Chapter 10

Theron

“It feels good to be home,” Gentry said, plopping down on the couch.

Myla’s heat had been six days of nonstop fucking. Every time we thought her heat had finally waned, another wave would roll in, flooding the cabin with the scent of her slick.

After the initial bonding, Myla surprised us. Her appetite was insatiable, and all her shyness gave way to desire. We took turns leaving the cabin for food and returned to a tangle of limbs.

“Agreed,” Bowen said, entering the living room behind me. “Though I will miss seeing our little Myla wild and shameless.”

Myla blushed and scrunched her nose. “Who says I can’t still be shameless?”

My wolf perked up at the thought of taking her again.

Randy bastard.

“I hate myself for saying this, but we need to get back to work before we lose our positions,” Silas said, his voice filled with humor.

Myla snapped her fingers in mock disappointment. “I guess I’ll be okay with a rain check.”

I snorted.

Myla’s playfulness had emerged over the past few days. Sharing one’s mind and body did that, I guessed.

Our bond was strong, and to my delight, Myla made no effort to erect walls between us. When I imagined a mate bond, I never pictured this. I couldn’t even put my feelings into words. It was more than being whole—it was like finding the missing pieces of yourself.

It was both incredible and unnerving. The moment the bond snapped into place, a switch flipped inside me.

Myla could have concealed her emotions from us and blocked the bond, but she didn’t. That openness—that willingness to trust a connection we were still figuring out—made me want to try harder.

If she had anything to hide, she would be trying to keep us out of her head and heart.

It was time to put the past aside and focus on facts—on the future.

Our unit fell into a smooth routine for the next two weeks. While we were at work, Myla volunteered at different jobs to see which ones she liked.

She was surprisingly proficient in quite a few areas. It wasn’t long before she was referring to pack members by name. For the past week, Myla had been spending time with the elders. She helped them with gardening, chores, and errands. If they didn’t need assistance, she simply visited for tea.

“What are your plans today?” I asked over breakfast.

“I was going to go check on Mr. Devero. He’s been staying in the house a lot lately, and that can’t be healthy,” she replied, eating her wrap.

“How’d you hear about that?”

“The ladies mentioned it during tea yesterday.”

It was an aspect of pack life I never thought about much. The elders were around, but for the most part, pack members left them to go about their daily lives in peace—or so we thought. Thanks to Myla, I was starting to see that we might have been neglecting them.

“Mind if I join you?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Sure, that’d be great. But don’t you have work?”

“I have the day off,” I replied.

It wasn’t a complete lie. I did have the day off, but it was because I requested it.

I missed her.

All of us were so busy catching up that we hadn’t gotten a chance to fall into our new normal. Bowen and Silas were out longer than usual because of the increased patrols, and Gentry was busy de-encrypting the Council’s annoyingly protected files.

Ezra, the head of pack security, had managed to get nano-hackers into the Facility—a building the Council used to house Hunt-eligible Omegas—when he participated in his unit’s Hunt. In the subsequent weeks, we’d accessed two more servers with incriminating information—one of which included their witch contacts.

This was a great time to set a new tone for our interactions. I was determined to set aside my preconceived notions and prove I wanted Myla around.

After breakfast, I followed Myla to Mr. Devero’s den. When we reached the small, single-floor home, I noticed his front door needed repairs. The hinges were rusty, and the wood looked like it had taken a beating from the elements. I made a mental note to get the boys working on a new door as soon as possible.

Myla knocked more forcefully than I expected, and the door opened seconds later.

“I’m still alive,” Mr. Devero snarled at Myla before giving me a curt nod.

My wolf’s hackles rose at his tone. He did not appreciate our mate being spoken to that way, nor did I.

Mr. Devero was a grumpy old shifter who’d lost everything under the old Alpha. He was a tough man who barely used words, preferring to grunt or growl.

“Well, of course you are. I’m here to make sure you get some sun. You’ll get moldy if you stay in that damp house all the time,” Myla replied, paying no attention to the scowl on his face as she barreled into his home.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“To get your coat,” she said brightly, pulling a jacket out of his closet. “It’s a bit nippy out.”

