Page 44 of Wolf Found

He pulled his car into a little alcove he’d once used as a private spot, back when he hadn’t dreamed he’d ever own his own car. No, he’d believed he was going to run the lives of almost two hundred people, but not own a car.

Fortunately, he’d never shared the spot with Joey.

In retrospect, the number of things he’d never shared with Joey should have been a sign early on. He’d always dismissed it as “Joey wouldn’t understand,” or “Joey would worry,” and he hadn’t been wrong. He just hadn’t realized what those things meant for the future of their relationship.

Despite the fact that there likely wasn’t anyone around, he closed the car door as quietly as possible. He had unwrapped the pepper spray and tucked one into each pocket as a precaution. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, and pepper spray was a better option than claws. He definitely didn’t want to maim anyone.

These had been his people once. In a way, they always would be.

He skirted the fence for half a mile until he thought he was close to the omega building, listened for anyone who might be hanging about, and when the coast seemed clear, he hopped the fence.

Just like that, he was back in the place where he’d been born, for the first time in eight years. Sure enough, when he made it through the trees, there was the omega building, almost exactly in front of him. The enclave was quiet; no surprise since there was a curfew of dusk.

It had made meeting up with Joey painfully easy. No one was out at night, so they practically could have screwed right in the middle of the square and no one would have noticed.

Now, it helped him in a new way. He just walked right up to the back door of the building and went in. There were two young boys in there doing dishes. They both whipped around, looking positively terrified, and one of them dropped the enormous platter he was holding.

Ash caught it before it had a chance to hit the floor and held it out to the boy. This one was young enough he definitely didn’t remember Ash or the drama around his disappearance. The other was a few years older, and he was looking at Ash speculatively.

“I don’t know you,” he finally said.

The other boy elbowed him in the side and almost bobbled the platter again. “You can’t talk to non-omegas like that.”

Omegas. These boys, stuck doing chores their elders should be doing, were omegas. Other omegas were assigned to do the laundry and the cleaning of all the other buildings. They weren’t just treated like they were incapable of making decisions; they were servants to the pack. Maybe worse, since Ash had always thought they could walk away from pack life, but Graham’s kidnapping implied otherwise.

Curiosity struck him. “Do you two still go to the enclave school?”

Both boys shook their heads, and the younger one piped up, “Only till we learned letters. Got to be able to read instructions.”

And a few hundred yards away, Ash had lived his youth in a comparative lap of luxury, with his algebra texts, all the food he wanted, and no notion of doing anything so mundane as the dishes. A prince in a rotting ivory tower, with people holding him on their shoulders.

It was no wonder Graham had adapted to Kismet so easily, and why he’d given Ash a look of wonder when he’d willingly done household chores.

He’d had little enough as it was, but looking back on his childhood now, Ash had no nostalgia at all. No sweet moments with Joey or happy moments alone. There was only this reminder that all he’d been given back then had come at someone else’s expense.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself why he was here. First and foremost, he had to protect Graham.

It was hard to imagine walking away from this again, though, without at least trying to do something to help the people trapped in this travesty of a pack.

“Do you know where Graham Allen is?” he asked.

The older boy’s eyes lit up. “Graham is back?” His voice squeaked when he spoke, on the verge of breaking. He looked so young for that.

“Do you think he’ll be allowed to cook again?” the younger boy asked, but he was much more pragmatic about it. An omega after Dez’s cold cynical heart if ever there was one.

“You haven’t seen him?”

They both shook their heads, and Ash cursed under his breath.

“You smell funny,” the younger boy told him, apparently over his terror of non-omegas. “Are you from another pack?”

“I am.” It felt a little like a punch to the gut, telling Martingale wolves they weren’t his pack. But they definitely were not.

“Graham’s not really back, is he.” The words were a question, but the boy wasn’t asking, not really.

The least Ash could do was tell them the truth. “No. Graham has joined a new pack. He has a mate now.” Maybe mate was the wrong word, but it was a word kids would understand.

And maybe mate is the right word, Graham’s voice whispered in his ear.

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