Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

COLT

T he following day as Colt tightened the cinch on his horse's saddle, the bulk of his brothers' teasing from the other day still clung to him, needling beneath his skin like a splinter he couldn't quite get pulled out. He hated the reminder that he hadn't found a mate. Not because of the pressure—hell, being the alpha of a pack meant the pressure was as relentless as the sun—but because, deep down, he wanted it more than he was willing to admit even to himself.

He could pretend all he liked, throw himself into the never-ending cycle of ranch life, but the loneliness was real. As much as he loved the ranch, the land, his brothers, and his pack, there were nights when the silence was too loud, the bed too cold, and the ache in his chest too sharp. Colt wanted someone to hold—someone to share his life with, not just as a partner but as his equal, his mate. Someone who could help take some of the weight from his shoulders and carry it with him. Someone who understood the man and the wolf inside him.

He was tired of watching others pair off and build lives together. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for them, he was; he just wanted a bit of that happiness for himself. There was an ache deep in his chest every time he saw one of his men gaze at their mate with a look that said they were whole. He wanted that wholeness, too. But none of the she-wolves in the pack stirred that need in him. He'd given it time—years, in fact—but if his mate was out there, she wasn't among the Copper Canyon pack.

He gave the saddle strap a final tug, teeth clenched as he adjusted the bridle on his horse. Landon gave him a sideways glance, that damned amused glint still dancing in his eyes.

"Don't get yourself worked up, Colt," he said, clearly sensing his brother's frustration simmering just under the surface. "I was just messing with you yesterday. I can come with you if you like."

"Not necessary," Colt grunted, running a hand through his unruly dark hair before swinging up onto his horse, "but I appreciate it. I'll be back in a couple of hours. I'm going to go check that stretch of fence we put in." He turned his horse away, but then stopped. "I thought about what you and Bryce said, I thought I might talk to some of the elder she-wolves tonight."

"Way to go," Landon said with a wicked grin.

"Don't push it bro," Colt said low as he turned away, gave his horse his head and galloped away.

After riding fence most of the day—ostensibly checking the new stretch of wire, but knowing it was fine, Colt returned to the barn and managed to hand off his horse to one of the stable hands.

"Make sure he gets a good rub down and maybe a little extra feed."

"You spoil him. No wonder he won't let anyone else ride him."

"It's good to be alpha," Colt chuckled as he walked toward the house.

Colt stopped and glanced at the battered Rolex on his wrist. Not quite five p.m. The pack wouldn't start gathering for dinner until six. The sun was still hanging in the sky, casting its warm light across the ranch. For once, his workday was done early. His pack, the cattle, and horses were accounted for, and the bookwork could wait. A rare moment of free time stretched before him, and his wolf stirred eagerly, pressing against the edges of his mind.

A run. That's what he needed—to lose himself in the wild, even if only for a while.

Colt turned and made his way to the communal changing room at the rear of the barn, pushing the door open with a creak. The room smelled of old wood and leather, a familiar mix of sweat, saddle soap, and earth. The air inside was cool from the air conditioning they kept running to ward off the uncompromising Texas sun, though the heat of the day was waiting just beyond the walls.

He toed off his boots and tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it onto a nearby bench. His jeans and boxers followed, leaving him standing naked. Colt felt a low hum of anticipation from his wolf. Shifting always came with a sense of release, like stretching a limb you hadn't realized was cramped.

In moments like this, when the yoke of responsibility seemed too much, the pull of his wolf felt like freedom beckoning.

Colt folded his clothes and placed them in one of the lockers, exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes. The transformation began with a tingling sensation that spread through his skin and bones—a hum of energy crackling through him.

Then it came: thunder and lightning, swirling in a kaleidoscope of shifting colors, a mist wrapping around him like a storm given shape. He could feel himself caught in the current of it, the sensations consuming him as his human form melted away. In seconds, the man was gone, and in his place stood a massive, midnight-black wolf.

Colt shook out his thick coat, feeling the cool air ripple through his fur. His wolf's paws pressed against the wooden floor, claws clicking lightly as he padded to the door. With a flick of his head, he nudged it open and slipped outside, into the late afternoon sun.

The world felt sharper in this form. The scent of sagebrush and wildflowers drifted on the breeze, along with the tang of cattle and the musk of the horses in their pens. His ears twitched, catching the rustle of prairie grass and the distant flutter of a hawk's wings overhead.

Colt bounded across the open yard, the soft thud of his paws muffled by the dusty ground. He felt light—freer than he had in days. His wolf reveled in the chance to move, to run without boundaries or burdens.

