Page 8 of Savage Trap

Annoyance ticks through me. I get that.

No, it’s a fact. Fated packs don’t survive without their heart.

I stare at the statement for a long time. For shifters, losing your mate often feels like a death sentence. I’ve used the threat more than once when I’ve been deep in someone’s psyche, looking for their breaking point. But most of the time, it’s not true; even after losing the love of their life, people heal, and some even move on. But there’s no denying how serious Arben is about this.

I start and delete three different responses, but there’s really only one thing I can say. So I type it out and quickly shut down the chat:

If you don’t want the heart to break, you need to come home, guardian.

Elvi

The Alpha of Chicago is Warren Leon, although most people call him the White Lion, given his wolf is a huge beast with an ice-white coat. He’s held the top spot in this city for twenty years, and his son Parker is a high-flying lawyer set to follow in his footsteps. Unlike their bootlegging, mobbed-up ancestors, the Leon’s run a mostly clean city, which is one of the reasons my dad has sought his help with the council.

But the only guy waiting for us on the tarmac in Chicago is wearing a black suit, thick-framed glasses, and has neatly parted dark hair. He’s in his mid-twenties, which means he’s way too young to be the Alpha, and while he’s leanly built under his suit, there’s nothing in his appearance to suggest he’s a dominant shifter. In fact, as we pile off the plane, he clutches a leather binder to his chest and keeps his gaze locked on the ground.

He's also a beta, I realize as we get close enough to detect his faint scent. Curious, I watch as he steels himself and steps forward, his hand outstretched in greeting, although it’s pretty clear he’d prefer to keep it to himself. His grip is quick and cool, but he doesn’t lift his eyes higher than my chin. “Welcome to Chicago, Ms. Ferrier. I’m Nate Leon. The alpha’s second son. He apologizes for not being here, and asked me to show you to the hotel.”

The welcome speech is delivered in a classic midwestern accent with a hint of a southern drawl buried underneath. Each word is careful and precise, like he’s reading it from the back of his binder, and I can see Rory grinning at him out of the corner of my eye. But I feel a surge of protectiveness towards the guy. He’s clearly uncomfortable, and who can blame him? He might be on his home turf, but we’re a pack of five, with three intimidating alphas in the mix. And if he’s heard anything from his dad about what went down in New York, he probably thinks the horsemen of the apocalypse just rode into town.

“Thanks for meeting us, Nate. I’m Elvana, and I go by Starling-Ferrier now.” I try to be gentle about correcting him, but it’s important. We might be a new pack, but we have a complicated history, and that needs to be remembered. “These are my mates.” I move around the circle, giving him each of the guy’s names, and even though he keeps his gaze averted, I notice the intelligence in his soft gray eyes as he takes it in. I get the feeling he’s just confirming what he already knows, since he strikes me as a bit of a planner. He probably has a bio on each of us in that binder he’s gripping.

“Welcome,” he says, his neck tilting in a way I’m not sure he’s aware of. I can feel my wolf watching him with interest, and the gesture certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by the alphas around me. “The formalities are all taken care of regarding your arrival. And if you’d like to follow me. I have a couple of cars waiting for us…”

But before he’s taken a step, Cam stops him with a raised hand. He’s close to, but not quite touching, the side of Nate’s neck. “What happened here?” There’s no mistaking the concern in Cam’s voice. “How did you get these bruises?”

Nate’s gaze finally lifts, and I watch him blink at Cam in confusion. Not about the bruises, I’m certain, but probably at the way my mate has slipped into his nosy medic persona. When you look at Cam, medical professional isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.

“I have a blood condition. I bruise easily.”

I can see Cam getting ready with a barrage of follow-up questions, so I grab his arm, sliding my hand down until I’m squeezing his fingers. “Thanks, Nate. We should probably head straight to the hotel and check in with your dad.”

Nate nods, although he still looks a bit bewildered as we walk towards the hangar and the waiting cars. There’s quite a lot of security standing around the two stretch limos, and Link immediately herds Kelly and me together, with Rory and Cam on the other side. I want to roll my eyes at his overprotectiveness, but with my dad delayed, grabbing us now would make for the perfect hostage situation.

“You’re turning me into a paranoid nutjob,” I whisper under my breath to Link. “Why am I counting handguns and trying to decide who I could take in a fight?”

To my surprise, he flashes me a rare grin. It lights up his face, but somehow makes him look even more dangerous. “Don’t ever say I’m not a good influence, Elvana. And if you ask me, you could probably take any of them in your half-shift form.” His dark, brooding gaze roams over the security detail. “Except for maybe the guy by the back door. But I’m more than happy to shoot out his kneecaps to even things up.”

I check out which guy he means. He’s tall, mid-forties, with the slightly swollen build of a bodybuilder after his prime. But there’s that same watchful stillness I used to see in the older togs, or togerët, who were Roan Bisha’s lieutenants when he was High Alpha. Bad news, even before they tried to take out my whole pack.

But that’s exactly where Nate is leading us, and I feel the guy’s piercing eyes settle on me. He looks me over, clearly unimpressed, but then his attention slips sideways to Kelly, and his gaze heats as it runs over my sunshine like he’s a tasty piece of meat. Hell, no.

Link, I say through the bond, go make that motherfucker squirm, would you please?

I’m not sure he’s heard me at first. Since we’re not officially mated, I’m bouncing off Cam’s bond to talk to him. But then Link suddenly strides forward, each step long and loose, his matching CZ Shadows magically appearing in his hands. Everyone jolts at the sight of the guns, but the older guy just drums his fingers on the roof of the car and watches him approach. His lip is curled in disdain, and I can feel my claws pressing against my fingertips, itching to spring free.

Link stops just close enough to still be able to lift his guns and feed him both barrels. “Watch where you put your eyes, wolf.”

The guy holds his gaze for a moment, then gives a slight shrug. “Sure, but can you blame me?” His teeth flash in a condescending smile. “It’s not every day you see two such pretty omegas in one pack. Especially when their alphas are as young as you boys.”

Damn, can’t wait until Arben’s around to hear that, Rory purrs through our bond, but Link talks over him, his voice as tense as his stance. It’s Randall Trench. He’s the White Lion’s half-brother and Head of Security. Unmated, ex-Special Forces. I can smoke him, but it might put a bit of a dent in the diplomatic relations between Boston and Chicago.

I sigh, because politics sucks. No, back off. We’ll deal with him later.

“Beauty over age,” Link tells Randall with a deadpan expression, then motions to the door. “Are we getting in?”

“Depends where Nate wants to seat us.”

There’s something in Trench’s tone that makes my hackles rise. But right as I’m telling myself to stop being a paranoid nutjob, I catch the slightest flinch from the gray-eyed beta standing next to me. It’s still hard to read him, but I’m pretty sure Nate doesn’t want to go anywhere near Randall Trench. “Link, can you and Rory take the back car? I need to talk to Nate about some changes to tonight’s agenda.”

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