Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

Callum

W ith Ada safely on the ship, I join Drake and Gray on the rowboat, along with half a dozen burly crewmen who take up the oars and row us out.

I am nervous. I believe Gray speaks truthfully about the danger, but he could also be lying in order to get me away from Ada so he might slit my throat without her knowing. Maybe pass it off as some trouble.

I don't trust him yet. The inner voice, that I now understand is my beast, tells me that I need to learn how to, which might be easier had the bastard not kept me in chains for a fucking week while he rutted my woman.

It is going to take a little time.

My skills are weak. I barely know the shifter side of me, although I sense him to a greater extent since he revealed himself. In the past, he was more of a shadow in my mind, but now he takes on a distinct wolf form. He is likewise wary of Gray and his motives, but is more wary of the men on the shore.

He likes Drake. I guess I like Drake, too. Even though he is an annoying bastard who talks too much, I sense he is genuine.

I want to believe that Gray is genuine, too. Still, anything might happen when we reach the shore.

As the boat rocks over the choppy sea, I empty my mind of thoughts and expand my senses. The steady pull of the oars creates a rhythm as the crew takes us ever closer to the smaller wharf set away from the main wharf where the larger vessels are docked. I notice the tension in Drake's body and the alertness in Gray's. Their focus is not on me, not even in a subtle way, but straight ahead on the two men who stand waiting.

It settles the notion that Gray and Drake are not my enemies. The men on the dock might not be either; Gray has said they are his pack mates and alphas with high standing. Yet, there is still a sense of danger here.

Gray has been gone a long time. While I know very little about packs, it is common enough knowledge that they have warring ways between them, and are subject to infighting.

Maybe these men have been sent to kill Gray.

Maybe something happened while he was gone.

A year is a long fucking time.

The sailors tie off the boat, and we climb out, placing our feet on the wooden deck of the wharf—I feel strangely at sea still, but I've been told that it will pass.

The two men waiting for us turn their heads to the side in deference to Gray.

I am still tense despite nothing about this suggesting they are about to attack.

"I was not expecting a welcome," Gray says.

"This is not so much of a welcome," the man on the right says with a grimace, setting the tone.

Introductions are made. The taller man on the right, with a lean build and gray at his temples, is Saul. His shorter companion, who bears him a striking resemblance, is his son, Don. They are Gray's uncle and cousin, I learn.

"Did you find them?" Saul asks.

"Aye, both of them. They are waiting aboard the ship."

"That is heartening news," Saul says. "Now, it is my deepest regret to bring you the news that your father is dead."

Drake sucks in a sharp breath. Gray barely seems to breathe.

"When?" Gray demands. "How?"

"Two months ago, the Canis pack, in collusion with the Doley pack, attacked two hunting parties. Our warriors were deployed. While the warriors were out, Canis attacked the pack. While many of our warriors, your father included, remained to defend, it was a slaughter. I was one of those deployed. We returned. We tried to reclaim the pack. And lost half our numbers in the attempt."

Gray growls so low and menacing that all the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Then he lifts his head, and although he is still human, the howl that leaves his throat is that of a wolf.

His grief reaches into me and triggers reminders of my own. I cease to see him as a threat and instead recognize a man and shifter who knows loss.

I now also see myself as part of him and whatever has happened to him. Through Ada, our fates are entwined. While Gray himself no longer feels like a threat, there is assuredly danger for us, but more importantly, our mate.

"We have been in exile since," Saul says solemnly. "We have contact with a few shifters in our former home willing to pass us information. They intercepted the note you sent via bird before Rufus found out of your return."

"He leads the mutts, then?" Drake asks.

"Aye," Saul says. "Killed his older brother last fall, took the position of pack leader, and has been on the warpath ever since. Several smaller packs had already fallen under his attacks—it was how they brought so many numbers. What is left of Ludstone is scattered. We live in small numbers among the villages, moving on frequently lest a Canis patrol come around. Those who were on packlands during the attack are either dead or forced to follow Rufus's orders because he holds their mates and children hostage."

He offers a list of names: those fallen, those in hiding, and those whose mates are being used as leverage. Finally, he looks to Gray in the manner of one seeking hope. "What are your orders? What would you have us do?"

"I will not fight against my own pack members," Gray says. "If we are to have a chance, we will need to rescue those taken hostage."

"Aye," the shifter agrees. "But that won't be easy. There are eyes everywhere. As soon as we reach pack lands, maybe even before, Rufus will learn of your coming. We are greatly outnumbered. The other packs are likewise reeling. We approached former allies seeking support, but none would, too concerned with protecting their own."

