17. Hostages and Heists

JASPER

“G ood morning, Sunshine,” I say, loving how her weight feels against me. Her head lays across my chest, an arm and leg thrown across me.

With a deep breath, she rolls off of me and rubs her eyes. “Where?” she starts to say before going quiet. I grip her waist and pull her against me, pressing a kiss to her temple. For a moment she stares at the ceiling.

“I think this is the happiest and saddest I’ve ever been at the same time,” she says.

“What do you mean?” I ask carefully.

Marigold sighs and turns her face toward me. She tips her chin up to kiss me briefly before answering. “I’ve lost my home but I found my mate.” She draws out the last word, testing it out with a tentative smile. It wavers, like she’s unsure if it’s okay to be happy when our friends and family are preparing to do battle.

“Tonight, after we’ve reclaimed our territory, you can just be happy,” I murmur.

“Supremely happy.” Her palm skims my chest, her lips touching my skin. She works her way down to the ring of pink scars from last night. A permanent marker of our commitment.

“Mate,” I say, “As much as I would like to repeat last night right now, we have a lot of preparations to complete today. Are you feeling good?” Reaching up, I run my thumb over the matching circle of tiny pale scars that mark her as mine. Her happiness buzzes between us.

She nods. “Let’s do it,” I smirk and she rolls her eyes at me. “You know what I mean.”

We dress in borrowed clothing. Coming out of our bedroom, we see Hazel and Slate eating granola bars and fruit in the kitchen. Marigold pads toward them without any hesitation. A flush creeps up my neck as I follow her.

“So what’s the plan?” Marigold asks.

“We’ll have a debrief on everyone’s roles, and then it’s time to kick some ass,” Hazel says. Her eyes flick up to me for a moment.

“It’s a good plan,” I say, feeling uneasy with Hazel’s full attention on me. Her eyes narrow. She doesn’t like how much risk Slate and I are taking on ourselves.

“Alright, let’s go,” Slate says, pushing off from the counter. Marigold turns to follow him .

Glancing back at Hazel, I pause. One eyebrow is raised. Silently, she raises one hand to her own claim mark where it peeks out from her loose shirt. Unconsciously, I mirror her, adjusting the neckline of my shirt to make sure my mark is covered. The instant she sees my motion, her eyes widen.

Giving a slight shake of my head, I silently beg her to stay quiet. It’s Marigold’s news to share when she is ready, and this morning isn’t exactly ideal timing for a celebration. Hazel’s nod is subtle, and I let out my breath.

“Are you guys coming?” Marigold says, holding the front door open for us.

“Yeah, sorry,” Hazel says, sliding past me and jogging to the door. I follow with deliberate steps, letting my mind turn over the details of our strategy as we walk to the debrief.

The sun has begun to dip below the tree line by the time Slate and I are trudging across Bracken Creek territory. Slate walks stiffly, his nerves showing in the clench of his jaw.

“How’s Hazel feeling?” I ask.

He jerks as I shake him from his thoughts. “She’s okay. Physically fine. Eager to take on Granite Ridge.”

“Good.”

“So,” he says, hesitating, “you and Marigold?”

Pine needles crunch under my feet. “Fine.”

“Sounded like you guys made up,” he says lightly.

“We are not having this discussion,” I reply with a dry laugh .

“Did you ask her to be your mate officially?” he asks.

There’s no way I can lie to him. He would see through it instantly.

“You did, didn’t you,” he says, a wide smile spreading across his face. He chuckles, running his fingers through his dark hair to sweep it away from his forehead.

“I don’t think she’s ready to tell anyone,” I say softly.

“So how’d you ask?

Shrugging, I rub at my arm. “Well, it wasn’t so much asking, as it was calling her my mate as I killed a wolf who was about to attack her.”

“Ah.” Slate nods, as if this makes perfect sense.

“Last night she said she’s all in,” I finish my story.

After a few more steps, Slate asks, “Did you claim each other?”

My guilty smile is answer enough. Slate turns, his hand gripping my shoulder. “I’m really happy for you guys.”

Coming from my older brother, it means a lot, and the emotion rising in my chest surprises me.

“Wolves ahead,” I warn, tracking them by sound. Slate sighs. I know he'll hate this part. But it’s necessary, and it was his idea. Even Hazel agrees that it’s our best shot.

We continue to walk forward, unbothered as Granite Ridge wolves surround us. Snarls and barks echo through the trees .

“We’re here to negotiate,” Slate says, raising his hands in surrender. Our captors drive us forward, though Slate refuses to increase his speed despite the jaws snapping at our legs.

