Page 32 of To Challenge a Wolf

“No,” Daniel said. “But sometimes, to preserve his pack, a wolf makes a decision he wouldn’t otherwise.”

“Y’all have pups in need?” Patrick said quietly.

“We always get by,” Daniel said. “Still—I’d never have come if I’d known the truth about Drew. I wish you’d believe that.”

“No scent of a lie on you. I believe you,” Patrick said, and after a moment, Corbin nodded too.

Daniel looked toward the foothills, then toward the distant cabins. “If you’ve been here very long, maybe you forgot how rare it is for our kind to have so much territory. So much security.”

“I was born here,” Trevor said quietly. “We’re a generational pack. I live on the Lane along with my siblings and parents.”

Daniel nodded, seemed for a moment to wrestle a deep sadness that salted his scent. At last he said, “What we had once, humans decided we didn’t deserve. Decades back, they got together and ran our pack off. So…we can get by. We can eat and live. But this? We’ll never have anything like this.”

Rhett’s wolf-brain began to spin with all the words. What did this wolf want? What was he trying to say? Why weren’t the others growling, sending him and his merc pack away from the Lane?

Instead Trevor’s scent held a tang of emotion. “Thanks for reminding me not to take it for granted.” He held out his hand. “Trevor Sterling.”

The merc froze for a moment, then shook Trevor’s hand. “Daniel Thrasher.”

“Daniel, I hope if we meet again, it’s peaceful.”

“So do I.”

When the mercs were gone, Corbin stared at Trevor. “You shook his hand.”

“He’s not a bad wolf,” Trevor said.

“You’re awfully sure about that.”

“His scent was honest, and he bowed his head to Mal.”

They headed back to the rest of the pack, and Rhett resumed a low, guttural growl. Trevor reached out a hand as though he’d pet Rhett’s head, and Rhett snapped his jaws harmlessly at Trevor’s fingers.

When they had nearly reached the rest of the pack, a howling roar thundered through the forest. Malachi. They ran the rest of the way. The alpha was staring down the two wolves from Drew’s pack, and rather than looking away from his unshielded gaze, they stared back. Unblinking. Unmoving. Their terror grew so thick Rhett’s head ached, yet they didn’t look away. Instead theyfell to their knees in front of Malachi, and at last Rhett’s wolf-brain understood.

The roguescouldn’tlook away. Malachi wasn’t letting them.

Eight

The air around Malachi and the two rogue wolves seemed to crackle with static, and the wolves screamed. Malachi’s gaze held them for another five seconds, and in those seconds Rhett smelled the fracture of their courage, the hairline crack in their minds where their ambition to harm Malachi’s pack had lived.

From behind Malachi, Aaron said, “You won’t come back here.”

“No,” the wolves cried one after another, and then almost together, “My word to the peak alpha.”

Malachi unleashed another roar that shook the forest. Somehow he must have released them, because they sprang up and tried to run. In a blur of motion he stood in front of them. They covered their heads with their arms and yelped like puppies.

Malachi swung his head toward Aaron and nodded him forward, as beta and voice for the pack while the alpha stood in his wolf form.

“Your names,” Aaron said.

“Neal Johnson.”

“Rick Dyer.”

“What happened to the wolf named Kyle?”

Without hesitation, Neal Johnson said, “Our alpha dealt with him. For helping the female get away.”

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