6 - Not So Welcoming

As the hours wear on, my patience stretches thin. Given Matteo is driving and Kay has called shotgun, I'm in the back with Rowan and Lachlan. The silver lining — pun intended — is that I've got a window seat and Kay is within reaching distance if I need to take them hostage through knife point and demand to swap.

Though, given they've taken control of the aux, I may have to take matters into my own hands sooner rather than later. There's only so many times I can listen to the same ten songs before something inside of me snaps.

Outside, the world is bathed in shadows as the sun seeks refuge behind clouds. The woods are washed out and grey, shaking branched fists at the sky with rustling leaves demanding a little light. Their whispers fall on deaf ears.

I've stretched out as much as I can, every position uncomfortable after so long cooped up, and try my hardest to keep my thoughts locked on the problem at hand— namely, Matteo's old pack and their hunter situation. The Ferreus hunters can wait.

"Can you tell me about them? The pack?" I ask Matteo, leaning forwards a little which only succeeds in pressing me further against Rowan. Given he leans a little into me in response, I'd say he doesn't mind the contact.

"What do you want to know?" He messes with a dial on the dash and the music falls into a whisper, mercifully.

"Their numbers, hierarchy, routines, fighting style— that sort of thing. Are they the type to fight hunters head-on or hide and wait them out?" How these wolves react to threats will determine the approach of the hunters— if they're any good, that is.

"Oh, they're definitely a head-on, all-guns-blazing kind of pack," Matteo tells me. I see his brows pinch in the rear-view mirror. "Darius, he... he doesn't take kindly to intruders. Hunters took his brother from him when they were young— he's going to give them all he's got, which means the whole pack will, too."

I hum, considering this, and he continues.

"Darius is the alpha and his fated — the luna — is Imogen. They have a daughter, Grace, and she's next in line. Klaus is the beta; Milo is the gamma. There were over sixty members back when I lived with them, with a rotating patrol of wolves constantly watching the borders— who knows what's happened to that system since. I... I don't think Darius would've called for help if he could avoid it, so whatever it is they're doing, it's not working."

"What are you thinking?" Kay asks, turning in their seat a little to regard me over their shoulder. They wiggle their brows in dramatic intrigue.

"I'm thinking the hunters must've been watching and planning for a while. If they've figured out the pack's defences, they'll know how to exploit them. They must be good at what they do, or else Darius wouldn't have asked for help." I pull a face, reconsidering. "Then again, if they were good hunters, then Darius wouldn't be able to ask for help. It's like they're toying with him."

"Is that normal?" Lachlan wonders aloud.

"For some, I guess. Some hunters see this as a sport— something to enjoy. Others see it as a job— a duty. Either way, they're not going to give up easily."

Unwillingly, a flicker of Myles, of Orion and Liliana, stirs in my head. They'd race for fights with vigour, all too eager to kill and feel their markings spread. They'd take out one pack and rush back to the map room to prepare for the next one.

And then, because the mere thought of them puts cracks in my defence, my thoughts slip towards Esme. I've been trying hard to keep her out of my head because every time I think of her smile, her laugh, her incessant jibes at me to do better, I summon a cavernous hole of despair and guilt in my chest.

I got out, but she died thinking that the Ferreus hunters are honourable and right and— and I can't get her out. I can't do anything to change it.

If she was still here, would she understand why I escaped, or would she hate me for aligning with someone like Rowan?

I swallow thickly against a lump in my throat and return to my seat, keeping my hard gaze locked out the window as trees rush past. I don't know the answer and I never will. I stamp on the hurt that rises within me, but I can't get rid of the abyss in my chest.

Rowan's leg presses against mine, startling me from those dark thoughts. His presence is a flickering light in smothering shadows— one I cling to. I don't look at him, but I feel his attention on me all the same. My response is subtle; I shift a little to lean against him and my hand drifts across my lap until I find his. Pleasant sparks flit up my wrist when my little finger meets his own.

The others discuss the hunter problem amongst themselves, but I don't join in and none of them force me to, either. Until at last, they all lapse into silence and let the minutes slide away. Outside, the world is a blur of emerald and grey.

The road becomes a dirt track, weaving through the woods, moving steadily away from civilisation.

"We're here," Matteo says at last, his voice a soft murmur.

The effect is immediate. We all startle from dreary monotony and are abruptly alert. Kay sits up a little and switches off the music. Lachlan looks out his window, surveying.

My own gaze darts from window to window, alert, and Rowan's shoulder bumps gently against mine. He catches my gaze and offers me a little smile. I can't quite return it. All of my focus is drawn to our surroundings, to the wolves that emerge from the woods and trot alongside the car, sniffing at the air. Living with werewolves for over a month has taught me that they can smell us easily. Some tails wag, other hackles raise. Some yip, others snarl, as though they're equally glad of Matteo's return but wary of the rest of us.

"Well, at least their patrols are intact," Lachlan muses, his voice light with forced enthusiasm as he watches the wolves snarling from his window. "That's a good sign."

A few wolves dart in front of the car and, obediently, Matteo pulls to the side of the dirt track, rolls the car to a stop, and turns off the engine. "Give me two minutes to put out some fires," he tells us, already taking off his belt and reaching for the door handle.

Rowan gives a little nod. "That would be best."

