Chapter 6 #2
The wolf—Tristan, Leon recognized now—yelped in shock, legs scrabbling for leverage beneath Leon’s weight. Leon kept him pinned, claws sheathed but firm, every muscle tensed. Tristan twisted under him, confused, frightened, caught completely off guard. And that was the point, wasn’t it?
This. This was what happened when you stopped watching the shadows.
Leon stared down at the young wolf, a low warning growl rumbling in his throat.
Tristan stilled beneath him, chest heaving.
He didn’t growl or try to bite, just lay there in baffled submission—and the beginnings of a rising hurt that flickered in his scent.
He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong.
Leon waited one more beat, then stepped off him. Turning, he padded toward a nearby oak. In three leaps, he was up and stretched along a branch, tail flicking lazily.
Below, Tristan scrambled upright and turned to stare after him. His ears were flattened, and his stance defensive. He was shaken and confused, and maybe a little scared.
Leon rested his head on his paws, staring coolly down at the wolf. A long-overdue lesson had been learned.
Next time, the wolf would check his six before bumbling around so carelessly, when an enemy might be waiting behind any bush. Or above any path.
KARL
They worked for long enough that Karl’s inner clock began to protest. While he was here, he wasn’t out there, keeping everyone safe.
Eventually, Matt straightened from where he’d been leaning over the map.
“Thanks,” he said, running his hand through his hair, a gesture of weariness that had become increasingly common these last few weeks. “We’ve got enough to get started now. I’ll keep you looped in.”
Karl wasted no time, heading out through the kitchen, empty as usual at this time of day.
He needed to find out what the cats were up to, Leon in particular.
Something at the base of his spine was itching, even though he knew there was no reason for it.
Dave and Christian would have everything under control.
As he reached the back door, Tristan opened it, jumping a mile when he came nose to nose with Karl.
“Oh! Sorry,” he said, and he sounded wrong, his voice thready.
Karl froze, all his internal alarms blaring, his gut twisting. What the hell had been happening while he’d been doing management stuff?
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, voice low with threat.
Tristan scrunched his nose uncertainly. “I mean, nothing? Not really,” he said. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know why he did it, and then he just went up a tree where I couldn’t ask him. Not without standing there and shouting up at him, which—”
“Tristan.” Karl put his hand on his shoulder, rigid beneath his touch. This kind of meandering was different from his usual stream of consciousness. Something had shaken him up. Badly. “Tell me.”
Tristan sighed, then met Karl’s gaze, shame in his eyes. “Leon jumped on top of me, from out of a tree.”
Karl’s vision whited out around the edges and his wolf’s snarl melded with his until he was vibrating with it.
“But I don’t know why,” Tristan continued. “He didn’t hurt me or anything. He just growled, and let me go.”
Thirty minutes. He’d trusted Leon for thirty goddamn minutes.
“I’d gone for a run to clear my head because my assignment wasn’t coming together,” Tristan said, quieter now. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”
Karl exhaled, slow and deep, and it physically hurt to keep his calm. He stood there, trying not to shake with the force of his restraint.
Leon had waited until Karl wasn’t watching. That was the worst part. The absolute worst part. Because it meant Karl had been right—his presence had been the only thing holding the cat back.
“You okay?” he asked at last.
Tristan nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Get some coffee,” Karl said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Tristan hesitated. “You’re not gonna kill him, right?”
Karl gave a smile that wasn’t a smile. “Not straight away. I’m going to talk to Matt.”
Everything in him was urging him to give in to instinct, to hunt Leon and make him pay for what he’d done. But that wasn’t the job right now. The alliance with the cats was too important—Matt needed to handle this.
His wolf snarled low and deep inside as he marched toward Matt’s den, fury seething under his skin, bootheels striking the floorboards so hard God only knew how they didn’t leave dents. He slammed the door open.
“That fucking cat has got to go,” he flung at his alpha, not caring about Luna’s presence. “Because if I even see him right now, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Matt slowly stood up from behind the desk, the power in him evident. “Griffin,” he warned, his tone one that none of his pack would disregard.
But he knew Karl, knew that something extreme must have happened to get him so riled, and he didn’t pursue Karl’s lack of respect. “What’s happened? Which cat?”
“Leon jumped on top of Tristan,” Karl spat.
Luna made a slight sound, and Karl broke off from where he was holding Matt’s narrowed gaze to look at her.
“What were the circumstances?” she asked.
“Nothing to excuse that. Tristan was minding his own business,” Karl snarled. “On our territory, and your damn brother attacked him.”
Luna nodded. “I’ll talk to Leon. If he’s overstepped, I apologize.”
“If?” Karl would have said more, much more, about some cat attacking the youngest pack member, but Matt spoke first. Although he was speaking to Luna, his tone made it clear there was no room for Karl to make further comment.
“Thank you,” he said. It sounded less like gratitude and more like a recognition that she had done the bare minimum.
“Karl,” he said, and Karl knew he was dismissed.
He stalked out of the room, retaining just enough sense to close the door softly behind him rather than slam it.
He wanted so badly to go find that fucking cat, but he couldn’t because it was in Matt’s hands now, and Karl had a job to do.
The job was here, in the kitchen, where a young wolf who’d been attacked once before now needed to feel safe.
Tristan was sitting at the table, devouring the remains of Jason’s key lime pie as if nothing had ever happened. Safe, and smiling again. Something inside Karl unclenched fractionally. God, if Leon had re-traumatized Tristan after what had happened to him before, being attacked where he felt safe…
If he’d done that, Karl would take him apart, no matter what Matt said. But as it was, Tristan seemed to have regained his usual cheerfulness along with his appetite.
That was more than Karl had. Not that he was naturally cheerful, exactly, but he was never usually on a hair trigger like this.
He knew exactly what the problem was—his past had come visiting a few weeks back in the form of Jax, raking up memories Karl thought he’d left far behind him.
And when the news first broke about Jesse, networks that hadn’t landed an interview with Matt and Jesse had their choppers overflying the ranch.
The combination had taken him back to a situation he thought he’d managed to forget. He was avoiding sleep as well, needing to patrol every minute he could. Needing to be sure his pack was safe. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t stop it.
He sat next to Tristan, but he didn’t take his eyes from the back door. Let the fucking cat walk in. Just try it.