Chapter 9 - Beth

Beth dreamed of freedom. In her dreams, she ran as a wolf through sun-soaked woods, the Rosewood pack behind her. The forest was her playground, and the concerns of her human form were distant. But the morning always came.

She woke in her now familiar bed, the smell of coffee and breakfast creeping under her door. Last night, she'd watched the White Winter pack gather on the lawn and head into the woods, and a part of her had ached to go with them, the part of her that longed for the companionship of her pack. The other part of her had feared. Where were they going?

Sitting up in bed, she pushed her tangled hair back from her face. The serenity she'd felt while sleeping vanished in the morning light as fears of what the White Winters had done last night flooded back into her. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the way, she could see the toll the conflict was taking on her in the purple rings beneath her eyes, the dullness of her skin.

She missed the Rosewoods, missed her friends, missed Adria. Her best friend would be beside herself by now. Would she push Spencer to do something rash? She hoped not. They were mated now, with a child, and the need to protect that should overrule even the kidnapping of a pack member. Please don't be stupid, she begged Adria, willing her friend to hear her plea. She couldn't bear the thought of them being hurt because of her, and the White Winter's venture last night had her fearing the worst.

The bathroom skylight showed a blue sky. Beth splashed her face with cold water and pulled a brush through her hair. She could barely face herself in the mirror. Her traitorous heart longed for home, for the Rosewoods, but she couldn't deny that there was a part of her settling in here. It was the part of her that ached for Devon. The part of her that carried the title of luna for this broken, monstrous pack. The part of her that thought maybe she could help them.

She brushed her teeth, then patted her face dry and pulled a robe over her pajamas before sticking her head out of the room, surprised to find Caleb instead of Jonah sitting outside. His face was scratched, and he nursed a cup of steaming coffee.

"What happened to you?" She asked, bending down to inspect the marks on his cheek.

He brought his hand up to touch it as if he'd forgotten about the injury. "Oh, that? That was Emma. Yeah, you're not the only one that gets her claws."

Beth sat back on her heels. The fear that had risen when she'd seen the wound dulled. It hadn't been a fight with the Rosewoods. Adria wasn't out there now with a bite in her side. It was just Emma. Terrible, awful, Emma.

"Did you deserve it?" She asked.

Caleb gave her a sideways look and climbed to his feet. "Well, I was keeping her from ripping your throat out, so I don't know, you tell me."

Beth sucked in a breath, softening. "Thank you, Caleb. I'm sorry."

He shrugged, rolling her apology for the incident off his shoulders. "That's Emma for you. Breakfast?"

She nodded, though her stomach was unsettled enough that hunger hadn't yet hit. Following him down to the kitchen, she noticed most of the doors were closed, the pack still sleeping behind them. They'd come back late enough that she'd fallen asleep before their return.

Jonah was in the kitchen, flipping sausages in the pan, a floral apron tied around his waist. He smiled when he saw her.

"Hey Beth, how'd you sleep? Got some coffee right there for you." He nodded at the coffee pot, a stack of mugs ready beside it.

She poured herself a cup, refilled Caleb's, and slid into the seat across from the stove. It was becoming a familiar spot for her.

"Well, enough. In my dreams, I'm not a prisoner locked in with killers, so that's a nice change of pace," she said, taking a sip of the black coffee. Jonah made it strong enough to wake the dead, which she needed right then.

Caleb laughed, but Jonah's face tightened as he piled the sausages onto a plate and slid them to the center of the counter.

"What is it?" She didn't like that look, the way he wasn't meeting her eyes. They'd spent enough time together that by now, she could see the tension in him.

"Just tired," Jonah said, turning to the carton of eggs. He cracked them into the pan methodically while Caleb grabbed five of the sausages. "Hey, save some for everyone else."

"They snooze, they lose." Caleb dug into the breakfast, but Beth's stomach lurched.

"Forks are a thing, you know," Emma said from the doorway.

Her pajamas were as flimsy as her day clothes, more lace than silk, and a flash of her stomach showed above the waistband of her shorts. Beth wondered if she ever got cold, or if the heat of her spite kept her warm.

"Morning, Em," Jonah said, brightly. "Coffee?"

"God, I need it after last night." Emma wandered over to the coffee and poured herself a cup, stirring in a rounded spoon of sugar.

"Oh, you didn't sleep well?" Jonah asked, smile plastered on his face. He glanced nervously over at Beth.

Emma laughed over the rim of her cup. "With all that adrenaline? Not a chance. Sorry you missed out. We could've used you out there."

She was flirting with him, leaning close and letting the strap of her cami slip off her shoulder. Caleb cleared his throat.

"Adrenaline?" Beth asked, cutting in. She avoided talking to Emma whenever she could, and their fight yesterday had only doubled that desire, but clearly, something had happened last night.

Like a cat finding a three-legged mouse, Emma turned to Beth with a smirk. "Oh, yeah, didn't they tell you? We ran into the Rosewoods last night. Gave them a real thrashing. Wouldn't be surprised if some of them didn't make it through the night."

Beth dropped her mug. It shattered on the counter, sending porcelain and coffee flying. Caleb leaped to his feet, swearing.

"Seriously, Em?" Jonah scowled, yanking a towel off the oven and tossing it to Caleb.

Emma lifted one delicate shoulder, not bothering to hide her pleased smile. "What? She's one of us now, remember? Our luna. She should know what goes on, don't you think?"

