Page 7 of Rogue Games

“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.

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