Chapter 4: Dean

4

DEAN

T he packhouse is a hive of activity. Brushing off the usual shiver of dread I feel whenever I cross the threshold, I find Lynn in my father’s study, printing off list after list of authorised visitors to the pack territory. That’s a lot of names.

Feeling like a stranger in what’s now supposed to be my office, I lean against the doorframe and watch in dismay as the stack of sheets gets spat out onto the output tray. That’s a lot of people who are going to be appearing on my border in the very near future, if they’re not already there. Beckett tells me they’ve been gathering since dawn. I feel like we’re under siege.

“Not everyone who registered for the opening round was able to make the launch. There may be more who just turn up on the day,” Lynn explains, a hint of warning in her tone as she senses my mood darkening with each page she flicks through.

I thought there were a lot of shifters there last night. This is going to be way worse.

“So don’t be an ass and kick up a fuss when someone turns up at the border who’s not on the list. Is that what you’re telling me?” I grumble, failing to keep the scowl from my face.

Lynn shrugs with one shoulder, which means yes, if the shoe fits.

“Whose bright idea was it to keep the first day open to everyone?” I ask rhetorically, letting out a weary sigh and pressing my fingers to my temples.

“Yours,” Lynn answers far too happily.

At the time, I felt it was only fair to give everyone a shot at competing. Now I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. I should have restricted it to high-ranking wolves like Callum suggested.

Reluctantly, I step further into the office and lean against the arm of the oversized brown leather sofa that lines one wall. I rarely come in here. We never have visitors to the pack, and I use my home office most of the time.

Lynn redecorated this room, making it fitting of a serious alpha , she said, so that I can hold meetings here during the games. She did a great job. It’s barely recognisable from the dark, austere room my father used to drag me into to ‘discuss’ my latest perceived infraction. Instead, it’s warm and luxurious, painted in rich moss green, and decorated with dark furnishings and brass accents.

But to me, despite the fancy make over, it will always be my father’s office. A fresh coat of paint, fancy panelling and new hardwood flooring can’t erase the blood stains that I know persist underneath.

And I hate being anywhere near it.

Lynn comes around and stands in front of me, blocking my view. “You should just burn this place to the ground if it makes you this miserable.”

I bark out a laugh. It’s not the first time she’s suggested it. If the pack had the resources to rebuild, I might consider it, but we don’t. And for a long time, I stubbornly rejected the idea to prove that my father couldn’t control me from the grave. But as time goes by, I realise I’m not proving anything to anyone. The rest of the pack doesn’t care what I do with this place. And with the way my skin crawls just being in here, I’m starting to think it might not be a bad idea.

“Maybe someday, but not today. Let’s get through this competition without doing anything to add to my reputation for being unstable.”

Lynn folds herself into the corner of the sofa and tucks her feet underneath her, a clipboard in one hand, and a red pen stuffed into the messy bun perched on top of her head.

Since my sister Maya mated and moved to Grey Ridge, Lynn, her best friend, has taken on the role of managing the day to day running of the packhouse. It works well, for now. Selfish as it is, one of my biggest fears about this weekend is that she finds her mate and leaves me high and dry. I love Callum like family, but he’s not a details man, whereas Lynn misses nothing. I’d be lost without her.

“I’ve prepared all the guest rooms here for the visiting alphas. The contestants are all sharing cabins and the bunkhouse. We’ve got welcome kits for everyone with maps, schedules, rules, dining information, details of where they’re staying, etc., all ready to go.” Lynn ticks off each item as she fills me in, going back over tasks we’ve discussed endless times already.

I have no doubt that she has everything under control. She wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have the utmost faith in her.

“Anyone from our pack who wanted to avoid the chaos has moved to the north until it’s all over. Maggie’s prepped the clinic for any injuries, Jax has been helping her get set up, and we’ve got all the catering sorted for both tonight, and the after-party. There’s a clean-up crew ready to turn around the rooms when the departing competitors leave, and the next lot arrives.”

The first round of the competition is open to everyone. It’s likely those who take part will be a mixed bag of chancers, people just coming to have fun, and a rare few seriously strong wolves born to lower ranking families. This round gives them all a day out while putting anyone with talent on show to the judges who won’t have come across them before.

Anyone who is a sibling of a current or past alpha gets an automatic pass through to the second round, a nod to the fact that most wolves from alpha families would be strong enough to lead if given the chance. They’ll arrive when the qualifying round is complete.

