Chapter 17 - Jonah

She was still there when Jonah woke. He could hardly believe the sight of her lying in his bed, the sheets tucked up beneath the pale curve of her shoulder aglow in the morning sun.

While she slept, he started the coffee and prepared breakfast. It was a way to calm his nerves more than anything, the giddiness that threatened to overwhelm his reason. A business deal with benefits, he reminded himself sharply, flipping bacon in the pan. By the time she woke and shuffled, sleepy-eyed and messy-haired, into the kitchen, there was far more food than two people could ever eat.

"Wow." She blinked and dragged a hand across her eyes. In his t-shirt, the dark shape of her nipples visible beneath the white fabric, she might look the best she ever had. "Is there any army coming over?"

"I cook when I'm nervous," he admitted, ruffling his curls and handing her a mug of steaming coffee.

She took it and pulled out a chair at the high top, finding a space for it between the platters. "About the alpha stuff?"

He looked sideways as he answered, hesitating. "That's part of it."

And the rest of it was right there, in that chair. She made him nervous. That delicate tightrope he had to walk to keep her feeling comfortable in the knowledge that he wouldn't try to push for more than the arrangement they had even as his heart and body screamed for him to beg for all of her. Better to have the parts of her that he could than to scare her away entirely.

"I have something to tell you," she said, helping herself to pancakes. "It's actually why I came over here last night. Not for… that."

He loved the way she blushed, how it crept up over her cheekbones all the way down to her chest. Jonah listened as she filled him in on the rest of what had happened the night before, gripping his fork so hard the metal dug into his fingers.

"They're deciding on alpha tonight," he said after she had finished and lapsed into silence, pushing a forkful of pancake around in a flood of syrup. "I don't want to scare you, but I think Evans probably wanted to go after you, not Vera. He's trying to get to me. Punish me for my father's sins."

After filling Moira in on everything he'd learned at his father's house, he recalled the conversation he'd had with the pack elders.

"You have equal claims on alpha," she'd agreed. "But if Evans is responsible for the tensions with the Rosewoods, he will not be fit for the role. He may have seen it as a way to strengthen our pack, but that was never our way. We are the safe port. The light in the storm."

It had been years since Jonah had thought of the Silversands in that way, though the lore had been ingrained into him as a young wolf, told through bedtime stories and tales around the lighthouse campfire. Like any good port, they fostered alliances and trade, and did not fear outside packs as many others might. It was not their way. Evans was betraying the pack's heritage in his bid against Jonah, and it would hamstring him.

Long, grey hair pulled back in a bun, she'd fixed her eyes on Jonah. Despite her age, they were still piercing. "Our pack is crumbling like a cliff into the sea. We must stop Evans before he goes too far, or I'm afraid nothing will be left for you to lead."

He saw the toll the years had taken on her etched in the sun-worn face, the hunch in her shoulders. A pack could not survive on legend alone.

"Can you help me?" He'd asked, desperate for a clue that might lead him to Evans.

In her hesitance, Jonah watched her battle against the desire to let the cliffs crumble, to shirk responsibility as Jonah's father had. In the end, she'd pointed him to Evelyn's home. He shouldn't have been surprised after the way she'd spoken to Rami, but it still stung.

Back in the kitchen, Jonah shook the memory from his mind and focused on Moira.

"Evelyn?" She was saying, frowning into her coffee cup. "She wouldn't support him in any of this."

"She supports his bid for alpha and probably doesn't know what he's doing to get there. I don't think she'd hurt you." He reached across the table for her hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it.

She didn't pull away. "Let's go."

"Right now?"

Moira pushed her chair back and went to the bedroom to change, pulling on her clothes from the night before. "Mrs. Alden is still missing, and Vera was attacked. There's no time to waste."

He hurried to follow, chasing her down the stairs. She was already a wolf when he reached her, and the moment he stepped outside, she took off, leading the way to Evelyn's house on the far side of the Silversand town. Evelyn lived in a bungalow on the outskirts of the cemetery. Bushes overwhelmed the exterior, covering the front door in branches.

"She should be at class." Moira slinked around the side of the house where a sprawling, overgrown backyard met the sloping hill of the cemetery's side.

The house looked empty. Jonah trotted beside her, scenting the air for a sign of either Evans or Evelyn. He caught the stink of something else instead—decay. It hit Moira at the same time. She abruptly stopped, and he had to twist to keep from bumping into her.

"She's fine. We know she's fine." He reassured her. They'd seen her in the coffee shop as they'd passed, but hopefully, she hadn't seen them.

"Then what is it?" She wondered, her mind's voice tremulous.

Jonah had his theories but kept them to himself, instead choosing to take the lead into the thicket of weeds that made up the yard. The scent grew stronger, overwhelming his sensitive nose and drowning out the smell of the grass crushed beneath his feet and everything else.

When they stumbled on the rectangular patch of dirt hidden in the weeds, they knew they'd found the source of the smell.

"Wait over there." He sent it to Moira, but she shook her head and started to dig, paws flinging up the loose dirt with ease.

It wasn't long before they uncovered the body. An old woman lay in the hollowed ground, arms crossed over her chest. Jonah couldn't smell blood or find any obvious sign of injury, but she'd been dead for a while, and the decay had set in.

"Mrs. Alden," Moira confirmed what Jonah suspected. He hung his head at the pain in Moira's words.

But there was no time to comfort her. Movement through the tall grass alerted him to the wolf's approach. Jonah snarled a warning to Moira and lunged. Evans was strong and solid, and even with the full force of Jonah's attack, he managed to keep his ground. He spun for Jonah with his jaws wide, reaching for his throat. Ducking beneath it, Jonah sank his teeth into his foreleg and felt fur give way to skin and flesh, tasting the hot spurt of blood into his mouth.

