17. Asher

ASHER

A fter having us chop down a small forest, Connor's next grueling task for us was to go to Den City and deliver bundles to Den City denizens.

"I hope you don't get too many blisters while you're working," Connor said patronizingly. "Believe me, the last thing I want is for you and your pack not to be able to use your hands for a day or so."

I closed my eyes briefly, because it was either that or roll them. He'd just explained the route he wanted us to take through Den City. But a simple explanation of the tasks he had in mind were interrupted by his need to try and put me in my place. It was one of the worst parts of being under his control. Connor had zero redeemable qualities. He was a prick through and through.

"I'm sure my people will be fine," I said, unamused. "Are the people of Den City expecting us?"

He frowned at me, the question offending him for some reason. "The people know to accept what their alpha wants to give them. Maybe your pack wouldn't, but mine is completely loyal to my family."

The Wilcox pack had respect for the Salcedos, but did the pack have much loyalty to their new alpha? I doubted it, and my pack was going to point that out.

It was obvious what he was trying to accomplish with this. He wanted to show the people he cared about them, though anyone could see neither he nor the alphas before him really cared that much for them beyond ruling over them.

But it was the middle of May. The last thing the people needed were stores of wood for winter. Not that that would matter that much. They would be forced to accept Connor's stupid gift whether they wanted to or not.

When Connor finally dismissed me, I joined my pack. It had been a while since I'd been around all of them, and it was a relief to hug and kiss them. It was important for morale that they got to see me, but it was important for me, too. I had been itching to see my people.

I needed the strength of their presence just as much, if not more, than they needed mine.

"How are you all?" I asked. "Be honest."

"Connor thinks this will be enough to break us down, Alpha," John, an elder member of our pack, said. "This is nothing compared to the curse. At least we feel whole."

He was right. An unexpected benefit of being under Connor's control was that we didn't feel the terrible urge to shift at random times of the day. It was like how things had been when my father had control. Uncomfortable because someone else was deciding when we shifted and when we didn't, but much more manageable.

Edgar had intended for us to just succumb to the curse and become feral without his involvement, but a more active use of the curse was easier to deal with.

Despite everything, my people were resilient, and getting to see them again was a powerful boost to both them and me. Without meaning to, Connor had brought us back from the brink of ferality. All we needed to do was endure his tyranny for a while longer, and then we would be free. Phaedra had told me everything would be okay, and I would hold on to that.

Because the wood we brought back were still unsplit logs, our next task was to cut them into a size more suitable for burning and tie them into bundles with twine. It was annoying work in the heat, but at least it wasn't difficult.

During a water break, Taig and my uncle came to speak to me.

"Have you heard any word from Phaedra about how the banquet went?" Taig asked.

I shook my head. "I haven't seen her since our meeting."

"I hope things went all right," Taig said. "I've seen the way those women look at us like sharks scenting blood in the water. I'm sure they're ruthless on their own playing field."

His genuine concern surprised the hell out of me. He had been so mistrustful of Phaedra just a few weeks ago. It pleased me that my right-hand was more accepting of her now.

"I'm sure things worked out fine," Garrett said. "Phaedra is a tough little thing. Aside from the way she talks and the way she carries herself, you wouldn't know she used to be one of them."

It was probably wrong of me to be so happy by their positive opinions of her—after all, we weren't mates anymore—but I couldn't keep the smile off my face. Maybe I was feeling happy about it because we were friends now. It was safe to call us friends, wasn't it?

"Enough chatter," one of the guards barked at us. "Each of you grab as much wood as you can carry and get ready to walk."

Reluctantly, we obeyed his command. One bundle for the able-bodied members of my pack ought to be enough to give out to each home in Den City. Most of the city was dens with only a few surface-level buildings. I found it fascinating. I'd always lived in a cabin, but I had to admit there were a few advantages to living underground. When it got very hot in the summers, the dens would be cooler than my pack's cabins. And from a military standpoint, living underground was both more defensible and harder for invaders to attack.

When I imagined the dens, I pictured dirt walls and very little else, but from what Phaedra had explained to me when we were still mates, the dens were just as furnished as a cabin would be. Each den even had a chimney, a stove, and access to electricity thanks to powerful, underground generators. This method of living was the most interesting thing about the Wilcox pack, and yet, for some reason, high-wolf society looked down on them.

I couldn't understand it, and I doubted I ever would.

The people of Den City stared at us as we walked through their marketplace to get to their dens. Our instructions were to deliver the wood, but if there was no one at the residence and the doors were unlocked, Connor didn't say we were forbidden to drop that wood off. I'm sure those unlucky, unaware folks would be enraged when they learned Connor had allowed us to stomp through their dens. With guards there to keep the peace, my pack likely wouldn't suffer any repercussions.

On top of the already uncomfortable situation, neither Connor nor his guards had any idea we were actually there to highlight the differences between the way things were behind the gates of high-wolf society and Den City. Phaedra's plan ought to work well.

A guard and I descended the dirt staircase of the first den. I knocked on the door.

A woman answered, and she stiffened when she saw us. "Wh-what's this about?" she asked.

I started to answer, but the guard beat me to it. "A gift from your alpha, hand-delivered by our enemy."

"O-oh." She looked down at the bundle. "Wood? It's, um, it's a bit early for that, isn't it?"

"Accept the gift," the guard snapped.

"R-right, fine. I'll do that."

With nervousness clear in every slight movement she made, she opened the door for me to enter. I dropped the wood by a hoard of firewood. I was sure other dens would be similarly stocked, either with extra planks from past winters, or because they were mindful about pacing themselves.

She eyed me cautiously. "Are you giving everyone wood?"

The guard didn't answer for me this time, so I replied, "That's right. Your alpha is determined to show you all how thoroughly he has my pack beaten." I felt hollow, and my words sounded hollow.

