Chapter Four
Jay
Jeez, Casey is active this morning. At just five-years-old, Jeff’s daughter is already running the show.
It’s her world. I’m just living in it. Her mother was killed before they were cast out from their pack.
Casey witnessed her mother’s death and has been struggling with depressive symptoms ever since.
She was—and is—a cute pup, but most people thought pups were cutest when they were happy.
Casey’s not your typical pup, by no fault of her own.
Not everyone has the patience for her, another reason I was more than happy to let Jeff take the credit for the alpha kill.
With his rise in station, Casey drew more tolerance.
His kindness might have been fake, but the rogues were at least nicer.
Like me, she is often depressed. Casey’s crying spells appear from nowhere. She grieves her mother. In the eyes of others, she is problematic, hyper and not well-behaved. But it’s clear she is traumatized, sensitive, perfectly imperfect and deserves love and protection at all costs.
Casey tugged on my shirt, pleading for me to run through the forest with her until I finally gave in. Casey was pretty convincing five-year-old. It’s hard to say no to her.
Casey runs and weaves through the trees, giggling as I chase her. It’s her favorite game.
When did she get so fast?
Usually, I’m able to walk closely behind. Today, I have to jog just to keep up with her. It doesn’t help that the only cardio I’ve been doing lately is chasing away the negative thoughts.
Holy shit, I’m out of shape.
Speed isn’t the only change. Adventure and curiosity show in her like never before. She wanted to take a new route. I’m so impressed by her newfound self-confidence—and focused on trying not to die from the workout she’s giving me—that I don’t notice where we are . . . until it’s too late.
We are too close to Bloodhound’s territory.
“Casey.”
I call her name calmly, trying not to frighten her.
But Casey keeps going.
I start to panic. “Casey, stop! Get back here.”
I can only yell so loud before I risk alerting them of our presence.
My stomach churns as their scent grows stronger.
With all my energy, my jog becomes a full-on sprint.
I’m only getting glimpses of her before she’s gone again.
The bright yellow fabric on her shirt is too easy to spot by Bloodhound.
If they found her to be associated with me, we’re screwed.
Not to mention, I know first-hand how easy it is to manipulate a child.
Jeff may take credit for the kill, but the only one who believes him is Casey.
One conversation with him, and it’s an immediate hard sell.
Snap!
The sound of a twig breaking catches my attention, and I take my eyes off Casey for one second to locate the source. That half-second all it takes for her to disappear entirely from my sight.
Now is not the time for hide and seek.
Seconds that feel like eternity tick past. I’m scanning the forest for her. My anxiety increases the longer I fail to locate her.
Please be okay, I pray to myself.
Her faint giggles echo through the trees.
Even though I don’t see her, I’m relieved.
Scouring the forest, I duck under branches and jump over fallen tree trunks to find her. My heart races when I hear voices shouting at each other.
Bloodhound.
They are behind me and not in front of me where Casey has to be.
My brain teeters between my effort to find her and worrying someone else will find her first.
I have to find Casey.
I call my wolf forward, just enough to help me sniff her out. My nose leads me to a small clearing. Tall trees surround me. But Casey’s scent is strong in every direction.
“Casey, where are you?” I whisper yell.
Spinning, I try to pinpoint a sound, movement, anything to help me identify a direction to go in. Rustling leaves catch my attention, followed by Casey’s giggle. In the bushes, between the leaves, I spot her bright yellow shirt, and she’s crouched.
“Jay, you found me!”
I hold one finger to my lips.
Footsteps grow near, and someone shouts in the distance.
“Did you hear that?” she asks.
“Yeah, I think it’s coming from over there.” My heart pounds. “Casey, I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay? We’re going to pretend we are princesses running from bad guys.”
“I don’t wanna be a pwincess.” Her little face lights up with an idea, and she inhales her excitement with an audible gasp. “Can I be queen?”
“Queen Alaina?” I ask with a knowing smile.
The answer is obvious. This is her favorite game, and the queen is her Roman Empire.
“Yeah!”
I shush her again. “I know, I know. But we have to stay quiet until we get home, okay?”
Casey nods.
She has no idea of the dangers of the world, and I intend to protect her innocence as long as I can.
