The wolf hierarchy is not that complex, and wolves have certain traits you just have to accept.
One is that a male is deathly aggressive, possessive, and protective of his mate, even if theyâre imprinted, but she isnât technically his. The need is the same.
To be honest, Coltonâs an alpha, which means his protective instincts are enhanced naturally, at about 500 percent higher than most.
Seeking the good of the entire pack, putting his people above all else, is a born alpha trait, and itâs crazily hitched up to about a thousand times more intense once a dominant takes on his role as leader.
So, that fuels Colton. I can see it in him, making him antsy, interwoven with turmoil and rage. Iâm not just his fated mate; in his head, Iâm part of his pack too, and Deacon disrespected me.
He also disrespected the luna. Coltonâs loyalty to his mom is as strong as his love for her, for me. As alpha, he wants to reset the balance, to deal with the insult and offense dealt this way.
The headlights pull my eyes from Colton to them as they flash violently, swinging around into the car park as they trundle in and catch us all standing here waiting.
I hear the low humming of two big green military trucks that I recognize from the bay. Both have tented backs and seem so much bigger out here in the dark.
The first truck veers left, skids to a halt, obviously not expecting the welcoming party out front, and maneuvers an emergency divert.
The second one slams on the brakes immediately, sliding on the gravel an extra few feet, and stops dead in the entranceway, blocking it off in a mist of scrambled dust.
Thereâs a moment of pause as no one moves, and the sound of the humming trucks is the only noise ringing heavily through the eerie quiet.
The distant whoop, whoop of wolves coming from behind alerts the presence of our sub-pack returning behind them, and they seem to be in joyful spirits at trapping these bugs in their web from all sides.
Itâs as though everyone holds their breath and waits for someone else to make the first move, and Colton becomes stealthily still, wholly trained on the first truck as he homes in on the driverâs seat through the side mirror.
His low growl vibrates through my stomach.
~âItâs Deacon. I can smell him.â~
He surprises me with the low, husky hostility in our link, and I blink, my stomach turning itself in knots as I realize what he just said.
Iâm trying to ignore the tone of a killer in his undercurrent because I know Colton is a seasoned warrior, and Iâm about to see it for a second time.
~âHow do you know what Deacon smells like?â~
I blanch, looking from Colton to the truck and trying to figure out how we would know that unless he knew him. He couldnât have gotten the scent from my projected memories.
Deacon is a Santo, but if heâs been at the facility for years, I assumed Colton would have been a boy and not known him.
Deacon is older by maybe ten years, and I donât recall pulling him from any of his memories, but I havenât looked.
~âThat asshole and his pack snuck off into God knows where after his father died, but I know him. ~
~âHe tried to take me down in front of his pack when I was a kid to exert his dominance and humiliate me. I handed him his ass. I hate that motherfucker with a passion.â~
~âKnowing that itâs his pack that held my mom and now comes after you both, I swear I will rip him limb from limb.â~
I swallow hard, eyes widening, and gulp back a slight tremor of âOh, shitâ now that I realize this is more than Colton being pissed on behalf of his mother and me and Colton thinking about diffusing things.
Itâs also about already hating the idiot who followed us here. His rage revs up and surges through me, and I know I need to settle him once more.
We have young here; we have pregnant women and elderly wolves. We have families, and a hundred windows face this way.
We need to shield them from the horrors and instill that this place is a sanctuary. I have to calm Colton and push this fight outside our boundaries, away from watching eyes.
I donât want him to rile the extended pack and rip a dozen wolves to shreds here like this, even if it is Deacon.
Someone opens the truck door and slides out, dressed in dark clothes, and I recognize the tall, cocky swagger right away. That air of asshole he wears so well.
Deacon looks around, noting all the wolves scattered in a circle surrounding him, and then locks eyes on Colton as he seeks out who he should interact with and seems to sag visibly.
He obviously remembers Colton well.
Itâs in his body language and the death of confidence. He hesitates and then walks toward us with his hands raised as a sign of submission.
Colton stands taller, lifting his head, and seems to grow a few inches as he locks him with a penetrating glare.
Colton instinctively moves in front of me, sidestepping and pushing me back with a hand slid firmly across my abdomen.
I can tell itâs a protective move, and I canât be mad about it when itâs a purely automatic response to an incoming threat.
Deaconâs pack slides out of the two trucks, looks around them, and stands back in their vehiclesâ circle.