With a powerful push of his hind legs, he sprang over a low fence and took off across the open prairie, a dark blur against the golden grass. The land stretched out endlessly before him, every inch of it familiar—his territory, his home.

His heart pounded in time with his steps as he ran, muscles stretching and contracting with ease. The breeze tugged at his fur, carrying with it the scents of the wild—the promise of freedom. For a time, the mantle of leadership, the ache of loneliness, and the relentless grind of responsibility faded, leaving only the joy of movement and the fierce rhythm of his own pulse.

He ran harder, faster, as if trying to outrun his thoughts.

Colt's paws thudded against the ground as he neared the ranch house and slowed to a trot. His wolf inhaled deeply, savoring the last moments of freedom before the responsibilities of being alpha settled on his shoulders again. The twilight sky was bruising to a deep purple, thick clouds swirling ominously overhead. A storm was moving in fast. Lightning flickered in the distance, casting jagged streaks across the darkening horizon.

He nosed his way into the changing room, shifting back into his human form as he stopped at the locker. The familiar swirling mist and crackling energy enveloped him once more. It felt like the world pulled itself inside out, twisting bone and sinew until he was himself again. The cool temperature made goosebumps pebble along his arms as he pulled on his jeans and buttoned his fly before grabbing the rest of his gear and heading up the stairs to his set of rooms at the end of the hall.

As he'd told the stable hand, being alpha had its perks. Opening the door, he stepped inside, taking a moment to appreciate the rustic luxury that surrounded him. His brothers and Etta each had a private room with an ensuite bath. The people who worked under Etta's supervision all had private rooms with shared baths. Bonded couples had small, private cottages, and single wolves and she-wolves shared dormitories with two in a room and a single bath shared by four.

His chambers blended rustic charm with modern comfort. The room was spacious and airy, featuring vaulted ceilings with exposed wooden beams and wide-plank hardwood floors underfoot. A king-sized bed with an ornate, antique headboard was centered against one wall facing the back window. The bed was draped in soft linens and plush pillows, with cozy throws in earthy tones.

To one side, a stone fireplace stood ready to be lit when the cool Texas night fell. Across the room, floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors opened onto a private balcony, offering a panoramic view of the rolling hills, grazing pastures, and distant mountains beyond. The balcony was furnished with comfortable lounge chairs, making it an ideal spot for morning coffee or a nightcap under the stars.

Colt had remodeled the ensuite bath to include an enormous, freestanding soaking tub positioned near another large window for uninterrupted views of the open sky. Marble countertops, double vanities, and a huge walk-in rain shower with various body sprays completed the serene, spa-like retreat. Every detail of the space reflected sophisticated simplicity, creating a seamless connection between the elegance of modern design and the rugged beauty of the surrounding landscape.

Removing his jeans, he tossed them, along with the rest of his clothes, into his laundry basket and stepped into the shower. Colt turned the knob, sighing as the hot water pounded against his sore muscles. He leaned forward, letting the steam rise around him, trying to relax—but his mind refused to quiet. Something felt different tonight. Not just because he was going to ask for help finding a mate—a monumental decision he hadn't taken lightly—but because the air itself seemed charged, as if something inevitable was about to happen.

Colt scrubbed the dirt from his skin, the tension that coiled in his chest refusing to unravel. The idea of making his request public unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He was an alpha—used to solving problems on his own. Asking for help, especially in something as personal as choosing a mate, felt like standing on shaky ground. What if it made him seem weak? What if the women the elders brought forward didn't feel right? What if he couldn't form a bond with any of them?

The anxiety nipped at him, relentless and sharp. What if he was making a mistake?

Shoving his thoughts aside, Colt finished his shower and dried off. Tonight's dinner would be a communal affair, and although he wasn't one for vanity, he took more care than usual in getting dressed. A black button-down shirt, dark jeans, a championship buckle from his rodeo days, and his best boots. He gave his reflection in the mirror a quick once over, adjusting the collar of his shirt and running a hand through his thick hair.

"Not bad," he muttered to himself, though his reflection didn't offer much comfort. He wasn't used to feeling out of control, and it gnawed at him. But tonight, things would change. He had a plan, and it was time to act on it.

The dining hall was already filled with the smells of grilled meat, baked bread, and hearty side dishes by the time Colt entered. The warm hum of laughter and conversation filled the air, along with the clink of plates and silverware. The dining area was rustic but welcoming, long wooden tables set beneath dim lights that flickered slightly as the wind picked up and began to howl outside.

A fire crackled in the stone hearth at the far end of the room, battling against the storm that raged beyond the walls. The atmosphere inside was warm and celebratory, as if the storm couldn't touch them here. Laughter bounced off the walls, and the pack's easy camaraderie lifted Colt's spirits—at least a little.