The circle of buildings surrounding the meadow looks mostly untouched, with the exception of the blackened diner. A few structural beams stand leaning against one another in the rubble. But at least it’s the only destroyed building. I try to ignore the bodies, still uncovered a day later.

Sienna and Ferris have set up court in the training building. It’s the largest space in our community and it’s full of weapons. Two-legged guards take us from the patrol. Rough hands grip my biceps and tighten zip-ties around my wrists. I don’t recognize many of them, and the ones that are familiar keep their eyes on the ground. Slate lets out a low growl as he’s restrained and we are led forcibly toward the enemy’s command center.

Inside is surprisingly quiet. Chairs have been brought in for the Alphas and benches dragged forward into a loose circle for subordinates to sit at during meetings.

“Isn’t this a nice family reunion?” Sienna says, rising from her seat. She’s in head-to-toe scarlet, standing out from the grays and blues around her. Her waist-length dark hair falls in dramatic waves and her eyeliner is sharp as a dagger.

“Hello, Mother,” I say, the words painful as I force myself to meet her gaze .

She strokes my face. “It’s so good to see you again. And both of you together! I never imagined this day would come.”

Slate leans away from her touch when she tries the same motion with him. Clicking her tongue, she turns back toward Ferris.

“So what brings you back to me?” Her mate stands, resting a hand on her shoulder. Her lip curls at the contact but she covers it with a sly smile.

Clearing his throat, Slate says, “We are here to negotiate a surrender under terms that protect the lives of our packmates.”

Ferris’s cold eyes narrow as he stalks toward us. “I have everything I want, and we will get your wolves eventually. Why should I make any concessions?”

“When you negotiate with us, you’ll find out,” I say, meeting his stare boldly. I’m baiting him. He will make mistakes if he’s angry. Maybe.

“Where are our wolves that you are holding hostage? I’d like to verify their safety,” Slate demands.

“Don’t worry, they’re all settled in some cabin,” Sienna says with a dismissive wave, her irritation sharpening her words.

My eyes flicker to the doorway, tracking the fading light. It’s our only signal for when our teammates will move.

The red-headed wolf called Hawk stands at the doorway, gripping the frame as if he doesn’t want to be forced any closer. His eyebrows arch at the sight of us with our hands shackled behind us. “Alphas, the Zetas have been unable to break into the supply shed. What would you like us to do?”

Behind Hawk, a slim girl with dark eyes and shoulder-length navy hair stalks forward. My sister. Unlike her Intended, she shows nothing but delight at my vulnerable position.

“Burn it,” Ferris says without hesitation. Ember’s mouth curves into a smile.

Sienna whirls, glaring at him. “Absolutely not. Use the captives. Surely one of them knows how to unlock it.” She turns toward Hawk. “Use whatever force is necessary to persuade them.”

Hawk looks between them, lines creasing his forehead.

“It’s fine,” Ferris says, dismissing him by turning his back.

Ember scoffs, crossing her arms petulantly. Still scowling, she moves away from her future mate to stand behind her mother. Those glittering dark eyes regard us as something vile yet interesting, like exotic roadkill.

With a smile that shows fangs, Sienna advances on us. “So what are you able to offer us?”

I raise my chin. “We need some assurances first. Like where is Hawthorne?”

“Oh the Gamma?” Sienna asks. “Somewhere around here.” I wish I could read the thoughts behind her cold eyes, but she’s as veiled as ever.

“Is he alive?” Slate asks.

“For now,” Ferris growls .

Sienna sighs as if this is all tedious. I adjust my stance, trying to take the pressure off my injuries. Her eyes snap to the movement.

“What is this?” Her voice finally sounds surprised. She tugs my shirt aside, revealing the claim mark Marigold left last night. Even with two decades of experience dealing with her, I’m unable to read the expressions crossing her face.

“Well?” she demands.

“I guess that information can be a part of our bargain,” Slate says. My hands clench into fists at the idea, but I trust him.

“Fine,” Sienna huffs, turning back toward Ferris. “Why don’t we sit down and have a talk.”

Without looking at her, Ferris sinks back into his seat. “Whatever my mate desires.” Sarcasm stretches his words. My mother does not appreciate being patronized. Her shoulders tighten as she sits delicately beside him.

Awkwardly, we perch on benches a few feet away from our mother, further from Ferris. Ember stands behind her father, her stance deceivingly relaxed. It’s impossible to miss her hand drifting to the blade she wears concealed at her hip. If Ferris was to say the word, she would likely murder Slate without a second thought, and perhaps me as well.