We're all quiet as Matteo shuts the door after himself, though I know the others are listening in as he approaches the quickly growing group of wolves pacing in front of the car. I find myself wishing I could hear them, too, if only to warn me of their reactions.

An absent scowl tugs at my features as I watch a couple of wolves creep forwards to snarl at my door. By the time I glance out the front windshield, I see a figure approaching from the depths of the woods. A man with curled auburn hair and sharp, lined features forming a frown makes his way towards Matteo. His eyes fluoresce golden as the sun breaches a wall of clouds to glare down at us all. His form ripples with strength and he walks with an unwavering purpose. Though he looks old enough to be Teo's father, he holds himself with clear power. Wariness hisses inside me; a glinting knife.

His stern expression breaks into an easy smile when he reaches Matteo, and the two embrace like reunited family members. My wariness loses its sharp edge.

His joy is quick to fall as he surveys the car over Teo's shoulder, and suspicion is quick to rise. The two engage in a muffled, tense conversation, but all I can make sense of are the cues and mannerisms— the pinched brows, the crossed arms, Teo's assuring gestures towards the car.

Kay shrinks back a little into their seat and Rowan leans forwards as though to compensate.

"It's alright," he says softly, his voice weighted with assurance.

A few strained moments later, Matteo waves us over.

"Should I stay here?" I ask Rowan in an undertone. Most werewolves don't take too kindly to dealing with hunters— especially ones like me. If the man is already wary, I don't want to push him any further. Sometimes, negotiations between packs need to remain strictly hunter-free— like the tricky alliance with Duskland that went a little awry because of my involvement.

If this pack doesn't accept my help, I'll work from the shadows instead. I'll stay in the closest town, find these ambitious hunters, and put an end to them—

"No," Rowan decides. "You're one of us. If you're not welcome, neither are we."

And with that, he gestures for Kay and Lach to get out the car.

As I emerge, a ripple of growls flow through the wolves surrounding us. Unease prickles at my skin. I glare in return, but I follow after Rowan and the others as they gather in front of the car.

"Guys, this is Milo," Matteo introduces in a light, carefree tone, trying his hardest to keep the peace. Subtly, he retreats a little to stand closer to the rest of us and Rowan moves a half-step forward. "Milo, meet Rowan, River, Lachlan and Kay."

Huh. Not the alpha, but the gamma. My eyes narrow a little as I study him absently for weak points.

Milo only has eyes for Rowan. "Wait, you're—"

"Teo's alpha, yes," Rowan fills in politely, giving a little nod of acknowledgement, or of slight submission. I'm not sure. The intricacies of werewolf mannerisms still confuse me. A simple nod could be just that, or it could be their equivalent of rolling onto their back and baring their throat in their wolf forms.

Milo catches the spotlight of my gaze for a moment and swallows uncomfortably. "He's a hunter, isn't he?"

Around us, the wolves bristle and pace restlessly. My focus follows them, just in case.

"Yes, but he's here to help, I promise," Matteo assures him at once.

Kay speaks up, just as eager, it seems, to defend me. "Yeah, Riv's a real sweetheart beneath all the—" They gesture in my general direction— "y'know, sharp edges. No offence." As I frown at them, they shrug helplessly and assure me, "You look great."

"Thanks?"

Milo blows out a heavy breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You can't be here, Matteo. I mean it. It's not safe."

"We know. That's why we're here. Darius asked for my help, so here I am," he returns. "Well, I can't do much on my own, but I trust these guys with my life."

"Listen, I don't know how you've got a hunter on side, but if you know what's good for you, you'll get back in that car and drive as far away from here as you can," Milo insists, his features twisting with wariness— a look I know well. His focus darts behind us, checking the treeline and the empty dirt track we emerged from. "Nothing can help us now."

Unease rises in the air like the charge before lightning. The wolves surrounding us paw impatiently at the ground, hackles raising. My awareness flickers to the knife pressed against my ankle, whispering assurances, and then to Rowan, with confidence seeping off him in waves.

"May we speak with Darius?" he asks, using that silky voice of his. "If he won't accept our help, perhaps he'll accept our advice— or River's, at the very least."

"Please, Milo," Matteo says, an echo of something raw and painful lurking at the edges of his tone. "This was my home, too, once. I don't want to turn my back on you if you need help."

There's a long pause as Milo debates, his gaze drifting across us all as though checking for cracks in our words, but at last he relents with a sharp nod. "Alright. If you've got stuff with you, bring it, but leave the car here. It's hidden well enough, and our patrols will keep an eye on it."

In symphony, a few wolves huff and grumble and shake out their fur.

As we head to the trunk of the car to retrieve our bags, Rowan makes sure to catch my gaze. His brows raise and his eyes blaze with a silent question. Are you okay?

I shoulder my bag, my own gaze darting to the wolves circling us and back to him. I haven't decided if they're threats yet.

With a subtle nod, he makes sure to keep himself between me and the curious wolves, and Kay and Lach find their way to my free side.

Milo is waiting for us with his hands buried in his jean pockets, his head tipped back a little as he absently studies us. As we approach, bags in hand, he tilts his head and says, "This way."

And with that, he turns and leads the way down a narrow trail concealed between bushes. Matteo sends us all a wince of apology before following after him. Around us, wolves huff and stretch and go trotting off into the woods, returning to their posts.

With clear reluctance, I share a long look with Rowan and trudge after him into the heart of Lakeside's pack.