Page 52 of The Pack Next Door
A sharp whine started up in my head, but this time it wasn’t my wolf’s. It got louder and louder, setting my fangs on edge. The need to rebut, explain, rode me hard, but my therapist advice came to me. I didn’t owe strangers an explanation of anything, but right as I was about to change the subject, a voice cut through the chatter.
“Briar.” My head whipped around to see Mads standing there, smirking as he stared me down. “Briar Reynolds is our nomination.”
“Go on, then!”
The crowd had a mind of its own, everyone stepping back to let me come forward, hands on my shoulders, propelling me down the path. I took over, marching at my own pace towards the Whitlock pack, my face like thunder. Under my breath, I told them exactly what a stupid idea this was. Gideon’s eyes went wide, his shocked look almost comical, but then he had the gall to look miserable about my response. Didn’t he realise we had every eye of the town on us? That awareness had me looking across the crowd, seeing one person’s reaction. April’s armswere crossed and she was rocking a pretty epic cat’s bum mouth right now.
Looked like Mummy Dearest didn’t approve of me.
Well, if the pack was staying here and competing to become the ruling pack, she needn’t worry. There was a reason why my business was run online. It meant I could deal with customers on my terms, not theirs. Having to wade through the onslaught of people’s problems, complaints, and outright bitchiness every day had my nails raking down my arms.
Something I was going to make clear to the Whitlock pack, as soon as this damn trial was over.
“This way,” I said, walking over to the perimeter and standing by Mum, but before I could say a thing about dragging me into this debacle, Damien let the damn rabbit go and shouted, “The trial begins now!”
If anyone ever doubted that they were wolves, they wouldn’t now. The Whitlocks all turned on a dime and launched themselves after a streak of white fur that was making for the nearest lot of bushes. One of the other alpha packs figured they could get the jump on the little beast, crashing through the undergrowth.
“Rabbits don’t get hurt, right?” I asked, feeling very much like the city girl. “Mum?”
“Those rabbits are specially bred by old man Johnson,” she replied. “They’re tricksy little critters.”
Which was borne out by the fact the rabbit lunged sideways, comically streaking through Gideon’s legs, his hands clapping down on empty air as it ran full pelt across the park. The last alpha pack separated, forming a loose net, their legs pumping as they worked to outrun the thing and corral it back towards the girl I assumed was their omega. My breath caught in my throat, torn between a desire for the rabbit to run, run, run and for some other pack than the Whitlocks to win.
Because it felt like I knew what the rabbit was going through. It just wanted to chill out in its hutch and munch carrots or whatever and someone grabbed it out of its home and thrust it into a crazy situation, expecting it to know what to do. Trouble is, I did know what was expected of me.
Damien had taken me under his wing before my big rejection, obviously grooming me to take over after him. His lessons on diplomacy, of dealing with difficult people, making them feel heard and then coming up with a plan of action, helped me more than the business courses I’d done. Turns out city betas were just as resistant to compromises as they were in Moon River, but sometimes I was forced to make them accept them. Hands grabbed for the rabbit, claws raking through the air, and I found myself smiling, because what Mum said was true.
This rabbit knew exactly what it was doing. The result of generation upon generation of wily rabbits bred for their instincts kicked in right now. Leaping through alpha’s hands before they could close upon its furred body, dodging and even back tracking, using the massive alpha’s size and weight against them. They stumbled, struggling to right themselves and the crowd roared when several hit the ground hard.
Only for Jace to come powering forward.
I’d watched plenty a game of Australian Rules football before, so I knew that speed, that athleticism, when I saw it. His body was a machine, driving him forward, sidestepping and sidestepping again when other alphas tried to get in his way, then dancing around the rabbit, his eyes perfectly trained on its every movement. He wouldn’t let a single thing distract him from his goals, not even his brothers. Gideon operated in defence, deflecting incoming alphas with a shove of his hand, a drive of his shoulder, and his lips peeled back in a snarl whensome persisted. One alpha got up in his face, but a growl from Gideon had the stranger backing away.
So where was Mads?
He sprang out of the bushes, taking the rabbit completely by surprise.
A scream built in my throat.
His body flew through the air, turning from man to wolf and that spelled the end for the rabbit in my mind. My wolf wouldn’t have been able to stop from snatching the little creature from the air and then breaking its neck sharply and the roar from the crowd made clear they feared the same thing. Instead, his jaws snapped down on the ruff of the rabbit, catching it, right before he returned to human form.
Sitting on the ground, a very naked Mads sat with the rabbit cuddled against his chest, but not for long. His brothers spun around, arms wide, their howls ringing through the air. Dominance was mistaken in the city as an aggressive display, but wolves in the real world couldn’t waste their energy fighting all day. Instead, they used the very human tactic of intimidation, of making a competitor think they might meet with violence to cow them.
It appeared that the Whitlocks might just achieve that.
All the golden good humour of Jace was gone as he roared his challenge at the others, almost begging them to come at him. Gideon looked like he grew twice the size, the seams of his clothes straining as he eyed each one of the jockeying alphas, right before one of them gestured to his brothers to attack.
Mads didn’t care. He looked up and shot me a devilish smile, then held the rabbit tucked up tight against his chest like a rugby player might a ball. His legs moved like lightning, running towards me.
“Oh no…” I murmured, the sound swallowed by the crescendo of the crowd. “No, no, no, no…”
I turned to go, but the crowd closed around me. Hands slapped down on my shoulders, giving them a squeeze as others patted my back. The whole town was behind me in this moment.
And if I was eighteen again, that would’ve been an amazing thing.
I didn’t hate the place of my birth. It was a well-run town where people were kept safe and everyone supported each other, but circumstances had cracked the egg I was born into, whether I wanted to or not. I’d emerged, wet and bedraggled, with some shell sticking to my wings, but it was only then that I discovered that I had them. I could fly, away from Moon River, from pack politics, from everything, nesting wherever suited me.
Gods, I wanted to be home in my own nest. The sandalwood candles I had everywhere would softly perfume the air. The light filtering in through the raw cotton curtains I’d selected carefully. My pots and vases and the paintings on the wall, I’d consult with every single one of them the moment I walked in the door, as if they were votive offerings to the god of comfort.
