Page 78 of Rescued

I turn toward the heart of the pack’s territory. My boots crunch against the dirt, but the usual hum of activity—low conversation, the rustling of movement through the trees—is subdued.

Something is off.

I scan the darkened tree line. A few shifters move between the houses, their gazes flicking toward me before darting away. Others don’t even look at me at all. No greetings, no nods of respect.

I roll my shoulders, a slow tension building in my gut.

This isn’t how it used to be.

The Gila Pack has always had its issues, but respect for the alpha has never been one of them. Even if some still questioned my leadership, they wouldn’t openly ignore me.

Now, they do.

It’s subtle—the way they move, the way their bodies tense when they catch my scent—but it’s there. A shift. One I don’t like.

A breeze rolls through, carrying the familiar scent of my pack, but underneath it, something new lingers. The acrid scent of unease.

I push forward, past the houses, past the meeting hall, until I reach my home. The place has never really felt like mine. It belonged to the alpha before me, and the one before him. I inherited it, but I never claimed it as my own.

Now, standing in front of it, I get the distinct feeling I might not be welcome here much longer.

Azrael’s words from earlier replay in my head.Kent, Rance, Jared…they’re not waiting for a fair fight, Zane.

I exhale sharply. If they want to challenge me, they’ll do it in front of the pack. That’s how it’s supposed to be. But if I’ve learned anything from Mika’s return, it’s that not everyone follows the old rules.

I step inside, shutting the door behind me. The air is still, undisturbed. No scent of intruders, no sign that anything’s been tampered with. But the weight in my chest doesn’t ease.

I flick on the light, casting long shadows against the wooden walls. The house is too quiet. It has been for months. Maybe longer. I run a hand over my face, my pulse still too high.

Tomorrow, I leave for the Alpha gathering.

The Dux Ducis—Aidan Criswell—is calling all alphas in the territory together. The rumors say he’s a hard-ass. Worse than that, they say he’s the kind of leader who doesn’t tolerate weakness. If I show up unprepared, he’ll see right through me.

I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a drink, ignoring the tremor in my hands as I lift the glass. The whiskey burns on the way down, but it does nothing to dull the gnawing unease in my gut.

My pack is already slipping through my fingers. If I don’t handle this right, I won’t just be walking into a meeting—I’ll be walking into my own downfall.

A distant howl rises in the night. It’s not a call to hunt. Not a call of celebration.

It’s a warning.

And I know, deep in my bones, that something is coming.

Something I might not be ready for.

I move to the window, staring out at the shadowed packlands. I should feel at ease here. This is my home. My territory. But instead, I feel like an intruder.

A movement catches my eye near the tree line. A figure standing just at the edge of the darkness, watching.

I narrow my eyes. The shadow lingers, just enough to let me know they want to be seen. My wolf rumbles, my muscles tensing. Whoever they are, they’re testing me.

I don’t hesitate. Imove.

The door swings open before I fully register the decision, and I’m sprinting across the yard, shifting mid-stride. My wolf’s senses sharpen as I close the distance, but the second I reach the tree line, the figure isgone.

A fresh scent lingers—one I recognize.Kent.

A growl rips from my throat. Coward. If he wanted a fight, he should have stayed. Instead, he ran.

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