Fog seeped into the valley below, hiding the sprawling city there until Hazel saw nothing more than scattered lights glittering like stars. Little good came from Crescent City, but she still found it an easier sight over watching Willa stitch up her arm.
The healer noticed her aversion. "Look well on that cesspit, because you made it your problem. It's like a tumor, always trying to grow in more places. Ada used to chase off three or four scouts a month who were searching for a good place on the mountain to hide drug farms."
"I know about that." The side of Hazel's face had begun to throb, and she licked over her teeth to make sure none of them had been knocked loose. Damn, but Ada had fought like a devil.
"What about everything else it takes to lead this pack? The treaties with the Silver Slews and the Pikes. Making sure everyone gets enough meat in the starving months. Deciding whether the year's been good enough to have pups. Were you thinking about any of that?"
"I was thinking about saving my sister." For the first time, Hazel looked over at the healer, staring until the other she-wolf dropped her gaze.
Unsatisfied with the silence, as silence was the very response that had made things worse, Hazel added, "Everyone saw what she was doing. Two pregnant wolves dead and another near to it. I knew Thistle was next and I wasn't about to let Ada get at her, alpha or no."
"You never did mind defying your betters," murmured the healer. "Wonder how well you'll take being defied."
"I'll find out."
There was another lull while Willa knotted the final stitch. Hazel now studied the nearby farmhouse where she'd left Ada's body for the rest to find. Though it had all happened only an hour before, the news had spread like wildfire, and half the Diamond Ridge Pack now prowled throughout the house, as shocked as she had been at seeing just how stone cold crazy Ada had become.
For there were other bodies in there, tooâone of them Jeremy Lovett, Ada's mate and the male alpha. Ada had gone after him with a knife while he'd slept and then had painted glyphs all over the walls in his blood. Murdering one's mate... And for dark magic, at that.
But worse still were the shriveled remains of their pup, still wrapped in a birthing shawl and tucked in the cradle despite having died some five months back. Hazel hadn't caught any scent except Ada's, suggesting she'd let no one but herself into that room.
"I don't understand how she could do it," said Willa, her scissors flashing while she snipped the thread. "I know how hard she took losing the pup, but..."
"It was out of love." Hazel had seen the dying look in Ada's eyes and held no doubts about it. "She lost sight of everything else. Jeremy should've known better, though."
"When one mate goes, the other often follows."
"Hm."
"That's another thing. They're already wondering who you'll mate with. No one will rest easy until you do."
Hazel felt herself smile, but it was a grim one. The only wolf she wanted was off traveling, and she didn't know if he wanted more than her bed, anyway. Still, a sharp pang ran through her at the thought of him returning and finding her mated, her scent mingled with another's. "I did get myself into some trouble, didn't I?"
"Mm-hmm."
Members of the pack were leaving the house, now. Some appeared sick and others were just frightened. A few even whined softly. Their leaders were dead and they didn't know what to do.
It was the look on their faces that hit Hazel in a way that Willa's scolding couldn't. By killing Ada, she'd taken her place as the female alpha. She would have to do good by the pack, her pack, whether she knew how to or not. And that meant looking after them instead of herself.
All eyes fell on her as she stood, and her glance around was enough to encourage the others to approach. Already, she could pick out those eager to become the new male alpha.
Here was Sal, big and thickly-muscled. He was Hazel's age, twenty-seven and settling into the prime of his life. And now Billy, just eighteen and full of himself from driving all the young she-wolves crazy with his looks.
Ezra, now... Ezra worried her. Thirty, with a calculating look in his eyes. Strong enough to bring down a doe himself and greedy enough to take the best bits before allowing anyone else a taste.
The others were already mated or were fellow she-wolves, but they all held the same wish: a pack secure and strong again.
Ezra spoke first. "A hole's been ripped into this pack. It's got to be mended, and quick."
"Otherwise we might find ourselves fighting to even keep this territory," said Billy, quickly, not wanting to be left out.
Now Sal spoke up, voice steady. "A pack without its alphas isn't a pack."
Hazel eyed them, not liking how they already pushed at her. Well, she could think of a way to turn that around. "I agree."
She waited until they'd relaxed a little at her compliance, and then added, "But I'm here now through fate instead of choice. It should be the same for my mate. Prove yourselves."
Unease rippled through the wolves in shared looks and shifting stances. Out of the three who had eyed her like a fat little hare, none looked thrilled at the idea of bleeding for her.
It made her want to spit at them for being so yellow-bellied, and some of it showed through in her voice. "A mating fight to win me and win the pack."
They all nodded, a little more eager from remembering the prize wasn't merely her, but there was still a pause before Ezra spoke again. "Then let's do it now."
