A muscle in my jaw ached. “We are not in the habit of killing women and children, Elana, even if you’re here without permission and uninvited.”
“Jodan told me about an open invitation,” Angel said, pure mercenary now. Thinking strategy. Protecting her charges and her payday. “He said you made the offer to him.”
“When?” Since he’d been dead for more than a month now.
“I don’t know when you made the offer.” The merc was ballsy, I’d give her that. “We use a message drop—used. When I checked this last time, I found a map. He’d marked the tunnel as safe to use with a welcome rune. But if we aren’t… welcome.” The merc’s eyes glittered. “Say the word. I’ll turn these folks around and take them back.”
I held her glare. “I say the word and you’re dead.”
She flinched. Tension spiked as the old man straightened. The man on his knees swallowed back his protest while the one in wolf form growled with his canines exposed.
I stared at him. If he moved like that again, the wolves would tear out his throat. He got the message. They needed to understand. They’d blundered into the middle of a war zone. I could kill them. The wolves would do it. Or the creatures screaming in the distance. Even blind, stupid luck could end them, and the only chance they had was the one I offered.
“We’re from the north. Cariboo,” the man on his knees sputtered. “We can tell you things.”
Cariboo, home of Amal and hybrid wolves who stank but looked like normal men. We’d fought enough of them. But hybrids wouldn’t blend well with a pregnant lady and two kids. Only a matter time before they went rogue and killed.
I glanced at Levi and Pond. They had the kids entertained and far enough away not to hear the conversation—although Levi had retrieved his spear. We’d need to talk about that, if it gave him a sense of security or just reminded him of failure. The surrounding wolves were milling with impatience, a growing demand for action and not talk. Settle it, end it, go on with the hunt. When the eerie scream bounced through the trees, echoing closer this time, I gestured to several of the men from the Carmag.
The moment they’d sworn loyalty to me as Alpha, the pack bond opened between us and they heard the mental orders I issued. Once this war ended, or if they returned to the Carmag, they’d swear to Anson again and our bond would end. But for now, they knew what I asked, and raced into the dark, eager for a fight more likely to turn lethal than this one.
“Get them ready,” I said to Mace.
“For what?” Angel issued her challenge as Mace walked toward the wolf on the ground. He ordered him to shift, watching as the man scrambled for clothes in a backpack—jeans and worn-out boots repaired with dirty silver tape—and either they’d been on the run a long time, or else conditions in Cariboo were more desperate than we’d heard. If their trek had started at the northern end of Cariboo, a land of glaciers and mountains, the hike south would have taken weeks. Months, with kids, an old man, and a pregnant woman, all on foot and walking through rugged, unforgiving territory. Even longer, if they’d been avoiding pursuers.
“We can’t stay here,” I told the mercenary—Angel. “Listen.”
In the distance, the howls were sharp enough she visibly shuddered.
“You’ll help the old man and the woman,” I ordered flatly. “Those two—” The kneeling man and the one still struggling with his clothes. “They’ll carry the kids. Slow down, I’ll leave you behind.”
A scream echoed.
“What is that?” Elana whispered.
“What you pulled in with your fire besides us.”
CHAPTER 4
Grayson
Over the centuries, the Refuge evolved from a trading outpost into a defensive garrison. Multi-storied wooden buildings braced against a towering cliff. Connected flights of steps and raised walkways had a haphazard look, more convenience than planning. Upright logs created a defensive outer palisade; towers flanked the front gate. Inside the stakewall, the area was large enough to accommodate a sparring yard, the hodge-podge of connected buildings, several barracks, a separate kitchen, and the longhouse meeting room. The odd, wooden-wheeled carts scattered around belonged in a different era, and I wasn’t sure why they were still here, other than no one bothered to do anything about them.
The river curving in the near distance was called the Claw—a name given by wolves. Humans used a different name, and it wasn’t important. The river was deceptively slow-moving. The old docks still poked out from the shore; once, trading canoes followed the tributaries up from the Columbia River. They came loaded with supplies and returned piled high with bales of fur and tanned hides—beaver, deer, elk. Sometimes bear and fox. Human expansion had ended the river trade a century ago, along with a desire for modern convenience. Food that came from a grocery store and hot water in an instant. But for wolves, the Refuge was strategically positioned and still in use.
It was also in Sentinel Falls territory, but connected enough to the Carmag to be vital to Anson Salas. Especially now, with vampires running rampant through his northern sectors. The Claw that wound past the Refuge also curled around Westvale; what started here often ended up there, and because of that, I’d accommodated Anson’s request to station two Carmag ranger teams at the Refuge. An obligated courtesy but necessary, since he sheltered refugees from Azul in Westvale, with the added advantage of communication. I “asked” Anson through his ranger commander when it was necessary, and Anson “answered” me without violating his stubborn standards.
I had no truce with Anson, though. Not on a personal level. He still smarted from Fallon’s near seduction, how he’d fallen for the ruse—proud male—while I fucking needed him for the medical care that he offered to my second in command, and my mate.
My mate. Noa. The secret we still kept except from those closest enough to have guessed. I would have shouted it to everyone, but she’d warned against it, wanting our enemies to think a bargain is what two people say it is and nothing more. She had an instinct about it, how being fated mates changed our dread-lord-and-faille connection, and one day, it might be vital, having kept that secret.
I didn’t like it, but I’d agreed to support her decision.
Snowflakes coated the ground as we walked through the opening gates. Snow was unexpected, since harsh weather rarely hit until after the Winter Solstice, the end of December.
Torches flared from the garrison walls; they’d been burning when we left. More had been lit in the interim. As we walked, wolves separated off, heading toward the various buildings. Those who’d hunted the creatures had returned, joining our ranks ten minutes ago, bloodied and successful. Paws padding, tails whipping, they disappeared into the barracks with the other men. They’d shift back into human form, get dressed and head for the mess hall where food waited.
Men joined them. I walked with Mace and the group of refugees. Levi and Pond. Carmag brought up the rear.
