Page 69 of Marked for the Pack

Aching and enraged, I’d choked down my tears and painfully obeyed his command, slowly pulling myself up on my hands and knees in spite of the pain to crawl to the pack gathering as innumerable wolves watched and said nothing.

Crawling is the closest you’ll ever get to shifting, half-breed.

In the darkened room, that night rose clearly to mind, filling my quiet surroundings with the sounds of the crowd gathering for Luka and Nira’s betrothal announcement.

Flashing forward, I relived the rest of that night, I recalled the moon singling me out as Luka’s fated mate during the ceremony, the pack alpha ordering Luka to kill me, Luka banishing me instead, and a crowd of hostile wolves surrounding me and manhandling me out of the territory.

Left alone in the wildlands in the dark, I fought for my life. As I felt hands seize me again, I flailed, striking back at my attackers.

My fists lashed out and found hard flesh beneath them. I screamed a battle cry and fought like my life depended on it —because it did. No one would care if the half-breed died. No one would look out for me but me.

And so I fought like a beast unleashed, screaming, crying, not caring what I looked like, only focused on survival. Strong arms encircled me, but I ducked beneath them, coming up blindly beside my enemy. I tried to attack while I had the advantage, but the ground dropped out from under me.

I fell off the flat surface and onto the floor, but I righted myself instantly, unwilling to let them take advantage of the weak moment. I growled, and they laughed, taunting me for failing to shift, year after year.

“Stay away from me,” I growled low in my throat, but a hand grabbed my arm.

I kicked, lashing out with a scream, not caring if everyone heard or not. They wouldn’t help me, anyway. No one would. Two hard bodies pressed in against me, holding me against my will.

I pulled my arms tight against my body and dropped to the ground, kicking at their legs in my scramble to break free.

“We’re only making it worse,” a masculine voice said.

That voice gave me pause. It was a voice that had never hurt me. A voice that had comforted me and cared for me. Not an enemy. Not a bully.

Not a memory.

I wasn’t facing down the Ironwood pack any more. And I wouldn’t have to face them alone any more. I was part of the Howling Echo now.

I blinked, coming back to awareness of my surroundings. The dimness wasn’t because I was fighting in the dark, but because I was in a small, dark bedroom. Crouched on the floor besides the window, backed against a wall so no one could attack from behind.

I gasped and stood up, throwing back the curtains. Nothing but forest outside. A nearly full moon hung in the sky, and inside me, my wolf sat back and howled.

“I’m free,” I whispered to myself. “Those are just memories.”

“You are free, Freya,” Heath said from behind me. “Whatever you were remembering, it’s over now.”

His voice was calm and soothing, different than I’d ever heard it before.

“It’s over,” I whispered to myself, wishing that were true.

Those memories would always haunt me. And it was clear now that the past could affect me more than I’d expected, especially when my defenses were down.

I turned to find Flint and Heath standing there, their eyes wide with worry. Flint silently held his hands out to me, palms up.

Inside of me, my wolf whined, and I rushed to my mate, letting his arms wrap around me without fear or reservation this time. And somehow, the feeling of his strength holding me up made me feel safe enough to let the walls down. Tears streamed down my face, and I let myself sob into his chest.

“I—was—remem—remembering…” The sobs wracking my body made it hard to get the words out.

“I know. It’s okay, Freya,” Flint whispered into my hair. “You’ll probably feel better when we get some food in you.”

When he said ‘we,’ I remembered Flint hadn’t been alone. I stilled, then twisted in Flint’s arms to see Heath standing in the light of the window, his naked chest and abs covered in slashes of red. A line of blood trailed down from one of them, and I gasped.

“Did I…?”

“It wasn’t your fault, moonbeam,” Flint whispered into my hair. “You didn’t recognize us. You thought we were trying to hurt you.”

Heath took my hand, bringing it up to his lips. His intense caramel gaze bored into me, and he made no move to address the wounds I’d inflicted.

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