I can see the hesitant and questioning looks they throw between one another as they recognize certain members, and itâs obvious they didnât know theyâd followed my tracks to a Santo lair.
They stay put and look toward Deacon for direction, showing zero signs of hostility now they see us.
âIâm only doing what Iâm told, Colton. I didnât come here to fight. I didnât even know youâd broken off and had a Santo sect here.
âI just need to take my patient and my prisoner back. Your father was very clear about that.â Deacon isnât so smug now.
I can taste his nervousness and smell his fear in the air as he closes the gap and comes within four feet.
Iâm sure the second he realized he was rolling into Santo space, he shit his pants and had a moment of âWhat the fuck is going on?â
I move around Colton a little to aim a nasty glare at Deaconâs smug head and catch his eye flicker as he notices me and looks back at my alpha.
Colton snorts in response to what he said, his body bristling with a pulsing desire to rip at Deacon, and I impulsively lay a hand flat on his back, a reminder to stay calm.
I can feel the toxicity oozing my way, his emotions enraging mine, and that insane desire to turn and bite the asshole in the face.
I have to inhale deeply, breathe, and count to ten to make it pass, willing Colton to draw some of this settling energy from me.
âPrisoner? Patient? Do you mean ~my~ mom and ~my~ femme? Pretty sure you canât be talking about walking in here uninvited and thinking I will stand back and let you touch either of them.â
Colton steps to him and closes the gap completely, aggression pulsating, and stands nose-to-nose with Deacon.
Heâs taller than him by only an inch, but he seems more dominant as Deacon hesitates but stands his ground.
After all, he is a pack leader, and his own are watching him closely, so he needs to curb the weakness to keep face.
Colton is growling so low itâs reverberating through me, and my wolf is getting all kinds of excited. I try extra hard to pat her down and tell her off.
Itâs the weirdest thing, but seeing and feeling him this way makes me crazy hot, and I curse my damn hormones and that damned haze moving in on me.
My wolf wants to play with him in many dirty ways.
Sheâs just torn between ripping Deaconâs head off or stripping Colton naked for his show of fierceness, and I have to work twice as hard to restrain those urges.
Sheâs all swooning and needy at a time when she needs to shut up and be still.
âYour father wonât care. Iâm just doing what Iâm told. He wonât like this one bit. Just take it up with him when we leave and deal with him yourself,â Deacon says.
He doesnât seem to get the memo, and it dawns on me that much like I didnât know, he doesnât either. Colton is his rightful alpha, and just by questioning him, heâs breaking all kinds of rules and respect.
Heâs oblivious to the pack split, and to him, this is Colton setting off on his own to start a separate sect while still under his fatherâs order.
It happens when males who are next in line become impatient for dominance; they can set up camp somewhere else with those willing to follow.
Big packs like the Santos dominate entire regions because previous generations split and set up across the land to ensure challenges and disputes donât arise when young males get too big for their boots.
Thereâs always only one head alpha, though, and Deacon assumes itâs still Juan.
âMy father is not the alpha anymore! I am! Now back the fuck up and listen to me because this is how itâs going to go,â Colton snaps at him.
It makes Deacon flinch with the intense crazy that came through with that response, and he wilts slightly.
Colton was right. Deacon is a coward, and when he doesnât have a dart gun and a facility keeping wolf gifts at bay, or thick plexiglass prisons, heâs just a weak omega who is the lowest of our pack.
âJuan is my alpha. I donât know what makes you think otherwise, and for all I know, you could be lying.â
Deacon truly is an idiot of epic proportions, and, much to my surprise, Colton doesnât punch him in the face but laughs instead.
There is a deranged, yet somehow boyish, noise, and he raises his head and looks at the trucks behind Deaconâs head.
âDo you hear that, Meds? I must be lying!â Coltonâs eyes are on the vehicles, and I squint to see where he can see her. I canât.
I can smell the sub-pack on the wind, blowing this way gently, but thereâs nothing but shadows and darkness beyond the lit area weâre standing in.
âI guess we witnessed a mirage then, huh?â Meadow appears on the roof of the first truck, coming out of the shadows and strutting across the thick solid canvas of the covering like a supermodel.
With a hand on her hip, she glares this way, and the sub-pack emerges creepily too, some around the sides of the trucks, pouring in like beetles and scaring Deaconâs pack half to death with their sudden appearance.
Cesar appears behind Meadow while Mateo materializes on the roof of the other oneâninja stealth and almost magical appearances.
They know how to spread out and look like there are more of them. They have a force thatâs hard to miss.