“Now, tell us what you had in mind,” Sienna says .

MARIGOLD

“They’re in the training building like we expected,” Onyx says, studying the battered drone controller in his hands. Muscles tense, he stands like a soldier and not the irreverent friend I grew up with.

“Can you see how many wolves are surrounding them?” Hazel asks in clipped tones, her eyes peering through the trees although we are too far to see our targets.

He shakes his head, his dirty blonde hair falling over his forehead. “No, I can’t get any closer without tipping them off. Sorry.”

“Thank you for being cautious,” I say. Worry knots my gut. My mate is in the enemy’s hands, and I have to trust they won’t hurt him before we can free them.

“Let’s go,” Hazel commands. Down the line, our teammates shift into their wolf forms. Shucking off my shirt, I allow my light reddish-gold coat to ripple down my arms. The cloud of anxiety lifts as my instincts surge forward, loosening my chest so I can breathe.

The scent of damp wood, rotting pine needles, and lingering smoke envelops me. With a shake, my ruff shivers down my back, softening some of my excess energy.

Cassia brushes up against me, Fern beyond her. The pack bond is a light burning in my chest. I draw strength from the hopeful determination and the protectiveness that drives us forward .

No matter what, we will be successful and do whatever it takes to get my mate and our pack back safely. There is no alternative.

The group is quiet while a select few, including Vale and Ewan, move northwards. Hazel slinks forward, stepping carefully to stay silent. We follow.

Onyx stays back with Heath, eyes on the training facility as he flies the drone in cautious circles. I don’t glance back at them, but their low voices are comforting.

A howl cuts through the twilight. A second voice lifts to join it. Low barks and shouts from our enemies respond, and within minutes, the Granite Ridge patrol turns north. They are noisy and it’s easy to track their progress. With any luck, they’ll be chasing our fastest runners far from the community, buying us precious minutes.

Hazel breaks into a run and I fall into step at her flank without thought. Our packmates follow, racing in groups of threes and fours. We weave through the trees as the sunset turns the pale green boughs into gold. This land is familiar. I could navigate with my eyes closed this close to the center of our territory.

The scent of the destroyed diner clouds my senses, the acrid melted plastic and charred metal burning my nose. The offensive smell of a rival pack thickens as we approach the largest cabins we believe hold hostages. Underneath, fresher scents of our family members and friends confirm our guess.

Swift and silent, we surround the first cabin. The moment the door opens with a creak, Fern leaps. Her paws hit a guard and throw him onto his back with a jarring thud. His hands flail, but he’s unable to reach a weapon before Fern’s teeth close over his neck. She dispatches him with little concern if he can recover or not. I can’t fault her, not when her daughter and mother are held captive inside and this man would kill her given the chance.

Her black wolf disappears inside. I follow, pausing to grab the ankle of the downed guard and tug him away, shoulders heaving. We need a clear exit. Disgusted, I drop his limb and cross the porch to push through the ajar door.

The snarls of approaching enemies pull Hazel away, and most of our team follows her lead. They will face the larger threat while we retrieve our packmates.

Fern stands over another Granite Ridge guard, leaving a third one for me. The anger of the last day narrows my focus until I am a missile of fangs and fur. He attempts to draw a weapon, but my teeth sink into his arm before he can get his hand around the gun tucked into his belt. Claw, rip, tear. Blood pools across my tongue and I open my mouth to let it drip onto the floor.

Stepping off my victim, I look up as slim arms fling themselves around me. Fern stands in human form, supporting one of our elderly packmates while her daughter, Starling, squeezes my neck as her tears soak into my ruff.

“Well done, my dears,” Starling’s grandmother says.

“We’re not close to done yet. Cedar and Clove have a rescue team ready to evacuate you. Let’s go,” Fern orders, her last words turning to a bark. She plants a kiss on her daughter’s forehead and pushes her toward her grandmother before she shifts back.

Ears scanning for our enemies, I trail the rescued hostages until Cedar takes my place. He bumps my shoulder, a silent encouragement, while Clove takes Starling’s hand.

The sounds of a battle filter through the trees. Fern and I break into a sprint toward the clearing. We race to reach our teammates as they leap toward the Granite Ridge wolves surrounding the training building.

Fisher wrestles with a brute of a wolf outside of the training building. As the larger black wolf pushes our trainer down, my father joins the fight, ripping it away. Working in tandem, they take down the wolf and move onto the next one together.