She swallowed hard.

"It's good that you have so much wood, ma'am," I said, wiping my hands on my pants. "After spending so much time behind those gates, it's good to see some people know how to ration."

She caught my meaning immediately. "I… I gather you all had to chop a ton of trees to be able to give each of us a small stockpile, right?"

The guard cleared his throat. "That's not exactly?—"

"We downed hundreds of trees," I said, speaking over him. "If you could see the northern corner of the Wilcox Forest, you would be… amazed."

There were so many different words I could have used to finish that sentence, but I saw that my use of "amazed" had the effect I'd meant. Her eyes widened in horror that a resource that was already being hoarded by high-wolf society was further depleted at the whim of her alpha.

"That's enough," the guard snapped. "We don't have time for conversation. We're headed back to gather more wood."

We left the woman who had been stunned into silence so I could gather another load of bundled wood. The guard didn't let me pause for a water break or to talk to my pack this time, probably to punish me for revealing too much to that woman. It was annoying, but I could manage without a break.

We returned to Den City and went to the next den. I knocked on the door, and at first there was no answer. When I raised my hand to knock again, I heard footsteps coming close.

A woman opened the door. Before I could say anything, she slammed the door in my face. That wasn't an unreasonable reaction to seeing the alpha of a rivaling pack at your front door with no warning.

The guard heaved a sigh and pushed past my shoulder so he could knock himself. "Heather," he said, pounding his fist on the door. "Heather, open the door."

A few seconds passed. When the door opened again, it wasn't the woman, but a large, round man. "What the fuck is this?"

"Calm down, Preston," the guard said. "This is sanctioned by Alpha Salcedo."

High-wolf society held a certain reverence for Connor, but it was clear Preston didn't.

"That doesn't answer my question, Ian. What the fuck is he doing here?"

"He brings a gift." Ian gestured to the bundle of wood in my arms.

"We don't need any wood," he snapped. "It's the middle of spring, for Goddess's sake. Why the hell would he want us to have this?"

"A-and without any warning," added the woman who'd answered the door. "We haven't even seen the alpha ourselves since he came into power."

I'd thought this man was her husband, but now I was getting a better look at her as she peeked around Preston's shoulder, I realized they had to be siblings. They had the exact same brown eyes and honey-brown hair. Even the shape of their faces were the same.

Her heart was beating so hard, I could hear it in the awkward silence that followed their blunt questions.

"I know this is sudden." The guard sighed. "But as this is a gift from our alpha, you must accept it."

"You're saying we don't have a choice, then?" Preston demanded. "The alpha doesn't come by to see his own people, and he thinks this pointless gift, a gift that none of us can refuse, will make up for this? He thinks that will make us believe he cares?"

With those words, the mood began to change. It was no longer startled inconvenience and annoyance—Preston was now willing to resort to violence. I hadn't witnessed such a quick shift from caution to hostility since my people were borderline feral because of the curse. But unlike my people, Preston's eyes were clear and focused, without a trace of ferality.

Ian must have sensed it, too, because his hand twitched, inching toward the spear in the harness on his back. "Watch your mouth, Preston. I don't want to have to take you in. I really don't. Let's just take a few breaths, okay? Don't do anything you'll regret in front of Heather."

The threat almost worked, but when the guard mentioned Heather's name, it pushed Preston over the edge. He leaped at the guard with no warning, smacking the guard's hand down before he could reach the spear.

Heather screamed as the two men fell onto the stairs, Preston descending on the guard with as much ferocity of a feral. The guard kicked him away and crawled to the top of the stairs.

"Preston, stop!" Heather screeched.

But he ignored her plea, scrambling after the guard. Ian had just gotten his footing when Preston slammed into him again. Heather and I ran up the stairs after them. Gasping for breath, Ian lifted an arm to protect his face. His other hand went to his belt this time, to the dagger I knew was sheathed there, but he couldn't get a hold of it.

I didn't want to get involved. Actually, if I was being honest, part of me felt some satisfaction at seeing Ian getting his ass kicked. He was always the first to beat me when Connor willed it.

Besides, there were other guards in the area. Heather's scream must have alerted them. I was sure they would get there before Preston did irreparable damage. But then Heather decided to jump in. She wrapped her arms around her brother's waist and tried to pull him off Ian.

"Preston, you can't do this!" She grunted. Impressively, she was able to lift his enraged girth a few inches off of Ian's body. "They'll lock you up again, or worse?—"

Preston shook her off, and she went flying through the air before slamming into the dirt. She cried out, her hand pressed to her hip.

I went to help her when I saw the glint of the dagger in Preston's hand. I didn't know how he'd gotten hold of it before the guard could, but I didn't care. I started moving before I could stop myself.

I kicked the blade out of Preston's hand, sending it flipping end over end into the air. Preston spun toward me, his meaty fist aimed at my gut. I sidestepped, and he swung a right hook at my face. Dropping low, I swiped his feet out from under him. Such a large man had no defense for being knocked off-balance. He hit the ground hard, and I pressed my knee to his chest to keep him down.

At that same second, the knife embedded point-first into the dirt near my leg.

Seconds later, more guards rushed in. They took Preston off my hands and tended to Heather and Ian. Heather's sobs reverberated off the walls.

The knife was still at my side. As they dragged a struggling Preston away, I grabbed it and tucked it into my belt. I thought I was subtle, but then I saw Ian watching me.

Fuck.

I froze. A few moments passed, and then Ian nodded slightly, almost indistinguishable from the way his entire body moved while he fought to force air back into his lungs. Though I hadn't meant to get involved, I'd saved his life. In exchange, he was letting me take his knife.

It was an unexpected turn of events, but I was happy enough about how things had gone.