Chapter 5
Chapter Five
KARL
Karl stirred at the murmur of sleepy voices from the next room. It took him an instant to remember why he was on the floor, in a room that felt like his and yet somehow didn’t.
And then he let his head flump down onto the pile of blankets he was curled up on in wolf form, letting out a mournful sigh. Fucking cats.
He’d had to come back to the room he’d left no more than a week ago. A room that no longer had a bed in it, as that was now in his new bunkhouse, where he’d finally carved out a bit of peace and quiet for himself. And if it turned out the cats had used his bed, he’d have to burn it.
He’d spent the night shifted, sleeping on a pile of blankets that Jason and Riley had pulled together for him.
Yeah, they still had those dog beds that Bryce had bought tucked away somewhere, but there was humiliation and there was downright mortification.
No way had he been willing to go to the house to get one of those.
He’d no doubt have run into Leon on his way back, and he could just see that supercilious cat’s raised eyebrow as he took in the fact Karl was carrying a dog bed.
He’d have preferred to have spent the night patrolling, but he’d looked at the schedule Leon sent him and in the space of two seconds decided he was going to be on duty whenever Leon was.
Leon was unpredictable, and that made him dangerous.
The other cats were good, but they looked to Leon for instruction, however reluctantly.
He’d almost sworn he’d seen a tail lash, no matter that they were in human form, when Leon had assigned their routes the previous night.
Cats never did like being organized, even by one of their own.
Karl stretched, enjoying the feel of sleep-warm muscles pushed as far as they’d go, then he shifted and dressed.
It hadn’t exactly taken Riley and Jason long to take over his old room—it was dominated by a table they must have gotten from a dumpster, judging from the way a paperback was wedged under one leg to keep it steady.
A pile of books on the Colorado silver boom teetered dangerously to one side of a laptop.
The books were undoubtedly borrowed from Mr. Garrity, because they looked about a century old, and Riley usually read on his phone.
The first memoir Riley had ghost-written for Mr. Garrity was turning out to be a surprise hit, so they were rushing to get the next one out.
Riley was realistic enough to know part of the reason for the popularity was probably the fact Mr. Garrity was from Elk Ridge, the same town as the infamous Argent who’d just hit the media all over the country, but it didn’t matter, he’d said cheerfully. A sale was a sale, whatever the reason.
Mr. Garrity had been given a new lease of life, attending book signings with his husband and having the best time ever, sharing his stories in person with people who were genuinely interested.
It made up for the years of guarding a museum hardly anyone visited, where the exhibits were slowly crumbling into dust around him.
Riley had apologetically removed three mugs with the remnants of dried-out coffee in the bottom of them the previous night, but the scent of old coffee still filled the air, and Karl was suddenly impatient for the freshness of outside.
Not least because there was now laughter mixed in with those sleepy murmurs from next door, and he just knew what would be coming next. Probably Jason. Loudly.
Outside, thick clouds massed in the sky and the air was cold and damp.
It didn’t smell like rain just yet, but it’d be on them before the day was through.
He raked his fingers through his hair, wondered briefly about tying it back because it was getting a bit long, and decided against it.
He’d be in wolf form soon enough, monitoring Leon’s patrol.
At the thought of the cats, the last vestiges of relaxation fled. He’d need to check in with Colby and Tom, who’d patrolled overnight. They’d have come for him had anything happened, but he needed to hear any tiny little niggle, any way the cats had stepped out of line.
Tom was a damn good addition to the pack.
He’d picked up swiftly on their signals and methods, and now he and Colby made a seriously impressive team, with Colby’s confidence in his own judgment growing by the day.
But it still wasn’t the same as doing it himself, being absolutely sure the pack was safe.
It was another hour until shift change, so he’d get some breakfast and check in with Christian and Dave who were on patrol again today.
If he’d had more people to spare, he’d have pulled Christian off the rota while the cats were here, because they didn’t seem like the best mix—Christian was volatile, and cats delighted in provocation.
He headed inside, mentally steeling himself in case any of the cats were there.
The table was back in place in the middle of the kitchen, with half the pack already assembled around it and not a cat in sight.
Tristan was holding forth, bright-eyed and excited, sharing everything he’d found out about cats the previous day.
“And another weird thing,” he was saying, waving a piece of buttered toast around to illustrate his point, “they call Luna their queen, but she’s elected. How the hell is that possible?”
Karl poured himself a coffee and settled quietly against the counter, waiting to see who was brave enough to dive into the convoluted ways cats organized themselves.
“Tom says they’ve always done it and no one’s ever known why,” Bryce said over a plateful of eggs and bacon.
“You mean no one’s ever just asked them?” Tristan demanded.
“Why didn’t you ask?” Christian said, attacking his breakfast as if it had offended him. Which was possible. A lot of things offended Christian, though he’d been calmer since he and Dave had returned from New Mexico with matching rings, and peace in their eyes.
Tristan glanced down at his plate, briefly nonplussed. “It kind of felt rude?”
Also, Karl was willing to guess, those cats were fairly intimidating. They must be the best of the best to form the queen’s guard. Which meant Leon, as head of security, might be almost as good as he evidently thought he was.
Bryce smirked. “She’s probably got a tiara. Think we should get Matt one?”
Matt had just come into the kitchen—which was probably why Bryce had said it—and was heading for the coffee machine. He shot Bryce a look that was equal parts alpha and tired dad. “Try it, and you’re cleaning the barn with a toothbrush.”
“Seriously, though, how’s it work? Should we ask Luna?” Tristan asked.
“No,” Karl said flatly, dropping into the seat beside him. “It’s their business, not ours.”
