“Yep. Can’t miss my second day of beta training,” I manage to choke out as I stand, setting my now empty mug in the kitchen sink before following Kaylee out the door. She moves quickly to the driver’s side of her truck, and I reluctantly sit on the passenger side. Her scent surrounds me—sweet cinnamon sugar with a hint of warm spice caused by the pregnancy. Her Spotify playlist plays some pop songs that she sings along to.
Watching the scenery pass by, I can’t help but compare how small Ivory Fangs is to Oak Fur. There are only four dormitories at the moment. One was built years ago when this place was called Silver Paw; the other three were built recently.
The pack has quickly grown stronger under Aunt Amelia’s, Uncle David’s, and Kaylee’s leadership. I have a feeling that if Ramos and Marilyn were to attack, Ivory Fangs could hold its own. We may be able to sneak back into Oak Fur and take out Ramos and Marilyn while they’re distracted in attacking Ivory Fangs, even if killing a pregnant woman doesn’t sit well with me. But the world would be better without Ramos and Marilyn in it.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Kaylee asks, her hand taking mine. I smile at her, relishing in the tingles the bond brings from her touching me.
“Just thinking about how strong this pack has grown. Silver Paw was always weak and disorganized, from what I remember,” I state with a chuckle, returning my gaze to the window andwatching the houses grow closer together as we get closer to the packhouse.
“Even though most of the wolves were members of the original pack, they seem happier and healthier with the structure you’ve provided. You really would have made a perfect Luna,” I continue, guilt creeping into me. Oak Fur would have become stronger had I not rejected Kaylee.
“Well, I like being a beta. I think being a Luna would bore me to death,” Kaylee says, shrugging, her smile growing wider. “I don’t think I would be happy planning gardens and organizing parties for visiting packs like Lunas do. David seems to be enjoying his Luan job, but I prefer leading and planning training schedules,” she continues with a giggle, her happy mood contagious.
I sniff the air, scenting the truth in her words, and relax. It seems she really does enjoy being a beta.
I wonder what would have happened if I’d never rejected her and we’d never left Oak Fur. Would she be a Luna, taking a back seat to plan visitations from ally packs or hosting pack dinners? Or would Kaylee lead beside me, taking charge of pack training, security measures, and expanding the pack? Part of me feels she would help me with the jobs traditionally meant for an alpha, and she’d be amazing at it.
The truck pulls in front of the packhouse, and after Kaylee shuts off the engine, we climb out. Waving at the few packmates who loiter about, the two of us walk into the building. Kaylee makes a beeline for the dining hall, her eyes lighting up when she smells the apple strudels that must have been freshly baked this morning. Rolling my eyes, I make a mental note to stop by and grab as many apples as possible to stock the fridge in the cottage.
“Lucas,” I hear Uncle David call out from behind me. Looking towards the stairs I find my uncle making his way towards me, a frown on his face.
“Our spy just reported in,” he says as he reaches me, his tone hushed but full of warning. Alarms start to ring in my mind, and for a moment, I turn back to look at Kaylee, who takes a bite of apple strudel and waves to me. I wave back, trying to smile so I don’t worry her.
“What did they say?” I ask, turning back to face Uncle David.
“Devon is making a break for the pack border. He’s trying to escape the pack.”
27
Devon
Slinking through the forest’s underbrush, I try my best to stay hidden in the shadows. I need to leave Ivory Fangs before it’s too late. A twig snaps somewhere behind me, and I freeze, attempting to calm my rapidly beating heart while I try to sense the person who has been watching me. When I sense nothing, I breathe a sigh of relief and bolt to the right, hopefully getting closer to the edge of the pack’s territory.
Some time last night I had felt a pair of eyes watching my every movement. It was during dinner at the packhouse. Carolyn and I had just reported to Luan David what role we would like in Ivory Fangs, and we were plating up some dinner when I felt the prickling sensation of being watched wash over me. For a moment, I thought it was residual paranoia from dealing with Ramos up until that last phone call, but then that gaze followed me throughout dinner all the way to the guest house and wellinto the night. I knew by sunrise that the higher-ups in this pack had recognized my scent and suspected me.
Luckily for me, after hanging up on Ramos, I had packed a go bag. I had prepared to escape Ivory Fangs before anyone could catch me as a spy and be long gone before Ramos could send his army to attack his sister’s pack.
Another twig snaps, and for a moment, I catch a hint of mint and vanilla. I know that scent. It belongs to Lucas.
Fear takes hold of me, and for a moment, I wonder if I should shift to wolf form before he can catch up to me, but the magic of the pack barrier grows closer with each step, beckoning me like a moth to a flame. Freedom is close at hand—once I cross the pack line, I will be a free wolf able to find a pack I can trust and, hopefully, my mate.
Suddenly, something crashes into me from the left, the solid object—or person—sending me flying. My body crashes onto the forest floor, rolling once, twice, three times before my back smashes into the base of a sturdy tree. Everything aches, and I wince as I try to move. My arm must have been broken from the tumble.
A snarling black wolf stalks towards me, small yet visible scars along his face giving him a menacing aura. The wind blows past him and towards me, carrying his scent. Lucas stands before me, anger and hatred radiating off him in waves. Fear is all I feel, numbing the pain of my broken arm as I do my best to appear small and non-threatening in front of the angry black wolf.
“Lucas, back off,” a deep voice rumbles the command. The bushes behind the black wolf shake before a red-headed man walks out, a scowl on his face as he, too, glares at me.
“Is this the spy?” the redhead asks, and Lucas nods, sitting back on his haunches and watching me with narrowed eyes.
The two go silent for a moment, most likely mind-linking one another, before the redhead moves and hauls me to my feet. I scream, my arm reminding me that it was broken when Lucas tackled me earlier. The pain causes black spots to flash along my vision, and I question why my arm isn’t healing like it should be.
“Shut the hell up, scum,” the redhead snarls, his fingers holding onto my non-broken arm, digging into my skin. I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay quiet as the redhead begins to lead me—more like drag me—back towards the packhouse. Lucas follows behind us, his piercing gaze never straying from my back. I can feel his stare—like daggers waiting to be released from his hand and stab me in the back. I have a feeling that if I try to escape, he will attack me and leave me with only the inch of life I need to spill all my secrets.
The walk is long and agonizing, the anger from the two men being the only thing that keeps me awake and fighting the throbbing pain of my broken arm. Black spots still dance along my vision, threatening to take hold of me, but the fear of being killed keeps me from passing out.
The thought of shifting once again crosses my mind and for a moment, I will myself to shift, but nothing happens. Lucas snarls at me, his teeth nipping at my heels as if sensing what I was trying, and the redhead chuckles.
“He can’t shift Lucas, so calm down,” the redhead says, his gaze shifting to me briefly. “We poisoned him with wolfsbane when he was sleeping last night,” he adds, his green eyes darkening with the glare he throws my way.