The training building’s door is still shut, causing my heart rate to spike. Jasper and Slate are still in there with Sienna, Ferris, and an unknown number of cronies.

Before I can reach them, the Granite Ridge patrol pours into the clearing. A dozen more wolves throw themselves at us, jaws snapping.

With a vicious snarl, Hazel leaps at the wiry dark gray wolf leading the charge, knocking him into the dirt. As another silvery wolf rushes to his defense, my paws dig into the earth to launch myself forward.

The idea of someone hurting my loved ones turns my vision to a haze. My paws meet his unprotected ribs as I knock him to the ground beside the first. Hazel’s jaws close over his neck, eliciting a whimper.

JASPER

Sienna’s eyes go wide as howls filter through the metal roof.

“That’s your pack here to surrender?” Ferris asks caustically, already pulling a knife from his belt. At his hand motions, the guards file to the door with guns raised. The first two open the door and step out.

Slate catches my gaze. I tip my chin down in the barest of nods. I’m ready.

“It’s their whole bloody pack attacking,” a guard shouts.

“Then we can take them all out at once,” Ferris says. Sienna turns her focus from us to him, her lip curling.

“Subdue, not kill. Without spoils, there’s no value left to be had,” she says, her words too quick to sound confident. I frown at her. It sounds as if she doesn’t want our pack entirely destroyed. There’s no time to consider the implications as a bang sounds. The wall vibrates as if a body was thrown against the siding. It’s followed by a trio of shots fired, a louder snarl, and a muffled scream.

“Get out there,” Ferris growls. The remaining guards throw the door open and join the battle.

“Don’t move,” Sienna growls, taking out her favorite dagger. She looks between her sons and her mate, Ember hovering like a shadow at her shoulder. Ferris approaches the door, his blade raised defensively.

Slate nods, signaling that we cannot wait any longer. As we shift into our wolf forms, the zip-ties slip off.

Sienna lets out a furious shriek, backing away. She bumps into Ember, who looks gleeful at the change of events. She’s always been bloodthirsty. Within seconds, she’s shifted into her black wolf, her hackles raised to make her look larger than her petite form truly is.

Slate moves toward Ferris, his teeth bared. Sienna is mine, but Ember blocks my path. With a growl, I spring. Ember snaps at my shoulder, seeing if she can get me to back down or weaken my attack. Not a chance. We’ve been sparring since we were children. Her black wolf stands no chance against my larger white wolf, and I know how her mind works.

Ember crouches, using her smaller size to get below me. Her teeth close on my ruff, too close to my throat for comfort. My paws push back, propelling me away until I can lower my muzzle and force her to the ground.

Paws on her ribcage, I snarl, keeping my sister growling on her side. My message is clear - stay down.

Slate advances past us toward my father, belly low, lips pulled back to display his teeth. Ferris pulls a gun from a holster at his back. That’s not a wolfsbane gun, it’s real bullets. Fear splinters through me. Slate attempts to leap before Ferris can fire, but even he isn’t faster than a bullet. Ferris brings the gun up to aim at him.

The shot gouges the concrete beside Slate’s paws. He jolts away, stumbling in his attempt to regain his balance to strike.

Sienna’s unintelligible yells echo in the large space, but Ferris pays her no heed. With a snarl, he adjusts his stance. He won’t miss a second time.

With a sickening thud, a dagger embeds into his chest. His second shot goes wide and hits the back wall.

For a moment, everything is frozen. Seemingly in slow motion, Ferris tips forward, the gun clattering to the ground, before he covers it with his slumped body.

Ember ceases her struggle, letting out a piercing wine. She scrambles out from under my stunned paws, and shifts back, dropping to her knees beside his body. With frantic hands, she pulls out the blade and presses the heel of her palms against the puncture. Crimson seeps between her fingers.

My gaze searches for the aggressor. Slate is already backing Sienna against the benches along the back wall. Her empty hands are raised.

Tentatively, I step toward Ember and Ferris, toward the blade on the concrete floor. It’s Sienna’s. My thoughts are slow.

With the slam of metal door against metal siding, Onyx and Cassia scan the scene, weapons raised. Cassia grabs Sienna’s wrist and twists her around, injecting her with Rowanberry from a syringe to prevent her from shifting before the woman has a chance to react. She lowers Sienna to the ground as the natural drug floods her veins.

Ember screams, her voice breaking. Under her hands, blood pools around our father. Ferris is terribly pale. Shifting back, I reach for the first aid kit that Fisher keeps on a shelf by the door.

