Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

H earing a tap at the door, Patrin yelled, "Coming," and dried off quickly. The habits instilled by the Scythe and then Wells hadn't left him. He'd just finished his morning PT and followed it with a shower.

After pulling on a pair of jeans, he headed for the door. Must be Moya or Talitha. No one else could get into the hallway.

Be nice if it was Moya. Anticipation rose as he opened the door.

Oh yeah, the day is starting off nicely.

He smiled down at the adorable female. Her rich dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, reaching all the way to her curvy ass. So very tempting. "Good morning."

"Um." Her gaze hadn't lifted from his bare chest.

The tantalizing scent of her interest caught his attention. She wanted him.

Yes, they'd mated last weekend, and yes, she liked him. But this… In the cold light of day, perfectly sober, knowing who he was, she still wanted him.

It was exhilarating.

"Moya?"

Holding a plastic box to her chest, she blinked and shook her head. Her gaze lifted from his chest to meet his eyes. "Um, good morning. Can we talk? I brought breakfast if you haven't eaten yet."

"Perfect timing." He stepped out of the doorway to let her enter. "I'm starving."

Her half-laugh was sweetly husky. "You're always starving." She handed him the container and took a seat at the kitchen island.

"Coffee or tea or juice?"

"I'd love some juice."

He poured two glasses, handed her one, and opened the container. There were two long tubes of…something? A delectable aroma made his mouth water. "What are these?"

"They're called breakfast burritos. Filled with scrambled eggs, sausage, cheese, and avocado. Kind of spicy; you should like them."

Unable to resist, he picked one up and took a healthy bite. Flavors burst over his tongue. "Mmmm." His second bite was even bigger.

She laughed.

He finished the first one completely before slowing down. Taking a seat across from her, he drank some apple juice to counter the spicy heat. "You wanted to talk?"

"Yes." A wrinkle formed between her brows. Even worried, she had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Big, dark brown, and warmer than summer sunshine in the mountains.

"Okay, so…" She bit her lip. "One of my book clubs met last night?—"

"And you didn't invite us?" He said it teasingly yet wasn't sure if he felt hurt.

She chuckled. "It's the romance book club. Now, if you two enjoy romance stories?—"

"No, no, it's good," he said hastily. Although maybe he should read a few. He might learn something about female reasoning. Or not. Books were written by humans, after all, and from what he'd seen, their men were clueless.

"Anyway, we were talking about how Caleb is a liar and bully, and Brett is a terrible alpha."

"No, really?" Patrin smothered a grin. She looked so serious. "Tell me how you really feel."

She shot him an exasperated look. "The others wondered if someone would challenge Brett. It won't be my brothers. Ramón and Zorion run the crew because that's part of owning a construction firm, but leading a pack isn't something they want."

"I can understand that." The Moreno brothers were tough, no doubt about it, and would take charge when needed, but lacked the deep-seated compulsion to lead as well as protect. The brothers were much like Fell. "I understand. But…?" Where was she going with this?

"Your name came up too." She drew circles in the condensation on her glass. "Everyone thinks you'd be a wonderful alpha. They wondered how to get you to challenge."

He choked on the juice he'd been drinking. The bright morning seemed to dim.

"Bit of a surprise, huh? Honestly, I agree with them, but I'm not here to push you toward something you don't want." Moya swirled the last of her juice before finishing it off. "The thing is—Brett and Caleb were nearby and heard."

Overheard they want me to challenge Brett? For fuck's sake.

He shoved his anger away. This wasn't her fault.

"Moya, I'm not going to challenge. I won't be an alpha or take any leadership position, for that matter. Ever."

Never again.

The memories twisted inside his gut until his jaw locked against the bottomless pain. The Colonel motioning for Chester's and Graham's bloodied bodies to be thrown down in front of their barracks. Grief-stricken rage flaring up in the shifters.

Kennard and Fletcher charging the Colonel. Patrin and Fell too far away to stop them. The gut-wrenching sound as the teens were clubbed down, bones breaking. Kennard still had scars.

Because I failed them.

He swallowed hard against the thickness in his throat.

Over and over, he'd failed.

"Oh." The look of sympathy in her eyes almost broke him. "I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry for it, and sorry that I made you remember something bad."

"It's fine." The words came out sounding like a growl. He walked around the island and tried again. "You'd better get going. Your store opens in a few minutes."

"Of course." She hesitated. "Patrin, the pack run is tonight. If Brett's feeling threatened, things could get ugly."

