Page 7 of Wolf Found

Then, a higher, lighter voice. Also annoyed. “Basically. Think of them as one of those survivalist cults, only without all the hoarded guns.”

“They don’t need guns. They have claws.”

“Well, yeah.” There was the thump of a door closing. “I dunno how Ash isn’t more damaged, honestly. How do you come out of a childhood like that without being angry or paranoid or downright delusional?”

Graham stopped walking, stunned. Ash. Ash? They were talking about Asher and the Martingale pack.

The lighter voice came again, a cut off, “What’s w—”

Graham knew he’d been heard. He pushed himself between Hannah and the voices just as a huge man came into view. He had bronze skin, hair and eyes as black as night, and carried some kind of stick like it was a club. Behind him was a slight blond man.

They were two of the men from the picture he’d found online, Graham was sure. He put out his hands, palms up, and bared the side of his neck, face and eyes cast down. It was the most submissive pose he could assume while not on his knees, and he wasn’t going to clear the path between anyone with a weapon and Hannah and Paige, so he wasn’t going to kneel.

“I’m sorry for trespassing on your pack’s territory,” he said, not having to fake the slight whine in his voice. “We came seeking asylum.”

Footsteps crunched through the layer of pine needles on the ground, and Graham found himself looking into the chocolate brown eyes of the smaller man, who had even leaned his head down to get a better view.

Hannah had plastered herself to Graham’s back, hiding Paige between them, but it didn’t make much difference. Like this, up close, it only took one sniff for Graham to know that his guess had been spot on: this man was a wolf, and an omega. He could smell the baby.

“Hi,” he said, like three strange werewolves on his pack’s territory wasn’t any kind of threat. “I’m Sawyer. You guys have names?”

“Graham,” Hannah whispered from behind him, and it took him a second to realize she was answering for him. “He’s Graham. I’m Hannah.”

“And the baby?”

“Paige,” she squeaked.

The man smiled at them and nodded. “Like I said, I’m Sawyer. That mountain of man over there is mine. He goes by Dez, Desmond, Sullivan, and sometimes ‘oh my god.’ Couldn’t tell you why on that one.”

The mountain in question put down his stick—or rather, lowered one end to the ground and leaned against it as he approached them, slowly and deliberately. “Since he’s the one who calls me that, I think he might be a little confused.”

He stopped a few feet away, and Graham got a much stronger scent of alpha. Graham tried to open his mouth, answer... just say anything, but it didn’t work.

His throat was too dry from all the walking with too little food and water. Even a strange alpha’s presence was almost a relief, because he wasn’t alone anymore. Part of him wanted to lie at the alpha’s feet and sleep. Surely no alpha would hurt two exhausted, half-starved omegas and a baby, right? Or had the alpha lied about that too?

Finally, as soft as Graham suspected such a deep, rumbling voice got, the alpha asked, “You’re the missing Martingale?” Graham nodded. “You’re here looking for Ash?” He nodded again. “All right, then. Let’s get you three inside, get you warmed up, and get you some food.”

Graham could have collapsed in relief, but instead, when the alpha and omega turned to go, he put an arm around Hannah and followed them toward what he hoped was salvation.

4

Different Names for the Same Thing

On stressful evenings, they rarely bothered cooking and instead got takeout. Okay, well, they all kind of sucked at cooking and went out as often as not, but especially on stressful days.

Like the time their baker had quit on the spot at being asked to make gluten-free anything. Or the night of “the bougie incident.” Ash’s father showing up in Kismet was kind of a no-brainer.

Ash had offered to go get the food himself instead of calling for delivery, since that way, they could get food from the Chinese place that didn’t have a delivery person. Also, Ash had needed some time alone.

Part of him wanted to go find where his father and Joey had gone. They had to be staying in a hotel, since driving through the mountains at night was difficult enough for people who drove a lot. Ash hadn’t even thought his father knew how to drive.

If he did track them down, though, he didn’t know what he’d say. What’s wrong with you? I’m not a pedophile, you asshole? Fuck the whole Martingale pack and its damned high horse too?

Apparently, Joey was important to the clan now, when he’d only been the child of “new members” growing up. “New members” meant anyone who hadn’t been born in the pack. They could have been born right outside the enclave doors and accepted into the pack at five minutes old, but if you weren’t born in the pack, you would always be a “new member.” If your parents were “new members,” you couldn’t be someone important to the Martingales.

It didn’t matter. (It mattered.)

Ash buckled the bags of takeout into the passenger seat of his car to make sure they wouldn’t tip as he drove. It took a lot of food to feed a pack, even a pack of four. Also, Ash had ordered a lot of extra food.

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