Chapter 3 - Thane
The hunt for the woman from Rissa and Brooks's vision has become soundless, a different kind of tracking.
Not for flesh and scent, but for a single color lodged in a woman’s eyes.
Blue. Crystalline. Not a face, nor a name. Just a color.
As if that's supposed to be enough to identify her.
Rissa had pressed the image into my head the way people press a thumbprint with ink on paper to let their identities signify a sealed deal—one impression, meant to be permanent.
“You’ll know her when you see her,” Rissa had said in that flat, stunned way that meant she had no idea how or why.
Brooks swore he’d seen the same thing because he was holding her hand.
Aurora and Yvonne had their own visions, and between them, the map of our future had become a prophecy of omens and wishful thinking.
Four witches.
One child.
A gate that needed to be sealed.
Finding a woman on the strength of the color of her eyes was not the work of an alpha’s logic.
It was an ache. It was one more notch in the long list of things that would remind Grandfather Charles of what he’d always said about omegas—blame them for weakness, blame them for tragedy.
He’d used my mother’s life like an argument, and his argument had shaped me in ways I pretended not to feel.
It wasn’t just duty driving me now; it was a need to prove, mostly to myself, that fate could be met and not fail the pack.
Mating with an omega wasn’t going to be my downfall. Not when she emerges as the fourth witch needed to defeat the deadliest threat Snehvolk has ever faced. Grandfather will surely understand. The others did. This is bigger than any of us.
The decision to leave Girdwood and not return until I've found the woman from the vision might have been impulsive, but it was met with understanding from my fellow alphas, the elder council, and even the witches.
It's the only way I have any chance of finding the woman I'm meant to mate with—a werewolf with hidden witch abilities, just like the others.
I can't stop thinking about it as I make my way to the next town, south of Girdwood, where I've set up a meeting with the alpha of a rather unorganized werewolf pack. Much smaller than Snehvolk, the other pack is my last stop in Alaska in an attempt to find my mate, but I'm hardly hopeful.
If the woman is a witch, she likely doesn't know it yet. And if she hails from this pack I'm visiting, then I'm in for a mess.
The alpha of this pack is rumored to have killed the previous alpha to take the mantle by force. It's a vile, unforgivable thing to do, to kill one's own leader just to take over.
It hasn't been proven, and the rumor remains whispered amongst the packs as far as Whittier, but Alpha Dane of the Blood Moon Pack in that area even warned us to steer clear of Blood Claw and Alpha Grant.
It took Elias sending an olive branch with a bribe to get Grant to accept this meeting. An alpha who accepts bribes cannot be trusted, and that's why this meeting with him to discuss an alliance is only a guise, so I can enter their pack territory and check for the woman I'm searching for.
The witches assured me that when I meet her, I'll feel it in my bones that she's the one. My fellow alphas said the same thing, describing what it feels like to discover one's fated mate.
All I can feel in my bones is a cold chill settling in as I enter the Blood Claw pack territory. My reservations about the newly appointed alpha, Grant Franklin, makes entering his territory even more daunting.
Deep down, I'm hoping I don't find the woman I'm looking for in Seward, even if it means having to extend my search to Canada. If the woman turns out to be a Blood Claw wolf, that's a pill that will be impossible to swallow.
Gulping hard, I continue forging through the woods, coming up to the murky scent of wolves, indicating the Blood Claw territory. Unlike Girdwood, which is surrounded by Snehvolk soldiers patrolling the borders, Seward appears vulnerable without the proper safety measures.
Another cause for concern, but it's not mine to dwell on. My priorities are in check, and that's why this meeting with the brute of an alpha, Grant, is only for the purpose of waltzing through the small village of Seward to try and find the woman from Rissa and Brooks's vision.
As I step out of the woods and onto the paved path that's been covered by the day's snowfall, my boots sinking into the snow must be what alerts the pack to my arrival. A wolf emerges from the forest, somewhere behind me to the left, whining as it stalks forward.
I lift my hands out of my coat and raise them in a show of surrender in front of the chestnut wolf, then proceed to remove my hood to show the Blood Claw wolf my face.
“I am Alpha Thane Savage of Snehvolk. I have a meeting with the alpha of Blood Claw.”