Fuck. She was a far-sighted female. "Good point. Unfortunately, he made attendance at pack events mandatory."

Before this, Brett's threats of banishing misbehaving wolves weren't a concern since they hadn't planned to stay. Thinking, Patrin paced across the room and back. A more important reason for going rose. "Besides, Mateo and Alvaro will be there."

She let out a sigh. "True. Just…be careful?"

"Always."

Her brows pinched together. "Are you all right?"

He tried to ease the tightness from his face. "Sure, just fine."

Her worried expression only deepened. But she just squeezed his hand and left.

The apartment felt colder without her. Emptier. Much like when Fell was absent, as if he'd misplaced a part of himself.

Thank fuck she hadn't asked him any questions about the past.

He'd been useless as a leader. Sure, his comrades had tried to tell him different, as had Fell. But there was no denying he hadn't kept them all safe.

Some had scars that would never fade. Some had returned to the Mother, their lives ended before ever having really been lived. The pain of failure wasn't something he was willing to risk again.

Leading a pack was not in his destiny.

The sun was lowering behind white-capped mountain peaks, and the reddish glow reflected off patches of snow that still lingered here and there. Fell enjoyed the contrast beneath his paw—damp fir needles then slushy snow. Up higher, all the ground would be snow covered.

This world is so fucking beautiful.

The pack was running early since tonight was winter solstice, and the clan's celebration began at sunset.

So the pack run would conclude with moonrise, and the wolves would arrive late to the solstice party, which apparently wasn't a problem since the celebration lasted all night.

Really, a sweet hunt was a fine way to start any festivity.

Seeing Patrin almost out of sight, Fell increased his pace to catch up. It was just the two of them on this trail, since Moya, the cubs, and Talitha were leaving from Talitha's house. He and Patrin hadn't wanted Brett to see them all together and vent his anger at the females and younglings.

The sound of voices broke the silence. A few minutes later, Fell followed Patrin out of the trees on top of a low mountain. A bonfire blazed in the clearing. Those who'd shifted to human form stood close enough to stay warm while conversing.

First, he looked for Moya. And there she was. Just seeing her made him…happy. Like moonlight on a dark night, or the fragrance of the first green growth in the spring.

The feeling was disconcerting.

No, you're not going to stand close to her. Bad wolf.

Instead, he scanned the rest of the area. The reason for avoiding Moya stood by the fire. Brett and Caleb.

Trying not to growl, Fell diverted himself by trawsfurring.

Patrin did the same. They walked over to join Zorion who was warming his hands at the bonfire.

"Happy Solstice, Zorion," Patrin said. "A question… Does Brett have someone checking off wolves, so he knows who's absent?"

Moya's brother snorted. "Of course he does." He gestured to a male holding a clipboard on the other side of the fire. "Ilya is taking attendance."

Fell met Ilya's gaze and saw him make a check mark. "Obsessive alpha."

"Like a cat with mud in its fur," Patrin said.

"Pretty much. Good thing you're here." Zorion tossed a chunk of wood into the fire. "I daresay he's looking for an excuse to drive you from the territory."

Fell snorted. "He can try."

"Wolves," Brett called from the other side of the fire. Caleb stood with the attendance-taker Ilya and two males Fell didn't know. Brett looked around slowly, obviously surveying the members.

He spotted Fell and Patrin. Rather than anger, smug satisfaction appeared. "Tonight, our run will loop around, ending here for the howling. Fast wolves in the lead, then slower ones. Cubs stay in the rear. Ilya's in charge of you."

Ilya, not Caleb? Couldn't help but be an improvement. Or maybe not. The male was around thirty—and appeared to be good buddies with Caleb. Not a recommendation in Fell's opinion. He glanced at Patrin. "We should run with the cubs."

"Agreed."

Joining Zorion, Ramón cleared his throat. "We'll cub watch for the first half if you two would run with Moya."

Patrin narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Talitha says you promised to keep Mateo and Alvaro from being harassed. We planned to run with Moya for the same reason."

Zorion shook his head. "She doesn't want us. Says we're overprotective."

Fell could just imagine how the fiery wolf scolded her littermates. "Our sister says the same."

"You understand, yes." Ramón grinned. "She'll be happier if you two flank her."

Patrin glanced over, and Fell nodded agreement. Truthfully, he'd like nothing better than to run with Moya. And for half the trail they could run fast and then have a leisurely trot back.