"Tonight." Hazel let her teeth flash at him. "In the clearing next to my house. It's only fair to give the whole pack enough time to come and witness it. And in the meantime, we've got bodies to bury."
Another round of glances, and then all agreed. True night was only hours away, far too short a time for Hazel's roaming lover to hear the news. Hazel watched the relief seep into their expressions and wished she could make them bleed, herself.
The moon hung heavy and bright when the pack gathered sixty strong. Hazel greeted them all family by family as they settled in, hiding her nerves while her suitors milled around in the center of the clearing, already reeking of sweat and lust. She wished it didn't feel like a piece of her was about to die.
Then a light wind blew in from the south, carrying a scent that sent her head snapping over. A new wolf approached, still in his skin and fully-dressed. Eagerness filled his every step. His jacket smelled like tar and diesel from traveling on the roads, and the dust on his jeans was not the rich red that made up the pack land. His gaze found Hazel without hesitation.
She didn't say his name, but others did, the two syllables heavy with fresh anticipation.
Walker.
"I didn't know," she managed, stunned, as he strode up to her. The rest of her words were swallowed by a devouring kiss, and the whispers among the pack rose into yelps. The fight promised viciousness now that lust had been pitted against greed.
When Walker pulled back, he was grinning. "This must be your idea. None of those three have the balls to fight anything rougher than a coyote."
"I thought you were across the damn ocean," she hissed.
"No. Bigsby."
A town 120 miles south. He must have roared here. "And you want this? The pack?"
"You, you lovely, maddeningly oblivious creature."
She was stunned again. "I would've stalled if I knew."
"Why? I like it this way, winning you." His tongue ran over his teeth, which had already grown out. "You do know what happens after such a fight is won?"
"Yes, and I'll honor it." Then she raised her chin at him. "So fight good or else you'll have to watch."
"Already acting like a queen."
She huffed, ready to tell him she was no Crescent City bitch, but he was gone, shrugging off his jacket while heading into the clearing. The other three weren't happy at all to have him join them. He met their scowls with a flash of teeth and a wink, stripping down to reveal rippling muscles and plenty of scars from past fights. Billy, the closest to him, muttered a threat, but Walker only laughed and changed into his fur. The others quickly followed suit, not wishing to face savage teeth with vulnerable flesh.
There were no final speeches, no lining up of combatants. Instead, Walker suddenly twisted and bit at Sal's neck, filling the air with the scent of panic, and then all was chaos.
The harsh moonlight left each wolf an ambiguous figure of white and black. They lunged and slid away, dancing shadows in a bone-colored land that ripped at each other until fur flew and the ground churned into mud. Sometimes snapping jaws caught a mouthful of pelt, and then a scream would cut through the snarls.
Soon, one of the suitors ran for the trees, tail between his legs. So did another, limping from a bite on his leg. Hazel watched long enough to see them turn back into their skin. Billy, who shivered as if he couldn't believe he'd gotten out alive, and Sal, who refused to meet anyone's eyes while favoring his bloody arm.
That left Ezra and Walker, who circled each other, muzzles wrinkled into snarls and teeth gleaming in frothing jaws. Steam rose from their thick coats but they still moved lightly, leaping for the back of the neck, diving to snap at the tender belly. One caught the other, bowling him into the ground, and then they rolled together, scuffling and growling.
A shriek drove the pack closer; one of the wolves had locked his jaws into the other's throat.
Hazel's heart beat hard and fast as the caught wolf choked, kicking helplessly as a rabbit while the other slowly crushed his windpipe, patient and unrelenting. Who was it? Who was dying before her eyes?
The victor's glowing gaze met hers, and Hazel didn't know who she gave the nod to. Just as the other wolf's breath struggled to a final whimper, the victor released his grip, standing over him as if daring him to resume fighting. Instead, the wounded wolf fled, panting hoarsely from a bleeding throat as the rest of the pack howled, singing praises to their new alpha.
Fur shifted into skin, and Hazel's new mate rose from the ground as a man. Blood ran down his chin and more had spattered on his chest. His hair was slick with sweat and mud. But Walker's eyes gleamed like the moon as he approached her, the fighting rage in them mingling with something more tender.
She was leaning into him even before his hand slid up her back, catching her by the neck while those brute teeth nipped at her lip, daring her to flinch. Instead, she pulled him closer, licking the traces of blood from his mouth while her fingernails dug furrows into the mud on his shoulders. She was ready to swear herself to him.
The pack kept howling as their new alphas thrashed and rutted in the mud, consummating their vows in a haze of blood and sweat, unashamed in the way of beasts. In privacy, perhaps, they would lick at bruises with sweet tongues, but for now it was the bloody rebirth of the pack that was to be savored.
Later, some would claim the howling that night had been heard as far away as the city.