12 - Suspicion

"Shit," Rowan hisses. "Shit, shit, shit."

My focus darts across the dark woods, searching for shadows that don't belong, but I can't find anything.

"What can you hear?" I ask Rowan, my gaze flitting from one tree to the next.

He's quiet for a moment, listening out, before he shakes his head. "Nothing. No one else is here except us. Whoever did this is long gone."

Without preamble, he shrugs off his jumper and I give him a lost look as I tuck my knives away, satisfied with his verdict.

"The fuck are you doing?" I wonder aloud, reaching to take his jumper before he drops it on the muddy ground.

"Shifting," he explains, already working on his jeans. "It's the fastest way to get everyone here."

As I drape the jumper over my shoulder, my gaze slides past him to the splayed, mangled wolf. Features twisting with disgust, I'm hauled back a month to the day I found a body in Crescent Valley, the Othala symbol torn into his chest. The day I realised the sanctuary I'd found was home to a werewolf rivalry. The day I decided to stay anyway.

This isn't a mere Othala proclaiming ownership. It's a slaughter.

"Rowan," I begin, approaching to crouch before the poor creature, studying its injuries. The claw marks tearing through its fur, the innards scattered across the damp grass, the broken jaw. "No hunter did this. See the claw marks?" I run my fingers through the air above the marks, imitating their destructive path.

Hesitantly, and clad in only his briefs, Rowan steps up behind me to study what I've found. "You're right. Fuck," he manages.

"A wolf did this. It's another fucking rivalry," I say, taking the jeans from his slackened hands.

When I glance back at him, Rowan's shaking his head numbly. "It can't be. Darius, he— he said there aren't any packs nearby. Rival wolves will fight to the death, but to... to tear their kill to pieces..." He swallows uncomfortably, his eyes blazing golden as his wolf presses forwards. "It's barbaric. Shameful. Something's not right."

Without another word, he retreats a few paces and begins to shift. The process is startlingly seamless— all snaps and contorts and blurs until Rowan is gone and a wolf is in his place, shaking out his fur.

His wolf throws his head back and howls— a long, lonely, melancholy sound that echoes through the woods. As a symphony of distant answering howls join his song, he breaks off and comes trotting over, ducking his head and whining at me.

Rowan's wolf is always remarkably gentle with me, despite his size and his nature. Always attuned to my reactions, always keen to make sure I'm comfortable being close to him. I'm glad of it; despite knowing he would never bite me, or hurt me, I grew up keeping wolves at arm's length, just in case. I'm still learning how to ignore those instincts, but I'm learning fast.

Sinking my fingers through his thick fur, and losing my hand in a mass of soft brown, black and grey, I run my gaze over the body once more. Rowan's wolf whines again— a broken, sorrowful sound.

It is a gruesome sight, I have to admit, and my thoughts are on fire with potential explanations. Hunters wouldn't fake a kill like this— no weapon could replicate those claw marks. Or the fury behind them.

"Could it be a rogue wolf?" I muse. I've faced a few of them in the past, but they've never been violent before. A nuisance, sure, but they were like foxes. Eager to hide and stay hidden. Whole packs of werewolves were the threat, back then— or, rather, they were the targets. Lone wolves weren't worth our time or resources.

The wolf tilts his head at me— first one way, then the other. He yips, his golden eyes blazing; I blink owlishly in return.

"I don't speak wolf, Rowan."

He snorts and shakes, but before I can discern an answer, I hear the snap of twigs and rustle of leaves and the growls of several angry wolves. I lay my hand over the hilt of a knife just as they arrive in a blur, darting from shrubs with raised hackles and snarls in their throats. Others trot after them, heads bowed, ears pressed flat against their heads, guiltily slinking along behind.

The patrol, a little too late.

As they circle around us, their snarls break off into whines as they notice their fallen pack member. I rise and turn at the sound of my name.

Lachlan emerges from the woods, followed closely by Kay, Matteo and Milo. They're all frowning and, when they notice the body, I can practically see the unease dripping off their tense frames.

"Fuck," Lachlan says, checking me over for injury. "You okay, Riv?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Milo strides past them, his gaze darting down me, though I'm assuming he's not checking for injury but instead checking for incriminating bloodstains.

"What happened?" he asks, his attention flickering between me and the dead wolf.

Rowan's wolf circles me, his hackles raised to attention, as the others join me and look over the body. Kay curses softly beneath their breath and Matteo covers his mouth with a shaking hand.

