3. CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 3
Grayson
The full moon shed a milky light through the trees, illuminating the ground and luring out the reckless. Those hungry enough to risk being seen.
An ideal night for the hunt.
Recent rains washed away any scent older than two days, and the trail we followed was new. Ripe with the reek of unwashed bodies. Worse was the scent of smoke. They’d built a fire. Foolish, since smoke was a flashing neon sign to wolves who hunted by scent and had vengeance on their mind.
We’d been hunting creatures for two weeks. Not all had escaped the battle when Noa collapsed the passage. The lucky ones died within minutes. The unlucky, the hairy pigs and scuttling crabs, the thin, three-legged abominations already gray as death—when we found them, we killed them. Left the burned bodies behind.
I’d joined the hunt a week ago, and blamed no one for the revenge they delivered. Debts were owed to the dead, and tonight, as the moon rose above the spindly trees, more retribution was at hand.
Intruders had passed through the smuggler passage from the Alpen. From Sutter, where Amal had left charred wood and tears. Survivors from that attack had come through well over a month ago, and it mattered, who came through tonight. It mattered for those we would avenge: Fallon. Noa. Julien. The men who died, or had grievous wounds. Lives had changed forever because a brutal queen slaughtered wolves she’d never met.
Wolves from Sentinel Falls. The Carmag, and even the Alpen.
A queen who had no master except her own hatred.
A fucking shit-show larger than I’d ever imagined. What did the queen feel when she destroyed lives? Did they mean anything more than snuffing out a spark?
And how long before I became like that—like the kings who destroyed the queens? Kings who feared the inhumanity and were driven to do something about it.
A branch broke beneath my foot. I made too much noise with my distractions, when the surrounding men remained disciplined despite the blood lust. They came from different packs, but worked as an effective team. I knew their names. They acknowledged me as Alpha. There could be only one. Just as in the Carmag, in Westvale, Anson Salas was Alpha, and I had no influence.
I pushed the distractions aside. Ignored the tension in my back. Men who hadn’t shifted ran behind me. Mace—who also hadn’t shifted—still ran yards ahead with his wolves. With a thought, he ordered them into formations. Beside me, Levi kept pace despite the healing wound in his thigh. His expression was rigid. I hadn’t seen him relax in the time I’d been back.
No one really relaxed. Even the seasoned men were on edge, and when, tonight, the wards spun the alarms, we’d raced from the Refuge and were close enough now to scent the prey.
But the passage from Alpen was well-known and used by innocents, refugees, even smugglers searching for their reward—and I owed these men more than pointless kills.
They’d followed me into battles they weren’t prepared to fight, against a mythic enemy, centuries old, half vampire, half wolf. With more vindictive power than a demigod.
Why the fuck would vampires create such a monster?
For power and domination. Because they were assholes. Because they could.
From the scent, men had come through the passage leading from the Alpen—and women. The softer traces of soap and sweetness meant children were in the mix. Refugees fleeing from the Mule, more likely, valuable in their own right. They’d have information. Details they’d seen. Secrets used as currency because no one but a fool entered the forests without currency.
The bigger fool put comfort ahead of security. They’d camped in an open field, near a stream, and in the silvery light of a full moon they were bright silhouettes. Begging to be seen. And not fucking logical in any scenario, even if they wanted to be found.
A night bird whooshed on nearly silent wings. In the distance, an eerie scream. Creatures were in the area, and yet, these fools noticed nothing. Perhaps they hoped a fire would keep them safe. Or perhaps they were not refugees at all.
Weapons were easy to stash, hidden beneath bushes and within reach. I searched the tree line. Scented the air. Mace was doing the same, and as everyone spread out, moving like dark shadows, I sent an order through the pack bond.
Wolves dropped to a crouch. Men halted.
Levi inhaled sharply. He carried a spear, the spear I’d pulled from his thigh the day Noa risked so much.
And tonight… tonight I would not let that risk be for nothing by underestimating the enemy.
I sank into a crouch. Waiting.
You’re fucking kidding me, Mace growled through the pack bond. A pregnant woman, two kids. An old man. Other than the two military-age men, they’re no threat.
Brin wasn’t either, Levi said. Until she was.
I glanced at his pale face. Sent reassurance through the pack bond when his fingers tightened on the spear.
The woman with the eyepatch, Mace hissed. Not the pregnant one.