Onyx grabs Ember, attempting to inject her as well. She snarls, yanking her arm away. He clenches his jaw, gripping both of her arms behind her. Like lightning, Ember twists and slashes, Sienna’s discarded blade tight in her hand. The dagger swipes along Onyx’s gut, slicing his shirt open at the side where his gear fails to protect him.

He lets out a pained noise but refuses to release her. Cassia catches Ember’s wrist and knocks the knife away before she injects her. Ember thrashes and screams.

Onyx releases her with shaking hands, letting Cassia shove the girl to the ground to subdue her. Red stains his shirt.

I’m torn between helping my murderous father and my friend. Onyx makes the decision for me. “It’s not deep. Don’t worry about me.” He grunts as he sits on the closest chair and hunches over.

Cassia has covered Ember’s body with her discarded dress. With deft movements, she zip-ties the younger girl to a bench and Sienna to her seat before turning to Onyx.

I peel up my father’s shirt to reveal the stab wound. It’s weeping more blood than I’ve ever seen. With trembling hands, I press a bandage over it, hoping I can staunch the flow. His eyes are vacant and his breathing slows.

“Dad.” My voice cracks and self-loathing surges in my stomach like nausea. I shouldn’t care. He’s an enemy, and he would have cut me down right after killing my brother.

Slate crouches beside me. “He’s gone.”

Slowly, I pry my fingers away. I’ve ripped out throats and sliced open enemies without hesitation, but something about seeing the light leave my father’s eyes has shaken me.

“It’s okay,” Slate murmurs, his hands squeezing my shoulders as he steers me away. “There’s nothing you could have done. It hit an artery.”

Forcing a deeper breath into my lungs, I straighten. There are still people that need my help. I can’t stand here and wallow in my shock.

Cassia pulls Onyx’s gear over his head and wipes away the blood.

“Not cool, dude,” Onyx mumbles at Ember, his face pallid.

“Don’t be dramatic, you’re going to be fine. It’s barely a papercut,” Cassia says. He laughs and then winces.

It’s obvious the moment my sister realizes whose dagger sits abandoned and bloody on the floor. “What did you do?” Ember screeches at our mother, straining against the zip-ties.

“Choose my child over my mate?” Sienna asks quietly, her words a little slurred. Ember lets out an anguished scream in response. “You wouldn’t be complaining if you were the child I saved,” Sienna says before turning her face away.

Slate looks between them, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He looks as confused as I feel. For someone who has spent her life attempting to destroy this pack, Sienna didn’t hesitate to put her estranged son before her mate, jeopardizing her power in the process.

“You’d better get out there, boys. The fight’s not quite over,” Cassia growls, looking up from wrapping gauze around Onyx’s torso and tightening the bandage in place.

Slate and I pull on our sweats and slip on the gear Cassia hands over. I try to ignore the blood along the side of Onyx’s tactical gear as I pull it over my head.

“Ferris is dead, and Sienna is captive. You’ve lost,” Slate shouts, slamming the door open.

The ground is strewn with unfamiliar figures. Our team has dispatched many of our enemies, but small pockets are still fighting.

Hazel whirls, daggers flashing. Fern leaps on a man staggering away from Hazel. A man I recognize as Flint ducks past Hazel’s offense and grabs the strap of her harness, attempting to shove her to the ground.

Slate is already across the clearing, seizing the man by the back of his shirt and flinging him to the dirt. His weapon clatters away. He rolls but before he can stand, Slate is on him. Hazel watches her mate as he slams his fist into Flint’s ugly face. Three strikes and Flint’s lip and cheek are split, his form limp .

Slate staggers up, embracing Hazel as she smashes into him and kisses him roughly.

My eyes scan for my own mate.

The hulking form of Aries blocks my search. He bares his teeth, barreling toward me. Without hesitation, I draw the gun strapped to my chest, praying it still has ammo.

My hand is steady as I point the weapon at Aries. He slows, his grin bloody as if someone has already knocked his teeth loose. “You are too much of a coward to shoot me,” he croaks.

“Try me,” I say.

His growl is anything but human. I wait until he is a few feet away and shoot into his gut. It’s not a fatal shot for a shifter, but enough to take him out of the fight.

Grunting, Aries stumbles, hand pressing to his wound. “I’m going to kill you.”

Somehow, he trudges forward, raising a filthy knife. I dance back, readying another shot that never comes. I’m out of bullets. My hands pat over my gear, looking for more.

