said. A bloom of warmth kissed at my ribs from being praised by our alpha.
I had a thing for being a good boy.
“This is suspicious. Looks more like something a hunter would possess, not another shifter.”
Yuni shook her head. She still wore her navy blue scrubs from her shift at the hospital, so she must have driven here instead of shifted. “My insider in the guild would have told me if there was a hunter in our territory.”
“Maybe the hunter is not working with the guild,” Soren suggested.
“Rogue hunters don’t exist,” Chris said.
Raquel scoffed. “Yeah, because they wouldn’t survive.”
“If it is a lone hunter, then we have nothing to worry about,” Dylan said, standing up. “Perfect because I have a date to—”
“Sit,” Emmy commanded.
Dylan slammed his ass back down on the chair, gaze turned to the floor.
“We are not going to be caught with our pants at our ankles on this. Whether it’s the Savannah pack or a hunter who’s gotten too cocky and thinks they can take us down on their own, I want us all on high alert.
I also want us all keeping as low a profile as possible.
No one draw any unneeded attention in their direction.
Not until we’ve figured out what exactly is happening.
” Emmy’s tone was final. There was a scattering of head nods and agreeable noises from the pack.
It wasn’t a difficult request. Just had to keep my head down and my eyes and ears open for any clues as to what was really happening.
Keeping a low profile was my usual MO anyway, so I was confident I could handle this.
Not like there was a particular someone who had me infatuated with them and could potentially kick up a flurry of public attention if this lust I felt actually led anywhere.
On that note, I wondered what Eli was up to…