Works for us," Patrin said.

As the wolves prepared, Quintrell and Quenbie volunteered to remain and tend the bonfire. Quenbie laughed and said his aging bones didn't like cold trails and running hard.

Brett and Caleb shifted and headed out onto a forest trail with the current alpha female, Deidre, behind them.

Watching, Fell thought about the pack runs they'd done in other territories. Usually, the alpha female ran beside the alpha or between the alpha and beta.

"There's Moya," Patrin said. Shifting, he loped across the clearing and joined her with a canine grin.

Giving Ramón and Zorion a nod, Fell dropped forward onto his paws. His thick fur cut off the chill afternoon wind. Reaching his brother, Fell bumped Moya's shoulder in a wolf greeting.

Her ears perked forward, her furry expression confused. She knew Talitha expected them to guard the cubs.

Fell turned and looked at Ramón and Zorion who had joined the cubs.

Moya wagged her tail, then delighted Fell by licking along his jaw. She did the same for Patrin, barked once, and darted out to join the line of wolves.

Catching her, they split up to bracket her.

She gave a happy yip. And when her tiny paws danced on the trail in obvious pleasure at having them with her, Fell couldn't remember when he'd been so content.

A while later, on the return trip to the bonfire, Patrin was enjoying himself. It had been one glorious run with the hissing-crunch of paws on the snow-packed trail, along with an occasional yip from the cubs in back or a bark of happiness. A cool breeze ruffled his fur, and occasionally a plop of snow from the tree branches dropped onto his back. The mountain air was thin and crisp, and the scent of his pack was warm in his nostrils.

Then there was Moya, her so-very-female scent mingling with his and Fell's in a way that just felt right. As did the way their shoulders brushed together off and on as they ran.

This…this was what pure happiness must feel like.

And his littermate radiated his own pleasure.

Unfortunately, this trail wasn't the best. Ilya had shifted to human long enough to tell the cubs that since it was still daylight, they'd be taking a more difficult trail back so as to improve their skills. And shortly after, he'd led them away from the rest of the pack onto an alternate path.

Patrin was not impressed, although Ilya had stopped the cubs and taught them how to climb a scree slope without dislodging the loose rocks. It'd taken some time, having them move slowly and testing the footing as they crossed.

After leaving the scree field and reaching the crest of the mountain, they headed downward on a narrow trail with an incredibly steep drop-off to the right.

It was a long way down. Patrin looked over. The river was so far away it was only a ribbon of blue at the bottom of the ravine. Ravens cawed from a lightning-struck tree as if in warning.

Admittedly, the panoramic view of the surrounding mountains under a setting sun was gorgeous. Soon enough, they'd be on a better trail that ended on the smaller mountain crest where the bonfire blazed.

Patrin was bringing up the rear behind Fell who was behind Moya. She kept a short distance between her and the last cub in sight. He knew why—crowding a pup made the youngling feel as if he had to run faster. This trail had been stressful enough.

"Wolves, I need help." The call came from behind Patrin. The three of them paused and turned on the narrow trail.

No one was in sight.

"Back here. Help!" Patrin tilted his ears toward the caller. The voice sounded odd, as if a tenor male was trying to sound like a baritone.

The line of cubs disappeared around the curve of the mountain. Patrin had the urge to stop them, but… Not until he knew what was going on. Retracing his steps, he padded back up the trail slowly, careful on the stone-strewn path.

A few more feet—and still no one was in sight. Perhaps the male was in that cluster of trees off to the right? Patrin lifted his nose, scenting the air.

That smell… It was a light stink of ammonia with an overlay of diesel.

Fuck, I know that smell.

Spinning, he barked and growled at Fell to drive him and Moya away. They spun and sprang back up the trail.

Whomp! The muffled sound of a buried explosion came from behind Patrin. Rocks and dirt hit him hard, and the trail crumbled out from under his hind legs.

He tried to scramble back up on the trail, but his hind paws had no traction. His short, ineffectual front claws left scrape marks as he slid farther toward the drop.

And then Fell in human form grabbed Patrin's furry nape, holding him from the long, deadly drop. With both hands, Moya grabbed Fell's free arm and pulled, digging her bare feet into the stone-covered trail.

An inch, two, a foot. Patrin's belly scraped on the rocks as they pulled him back until he had all four paws under him. He stood, shakily, panting. He could smell blood. All of them were hurt.

