Page 50 of Wolves of the Rising Moon

Rafe snarls, pawing at the ground in frustration.Ask Jonah if he wants to stay with you or help me track them.

I do, and Jonah looks like there hasn’t been a harder choice in all of history. “Are you OK staying with him?” He jerks his head toward Drago, and I nod.

Jonah needs nothing more. He simply shifts, then he and Rafe sprint off toward the woods.

Drago brushes his inky fur against my back, and I lean into the touch, something I would never think of doing if he weren’t in his fur.

It’s easier like this. Easier to accept him, easier to admit I care about him, despite my moral objections. I weave my fingers through his thick coat and sink into the feeling of rightness, of home and pack.

Drago must realize it, too, because he doesn’t shift back.

“I can’t believe I let this happen.”

Drago growls, low and deep, telling me this wasn’t my fault.

“I shouldn’t have gone off like that. I don’t know these wolves, and I forgot that not all packs are good to omegas.”

Another low growl followed by a gentle nose nuzzle into the center of my free palm. He sinks to the ground with a huff, and I join him, leaning against his body as we wait for the others to come back.

Soon enough, the adrenaline wears off and my breathing evens out. I’m warm and comfy cuddled close to Drago’s wolf, and his deep, steady breathing lulls me into unconsciousness.

Willa! Willa!

I startle awake, making Drago growl and search for threats.

Sorry, I passed out. What’s the news?

Passed out? Why? Are you OK? Did they hurt you?

I’m physically fine, Rafe.

He’s quiet for a long time. Hearing exactly what I didn’t say.

We found them. We’re catching up with the packs now to report it. We’ll circle back to you when we’ve got news.

I relay the message to Drago, and his body relaxes. I curl up against him once more and let unconsciousness have me again.

The sound of an army’s worth of paw pads on grass wakes me. Rafe, Jonah, the betas who attacked me, and what must beallthe other wolves file into the clearing from all directions. I resist the urge to hide in Drago’s fur and stand to meet them.

Rafe and Jonah shift back first. Followed by the three betas, Jaxson, and what I can only assume are the alphas of the other packs. Seven in all.

“They confessed the moment we found them,” Rafe says. “We’re only here to ask how you want them punished.”

I didn’t expect that.

I expected the packs to sweep it under the rug and pretend like I just didn’t understand how they play.

I expected to be gaslit and villainized.

I didn’t think I’d be handing out punishments.

“What is your highest punishment?” I ask Jaxson.

“Excommunication,” he answers without hesitation or any other indication of his feelings on the matter.

“That’ll do.”

Jaxson nods, and I zone out while a different alpha makes it formal. I don’t care to watch, and I don’t care to be here any longer.

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