She stood in the shadows, concealed yet alert, while the others gathered wood and set up a shelter. Two men worked on bracing poles to hold the blanket folded on the ground. Amateurs, on a friendly camping trip where the worst fear came from the racoons wandering along the river. Or a passing bear, going after the pitiful bag of food they’d tied in a tree.
The pregnant woman straightened from the fire, resting a hand on her protruding belly. Flaxen hair fell lankly around her face and shoulders. She whispered to the two children who huddled together, urged them closer to the warmth.
My shoulders tightened. Nothing worse than fools in the woods, unless they were dangerous fools. Either way, leading a pregnant woman and two kids into this forest was criminal, even if there weren’t creatures worse than bears on the loose. Unless they were the lures. Out in the open, the bait to pull us in.
I shot Levi a glance that said I agreed with his concern. Nothing was innocent these days. Not even children.
They were crouched together, fair-haired, pale, all bony knees and arms in thread-bare clothes. Their shivering was obvious. The pregnant woman wore jeans, some kind of top, and a bulky man’s coat. The old man was too thin and wrung out to do more than pick up small branches. Wolves, all of them, including the two erecting the shelter. From their scents, I guessed their stories—rebels running from the Mule, or from poverty. Pack-less, scraping together the last of their funds to pay some one-eyed rescuer to sneak them into friendlier territory. Give them a shot at a better life.
In the middle of a fucking war. Although maybe word of the war hadn’t spread to the more isolated settlements. Not all packs clustered together like the Carmag, and all communication outside of a pack bond had to come through cell phones and television. The internet. Technology was prevalent in the larger towns, like Sentinel Falls and Westvale, but impossible to find in the middle of no-fucking-where.
It wasn’t likely that the outside world was aware of our little war. One benefit in wilderness living: no one cared. Ignorance was possible, and no fear of vampires, or they wouldn’t be so casual with the dark. But I wouldn’t see them as innocents caught in something they didn’t understand. I’d see them as opportunists and sent a sharp order through the pack bond.
An order for Julien’s sake.
For all hell to break loose.
The attack closed in from every direction. The snarling turned brutal as the pregnant woman screamed. She dropped the bowl she’d been holding and reached for the crying children. The old man staggered forward, his feet tangling in the spindly branches meant for the fire, tripping him. He almost went down.
From the lean-to, the two men shouted. Poles fell apart. The blanket collapsed. The first man to shift ended up on the ground, pinned by a wolf impatient for blood. My sharp mental order kept that blood from spilling—although the whitened eyes of the pinned wolf telegraphed his terror.
The other man wisely dropped to his knees and tipped his head to the side. Kept his hands up in surrender. I had to admire his quick assessment. The odds were not in his favor, with no gain in rash behavior.
But the one-eyed woman had no fear. Even when the wolves circled, she stepped from the shadows, calm enough to keep her hands raised. Her clothes were clean, utilitarian, and leather. Fighting clothes, with the leather reinforced along her forearms, legs, chest. Strapped to her thighs were knives in leather sheaths. I guessed she had other blades hidden but easily accessible.
She walked toward the refugees near the fire, chin up. Not in challenge—but what I expected from hired protection. A woman not to be underestimated. Her strength came from experience and skill. She was strategic when she escalated, then dampening the aggression to her advantage.
Her gaze slid and skated, evaluating until she hit Mace. A long pause before moving on, stopping with me.
I stared while she unzipped her jacket and held the edges open to reveal her shirt. See, nothing hidden.
A slight smile flitted across her lips when I inhaled. Interesting. Her movements were slow and calculated. I am not a threat. She slid the knives from the tied sheaths, holding them with a two-fingered grip.
Not a threat, but I could be , her gesture said before she dropped the knives on the ground. Pushed them away with a booted foot.
She earned my reluctant admiration. A brazen woman, with her palms facing outward. Playing a dangerous game. A mercenary, controlling the situation even when she had no advantage. She murmured something to the woman. Asked her to sit beside the children. The merc was smart enough about confrontations to lessen the pressure. By grouping the mother with the kids, we had fewer targets to watch. The mom would calm the children. Quiet them. Lessening the chance that one kid would frighten enough to run away, triggering an unwanted reaction—like the scattering of mice in front of a starving cat.
Someone could end up dead.
That simple action raised the merc’s value. She wasn’t a babe in the woods, and perhaps had been worth the funds scraped together to hire her.