What if there are more explosives? Growling, he jerked his muzzle.

Obeying, the other two shifted to wolf, and they all retreated away, down the trail to where the next mountain butted up against this one.

In an open area, Patrin lifted his muzzle and sniffed. No one close. No explosives. Shifting, he swept his gaze over Moya. Steady on all four paws with a few specks of blood in her fur.

She shifted and grabbed him, pushing her face into his shoulder.

He could feel her heart pounding. "How badly are you hurt, cariad ?"

"I'm fine. Scrapes is all."

She was so brave it filled his heart. Thank the Mother, she'd been the farthest from the explosion. He looked at Fell and saw blood in the pale fur. "You're hurt, brawd."

There was a shimmer of magic as Fell shifted to human. He put his hand to his bloody forehead. "Feels like a dwarf hammered in a nail."

"Sure, that's what happened." Patrin scowled. "You caught one in the head. Again."

"Yeah." A corner of Fell's mouth tilted up. "Nothing new."

It was a long-standing joke in the shifter-soldiers. Fell always got thumped in the head. "How do you feel?"

"Little dizzy. Not bad."

Right . Fell's idea of bad was dead.

Patrin gave Moya a squeeze, then held her away so he could look her over.

Her skin was dirty. As she'd said, scrapes here and there.

"What about you?" Moya eyed Patrin in return and made an unhappy sound. "You're all banged up." She walked to his side and hissed. "Gods, you're bleeding."

Moving his left arm, Patrin saw a chunk of flesh over his ribs was battered to a gory mess. Rock versus wolf—rock won. The area hurt like a burning fist was pressed to his skin. Blood made warm trickles down his dirt-covered skin.

Wasn't gushing though. He took a deep breath, twisted slightly—and didn't scream—so his ribs weren't busted. "It'll be fine."

He pressed his hand against it to stop the bleeding—and had to grit his teeth.

Fuck, that hurts.

"Patrin, what happened back there?" Moya asked.

"Somebody tried to blow us—probably me—off the trail." Anger roared through him.

"Like…like a bomb ?"

Definitely a bomb. The fiery rage inside him warred with the need to escape. To take his brother and Moya and simply leave everything behind.

No, I can't. If someone tried to kill them, what was to stop the bastard from moving on to the rest of the wolves? The entire pack might be in danger.

The wind carried new noises—the sounds of fast-moving paws and bare feet. Males from the pack in human and wolf form came around the bend. They stopped at the sight of Patrin, noses in the air, obviously catching the scent of blood.

"What happened?" one male asked, walking forward. "The cubs said there was a funny sound behind them—and then noticed you three weren't behind them."

"Did the cubs get back all right?" Patrin asked. He'd been worrying.

"Yes, they're fine." Lucius frowned as he looked at them. He and his brother, Kane, were older wolves who ran the ranch and farm supply store. "How badly are you hurt?"

"Just banged up." Patrin pulled in a breath. How the fuck should they handle this? His gaze met Fell's, then Moya's. Should he say that someone had tried to kill them? Fur would fly in a pack that was already a mess.

Moya could obviously see his worry, and her jaw set. She turned to the other wolves. "Someone behind us on the trail called out to us, saying they needed help. When we went back toward the voice, the trail blew up. Like, exploded."

"By the God, seriously?" Lucius stared at her in shock, then his brows drew together. "Fell."

Patrin turned even as Fell staggered sideways. Patrin caught his arm.

"Lean on me." Moya tucked herself under Fell's shoulder on the other side.

"It's too cold to stand here talking. Let's get you back to the fire and then deal with this." A burly male ran his hand through his rusty-gray hair. He was one of Ramón's construction crew whose name was…was… Killian.

"Good plan," Patrin said. "Some of you go look at the explosion site. See if you can pick up who or what did this. But be careful."

"We're on it." Lucius and Kane shifted and loped up the path while one wolf ran back toward the bonfire. Probably to carry the news.

Killian and two more males exchanged glances—and then arranged themselves around Patrin, Fell, and Moya, almost as if providing cover.

If Fell hadn't been hurt, if Moya hadn't been there, Patrin might have felt insulted. Instead, he was damned grateful.

"Let's go, brawd." He wrapped an arm around Fell's waist, taking some of his weight, with Moya doing the same on the other side.

As they trudged down the trail, so very slowly, Patrin's skin itched in anticipation of another explosion. But they reached the clearing safely.