"We found them like this," I explain absently, my focus already drifting to other things. "Where was the patrol? We got all the way here without seeing a wolf— save that one."

"I called sections back for training," Milo says numbly. From the way he stares down at the wolf, and the way his voice shudders past his lips, I'd say he's tumbling head-first into some form of shock. "And I spread the others out in the woods to make up for it. Fuck it... it's all my fault."

A few wolves whine, pressing close to him and ducking their heads in submission.

"Stop that," Matteo snaps at him, his eyes fluorescing golden in the dark. "Taking the blame won't bring any of them back."

Milo flinches, his gaze snapping up to regard us all. "You need to get out of here. It's not safe—"

Snapping twigs and the thud of approaching footsteps has him breaking off. A dark form appears from the bushes, tendrils of shadows seeping away until I can recognise Darius and his bulky frame and his stern eyes.

"What is it?" he demands, stalking into the little clearing like a hurricane. His eyes fluoresce golden fury as he sees the splayed, mangled wolf and the circle of mourning pack members.

Subtly, Lachlan and Kay shift a little closer on either side of me, as though to shield me from Darius' fury— or, I muse, to shield him from mine.

"It's happened again," Milo tells him, his features twisting with anguish as he hugs himself, deftly keeping his gaze locked on the ground at his feet.

"What do you mean, again?" I ask, his words making a spark of suspicion flicker within me.

Darius waves me off, approaching to kneel before the dead wolf. Obediently, the wolves around him back off a little to give him some space. "Now you know how barbaric these hunters are. Did you find anything in Lakeside?"

But I'm not as eager to change the subject. "It's not hunters," I say, a frown tugging at my features as I cross my arms. "They wouldn't kill like this. It's another wolf, and it's pissed enough to do this."

"Darius, what the hell's going on?" Matteo manages, sounding choked. "If you've got a rivalry, you need to tell us."

"It's not a damned rivalry. It's hunters trying to scare us, clear as day. I'd expect you of all people to recognise another of their tricks," Darius retorts, a stern edge to his voice as he levels his glare on me.

I return it with a touch more fire. "I'm telling you, no weapon can make this kind of mess. Rowan, can you smell silver? Can any of you smell silver? What sort of hunter goes into a fight with werewolves without silver?"

Rowan's wolf sniffs at the air and ducks his head— a 'no', I'm guessing.

"What are you hiding?" I demand of the alpha. He's been suspicious and wary since the moment I met him and he clearly knows something— something he wants to keep to himself.

"What am I hiding?" he echoes as he rises and turns the heat of his full attention on me. Around him, wolves whine and retreat a little beneath the weight of his fury. When he speaks again, his voice is all thunder and fire. "You are here to take out the hunters, not to challenge me."

"For fuck's sake," I hiss, not at all intimidated by his show of power. "I'm not challenging you. I'm trying to stop your people from dying. If you've got a war on two fronts, you need to tell us. I'm not going to waste time and resources on hunters if there's a bigger threat in these woods that needs my attention first."

"This was the work of a hunter," he insists, his eyes blazing golden as he takes a step forwards. He forces his authority over me like his hands are at my throat.

Rowan snarls, standing before me with raised hackles. The urge to rip two throwing blades from my belt is almost overpowering.

"That's enough," Lachlan speaks up, stepping forwards to better cover me. There's a sharp edge to his voice as he addresses Darius. "We're exposed out here. Let's get this mess cleaned up and get back to the pack house where it's safer. We can figure out what the hell's going on there."

With one last scowl in my direction, Darius turns his focus to his own pack and issues orders for a few of the wolves to shift and take care of the body. Then he stalks into the woods, sharply calling for Milo to follow.

The gamma catches my gaze, a spark of something dangerously close to fear lighting behind his eyes, before he ducks his head and follows after his delusional alpha.

As a few wolves disperse and the others begin digging a makeshift grave, we back up to give them some room. Darius may be a bastard, but his pack have lost another member tonight. My fury dissipates with him gone and, instead, I idly scan the woods for any potential threats.

"Fucking hell," Kay manages, tipping their head back to stare up at the speckled stars blazing in the sky above swaying trees. "What a mess."

On my other side, Lachlan scrunches up his nose and says, "Can you smell that?"

As the others make noises of assent and Rowan's wolf snorts in clear agreement, I ask sharply, "Smell what?"

"Something rotten."

I take a deep breath but can't smell anything except for moss, dew, and the metallic tang of blood. Though, given their grimaces, for once I'm not mad about missing out on whatever it is they're picking up.

