Page 26 of Jace's Mate
Jace ran with them—at first beside, then ahead, the point of the spear.His lungs expanded with clean air, wild air.The kind that cleared the head and sharpened instinct.
They kept to a loose formation, trained to look like ordinary wolves from a distance.A sighting by a hiker or hunter could bring chaos, and though their kind healed fast…bulletsstillhurt like hell.
His communication was swift and efficient—howls, sharp barks, clipped nips to keep the younger wolves in line.One pup stumbled, gasping for air, legs trembling.
Jace circled back, caught the little pup by the scruff, and hauled him up onto his back.The little wolf clung to his fur, tail wagging as Jace pressed forward again.He’d grow strong soon.But not yet.
Several hours into the run, Jace lifted his head and let out a commanding howl.
The betas responded instantly, their own howls rising from the fringes of the pack.They’d done their job, as always—running the edges, keeping every member safe, ensuring no one was lost or left behind in the darkness.
The forest had begun to pale with the light of early morning.The moment the first hint of warmth brushed against the earth, Jace gave another howl—low and clear.It was time to return.
Wolves began to veer back toward the vans, their legs heavy but spirits light.
Jace lingered.
He and his betas paced the perimeter one final time, sniffing the breeze, scanning for danger.Only when he was sure they were clear did he head back.The small pup who’d ridden on his back slid off and let out a proud little yip before bolting toward his parents.
They greeted him with frantic nudges and sniffs, making sure he was whole.Then, spotting Jace, both adults lowered their heads in respect.Gratitude.Silent, but unmistakable.They took their place by the vans and sat, waiting.
Still in wolf form, Jace stood tall in the early morning light.His ink-black coat rippled in the wind, but his eyes remained sharp.He watched his pack—their joy, their exhaustion, the quiet afterglow of the run.
They were safe.Strong.Whole.
He glanced at his betas.Each gave a bark—one by one—reporting in from their post.
Jace sat down.Waited.Sniffed.Nothing on the wind but pine and wolf and the faint promise of sunrise.
Then he threw his head back and howled.
A second later, the pack answered.
A wild, thundering chorus filled the woods—hundreds of howls blending into one glorious, primal song.A celebration.A claim.A promise to the land that they were still here, still strong.
Jace’s chest rumbled with silent laughter.His wolves were thriving.
With a short bark, he signaled for them to return to human form.One by one, they shifted—bones reforming, muscles reknitting, fur dissolving into skin.It was beautiful, violent, seamless.
Jace and his betas stayed in wolf form, holding the line until the last shifter had transformed.Only then did his betas nod and shift back.Jace followed, his final shift as smooth as the snap of a finger.
The pack dressed quickly, the sounds of fabric and whispered chatter barely cutting through the quiet that followed.When the last shirt was pulled over the last head, the vans started loading.
Jace ignored the sleek town car waiting for him and strode toward the van carrying the pup who’d ridden on his back.He didn’t explain.He didn’t need to.
Inside, the vehicle was warm, filled with the scent of sweat, fur, and family.Jace moved down the aisle, his steps silent.The pup sat near the back, hunched low, tiny shoulders curled forward.
Jace crouched, then scooped him up with one arm.
The boy startled, eyes wide.
“Alpha!”he gasped, tense in Jace’s hold.
“You did well tonight,” Jace said, voice low but firm.“That was a strong first run.”
The transformation was instant.The boy straightened, eyes shining with pride.His cheeks flushed pink and his small chest puffed up like he’d just been named a warrior.
Jace settled into a seat with the pup still in his arms and nodded to the driver.