The wolf pinned to the ground had gone completely limp, whimpering, exposing his gray belly in submission. I frowned at the snort of derision from the wolf who pinned him. Another order from me, and that wolf loosened his jaws, shaking his head to spit the taste from his mouth.
The wolf on the ground remained still, bedraggled, his fur wet from slobber. The man on his knees swayed. A disheartened, pathetic group when we’d been hoping for an enemy.
But were they?
A shudder of annoyance ran through the pack bond, and I sent Levi’s warning as a counterbalance. These strangers would have to prove themselves friend or foe.
Wolves stiffened, ridged hair rising along napes and down spines. Mace altered his stance as the uneasiness spread to the woman in the eyepatch. Her hands jerked, but she kept them upright. One child whimpered, and the pregnant woman glared while pressing her palm to the child’s lips.
Levi breathed in, his fingers flexing on the spear.
Through the pack bond, I asked, You okay?
They’re not what I expected.
Brin wasn’t, either. Can you get past it?
Levi bristled. It’s not bullshit to worry.
You can worry, but don’t let fear obsess you. He’d trusted Brin. Admitted teasing her, even giving her a weapon. The guilt was eating at him, that he’d make a mistake like that again.
They’re kids. His mental voice stuttered. Who the hell uses little kids and a pregnant lady?
Someone like the one who killed Julien and put that spear in your leg. But not everyone is like Brin, deceiving others, and if this thing goes bad, I need to know you’ll be the Pied Piper. Move those kids when I tell you to.
Levi glanced up. I’m good. Kids never did anything. I’d be a sick fuck not to help.
To the old man, I said, “Kick out that fire. The smoke alone will draw in what you don’t want.”
“Or draw you in,” the one-eyed woman said.
I stared at her. “I’m not what you want.”
Her chin moved upward a fraction. “You’re the Alpha, aren’t you? My condolences.”
My voice turned guttural. “For what?”
“We’ve heard rumors about the war. Who you’re fighting. The losses,” she added. “One of your alphas.”
“She wasn’t lost,” Mace snarled, drawing the woman’s attention. I wondered if she noticed the shadows in his eyes the way I did.
“I’m glad.” She nodded emphatically. “Can’t always trust what you hear.” The merc stared back at me. “The name’s Angel.”
“Your given name?” Or did she prefer secrecy?
“It’s the name given by folks I help.”
So… secrecy. “You spirit them away?”
“From places like the Mule. Others.” Angel stared at the old man who was kicking dirt to smother the fire. “We found the wreckage that was Sutter. Jodan was a friend.”
“Convince me.”
Stress crossed her face. “If a girl served you tea, she probably flavored it with pine needles, spearmint, and honey. I taught her how to make it.”
I nodded. Waited.
“Burn likes a warm fire, and his back leg jerks when you scratch his belly. The dog doesn’t care for storms. Old Mae has a salve that stinks like a bog. She’ll smear it on you if you’re not careful. Don’t let Adriel trick you into a race. She uses trees like no other. And Jodan… he likes puffing on that old-fashioned pipe.” A ghostly smile, revealing more grief than I expected. “Did any of them survive?”
“The dog,” I said. I didn’t honestly know about the girl who served tea, if she’d run off somewhere. We hadn’t found her in the ruins. She wasn’t in the group we left with Owen. As for Old Mae, Jodan—I let silence be the answer.
“What about Adriel?”
“Safe,” I grunted.
“Good.” She breathed in. “That’s good.” Another tense breath. “When we… guessed what had happened, I took a chance on that old smuggler passage.”
“How’d you learn about it?” Mace’s voice was hard with the interrogation. The woman on the ground pulled the children closer.
I sent a mental order to Levi. He laid down the spear, reluctant to let it go, but only for an instant before ambling toward the two kids. He shrugged out of his jacket. A colorful team logo was embroidered on the back.
“Hey,” he said, squatting down and holding out the jacket. “You could probably use this. It’s kinda cold out here.”
The boy didn’t move, but the girl glanced up curiously. “Is that the ball team bird?”
“Yeah. Nighthawks. Best team in the league.”
“Sometimes Papa liked to watch them.”
A wolf named Pond, one of Levi’s friends, wandered out to join them, casual as he pulled off his own jacket. “I like the Ravens.” He smirked. “Better stats, and that new pitcher they drafted has some fucking speed—” The woman hissed, and Pond dipped his chin. “Sorry, ma’am—some darn speed. Should go all the way to the play-offs this season.”