As worried shifters surrounded them, the outpouring of concern over him and Fell as much as Moya was surprising.

He checked, and yes, the cubs were fine, standing near the fire with their mothers close.

Off to one side, Brett stared at them, an expression of shock and horror on his face. Beside him, Caleb had the same expression.

"Whoever set off the explosive should've stayed to make sure we were dead," Patrin murmured as he and Moya helped Fell to the fire.

Moya let out a tiny growl. "Whoever didn't want anyone seeing they were missed."

She had a point. Whichever asshole set off the explosion must have run straight back here on an alternate trail.

"They lack a contingency plan." Fell carefully settled onto a log near the bonfire.

"Good." Moya nodded firmly and brushed a kiss over Fell's cheek. "Stay here and let your head recover."

He sighed. "Aye."

From the pained line between Fell's brows, Patrin knew his brother's head must hurt like hell.

"Moya!" Ramón yelled as he and Zorion charged over.

"Sis, you all right?" Zorion looked her over with a worried expression.

"I'm okay." At her answer, both her brothers relaxed.

Ramón turned to Patrin. "We heard the trail exploded. What the fuck?"

"Nah, I doubt it was an explosion." Standing by the fire, Brett waved a hand toward the forest. "That trail's been eroding for years. It probably just crumbled like everything does around here."

The two old males who'd gone to check the site of the explosion rejoined them in time to hear Brett.

"It was definitely an explosion," Lucius said. "There were no water channels, it wasn't a washout. It's a gaping round hole with debris blown outward in a circle."

Kane shook his head. "Someone wanted you dead, Patrin. It's a wonder you're not."

"Someone we couldn't see calling for us? I was already wary." Patrin felt the anger in his gut. Because the person calling had deliberately drawn them to the right spot and then detonated the explosive. "Then I caught the smell… Ammonium nitrate-fuel oil has a certain stink to it. Nothing on a forest trail should smell like diesel."

"No wolf knows what explosives smell like," Brett scoffed.

"We were trained by the Scythe," Fell said loudly, his face still too pale.

"You smelled it," Ramón said, "and backed away from the trap?"

"Backed?" Moya leaned against Patrin's side. "More like ran like scared bunnies."

"Scared bunnies live longer," Zorion said.

"Some humans must have done it," Brett said, an edge in his voice. Probably because more and more wolves were turning suspicious looks toward him and Caleb.

Looking disgusted, Kane tugged on his bushy beard. "No human set that bomb. The only scents in the area came from pack."

Pack?

After a few seconds of shock, the wolves began shouting in anger and disbelief that pack would kill pack.

Brett and Caleb blustered, saying Lucius and Kane must be mistaken.

"We don't know who did it," Brett said finally. "Maybe it was someone in the pack, but no one saw them."

Anger simmered in Patrin's blood, heating rapidly. He had a good idea of who wanted him and Fell dead. "What was going on here when it happened?"

Hopefully, someone noticed one of the two males missing.

"Brett was yelling at Jens for hogging the fire." Zorion's mouth twitched as he motioned to the huge bonfire. "Had everyone's attention with all the drama."

Dammit .

"In the pack," Moya said loudly, "only one person knows explosives and how to use them on a trail. I've heard him boasting about blowing things up."

Suddenly, everyone was looking at Caleb. And then Brett. Because they all know Caleb didn't lift a leg unless Brett told him to.

Ramón pointed at Brett. "Gods, you putrid spawn of a goat, you really did try to kill them—and my sister—in the most dishonorable way possible."

"He's afraid Patrin will challenge him and win." Zorion's words carried across the clearing.

"You, shut up. Shut up!" Brett shouted.

Zorion went silent, although his hands fisted as he opened his mouth, trying to speak.

Brett's expression changed. Cunning lit his eyes. "Patrin and Fell are worse than cats," he yelled. "They were sent by the Scythe. Kill them. Kill them both!"

The kill order burned along the pack ties, and several wolves moved toward Patrin. Others stood, and their bodies trembled with the effort to refuse the order.

Ilya picked up a heavy branch, swinging it menacingly. In wolf form, his brother Pavel stalked forward, teeth bared.

"No!" Moya yelled, so furious her voice was unrecognizable. "Don't let Brett use our bonds like this!"

Shock blossomed on faces as the wolves realized what was happening.

With a sense of revulsion, Patrin could still feel Brett's order crawling along the pack bonds. What a sickening violation. The bonds were there to protect the pack, not to give the alpha a tool to get his own way.