Colt slid into his usual seat at the head of the main table, flanked by Landon on one side and Bryce on the other. Platters of food were passed around, and the familiar sounds of friendly banter swirled around him.

"Think Jake will mess up the wedding?" Bryce teased, stabbing a piece of roast with his fork. "Or will Sarah be dragging him down the aisle by his ear?"

The table erupted into laughter, and even Colt found himself chuckling. This was his family—not just his brothers, but the entire pack. They'd bled together, fought together, survived together. Nights like this reminded him why the ranch mattered so much, why the pack came first.

But tonight wasn't just another meal. Tonight, he had an announcement to make. This was important to him. He was willing to put his pride aside to ask for their help. His wolf stirred uneasily, sensing some kind of shift was coming. The pack's trust was everything, and the decision he was about to make could change everything—would it change their perception of him? Would they still have their unshakable faith in his ability to lead them?

As the meal drew to a close, Colt set down his fork and reached for his longneck bottle of beer and took a sip, setting it back down. He rose to his feet, the scrape of his chair against the wooden floor drawing everyone's attention. Conversations around the room fell silent, curious gazes turning toward him.

Colt's throat felt dry, and the storm outside seemed to intensify, as if nature itself were leaning in to listen. He cleared his throat; this wasn't easy, but if things were going to change, it had to be done.

"Can I get everybody's attention?" he began, his voice steady. "I thought about doing this a bit more privately, but I've always believed in transparency. I've got something to say."

Several heads tilted with curiosity, but all eyes were focused on him as whispers rippled through the crowd. Colt gripped the edge of the table with both hands, grounding himself. "As you all know, I've been running this ranch and leading the pack for a while now, and it's been my honor to do so."

A few murmurs of agreement rumbled around the room.

"But it's time I start thinking about what's best for the future." He paused, feeling the importance of his words as he spoke them. "The pack needs a strong alpha pair. I think it's time I found a mate, maybe someone from outside the pack."

The room erupted in gasps and murmurs, several men letting out hoots and hollers of approval. A few of the women exchanged glances, some whispering behind cupped hands.

"'Bout damn time, Colt!" someone shouted from across the room, earning a round of laughter.

But not everyone was on board. One of the women, a tall blonde named Elle, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with the women in this pack, Colt?"

A few other women murmured their agreement, nodding. "Yeah, what makes you think you need to look outside the pack for a mate?"

Colt held up a hand, silencing the questions before they could spiral out of control. "It's not about what's wrong with anyone," he said calmly. "It's about strengthening the pack. Fresh blood brings new alliances. We've been on our own for a long time, but the world's changing. Having other packs we can turn to if we need to wouldn't be a bad thing. It's what's best for everyone."

Elle huffed, clearly not satisfied with his answer, but she kept her mouth shut. Elle had been trying to make a connection with Colt for as far back as anyone could remember. Her mother had raised her with an eye to being mistress of the pack. Colt hadn't been interested and had never pursued any kind of relationship with her, even after he'd found her lying naked in his bed one night.

Colt was just about to continue, to explain further, when the double doors of the dining hall burst open with a loud crack, slamming against the walls. The wind howled through the opening, bringing with it a burst of cold rain that sprayed across the wooden floor.

The entire room turned toward the entrance, startled by the sudden intrusion. The fire in the hearth sputtered and hissed as the gust hit it, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

In the doorway stood a figure—a young woman, drenched from head to toe, her clothes clinging to her body as the rain poured down around her. Her red curls hung in tangled, wet coils, and her emerald eyes shimmered with exhaustion and pain.

But as the pack stared in stunned silence, it became clear she wasn't just wet and weary. She'd been battered. Bruises marred her pale skin, and blood trickled from a gash on her temple. She swayed on her feet, clutching the doorframe for support, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Her wild and desperate eyes were riveted to Colt.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The storm raged behind her, but inside the dining hall, everything fell deathly silent.

Colt's wolf surged to the surface, an instinctive growl rumbling low in his chest as a wave of nausea, dizziness and recognition washed over him. This woman—whoever she was—was no ordinary stranger. As he stared at her, something ancient stirred deep inside him.

Before anyone could move or speak, the woman took a shaky step forward, her knees buckling beneath her. Colt leaped over the table, crossing the room in the space of a heartbeat, catching her before she hit the ground. Her curvy frame collapsed against him, her head resting against his chest.

The scent of rain, blood, and something inexplicably familiar filled his senses. His wolf rumbled low with recognition, a fierce protectiveness swelling within him. This wasn't just any woman. She was something so much more.

And whatever storm had brought her here… it was only the beginning.