The wolf huffs through its sharp snout, appearing reluctant as it turns and half-heartedly nods for me to follow it. I frown as I step carefully forward, mentally chastising this pack's lack of order.
Blood Claw is known for its disorderly and disorganized ways, and that's why we haven't previously approached them for an alliance. Truthfully, this pack is disposable, and wouldn't serve any purpose even if we did enter one.
I can't see myself mating with one of their she-wolves, either, so chances of finding the woman I'm looking for here are slim.
I'm just going through with this as a formality, even if my skin crawls with reluctance.
As I follow the chestnut-brown wolf, noting that its fur is as greasy as a rogue wolf's fur would be, it becomes just another reason to despise this pack and the ways they operate.
An unsettling wave of warning passes through me, lifting the fine hairs on the back of my neck and compelling me to stop following the Blood Claw wolf.
A soft wind passes my nose, and I follow the whispering sound of the air toward the left, my trained eyes landing on a scene erupting on the outskirts of the village.
A handful of males surround the door leading into a tiny oval-shaped hut, whistling and laughing with a haunting presence that tells me they're up to no good.
One of the men pulls a helpless woman out of the hut, throwing her meek frame to the ground. The bony, frail girl's blonde hair covers her face as she shies away from the ridicule of the group, as they taunt her, pointing fingers at her as if she isn't powerless.
Something inside me snaps, an innate sense of protectiveness that would never allow me to stand idly by and watch a woman being abused. As the sub-alpha of my own pack, I have sworn to protect every member of Snehvolk, and I'm highly protective of my people.
What's happening now in Seward is something I could never stand for—spitting venomously at a woman who's helpless and overpowered goes against everything I've learned.
Leaving the chestnut wolf behind, I race toward the woman's hut, my heart hammering in my chest as adrenaline pulses through my veins. I have no plan of action, except that I have to intervene before the woman is hurt.
My approaching footsteps are met with the furious glares of the group of men who turn, their eyes glinting with ill intent.
“Hey, fellas!” I call out casually as I slow down, bearing in mind that this isn't my turf, and I need to proceed with caution.
The least I was able to accomplish was taking the men's attention away from the woman cowering on the ground, and I maintain my cool composure as I shove my hands into my pockets and lift a charming smile to the group.
“Yo, pretty boy!” One of the guys steps forward, sizing me up with narrowed black eyes. “Who are ya?”
“I'm an alpha from the pack down in Girdwood. I'm here to see your—” My voice tapers off when, out of the corner of my eye, I spot something that stuns me.
Turning my head slowly, it's as if time slows down before our eyes meet, the clash of my earthy green confusion reflected in the crystalline blue pools of her eyes.
Blue eyes.
The color blue I've been tracking for two months.
Except, the feeling described by the others isn't there, save for the recognition of the she-wolf on the ground.
Willow Barker….
The moment freezes over only because of the recollection of a particular she-wolf who used to be in Snehvolk. But she was no ordinary wolf.
What made her stand out was the fact that she was the only werewolf who hadn't received a wolf or the ability to shape shift on her eighteenth birthday.
A knock to my shoulder snaps me out of my bewildered trance, and I notice the group has circled me viciously, neglecting any personal space as a warning to me.
“What is it, pretty boy? What are you doing on our turf?” the first man asks, shooting daggers at me with his dark, narrowed eyes.
I clear my throat and straighten my shoulders, not wanting to let on that I know the wolf they'd been targeting.
“I'm Alpha Thane Savage from the Snehvolk Pack,” I say with the type of confidence that demands respect. The men glance at each other, some appearing shocked, while the main one—the man who questioned me—arches a skeptical brow.
“You here to see our alpha, then?” he asks with a sniff followed by a swipe to his nose.
Only now, with the slanting moonlight illuminating his face, can I see the real color of his eyes, the darkness of earlier menace subsiding slightly.
It's a typical green shade that fits the rest of his ginger features, but they're almost lifeless.
“Yeah, I am,” I respond measuredly. “I have a meeting with Alpha Grant.” Coolly glancing over my shoulder, I nod at Willow without giving away that I know her.
There's so much I don't know yet—like why she's here, in Blood Claw territory, and why she'd been pulled out of her hut.
“What's the deal with this one?” I ask, turning my face back to the men.