It won’t matter in the long run who arrived when. The best wolf will win anyway.

“I think we’ve done as much as we can. There’s going to be some scrambling when things kick off, but once the first event is over and the numbers have more than halved, it’ll be much more manageable.” Lynn’s nervous, but she doesn’t need to be. I’ve seen the pack out and about this morning, getting prepared, and there’s a hum of anticipation in the air. Everyone is rowing in to make it a success, and they’re having fun doing it.

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. I’m genuinely grateful that she’s taken a lot of the logistics off my plate so I can focus on making sure that my pack copes well with their previously isolated home being invaded by overly enthusiastic, dominant wolves. They know what’s coming, but the reality might still be a shock to their systems, so it’s important that I’m as free as possible to focus on everyone’s well-being.

And to make sure our guests are behaving themselves.

“Graham Reynolds must be turning in his grave,” Lynn whispers, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

For anyone else, doing anything that their deceased parent wouldn’t approve of would be something to regret. But for me, it’s the only thing pushing me forward. If Dad would have hated it, then it’s probably the right thing to do. The man was a bastard, ran our pack into the ground, and took sadistic pleasure in ruining people’s lives. He killed my mother, or as good as. And I still live with the feeling that I’m constantly being watched and need to be careful of what I say or do in case he finds out.

It makes me feel weak, even long after I took his life with my bare hands.

“It’s time to leave, Dean.” Lynn’s firm but gentle voice pulls me from the dark memories creeping into my mind.

I rest my hands on my knees and sit forward, but pause, still not ready to stand up and go.

This is really happening. I’m about to open the doors to this pack, to shine a light on all the dark corners we’ve kept hidden for so long. It’s a scary thought. I’ve told the pack they can speak to anyone, answer any questions truthfully. We did nothing wrong. We have nothing to be ashamed of. It was all him.

Rationally, I know that’s true, and yet I feel sick thinking about some of the stories they might share. I’d like to think they’ll protect each other by not sharing other people’s stories, things they wouldn’t want anyone to know, but I refuse to censor them, regardless. We’ll deal with whatever happens afterward.

“You’re a good alpha, Dean. This is going to be great for the pack.” Lynn reminds me, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Cling to that when you want to murder everyone.”

Patting her hand, I shove to my feet and stand tall. This is all for the pack. My father robbed them of the chance to meet their fated mates, to work the jobs they wanted, and to see the world. He stole their ability to simply have peace in their day to day lives. I might hate change, but it’ll be good for us all, so I’m going to plaster on a smile and show them how much fun it is if it kills me.

Callum appears, rapping his knuckles on the door and sticks his head inside. “We’re going to be late. Come on.” He disappears back outside without waiting, and I shake my head. He’s lucky he’s my beta. Another alpha wouldn’t stand for being bossed around. But this isn’t any pack, and I’m not better than anyone else here. I’ve worked hard to ensure the wolves here see every single day that things have changed for the better.

As I join him on the front steps, we fall into the same stride, silent but completely in tune, as we make our way to the only vehicular access in or out of my territory. One bridge. Always guarded. Now to be flung open to anyone and everyone who wants to enter the games.

As we walk, members of my pack give me broad smiles as they make last minute preparations to welcome our visitors. Clearly, they’re feeling more hospitable than me. But I do my duty and smile back, thanking them for their hard work, shoving down any reticence I have about what’s about to happen.

The closer we get to the border I’ve protected my entire life, the louder the noise of the gathered crowd gets, and my conviction that I can do this wanes.

Cresting the hill and seeing the crowd gathered on the opposite side of the river turns my mouth dry. This is my worst nightmare. There must be over a hundred people, all standing there, watching as we approach. Up until recently, anyone who dared approach the middle of this bridge has been met with a show of force. Today, I have fewer wolves than ever before working the crossing. How times have changed.

“It’s just until the games are over. Then you can lock the gates again if you want,” Callum assures me, but we both know that’s a lie. There’s no coming back from this. “It won’t be that bad.”

I appreciate the effort, but nothing is going to make this feel any better.

When I nod to the guards who have been keeping the crowd back all morning, they part and allow the first entrants to trickle through. My hands fist at my side, my wolf horrified at the sight of smiling people walking completely unobstructed onto our land. They’re laughing and joking, and it makes him want to inflict untold levels of violence upon them.

Where is the fear? Where is the trepidation?