"Well," Drake says, "Lucky we've got some help on our hands."

I feel the prickling sensation; my suspicions are realized when I turn to find Drake looking expectantly at me.

Gray's face turns my way. Saul and Don do likewise.

"The fuck?! Why are you looking at me?" I say, feeling sweat break out across my brow. He thinks I have control over my beast, but I really do not. "I will fight for you. I would do whatever it takes to see these mates and their children freed. But I am new to the shifting business and newer yet to this pack war."

"You will have to learn fast," Gray says. "On both counts."

"He is a shifter," Don says, frowning as he gives me an up and down look. "And a big bastard. We could always use another fighter, but we are going to need more than one."

"That is not the half of it," Drake says, clapping me on the shoulder. "You are looking at the first shifter in a century with royal blood. Just wait until you see his beast. The Canis mutts will shit themselves when they catch a glimpse of him."

The two men gasp then hasten to bear their throats to me in deference.

And just like that, their war is now my war.

Ada

The rowboat returns to the ship without Callum, Gray, or Drake. We are told they are waiting on the wharf for us.

I have not seen my dress since I was first brought onto the ship, and it is still missing. My boots, at least, have been returned to me. These are my favorite boots made for me by the local cobbler a few doors down from The Green Man.

The only other clothes I have belong to Gray and are big enough to bury me. So, to go with the boots, I am given pants and a billowing crimson shirt, which I am very taken with. They smell fresh and clean, thank goodness, or I would not be putting them on.

Lizbeth coos when she sees me in my new garb. "Oh, that is a fetching color on you," she says. "You look like a pirate lass now."

Arlo, who is standing at her side, rolls his eyes.

I have a small jacket to put over the top, which must have belonged to a boy. The captain assures me Gray has already compensated the lad for the donation.

I admit that I like these clothes. There's a certain freedom in not wearing a long, heavy dress. Also, you can see my boots in this outfit since my pants are tucked into them at the knees.

I do feel a little pirate-ish, dressed in this garb.

"She needs a hat," Lizbeth announces, turning to the captain, who stands a short distance away.

He raises both brows. "I didn' ‘ave hats on order," he says. "I be a ship's cap'n, nah a hatter, wee lass."

Lizbeth pouts. I have seen this pout a few times during our short acquaintance. It is a toss-up whether it gets her what she wants.

The captain sighs heavily, stalks over to a chest, throws it open, and rummages around.

He takes out… a proper captain's hat, if a little squashed in places for being inside the chest. He dusts it off, pats out the kinks, and searches again, this time finding a crimson feather to garnish it.

"Thar," he says, grinning as he hands it to me, and I put it on. "Happen, ye look the part. Ye be honorary cap'n."

Arlo shakes his head. "Gray is going to rip them all off and spend a week scenting her."

Lizbeth ignores him and claps her hands together. "Oh, you look wonderful," she beams at me before addressing the captain. "Do you happen to have another hat for me in the chest?"

"Yer mates are waitin'," the captain says, narrowing his eyes. "They be fearsome bastards, 'n I don't wants t' encourage thar wrath. Best we get ye on the boat 'n row ye out t' shore."

I didn't particularly like the ship. I like the rowing boat less. Events over the last week have purged my memory, but now it all comes back as we rock back and forth on the waves as they row us to shore where Gray, Callum, Drake, and two new men wait, along with horses laden with supplies.

Gray growls the minute his eyes land on me.

A tic thumps in Callum's jaw. "Gods," he says. "I've never seen such a saucy outfit. Where did you get all this?"

"The captain," I announce proudly before my smile drops, for I sense something is amiss. The wooden wharf is solid beneath my boots, yet it feels like the world tilts. "What has happened?"

To my left, the rowing boat is heading back toward the ship. They will sail on, bound for a deeper port further along the coast where they can dock and make repairs.

I want to shy away from whatever is in front of us, for I sense it is not good.

Drake steps forward and wraps his arms around Lizbeth, drawing her into his side. His eyes meet Arlo's, and he places his hand on his shoulder. "Your father is dead," he says to Arlo. "Canis attacked a few months ago."

Arlo turns from Drake to Gray.

"Our pack has been taken," Gray says. "The former members have been killed or scattered."

"We're going to claim it back," Arlo demands, his eyes glistening as he takes in this terrible news.

The solemnity of the group is like a mournful cry in my mind.

"We will," Gray says. "But they are holding former pack members hostage. We will need to free them first, and then, when they are safe, we will rain bloody hell upon those responsible, avenge our father, and reclaim our pack."