Page 54 of Wolf Found

Listening to Gavin restructure the entire Martingale pack with little more than a vague concept and a few sentences, Graham thought, for the first time in his life, maybe he knew what pack actually meant. It meant what Kismet had. A group of wolves working together to survive and thrive. Not a single alpha among faceless nobodies, a king among peasants.

The Martingales had always said omegas were supposed to be nurturers and caretakers, but that wasn’t it at all. It was the alphas who were supposed to care for those less able to care for themselves. The elderly and children and those members of the pack who couldn’t hunt. They still had value, and the alpha was alpha because their job was to make sure those members survived.

Because when Gavin had said “if you don’t contribute,” that hadn’t been what he meant at all. Everyone contributed. The children with potential for the future, with enthusiasm and hope. The elderly with their experience and wisdom. Some with art, like baking, and some actual service, like when Gavin made coffee for eight hours a day.

Each member of the pack contributed what they had to give, and it didn’t always look the same for everyone.

“You okay?” Ash asked, walking next to him. Because that was what Ash wanted. To walk next to him. Never ahead.

Graham nodded, worried that if he tried to speak, he’d squeak instead. He leaned against Ash, whose touch went hesitant.

“Your ribs?”

“Better.”

“Ribs?” Gavin asked, turning his head to look at them. His eye caught on Graham’s face and the gash there, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” Graham denied.

Ash nodded but looked up at Gavin. “I’d prefer he not have to jump the fence like I did.”

Gavin snorted and waved him off. “Like Dez was gonna jump the fence when he could break it instead. We knocked a section down. They can fix it. Or hell, not, and maybe they’ll realize there’s a whole wide world outside the cult. Branch out a little.”

“Where is Dez, anyway?” Ash asked, not seeming surprised or put off by the man’s absence.

There was a rush of leaves above them, and Dez dropped down out of a nearby tree, landing neatly on one leg, his bad one outstretched so as not to take any weight. He still winced a little, but not too much. Tucked under one arm was a huge gun.

Graham took half a step back before swallowing and drawing up his strength. He didn’t love the idea of guns, let alone being face-to-face with one.

“Betsy?” he asked Dez, trying to pretend he wasn’t bothered.

Dez looked at him then at the gun, and shook his head, a sour look on his face. “Nah, this is no decent gun. But we’re civilians now. Civilians don’t need military-grade weapons. But this would’ve done the job just as well if he’d made trouble.”

“I assumed, since Ash said the Martingales were disdainful of humans, all it would take was one shot from a source they couldn’t see to give them pause.” Gavin shrugged, a self-deprecating frown on his face. “It wasn’t the best plan, but it was what we had.”

“It would have worked,” Graham told him, without a single doubt. “The alpha—Zeke. Zeke would have been terrified. He’d have at least let us all go.”

Ash grumbled something about being ashamed he’d ever looked up to the man, and Graham squeezed him close with his uninjured hand. If he hadn’t once respected the Martingale alpha, he wouldn’t be Ash, and he loved Ash just the way he was.

It only took them a few moments to find their way to the hole Dez had cut in the fence, where Sawyer waited with Gavin’s Range Rover and Ash’s sedan. He looked them over critically. “You don’t look injured.”

“Nope,” Dez agreed, planting a kiss on his boyfriend. “It was hard to hear it all from my position, but unless I’m way off, they now think Gavin is Werewolf Jesus.”

“That is not what they think,” Gavin protested, but Dez wasn’t paying him any attention, putting the rifle away in a case.

Graham didn’t know who or what Jesus was, but he suspected both werewolf followers of the scripture and people who respected him? Her? Would be equally offended. Somehow, the flippant idea from Dez wasn’t a surprise.

What did surprise him was his own reaction. He’d been raised on the scriptures. Raised to think the promised wolf was going to save their entire people.

Only now did he realize that no matter what happened, whether Gavin was some mythical figure or not, Gavin was still just Gavin. Maybe he could help werewolves on their path, but in the end, it was up to them to save themselves.

Gavin had told the Martingales to take care of each other, and treat each other equally and with love, but it was up to them to actually do it.

For some reason, instead of being terrifying, it was reassuring. Everyone was responsible for themselves. Everyone chose their own actions.

Just like him, now. He’d chosen his own path. The Martingales didn’t have a say. The Kismet pack hadn’t told him how to live. Even Ash didn’t control him. Graham owned himself, and his actions belonged to him.

“Can we stop somewhere and get some sleep?” he asked. “I know we need to get home to the shop, but I’m exhausted. I need some sleep and a shower, and then we can go home.”

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