Moira joined the fight, nipping at Evans from behind, forcing him to divide his attention. Helpful as it was, Jonah wished she had stayed back in safety. He raked his teeth down the enemy wolf's flank as Evans turned to face Moira and watched red paint the tawny fur. But Evans was not cowed. His ferocity grew until he was a whirlwind of teeth and claws.

Darting in, Jonah reached for the larger wolf's hind leg and found purchase. But Evans was ready for him. He caught Jonah by the back of the neck and shook, sending Jonah crashing into the weeds. His head cracked against a stone. Moira yelped, dodging backward as Evans reached for her. Jonah was slow to get to his feet; the wind knocked from his chest, head spinning with pain.

He struggled for air, stumbling back toward the fight, but Evans, having lost the element of surprise, seemed to sense his poor odds. With Jonah hamstrung, he took the chance to flee. Moira ran after him, harrying him as he went, nipping at his flank and legs, whatever she could reach, like a mother bird chasing a hawk from its nest. The ringing in his ears increased as he ran after them, his steps slow like he was churning through the mud.

Moira circled back, searching for him, as Evans made his escape yet again. Despite the bitterness of losing him to the woods, Jonah was glad to see her. One-on-one, Moira would struggle against the huge wolf.

"How bad is it?" She asked, supporting him as he had done for her.

His head ached, and his vision blurred, but he couldn't let Evans run free. He'd already murdered one person and attempted to murder two others.

"I'll live." But being alive wouldn't be a very pleasant experience for the next few hours.

"Where do you think he's going? Now that we've flushed him out of his hiding spot." Moira looked anywhere but at the open grave where poor Mrs. Alden lay.

"I have no idea," He admitted. Tilting his head back to the sky, he let out a long, mournful howl to call the rest of the pack to him. "But we need to show the pack what has happened here and give Mrs. Alden a proper burial. Everyone is on high alert. He won't be able to catch them unaware, and it's us he's after anyway."

He sat down to wait, vigilant in case Evans returned. Moira sent up her own howl, then joined him and with her pressed tightly against his side, he felt some of the pain and disorientation start to fade. When the wolves began to trickle in, his thoughts were clear.

Evelyn shifted the moment she reached them, eyes wide with horror, when she caught sight of Mrs. Alden's body.

"I had nothing to do with this, I swear," she pleaded, and Jonah was tempted to believe her. It was far enough into the yard, well-hidden by the grass, and judging by the state of things the yard was not a spot often visited by Evelyn.

"But you let Evans stay here with you," Moira stated, continuing when Evelyn gave a nod of confirmation. "And he never raised any suspicions? Coming in at all hours?"

Evelyn twisted her hands together like she was wringing out a towel. "I've been in and out so much between classes and work, I wouldn't have noticed anything. And I didn't, I promise you."

Jonah had seen the way Evans seemed to slip away like a ghost. He seemed to have a knack for letting eyes slide off of him, for sneaking around unnoticed. Until he pushed it too far.

Evelyn's gaze kept darting to Mrs. Alden, and each time, her skin turned a deeper shade of green. "Why would he do this?" She asked, voice small.

"It seems he realized the best way to hurt me was by hurting Moira," Jonah said, careful not to look at Moira. He was revealing too much of himself with that statement.

Moira pressed closer to him, letting him feel her soft warmth. It was a balm against the wound pounding in his head.

"What do you need from us?" Rami approached Jonah, and he realized they were all looking to him for answers and direction. It was as if he'd already stepped into the role of alpha.

Vera pushed her way to the front and caught Moira in a hug. Her arm was bandaged, but she paid it little mind as she examined her sister for any sign of injury.

"Let's give Mrs. Alden a proper burial." He directed Evelyn and Rami, the youngest and strongest of the Silversand wolves, to take care of that job and sent the others to convene in a safe location. "He knows he's caught now. The truth is out. He won't need the pretense of his bid for alpha anymore."

Moira pushed Vera gently off of her. "Do you think he'll attack you directly? Is he just looking for revenge?"

"It seems likely, but he's unpredictable. I think it's best if no one moves around alone until he's caught. We know what he's capable of and the lengths he'll go to. Be wary." Jonah pressed two fingers to the lump on his head, hidden by the mass of curls. It was tender enough to make him wince.

Spencer absorbed the news and turned to direct his own pack, sending wolves off in pairs in all directions. "We'll scout and send news of anything we find. Moira is a target here, and she's one of our own. We'll protect her."

He didn't want to need another wolf's protection to keep his mate safe, but Jonah wasn't too proud to accept the help. Moira's life, and the life of their unborn baby, was more important than his pride.

"Thank you," he said, accepting the offer.

With the others dispersing, he turned to Moira. "I know you won't stay behind in safety somewhere if I ask you to."

Moira snorted. "I'd be insulted if you'd asked. I want to be there. With you."

Sometimes, he was grateful for her stubbornness. All he would have done without her by his side is worry. He needed to keep her close to know she and the baby were safe. She was his mate as far as the packs were concerned, so he ignored the eyes on them and drew her close, touching the curve of her stomach.

The rage that filled him at the thought of someone putting her in danger burned like nothing he'd ever felt before. He barely recognized himself in that heat. Was this what it meant to love? The need to protect her was a monstrous thing, almost outside of his control.

"How are you feeling?" He searched her eyes for the answer, knowing she'd say whatever she had to in order to follow him into danger.

"We're fine," she reassured him, covering his hand with her own. "A little tired, but we'll manage."

He had to trust her. "Come with me, then. I think I know where Evans will go."