Levi was sliding his jacket on the girl while Pond helped the boy, zipping them up tight. Some of the shivering lessened. The girl craned her head, trying to see the logo on her jacket, then poked at her brother.
When Levi and Pond took the kids’ hands, the woman protested, and I said, “They’ll be safe. They don’t need to hear this.”
Her eyes widened; in the bright moonlight, I saw the brewing fear.
“What are their names?” Levi asked.
“Raven and Ash.” Her lips trembled. “They’re only babies. Please.”
“You have my promise,” he said. “We don’t hurt little kids.”
She understood what he meant, even though dread shuddered through her. I wished Fallon was here. Women handled situations like these differently.
“No harm will come,” I said. Growled.
The woman glared at me, stark and hateful. “Don’t lie.”
Her answer had my wolf rumbling in my chest. He was impatient, distrusting. Wanting to rip something apart. From where had these refugees run? From what horror, if this female was so quick to challenge us, despite her fear? “Your name?”
“Elana.” No last name. Would it reveal too much? No sense of a pack identity filtered through, other than wolf, and what I picked up wasn’t Alpen, even though they’d come through the passage.
A muscle in my jaw ached. “We are not in the habit of killing women and children, Elana, even if you’re here without permission and uninvited.”
“Jodan told me about an open invitation,” Angel said, pure mercenary now. Thinking strategy. Protecting her charges and her payday. “He said you made the offer to him.”
“When?” Since he’d been dead for more than a month now.
“I don’t know when you made the offer.” The merc was ballsy, I’d give her that. “We use a message drop— used . When I checked this last time, I found a map. He’d marked the tunnel as safe to use with a welcome rune. But if we aren’t… welcome.” The merc’s eyes glittered. “Say the word. I’ll turn these folks around and take them back.”
I held her glare. “I say the word and you’re dead.”
She flinched. Tension spiked as the old man straightened. The man on his knees swallowed back his protest while the one in wolf form growled with his canines exposed.
I stared at him. If he moved like that again, the wolves would tear out his throat. He got the message. They needed to understand. They’d blundered into the middle of a war zone. I could kill them. The wolves would do it. Or the creatures screaming in the distance. Even blind, stupid luck could end them, and the only chance they had was the one I offered.
“We’re from the north. Cariboo,” the man on his knees sputtered. “We can tell you things.”
Cariboo, home of Amal and hybrid wolves who stank but looked like normal men. We’d fought enough of them. But hybrids wouldn’t blend well with a pregnant lady and two kids. Only a matter time before they went rogue and killed.
I glanced at Levi and Pond. They had the kids entertained and far enough away not to hear the conversation—although Levi had retrieved his spear. We’d need to talk about that, if it gave him a sense of security or just reminded him of failure. The surrounding wolves were milling with impatience, a growing demand for action and not talk. Settle it, end it, go on with the hunt. When the eerie scream bounced through the trees, echoing closer this time, I gestured to several of the men from the Carmag.
The moment they’d sworn loyalty to me as Alpha, the pack bond opened between us and they heard the mental orders I issued. Once this war ended, or if they returned to the Carmag, they’d swear to Anson again and our bond would end. But for now, they knew what I asked, and raced into the dark, eager for a fight more likely to turn lethal than this one.
“Get them ready,” I said to Mace.
“For what?” Angel issued her challenge as Mace walked toward the wolf on the ground. He ordered him to shift, watching as the man scrambled for clothes in a backpack—jeans and worn-out boots repaired with dirty silver tape—and either they’d been on the run a long time, or else conditions in Cariboo were more desperate than we’d heard. If their trek had started at the northern end of Cariboo, a land of glaciers and mountains, the hike south would have taken weeks. Months, with kids, an old man, and a pregnant woman, all on foot and walking through rugged, unforgiving territory. Even longer, if they’d been avoiding pursuers.
“We can’t stay here,” I told the mercenary—Angel. “Listen.”
In the distance, the howls were sharp enough she visibly shuddered.
“You’ll help the old man and the woman,” I ordered flatly. “Those two—” The kneeling man and the one still struggling with his clothes. “They’ll carry the kids. Slow down, I’ll leave you behind.”
A scream echoed.
“What is that?” Elana whispered.
“What you pulled in with your fire besides us.”