It’s getting harder to keep up this poker face as I hear their footsteps approaching. We have no time. I can’t hide her—they’ll only sniff her out. I could run with her, but I risk leading them straight to her and, ultimately, our entire campsite.
“You’re the queen, and I’m the guard who stays behind and protects you from the bad guys. Okay?”
Loving the idea, but thankfully, remembering we are playing the quiet game, her little fists ball and shake in excitement. She nods enthusiastically.
I check to see if the coast is clear. I don’t see anyone, but it’s getting dark.
She smiles widely.
“You have to get home as fast as you can. The bad guys are coming, so you can’t stop for anything.
When you get back, you must tell your dad, er—the head knight—that Bloodhound is chasing us, and to send help.
” She almost squeals but remembers the game and puts a finger up to her lips, silencing herself.
I giggle silently and do the same. “Alright. Ready?”
She nods eagerly.
“Go!” I whisper yell.
Casey sprints in the direction of home, and I watch her disappear through the trees, safely out of sight. But it’s too soon to celebrate.
I glimpse men through the trees sporting the same tribal tattoo: a hound pointing at its prey. I’d recognize that crest anywhere.
Bloodhounds.
They’ve spotted me. I stand from the bush.
“What do we have here?” one sings.
Face-to-face with them, cornered, I bare my teeth in warning.
One rushes me. He grabs my shoulders and forces me to my knees.
I’ve dubbed him “Grabby.”
Grabby’s shadow covers me, and he kicks me in the stomach. The blow is significant enough to cause me to curl inward, but I manage to stay upright as much as possible.
I won’t let them overpower me.
Grabby lands another kick to my stomach. Before I have a chance to recover, the other punches me square in the face.
That’s going to leave a black eye.
Grabby scans me thoroughly before his eyes glaze over.
I’ve heard of this before. He’s mindlinking someone. When you’re born in a pack, a ceremony is held—similar to baptizing humans—to open the connection to a newborn. Abandoned in a forest young, essentially forced to become a rogue, I was never baptized and never experienced one.
It’s not just a way for our Goddess to recognize us, but it’s how packs perceive each other.
Grabby’s eyes return to normal.
Facing me, he says, “It’s your lucky day. Seems we won’t be executing you today.”
Executing?
I practically pee myself on the spot. As a great fighter, I still struggle with the cardio from earlier so taking them out wouldn’t have been easy.
“We’ve executed all the others, why not this one, too?” Punchy asks, disappointed.
Grabby sighs. “Luna’s orders were clear. With her son’s mate still out there, any unmated females we find outside have to be run by her first. If they meet the description, we’re to notify Caleb to identify her.”
“And if it’s not her?”
“Then we kill her.”
At the mention of Caleb’s name, my wolf’s tail wags. A ray of hope washes over me. It must be the same Caleb.
I might have a real chance at surviving this.
Colin’s protection prevented him from being turned into dog food during the attack. We were told to retaliate if needed, but his life was to be spared. Caleb was important to Alaina, and Colin didn’t want to make the same mistake the werewolf king made.
Maybe he would remember who Colin was and spare me.
It was a long shot, considering he didn’t owe me anything. All I had left to lose was my life, and I guess today is one of those days that I care about what happens to it.
How inconvenient for me.
Prior to our mission, we were briefed on what Caleb looked like and instructed to intervene if anyone tried to kill him.
To Olivia, he was . . . important, for a reason that was none of my business—according to Olivia.
Fortunately for her, I didn’t need convincing not to kill.
Punchy’s and Grabby’s eyes glaze over, opening up their mindlink.
I’m shoved to the ground and face planted into the dirt.
Whoever they were speaking to, I can’t imagine it was their luna who ordered her son’s potential mate to be thrown to the ground. If it was, then Goddess help the poor bastard.
If this is how they treat someone they think could be their future luna, what would they do if they found out their potential luna also killed their current luna’s mate?
My chest tightens.
I rationalize the luna’s son’s mate can’t be all they are searching for. They’re looking for their late alpha’s killer. And now they have me.
I take deep breaths to calm my racing thoughts. I’m not sure they know it’s me. Maybe they think I’m just another rogue. Unless, by some miracle, I’ve become the goddess’s favorite, and I am in fact their future luna. Either way, they’re going to kill me.
At least if they don’t know I’m responsible for their alpha’s death, they may be merciful and make my death quick.