"Sure, but how about some tact?"

The two of them descended into bickering. Beth felt a rush in her ears. She backed away from them, skin tingling, and ran out of the kitchen before they could stop her. Someone called her name, Jonah, she thought, but she ignored him and took the stairs two at a time. She wasn't heading for the outdoors.

She kicked open the door to Devon's bedroom. He was asleep, but jolted awake at her entrance, sitting up in bed. The blankets fell to his waist, revealing that he slept, at least on the top half, nude. His chest was shadowed with muscle. Her eyes trailed down the dark line at the center of his stomach until they reached the blankets, and her mouth went dry.

"I prefer a gentler wake-up, most days," he said, gruff with sleep. He rubbed his eyes and peered at the window as if gauging the time, then stretched his arms up overhead.

She tried not to watch as the blankets dropped a little lower, but her body heated just the same.

"Did you attack the Rosewoods last night?" She reached for the anger that had driven her up to his rooms and found it, just beneath the desire that woken at the sight of him.

He groaned and threw the covers off. Beth clenched her fingernails into her palms as the question was answered—he slept entirely nude. She wasn't surprised at his lack of shame, his unhurried movements as he pulled a pair of sweatpants from his drawers on over his naked body. She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until he turned toward her again and caught her looking.

His sweatpants, a light grey, left nothing to the imagination. She could see the shape of his cock beneath them and found it only slightly less distracting than the sight of it a moment ago. One of his eyebrows lifted with the corner of his mouth. He was smirking at her. Smirking. She could have smacked him. But that would have involved touching him, so she stayed across the room and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Did you?" She asked again, wondering if he was going to put a shirt on now.

It seemed the answer was no. He sat down on the edge of the bed, shirtless, sleepy eyes looking up at her.

"I didn't attack them, no." He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw.

"Emma said you did."

"And you're still believing anything she says? You're smarter than that, Beth. We didn't attack them. We found them on our territory, and they attacked us. We fought, yes, but it was out of defense."

Beth mulled over his words. She found it hard to believe that the Rosewoods had been the aggressors, but then, if they'd been looking for her, they might have been in the White Winter territory, and they might have attacked first, knowing they'd need any advantage of the vicious pack. Still, the White Winter territory had, until recently, been part of the Rosewood territory. They'd stolen it, like they'd stolen her.

"Was anyone—" she choked on the words and tried again. "Was anyone killed?"

He frowned. "No, did she say someone was? We backed off, we let them go. There were some injuries but nothing that looked fatal."

She wanted to believe him. He looked sincere, his hands open on his legs, his gaze serious.

"They just want me back," she said. "If you let me go, they'll leave you alone, they won't enter the White Winter territory again."

"I can't do that. You're our Luna now, and the northwest territory will belong to the White Winters before the new year."

Beth gasped. "The entire northwest territory? Where will the Rosewoods go?"

He dropped his gaze to the floor. She watched a muscle work in the side of his jaw. "Away. I don't care where. I just need them gone. We need space to grow, and they're in it. We don't need to kill them. We just need them to leave."

"And if they won't leave, you'll kill them?" Beth said, horrified. She hadn't realized the extent of his plans. He didn't just want to carve out a space for the White Winters. He wanted to expand, to take over, to dominate.

She'd been starting to think he was more than that, more than his reputation. The realization smacked her in the face. The White Winter pack wasn't just a small band of rogues, directionless, taking whatever they wanted when they saw it. Maybe they had been before, but she could see now that they were on the cusp of something.

With Devon as their alpha, the White Winters were a genuine threat to the Rosewoods. Not just to their health, but to their territory and way of life. They would destroy the Rosewoods if she didn't do something to stop them.

It would be easier from the inside than the outside. The Rosewoods had just learned that a direct assault on the White Winter pack was too dangerous. She had to find a way to weaken them, for her old pack's sake.

"I didn't say that, Beth," he said, reaching for her hand. She dodged out of his reach and fled the room, ignoring his calls for her.

He didn't follow. She was grateful for that. There was nothing he could have said that would have mattered right then, not with the image of Adria wounded so fresh in her mind. Had she been one of the wolves hurt last night? Surely, Spencer wouldn't let her out for a mission like that; would keep her safe at home.

Most of the pack is still asleep. She can hear the snores in the closed-off rooms and the smell of food still threading its way upstairs. With any luck, Caleb, Emma, and Jonah were still down in the kitchen. Devon was in his room, hopefully about to fall back asleep.

His office was unlocked. She pushed it open, looking left and right down the hallway before slipping inside and closing it softly behind her. His desk was tidy, everything had a place. There were no pictures of friends and family on it, no knickknacks.

Beth sat down in the worn leather chair and began pulling open drawers. A notepad, empty, a collection of pens, neatly arranged. She found a manilla folder in the bottom drawer and pulled it out, opening it on her lap to look through the pages inside.

Pictures. Photographs of members of the Rosewood pack. Details of their whereabouts.Beth's stomach twisted. It was methodical and absolutely psychotic. Her fingers shook when she found her own photos. There were more of her than any of the others, both in human and wolf form, and notes scribbled on the back detailed her usual habits, her estimated age.

She put the photos back in the folder and bit her lip. There were more folders beneath the one she'd pulled out—other packs? But the door opened before she could look through them.

Devon strode in. Dressed now, hair damp, and his face not at all surprised to find her there.