Page 56 of Witch's Wolf

We obey, the ten of us watching the uphill path. The silence makes every sound sharper. Through the shadows, an amber wolf emerges. He moves with purpose, his frame lean but strong, his coat darkened by starlight filtering through the canopy.

He sees us. Sees Raul and slows. A deep, throaty snarl rolls from his chest as his back lowers, muscles tensed. Raul exhales and looks completely relaxed. Unimpressed even. He doesn’t raise his hands or react in any visible way, keeping his hands on his waist.

“Hmmm… I could shift and rip you apart,” Raul muses. “But I don’t waste my time on low-rank mutts. Where the fuck is your Alpha? Go fetch him.”

A deep chuckle cuts through the night, smooth and deliberate.

“I’d heard you had terrible manners.”

I stiffen with the new scent. It’s strong, commanding, and fills the air. Whoever he is, he’s been holding his beast backsomehow. He steps into sight and damn, he’s big. The bush beside him is at least four feet tall, and he towers over it. A presence like that doesn’t come from just any shifter. This one is someone to worry about.

“Adrian Dexter,” he announces, striding down the same path his subordinate took. His confidence rolls off him in waves. “Alpha of the Mercer pack. And you must be Raul.”

Raul tilts his head and spreads his arms.

“How do you know my name?”

“The same way I know about your manners. You have your scouts, Crawford. I have mine,” Dexter chuckles, low and knowing.

I step forward, irritation simmering just beneath my skin. Curling my hands into fists, my wolf straining to break free.

“Then what’s with this hide-and-seek bullshit?” I demand. “We found your camp last night but you vanished. Why?”

Dexter shifts his sharp gaze to me, an unreadable smile playing on his lips.

“Sam, isn’t it?” He studies me for a beat, then shrugs. “I’ll be honest and blunt since we didn’t come here to fight. I have several teenagers in my pack. They’re strong, but impulsive. I ordered the retreat last night before one of them made the mistake of attacking you.”

“Right,” Raul mutters, unimpressed. “You’re trespassing, Dexter. And I have yet to hear why you’re here. What’s the matter? Mercer isn’t good enough for you anymore? It’s a nice place, right by the coast. I bet the weather’s better there than here.”

Dexter’s grin widens.

“Let’s trade, then. You take Mercer, we take Dawson.” Tension spikes, the air between them razor-sharp. “That is why we’re here. We need living space. No blood needs to be spilled. After all, we’re talking about wood, bricks, and mortar. Are any of those worth the life of one of your own?”

Dexter continues, his tone almost reasonable. Raul’s jaw tightens. His scorn is unmistakable as he fixes Dexter with a hard stare.

“We’re not talking about wood, bricks, and mortar,” Raul says quietly, but there is steel in those words. “We’re talking about legacy. My pack has made Dawson our home for five centuries.” His eyes darken and he takes a half-step forward, daring Dexter to challenge him. “And I’ll be damned if I give it up for a little more sunshine.”

“I figured that would be the case,” Dexter says. He leans his head back and stares at the sky for a long moment before meeting Raul’s glare and continuing. “I’ll make a counteroffer. We take this part of the woods. We chop down as many trees as necessary to build our settlement. It’ll take time, but my pack has plenty of hardworking builders. I promise that we won’t bother you or yours. Hell, you won’t even know we’re here.”

Raul smirks then glances over his shoulder, He slowly looks over the members of our pack with us before returning to Dexter.

“Tell me…” Raul pauses, letting the moment stretch. “Does your bullshit detector work?”

Dexter lets out a long, slow exhale while shaking his head.

“Again, with the language. Can you not be civil? What kind of question is that?”

“I’m asking because mine works just fine,” Raul says, his smirk fading. He doesn’t raise his voice, but there is no mistaking his certainty. “You claim we won’t know you’re here? We are currently six miles from Dawson. Just six. We would cross paths. It’d only be a matter of time.” Raul steps closer. He radiates authority, his mantle of alpha on full display. “So, take your pack and get the fuck out. Consider this your first and last warning. You won’t get another.”

Without waiting for a response, Raul turns and strides away. We follow.

Dexter doesn’t stop us. He stands, silent and watching. Maybe he expected Raul to negotiate or to waver. Maybe he thought he could reason his way into our land. Big mistake. Raul’s done talking and so am I.

He made his request. We denied it. If he dares push this further, he won’t walk away from the next conversation. His pack will be looking for a new Alpha.

31

ERICA

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