Aries closes the distance before I realize how fast he’s moving. His boots kick my legs out from under me. My ass hits the grass. He looms over me and his face contorts. My lungs scream as if filled with glass as I suck in a rough breath. I need my head clear to survive this brute.

But Aries doesn’t move. His eyes stare ahead, and he slowly sways and falls forward. I pull my legs back clear of him as he crumples. A crossbow bolt sticks out of his back.

Across the clearing, Marigold is already reloading and selecting her next target. I’m entranced by the elegant curve of her shoulders as she raises her weapon. She’s magnificent.

“Your Alpha is dead, surrender!” Slate yells, firing his gun into the dirt beside a snarling enemy wolf.

There are few opponents still standing.

Marigold advances, her crossbow pointed at a tall figure. Hawk. He raises his hands, dropping his gun on the ground at her feet. Slowly, he kneels, allowing Fern to zip-tie his wrists.

Slate and Hazel similarly restrain the remaining Granite Ridge pack members.

Looking around, I can tell that some escaped. Less than a dozen still stand, and they are battered, heads hanging. Cassia walks Sienna and a sobbing Ember out of the training building, pushing them to the ground at Slate’s feet.

Hazel glares at Sienna, advancing slowly with a dagger in her hand. My mother looks up at her, her face passive. It’s strange to see her without either a cold sneer or a simpering smile.

A shout rises, a mix of victory and anger. While many are bloody, I see none of our own seriously injured.

A blur of reddish-gold hair and flushed skin streaks toward me. Marigold’s weapon lies discarded in the grass. She launches herself, wrapping her legs around my waist as I lift her up. We cling to each other, reveling in the moment of victory. The emotion flowing between us is enough to steal my breath.

“We made it,” I say against her neck.

She kisses me recklessly, not caring who sees. I wish the moment could stretch forever, but hesitantly I set my beautiful partner back on her feet and turn to face our pack.

Slate gives me a nod, holding Hazel tight to his side. Heath stands nearby, talking with Fisher. Fern and Cassia wrangle our prisoners into a row. No one seems to have noticed our intimate moment.

Marigold stills. I follow her gaze. Both my mother and sister watch us with haughty expressions. “Jasper, who is that?” Ember demands. She seems to be looking for a distraction. Surprisingly, Sienna stays silent, her expression unreadable.

My mate smiles wearily. “I’m Marigold.” She slips out of my grasp and crouches a few feet from Ember. “I hope someday we can be friends, but that’s up to you.”

Ember glares at her, her mouth opening and closing before she snarls, “Don’t count on it.” Her sneer is hollow, her eyes haunted.

Marigold shrugs and rises. Pulling her to my side, I lean my temple against her hair. “She hurt Onyx,” I say quietly.

“Really?” Marigold says sharply, turning to see our friend leaning against the building. “You doing okay, big guy?”

“Concerned for me, Goldie?” Onyx says flirtatiously .

She laughs. I’m too relieved to mind his tone. A teasing Onyx is fine. It’s when he gets serious that we have to worry.

“Thanks, man,” I say.

Onyx rolls his eyes. “That sister of yours, she’s a piece of work.” I have to agree with him.

Ember lets out an angry screeching noise, twisting to bare her teeth at Onyx. The last threads of her composure break away, and she’s wild with grief and rage.

Onyx looks unimpressed, his eyes dull with pain. “Give it a rest, psycho.”

Across the clearing, Cedar and Lazuli support a bruised and bloody Hawthorne limping toward us. Crickett runs toward him, clutching their toddler between them as she embraces him. Despite his condition, Hawthorne kisses her back and even wraps an arm around her shoulders. Dahlia squeals and clenches his dirty, torn shirt in her tiny fists.

On the ground with a bandage pressed to his shoulder sprawls a vaguely familiar boy with black hair. He’s still a teenager. Kneeling, I eye his wounds.

“Get away from me,” he growls. Blood mattes his shirt.

“You don’t have to go back to Granite Ridge. Life doesn’t have to be like that,” I say, wishing someone had said the same to me much sooner.

“Piece of shit,” he spits, gasping as his muscles seize.

“If you ever decide you want to be free, there are other packs that treat their wolves with respect. ”

The boy growls until I step away. Marigold runs her fingers up and down my inner forearm, the texture of her skin soothing me. “You can’t help someone that doesn’t want it.”

I know she’s right. But it still stings as I look over the injuries of my former packmates. Many of these people would have gladly killed me even when I was still heir of their pack.

My gaze sweeps to the unmoving bodies. It’s a pity, but after exhausting our supply of wolfsbane, we were left with little other choice in our methods of attack.