"We thought their patrols were pretty solid, this morning," Matteo tells me, studying the werewolves as they emerge from the trees hastily pulling clothes on to deal with the body. "All day, we've seen how secure this place is. And then that goes and happens."

I hum tonelessly, studying the werewolves as they take care of their fallen friend. The wolves digging out the soft ground remind me of a harrowing night of aimed guns and screams and dirt in my fingernails. A shudder wracks my frame. Rowan's wolf gives a little whine and nudges my hand with his wet nose.

"Excuse me," Kay speaks up, approaching a couple of werewolves who deftly attempt to avoid their gaze. "I'm so sorry that this has happened. I swear, we'll do all we can to stop whoever is doing this to your pack. But to do that, we need your help. Where was the patrol? You were spread thin, but not this thin."

"We have our orders," one answers, risking a glance at them through the dark strands of hair obscuring his eyes. "We're not meant to stay and fight. It's hopeless to try. We've been told to run at the first sign and..." His focus flickers to the dead wolf as a few of his pack members slide it into the hastily-dug shallow grave. "He wasn't fast enough."

"Who told you to run?" Kay presses on, their voice like silk as they try and coax out some semblance of an explanation.

"Milo and Darius. They say it's our only chance of surviving this."

"Who are you running from? Hunters?" I can't help but ask, eager to shove aside all lurking thoughts of Esme and focus on the problem at hand.

He raises his gaze to mine and hugs himself. As he starts to shake his head, another werewolf abruptly stalks for him.

"Sean," she hisses, making him flinch. "That's enough."

As the wolves finish clawing the dirt back over the slump form of their fallen friend, the woman takes hold of Sean's arm and leads him into the woods with an admonishing glare. The others fall in behind them, eager either to escape more questions or to put some distance between them and the dead wolf as they return to their posts.

Lachlan crosses his arms, watching them go. "It's not just me that thinks this whole pack is acting suspicious as hell, is it?"

"No, it's not just you. Something's different. They're terrified," Matteo answers, frowning after them.

"You said this was an all-guns-blazing type of pack," I remind him. "Now they've been told to run at the first sign of trouble?"

"I know," he agrees sombrely. "I don't know what's going on with them, but it can't be good."

A solemn fog descends between us as we study the disturbed dirt, the droplets of blood on the bushes, the dark trees shuddering.

As a cool breeze stirs, and a distant owl hoots a forlorn melody, Kay turns to me and says, "Please tell us you found something in Lakeside."

"Do the hunters count?" I return, stalking for the woodland trail that leads back to the pack house. The others are soon to fall in line by my side, with Rowan trotting ahead and leading the way.

Lachlan whistles lowly, impressed. "That'll do. How many?"

"A lot. They were training in a warehouse on the outskirts of town. I want to head back soon and catch them off-guard. They were training, so they've got something planned. I'd rather not give them the chance to turn their silver on us."

"We'll have to speak with Darius about it," Matteo says, wincing a little as we all turn to give him sharp looks. "I know. Something's bothering him, and he's a stubborn bastard. If he wants to keep something from us, we can't stop him, but we can earn his trust by taking out these hunters for him. If he gives the order, and we deliver, maybe he'll tell us what exactly is going on here too."

"I'll talk to him. We could do with a few more people," I allow grudgingly. The art of surprise won't last long. I can Haze, but my family needs more cover. "I trust you and I know you're decent fighters, but we'll be outnumbered. The more people we have, the better our chances."

"Aw, did you hear that? He trusts us," Kay coos, batting their lashes and giving me a little nudge with their shoulder.

"He thinks we're decent fighters." Matteo echoes their playful tone, making me roll my eyes. Up ahead, Rowan's wolf yips.

"Don't you start," I warn him. He wags his tail in response.

"I'm flattered, Riv, truly," Lachlan taunts, grinning at me.

"I take it back."

"Too bad. The compliment's already gone to our heads."

By the time we reach the pack house, news of the wolf's death has spread like wildfire and a sombre fog hangs over the clearing. People and wolves alike watch us pass before bustling down trails for their own homes. Shadows choke the trees and the soft lights glowing inside the cottage are like beacons drawing us forward.

Imogen peeks her head out of the kitchen doorway when she hears us coming. "Oh, you're back!" she greets warmly. "Any idea what's up with Darius and Milo? They've just stormed right past me."

"Where are they?" I ask instead. Clearly, she doesn't know what's happened just yet.

"In the office...?" she answers, her features pinching with a frown.