This male shouldn't be their alpha. Using bonds, using explosives.

If I hadn't smelled the ANFO, I'd be dead. Probably Fell and Moya too. Anyone who got in Brett's way was in danger. Moya, Talitha, the cubs.

The pack needed a new alpha. Not him. It couldn't be him.

I don't want to be responsible for others.

His shifter-soldiers had died under his leadership.

Who else is there?

His shoulder burned, reminding him he wasn't fit. Was damaged. And it didn't matter.

Someone must protect the pack.

"Hey, alphahole." His voice rose above the noise, and in the silence, he met Brett's gaze. "I challenge."

No, no, no. What was the gnome-brain doing, challenging the alpha? Patrin was wounded, bleeding. Moya pressed her hands over her mouth in dread.

Brett's gaze ran over Patrin, undoubtedly seeing they were the same height, but Brett was far heavier with bulkier muscles than the lean shifter-soldier. His gaze lingered on the blood still trickling from the damage to Patrin's side. "Accepted."

Moya barely smothered her moan of distress.

Brett turned to look at Caleb, who stood isolated from the other wolves. Everyone knew if Brett was guilty, so was his littermate. No matter how ugly the act, Caleb always helped or covered up for Brett.

Caleb nodded at his brother.

When Brett shifted, his wolf was just as heavily muscular. Ears laid back, he showed his fangs.

Moya shivered. Brett had already shown he was willing to kill to stay as alpha. Patrin, be careful.

"Let's do this then." Unhurriedly, Patrin cracked his neck and then trawsfurred. Far darker a gray than Brett, he stalked forward, hackles raised, gait stiff. With a low growl, he snapped his jaws.

Startled, Brett flinched—and snarling, charged across the space and slammed into Patrin. So much heavier, the alpha knocked him off his paws.

Patrin rolled, rose quickly, and lunged straight for the throat.

Protecting his neck, Brett ducked his head down and spun away.

Slowly, they circled, fangs bared, testing for weaknesses, looking for an advantage. The low growls sent chills up Moya's spine.

The packed snow under their paws was turning a garish red. Patrin's side was bleeding—and she realized Brett had deliberately rammed into the wound.

Then Patrin attacked so fast, her jaw dropped open. First, a slashing bite to Brett's muzzle, then savaging a front paw deeply enough the alpha yelped. Brett tried to dodge away, and Patrin lunged forward, going for the throat again.

Brett skittered away like the yellow dog he was, creating a wide space between them.

Yelling filled the air, most of the Daonain cheering for Patrin, with only a few for Brett. Caleb's rough voice was notably absent.

Moya stiffened. Where was the beta?

There, off to her right. Oh Gods. He'd pulled a pistol from a daypack. He aimed at Patrin.

No! Shifting to wolf in mid-jump, she charged him, leaping up to bite his wrist, bearing down hard enough to make him drop the gun. His yell of anger turned to a shriek of pain.

Other wolves attacked and pulled Caleb down, flattening him. Zorion moved in, baring his fangs over the beta's neck in an open threat. Caleb went limp in surrender.

Turning, Moya saw the fight continued.

Brett was badly torn up, one ear almost ripped off, his muzzle with long gashes that would probably scar.

However, Patrin must be seriously hurt. Head hanging, he limped as he backed away.

Oh no, Mother, please, don't ? —

Victory in sight, Brett charged forward, jaws wide.

Dodging, Patrin grabbed a front paw and yanked sideways, spilling Brett onto his side. Biting high on the alpha's neck, Patrin closed his teeth on the windpipe.

When Brett scrabbled uselessly with his paws, Patrin bit down. Hoarse whines came from the alpha before he tipped his head farther back. Giving up.

Patrin released him but stayed in place, fangs an inch from Brett's neck.

Brett didn't move.

A moment later, cheering filled the air, accompanied by happy yelps from those in wolf form…including Moya.

He did it!

Patrin backed a few steps.

Zorion, Ramón, and Lucius lined up in support as Brett rolled to his paws.

Shifting, Patrin crossed his arms over his chest, then turned. His gaze landed on Moya, and he frowned as he saw the pile of wolves beside her.

Beneath them, Caleb's naked body was barely visible. Patrin's mouth twitched as sudden humor lit his dark eyes.

By the Mother, the male could find amusement in anything.

"Let Caleb up, please."

The wolves jumped off.