She’d evidently done this before because she seemed familiar with his space.

“I never said I was going anywhere with you,” Mr. Devero snapped.

“Good. I never gave you a choice.” Myla held out his jacket, waiting for him to slip his arms into the sleeves.

He held her stare for a moment before relenting.

I was shocked at her abruptness. Seeing our sweet Myla so authoritative and confident was insanely attractive.

Myla led Mr. Devero outside, and we walked through the cluster of houses the other elders lived in before heading toward the community garden. She spoke to him about planting and fixing his house, reminded him to eat healthy food, and challenged him to a game of chess. Though most of Mr. Devero’s replies were grumbles or nods, he was much more relaxed than when we arrived.

When we took him back to his house, Myla promised to bring him snacks for their game tomorrow, and I let him know the boys would be by in three days to replace his door.

“You enjoy working with the elderly,” I said after we bid him farewell.

Myla looked up at me through her lashes. “What gave it away?”

“Not everyone would be that patient with Mr. Devero,” I said.

She was kind without letting him walk all over her. It was a quality that showed experience.

She blushed as we wandered down the path toward our home. “People like Mr. Devero need more love. They need to know they’re not alone.”

“And what if they want to be left alone?” I inquired, thinking of how Mr. Devero shut himself in his den.

“They don’t. No one wants to be alone. Some people just feel like it’s safer that way. It’s a defense mechanism.” She wove her fingers together before continuing, “It was the same in my old pack. Most elderly shifters were forgotten about when their jobs and families were stripped away. It’s a hard phase of life to adjust to, and many slip through the cracks. You’d be surprised how much a simple interaction can mean to someone.”

“Did you do this with your old pack? Take care of the elders?” I was curious now. She rarely spoke of her old life.

“Unofficially.” She smiled. “I would check on them and feed them whenever I had the chance.”

“My sister Elle would have liked you,” I said before I could think better of it.

The words hung between us, suspended by our mutual shock.

“You have a sister?” she asked gently.

“Had.” I looked ahead, unable to meet her eyes. “She possessed the same gentle spirit as you. She was always trying to find a way to help others who were overlooked.”

We walked up the front steps of our den, but instead of going inside, I took a seat on the porch. Myla joined me, and I felt the shift in the air. The day’s tranquility gave way to a heavy sorrow that always seemed to follow the mention of Elle’s name.

“What happened to her?” Myla whispered.

I waited for my muscles to tense—for grief to thicken my tongue and stoke my anger—but I only felt the need to connect. Maybe when Myla heard Elle’s story, she would understand. Perhaps she would open up and tell us about her past.

“She was taken by an unsanctioned pack during a perimeter breach. The New Vale pack attacked Hidden Creek after a brutal internal war, so our defenses were weak. They split our attention, and by the time we finished defending the pack, a dozen of our females were gone.”

“Were they Omegas?” Myla asked.

“No. By then, all the Omegas in the pack had been executed.”

She grew pale, and recognition flashed through her eyes.

We’d always suspected what happened to her, but when Elle returned, she never confirmed our theories. “Do you know what happens to stolen females in unsanctioned packs?”

“I heard whispers,” Myla replied. “All the females did. It was another way to keep us in line, hearing what they did to . . . difficult females.”

My pulse pounded in my ears, and my hands clenched into fists. I had to know, no matter what it was.

“Tell me,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue.

She searched my face, her eyes so full of concern I felt it like a touch upon my skin. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She placed her hand on top of mine. “Captured females can either come quietly and fall in line or endure a cell until they change their minds. While they’re locked away, they’re . . . broken. Chained, tortured, humiliated, and raped. The males do anything they can to remove their will to fight and force them into subservience. Once they feel like the female knows her place and won’t try to escape, they integrate her into the pack.”

But Elle had escaped.

She came home, but in the end, she couldn’t live with what they’d done to her. She took her own life.

Myla didn’t try to comfort me or soothe my pain. She sat with me, her tiny hand squeezing mine as the sun set in the distance.