Arms folded across my chest, I stare at the shifters who saunter across the border we’ve kept closed for years, with curiosity shining in their eyes. They’re as interested in snooping as they are in winning. Every pack hates us, but given the chance to come and poke around, they’ve turned up in force.

“Easy,” Callum says as I growl, hearing someone ask whether the wolves here have been allowed to go to school, as though my pack is stupid and uneducated just because they haven’t travelled.

“If anyone says anything to one of my pack…”

My train of thought is interrupted when one particularly arrogant-looking male thrusts his bag at one of my best female trackers, who’s standing there to keep watch, not be his bellhop. “Can you make sure this gets to my room?” He gestures to the path ahead of him, as if to say hurry up.

Ryan Williams. Callum was right. He is a prick.

When my tracker looks at me, unsure how to handle this, I can’t smother the rumble in my chest any longer.

She looks relieved when I shake my head, and she dumps the bag back at his feet before disappearing into the crowd before he can protest.

“Calm down,” Callum warns as my hackles go up.

Ryan throws his hands up, grumbling about knowing this place was going to be a shit-hole, and how that backward bitch was probably too dumb to understand him.

“His card is fucking marked,” I grit out before returning my attention to the last wolves trickling through. I’m going to make his life miserable. “Make sure he goes in the last wave tomorrow, and that he gets the end bunk in the warrior house, the one right next to the bathroom.”

Callum shakes his head at my pettiness but will do as he’s told, equally unimpressed by the man’s condescending behaviour. No proper alpha would show so little respect to another wolf, especially when not on your own turf.

“I think you’re supposed to welcome them, not stare them all into submission,” Callum comments quietly as the approaching wolf shifters stop in front of me, unsure whether they’re allowed to move beyond where I stand.

Only allowing this event to take place on my land under duress, I sigh. There’s no way to stop this, no matter how much I want to. It’s too late. Wolves have travelled from all over to witness the Alpha Games, the first to be held in decades. It’s the biggest ticket in town.

As I scan the expectant faces, waiting for some kind of motivational speech or warm greeting from me, I try to absorb a little of their enthusiasm, but anger still pulses through me. Warm and fuzzy remains just out of reach.

“You’re in my house. My rules. If any of you pisses me off, you’ll be going home before this even begins.” Glaring at Ryan, the male who’s already in my bad books, I pick up his bag and hold it out to him, adding, “My pack are your generous hosts. Treat them and our property with respect.”

The sea of confused faces staring back worsens my mood, and when Ryan refuses to take his own bag, I toss it over the side of the bridge without giving him a second warning.

Blake Steel stands at the rear of the crowd, shaking his head in exasperation.

Unrepentant, I stand aside and reluctantly let them all walk by. When I turn back, the angry shifter is leaning over the railing, watching and cursing me as his bag sinks to the bottom of the churning river.

“Great job,” Callum mutters sarcastically with a grimace. “Although, at least you didn’t punch him. That’s progress.”

“Shut up. Just follow them and make sure they don’t get lost.” I snap, knowing that’s one strike against me. The shifters around me give me a wide berth, and I can feel the curious looks as they get a quick glimpse of the reclusive alpha in action.

“Thanks Alpha.” My tracker rests her hand on my arm lightly as she passes, helping Callum herd our visitors to their accommodations.

I dip my head in acknowledgement, letting her know I’ll always have her back, and continue to watch the crowd carefully. Emotions already high, and the shifters here coming from packs of all kinds, I can already spot some potential trouble.

Testosterone chokes the air, and there’s a palpable tension among the hordes of men filing across the bridge. Wolves are pack animals, but normally, there’s one dominant alpha to keep everyone in line. Here, there’s a whole field full of people trying to prove they’re the baddest wolf around. It’s a recipe for disaster.

DEAN: Watch Ryan, and his friends. First hint of trouble, send them packing.

Callum’s eyes glaze over as we communicate telepathically. He nods and strides away, doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement at my reaction to the annoying wolf.

A big hand clamps down on my shoulder, a swell of power washing over me, and I fight my wolf’s urge to pull away.

“Nicely handled.” Blake Steel says sarcastically, knowing full well how much this is paining me. My only solace is that if he disagreed vehemently with what I did, I’d have known about it before now.

“Yeah, well, I’m not putting up with them treating my pack like slaves. Best to let them know early.”

Blake holds his hands up to say I’ll get no argument from him. “I get it. You need to be strict. But at least try to enjoy yourself and have a little fun.”

Have fun? Not fucking likely.