Caleb's wrist was badly mangled.

Satisfaction ran through her, and her tail waved. However…his blood was in her mouth. Oh, yuck. Finding an untrampled pile of snow, she took a couple of quick bites.

Holding his gore-covered arm, Caleb slunk over to join his brother.

When Brett shifted to human, he was covered in bite marks and blood. His face and ear were badly damaged.

She shouldn't find that so gratifying. But she did.

"You lost the challenge," Patrin said flatly. "Normally, you'd get time to close your affairs and leave, but attempted murder changes things. If you're still in the territory by dawn, the pack will drive you out."

"With pleasure," Ramón said, and Moya shook her head. Trust her brother to kick in an opinion. But the low murmuring of the pack showed his sentiment was shared.

Brett fingered his ear, his face reddening with anger.

"The scars on your face will hopefully remind you to fight fair," Patrin said. "I'll send word to other territories to ensure you're never an alpha again."

"You can't do that," Brett spat out.

Patrin lifted his chin. "The alternative is to notify the Cosantir of your actions."

Brett went white. The Cosantir might banish him from all Daonain everywhere. Or even send him back to the Mother.

"Leave." Patrin growled long and low. "Both of you. Never return."

Changing to wolves, the previous alpha and beta fled. And even as they did, Patrin ripped them from the pack bonds.

Moya whined at the burning in her chest—and then there was only an ache where the two bonds had once existed.

"Wasn't that fun," Patrin murmured as he pressed a hand against his wounded side. "Brawd, how're you doing?"

"Eh, I only see one of you now instead of two, so better?"

Patrin's grin flashed. "Two of me would be more fun."

"You barely have enough brain for one."

Laughing, Patrin squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Be a good wolf and stay there."

"I got him, Alpha." Ramón sat down beside Fell.

Patrin blinked at the title, then nodded. "Thanks, Ramón."

"I'm surprised you didn't turn them over to the Cosantir." Lucius had his arm around his mate, Ena.

"André seems to be a kind Cosantir. Being forced by the God to kill a clan member would be…" Patrin's mouth tightened for a moment. "No one needs nightmares like that."

Moya had to agree. Heather had mentioned before how difficult it was for Calum up in the North Cascades to render the God's judgment.

"And sometimes a shocking defeat or major physical damage can open a new trail for the soul." Patrin's smile was a bit rueful. "Not often, I admit, but it could happen."

"An optimistic alpha—and one with a caring heart." Ena smiled at him. "We're grateful to have you, Alpha." When she bent her head in respect, the rest of the pack did the same.

As did Moya. Because Ena was right. He was a gift, and the wolves knew it.

When Patrin looked startled at the overwhelming approval, Moya opened her muzzle in a wolfy grin.

His gaze landed on her, and he frowned. "Why are your jaws bloody?"

Ugh, thanks for reminding me. She showed her fangs to let him know her opinion of questions when she was in wolf form—and nipped up more snow.

Zorion shifted to human, already laughing his head off, the fleabag. "Caleb was getting ready to shoot you"—he tapped his foot on the pistol—"and Moya almost chewed his wrist off. The rest of us piled on him, but really, we just wanted some elevation to watch the fight."

Snickering, the shifters who'd helped chimed in. "The beta's butt made a nice soft couch."

"Squishy."

"Warm too."

Patrin chuckled. "Thank you all." His gaze met Moya's, dark with appreciation.

As he turned and looked around at everyone, she could see him pull in a long breath. Not an especially happy one, more like resigned to what had happened.

He hadn't wanted to be alpha.

Sympathy swept through her. Would this give him more nightmares?

Then he shook his head, his mouth tilting in a half-smile. "Pack." His voice was clear, the authority undeniable. "Put out the fire and trawsfur to wolf. The moon is risen, so let's sing—and then join the clan for the Solstice celebration."

Yips and shouts of agreement filled the air.

The flames disappeared under an avalanche of snow, and the night grew dark. A minute later, the clearing was full of wolves.

Dark as the shadows, Patrin paced over to stand beside his silvery-furred brother. Above them, the Mother's moon reigned over the black sky.

Lifting his muzzle, Patrin gave the opening solitary howl, long and sweet. A few seconds later, Fell's deeper tones were added, and then the pack joined in, from the lower bass of the older males to the harmonizing warbling of the females. Finally, the cubs came in with high undulating howls.

There, in the soft moonlight, the pack offered up their song to the Mother of All.