Tristan ducked his head but didn’t look chastened, exactly. Just thoughtful. Karl nudged him gently with an elbow. “Don’t forget to eat in your effort to understand the incomprehensible.”
Tristan promptly shoved a pancake into his mouth. Karl shook his head. He didn’t know why he thought he’d had to encourage Tristan—the kid ate like there was no tomorrow.
“Speaking of our guest,” Dave said. “Is she joining us for breakfast?”
Dave sometimes slipped into formality, like he was from another century.
“I doubt she’ll have been able to sleep through this racket, so probably,” Matt said, as Jesse wandered in barefoot, hair wet from the shower, and heading straight for Matt to pick a piece of bacon off the plate he’d just filled.
Jesse had been quieter than usual since the cats had arrived, Karl thought, and he couldn’t tell if it was in reaction to the cats or a feeling of guilt at the way he’d changed everything for the pack.
Not a single one of them blamed him, but it was a fact that their lives had been turned upside down since he’d arrived in Elk Ridge.
But without his arrival, none of the pack—except Christian and Dave—would have met their mates. Karl didn’t believe in fate. He couldn’t believe in something that could be so cruel to those who deserved better, but it was weird, the way things had happened.
Matt caught his gaze across the table, and half-raised an eyebrow in unspoken question. Karl gave a small nod. Everything was fine. Except for the fact he had fucking cats roaming his territory.
At least none of them had shown up for breakfast. Matt had invited the cats to join them for meals, or to help themselves outside of meal times if that suited their duties better, but it seemed as if they were avoiding the house.
Which Karl couldn’t be mad about because he itched just at the thought of cats here in the heart of the pack, upsetting their peace.
Luna wasn’t quite so bad, probably because she was schooled in diplomacy enough to hide the worst parts of her cat nature.
He sighed and pushed his chair back. Time to get out there and find out what those cats had been up to overnight. Especially Leon, who’d understood way more of Karl than he was comfortable with. Karl would make damn sure he stayed at a distance and didn’t have a chance to read him again.
LEON
Leon scanned the clearing with a practiced eye, searching for reasons why a trail might have led here but not beyond.
The place was quiet, without a wolf in sight.
Ava had mentioned this trail, identifying it as worn by the pack, and Leon had walked it for himself—in boots rather than paws because he was upwind of some horses—to see why it was there. And why it led nowhere else.
He’d come up blank, but it didn’t feel significant or particularly out of place. Maybe one of the pack simply liked getting away from the rest of them and sitting on the outcrop of rock in the middle of the clearing.
That was the first thing off his list to double-check.
The cats had flagged a few things on their overnight patrol, and he also wanted to verify visibility from the barn with the sun at a different angle, making sure no field of approach had been left unaccounted for.
Typical that the sun had decided not to cooperate, instead turning invisible behind heavy clouds.
He refreshed the patrol logs again, thumb tapping restlessly against his phone as he looked for… he didn’t even know. Gaps. Mistakes. Complacency. There was always something. The trick was not to miss it in the noise of the all-clears.
He made his way back along the trail to the yard.
Coffee scents drifted from the open kitchen window, underscored by the musk and spice that all of the wolves smelled of.
Even their non-shifter wasn’t free of the scent of the pack.
It blanketed everything here, but his cat was growing used to it, no longer arching its back each time he drew a breath.
As the house came into his sightline, a movement on the porch stopped him short. Tristan was snuggled up on the swing seat with another wolf, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he wasn’t supposed to be guarding the queen of the cats. Or his own Argent packmate, for that matter.
The new wolf was dark-blond and muscular, and Leon swiftly identified his scent as one of the two wolves who’d been patrolling when the cats had arrived. To be so snuggly with Tristan, it had to be Colby.
Tristan’s feet were pulled up under him, and he was leaning against Colby’s side while Colby had a mug in one hand and his other arm loosely around Tristan’s waist, thumb rubbing idly against the edge of his hoodie.
Neither of them was watching their surroundings.
Neither of them even twitched when Leon approached.
Unbelievable. Colby had just come off patrol. He should have been debriefing, not cuddled up like a damn house pet, making goo-goo eyes at his mate while Luna—and Jesse—were inside with a minimal security detail.
Tristan tipped his head back and laughed at something Colby said, low and amused, and entirely unconcerned.
The sound set Leon’s teeth on edge. They were so relaxed.
So sure of the world. As if danger would knock politely on the door and schedule an appointment.
As if the worst thing they had to worry about was whether breakfast included pancakes.
Leon changed course before either of them saw him. He didn’t trust what might come out of his mouth if he got closer. Instead, he walked toward the barn, pacing the line of the corral fence and forcing his hands to unclench.
He knew what this was, what was tightening his jaw and knotting low in his chest. It wasn’t just irritation.
It was envy. Colby and Tristan had something soft, something safe, something that let them sit curled into each other like it was no big deal.
Something Leon had never had and probably never would.
Because the last time he stopped looking over his shoulder, everything changed. That was when he was told to get in the car, his bag already packed. That was when the world he thought he belonged to turned its back, and when he learned that trust was a weakness.
He tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed it, the sleek length comforting. Let the wolves believe what they wanted. Let them mistake softness for strength. He wouldn’t.
He turned his mind back to why he was here, and once he was satisfied with the sightlines from the barn, he started toward the ridge Karl had taken him to the previous day.
There’d seemed to be a gap in last night’s coverage by the wolf patrols, and he wanted to check it himself before the morning slipped any further.
And later, if the wolves were still more interested in cuddling on porch swings than defending their territory?
Well. He’d need to teach them to heel, like good little doggies.