With a nod, I alter my course and head through the maze of hallways for them. As Teo falters to explain what has happened, the others follow behind me.

"Give me a minute," I tell them softly.

They fall back obediently when I falter at the door and knock. I pass off Rowan's bundle of clothes to Lach; Rowan's wolf gazes up at me, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

For a moment that stretches on and on, nothing happens. And then the door is thrown open, revealing Darius. He glares when he notices me. Over his shoulder, Milo deftly wipes at his cheeks and squares his shoulders.

"I need to speak with you both alone," I say, striding past Darius and into his office before he can utter a word. Though I'm certain the others will hear us, being alone gives a semblance of privacy that might entice him to start telling me the truth. I get on every last nerve of his and, without my family as a buffer, he might let something spill in his frustration.

With a sharp sigh, he closes the door after me. The office is a mess again, and I catch a glimpse of scrawled, familiar drawings and open books on the desk before Milo braces himself against it, concealing them from view. My brows pinch. Unease stirs.

Before Darius can speak, I turn to face him and say, "Rowan and I found the hunters. They're holed up in a warehouse on the edge of town. We couldn't get in to check, but it sounded like there's loads of them."

His features, already twisting towards fury, slacken with open surprise. Whatever he thought I was going to say, that wasn't it. He glances at Milo and back to me.

"I see," he returns, rubbing a hand over the stubble shadowing his jaw.

"What will you have us do?" Milo asks. His voice is brittle but the spark in his eyes is pure determination.

"I want to take the fight to them before they can act."

Milo opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, his alpha cuts him off.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I will not leave my land unprotected," Darius snaps. "We fight here."

"Why wait for them to show up, armed and on the offensive, instead of catching them off-guard?" I retort, glancing at Milo for a second opinion. He narrows his eyes at his alpha, but he stays quiet. "There will be no need to protect your land if you take the fight to the ones trying to kill you. These hunters could be dealt with by morning."

"I said no."

"I know what you said— I just don't understand why. Your people are dying to these hunters, Darius. Your pack has been torn apart. You called for help, and now you're rejecting it. I'm trying to get rid of them for you and you're not listening to me."

"I know perfectly well what you're suggesting," he retorts, his eyes flickering golden fury. "But charging in on them in a warehouse no doubt full to the brim with silver is a sure-fire way to kill us all. We'll wait for them to make the first move, and we'll be ready for them here, in our home, where we can shift without worrying about a town full of witnesses. Those are my orders."

I glare at him and throw my next words like a shuriken. "You're protecting your land from more than just the hunters, aren't you?"

My aim lands true. He recoils, his features twisting with anguish. He opens his mouth to retort but no sound comes out. Once again, his gaze darts to Milo, but the gamma doesn't come to his rescue.

And I know I'm right.

I advance on him a step, then another. "That's why you don't want to leave. Hunters clearly didn't kill that wolf, just now. It's something else, and it scares the shit out of you. Why won't you let us help? What are you hiding from us?"

"Darius, we need to tell him—" Milo begins hesitantly.

"Enough," he snaps with such ferocity, his gamma flinches as though against a sharp blow. "I don't know what you're talking about, River," he forges on, turning his back on me and striding to the door. He rips it open and glares at me, his meaning clear. "If you want to rush into that warehouse, be my guest, but you'll be going alone. You may be our hunting-hunters expert, but this is my pack, and I have the final say on the battles we fight. Now if you'll excuse me, I have patrols to manage."

I stalk past him and out into the hallway. He slams the door shut after me so hard, the wind ruffles my hair.

Matteo, Kay and Lach are all waiting out in the hallway, leaning against the opposite wall. Rowan is with them, shifted and dressed once more. They wince as I emerge, no doubt having heard every word.

"That didn't go well," Kay comments pleasantly.

"He's going to get this whole pack killed," I seethe, stalking past them.

Even after losing yet another member of his pack, Darius is refusing to cooperate. If he wants to sit here and do nothing and wait for these hunters to show up, so be it, but no alpha tells me what to do.

I'm going back at dawn — alone — and I'll destroy these hunters before they can tear this already vulnerable pack to pieces. They'll have silver and aconite; one hit and they'll take my family down. I won't let that happen. Especially now we don't have reinforcements to even the playing field.

I will not let the people I care about suffer just because Darius refuses to help us.

When the hunters are dead, I can turn to the real threat in these woods that is tearing wolves to shreds. I'll get answers out of the stubborn alpha— whether he likes it or not.