7 - A Lit Fuse

The walk towards the heart of Darius' home feels thick with tension. Milo walks up front, leading the way, and Matteo wanders alongside him. They're talking of the past, of fond memories and nostalgia, and hardly seem to notice the vines of unease choking the rest of us.

Well, me in particular.

Everywhere I look, I see wolves peering from the bushes with golden eyes. Curious yet cautious, they watch us pass. Some trot along behind us and others follow from the foliage. It's unnerving, to say the least, and reminds me of the first walk towards Rowan's home, all those weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Around me, Rowan, Lachlan and Kay are quiet, watching the wolves with just as much intensity as they watch us.

Apart from the encounter with Duskland, when I fell into a Haze to protect myself against Alessandro's fury and Elijah's knife, I haven't been involved in any peace talks between packs. I don't know what to expect. I'm treading on shattered glass, wondering if a certain look or movement will be the wrong one and bring their wrath down upon us. Matteo says there's sixty, give or take, and there's only five of us should something go horribly wrong.

I haven't fallen into a Haze since the day I killed Orion, Liliana and my mother, but every now and then, I feel the whisper of its promise. In that case, it may not be the wrath of the wolves, but my own, which will disturb this peaceful facade.

At last, we emerge from the winding trail and onto a clearing. All around, pine trees sway and whisper to one another. The wolves following us dart out into the open and more emerge from the far trees. They gather together at once, sniffing and yipping and turning their focus towards us. People emerge from similar trails, caught in their own routines until they spot us and freeze. A large house sits in the clearing's centre, almost completely camouflaged by tangled vines of ivy crawling up the cobbled walls. A tired wrap-around porch wilts beneath our scrutiny and whines at the thud of footsteps on its back.

The footsteps belong to a man and woman who emerge from the house. The man has dark skin, a closely shaved scalp and piercing golden eyes that fix on us at once. He's got a bulky frame that warns me of the power he must hold. Over his shoulder, the woman frowns at us from beneath springy dark curls. Her form is lithe as a panther in repose, but there's something... empty about her features. Something hollow-eyed.

As our pace falters not far from the base of the porch, the man murmurs something to the woman before making his way down the steps towards us. Perhaps following his request, the woman leans against the porch railing and watches us from afar.

Milo gives Matteo's shoulder a friendly bump and says, "Look who's answered your call."

"Hi, Darius," Matteo greets a little meekly, wilting beneath the alpha's intense scrutiny. "Long time, no see. You asked for my help, so I brought some friends. I hope you don't mind."

Darius appraises us, his eyes narrowing a little as his focus flits from Rowan to me, to Kay and Lach, and finally back to Rowan.

"So you're the Crescent Moon alpha," he says by way of greeting.

Rowan bows his head a little. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Darius. I'm Rowan, this is River, my fated. Lachlan is my gamma, and Kay is Teo's fated—"

As Lachlan inclines his head and Kay offers a little wave which has Teo's lips quirking, Darius' brows furrow. "You have a hunter for a fated?" he echoes, his piercing eyes locking on me. Even though I haven't used silver in a month, its echo persists. Or perhaps my attempt at a disguise doesn't hold up to much scrutiny.

Here we go.

"I assure you, River is here to help, and so are we," Rowan explains swiftly. "I know it's not exactly custom for me to show up like this, but I have no intention of taking your territory or challenging your title— we're only here to help. Matteo was worried, you see, and of us all, River's the most qualified—"

"I call Matteo asking for help with a hunter situation," Darius says, cutting Rowan off. My eyes narrow, Lachlan shifts his weight from foot to foot, Matteo winces a little, but Rowan merely stares absently. Something about his expression shuts off, like a light flickering out. "And you bring a hunter with you?"

"He's a Ferreus hunter," Kay explains, crossing their arms. There's a stern edge to their voice that I'm not used to hearing. "He knows his shit. He helped us out with our own hunter run-in— and a rivalry at that. If you've got a hunter problem, he's your best bet at fixing it."

"Ferreus, you say?" Darius echoes, his brows raising with idle appraisal as he studies me closely, as though I'm a rare museum exhibit. Over his shoulder, the woman, who I'm guessing must be Imogen, perks up with interest.

"Like I said, he's here to help, as are the rest of us. If you'll accept our help, that is," Rowan finalises, a steely note to his tone that has my lips twitching.

Silence stretches between us as Darius' gaze once more drifts over us all. The wolves pace, shaking out their fur and sniffing at the air— alert and watchful. A few wander closer.

"Shift," Darius says simply, his eyes glinting a warning that has my fingers itching for the assuring hilt of my knife.

"What?" Rowan blurts out, his features slackening with open surprise.

"I said shift," Darius orders, punctuating his demand with a half-step closer. His eyes flicker golden; the wolves surrounding us bare their fangs; my fingers twitch. Most of my knives are tucked into the backpack over my shoulder, but they feel miles away. Even the one tucked against my ankle will take a precious second or two to snatch.

It's an alpha werewolf thing— I'm certain. An order designed to prove who's the boss and who's the subordinate. I've grown so used to Rowan's ceaseless benevolence that, when faced with an alpha werewolf who lives true to his stubborn nature, I'm caught unaware. My eyes narrow and my focus darts towards the circle of wolves surrounding us, checking for weak points.

Rowan's gaze flickers to me and back again, sensing my unease as though I'd shouted. "Tell them to give us some space and we'll shift."

An order disguised as a request. I should've known.

Darius' eyes narrow a fraction and, after a tense few seconds, he jerks his head. Obediently, the wolves fall back a few paces. Nowhere near far enough for comfort, or any semblance of it.

Rowan, Lachlan and Kay begin to shrug stiffly out of their clothes, doing their best to preserve their modesty for as long as possible. I cross my arms and let my gaze scan the wolves, just in case they lunge while my family are distracted. My focus stutters on Darius. He staring at us with a clinical, piercing gaze. It's unnerving, to say the least, and my own features form a glare with ease.

"This isn't necessary," Matteo tries, sending Milo a look torn between hurt and desperation. "I've already vouched for them—"

Milo raises his hands in meek surrender and falls back a step or two, as though equally keen for us to know this isn't his idea but he's not going to try and stop it, either.

"I know. This is merely a precaution," Darius returns. His tone is hard and cold as ice, and his eyes are just as piercing. His focus is a sharp thing, clashing against mine.

Even despite the wolves pacing around me, my attention stays locked on him. He's more of a threat than the wolves. They follow his orders.

"A precaution for what?" I demand.

"River, it's alright," Rowan assures me as he shrugs off his shirt.

Grudgingly, I settle.

Rowan is the first to shift and the others aren't far behind. It's a startling process — all snaps and contorts and stifled gasps — and one that has me holding back a grimace until at last his wolf stands where he stood, shaking out his dark fur and stretching. He glances back at me, golden eyes blazing a devoted sun, perhaps checking for discomfort, before focusing on the alpha before him. Lachlan and Kay's wolves both fall back a little as Rowan's wolf steps forward, so they're behind him. Covered. Watching his back as he stares Darius in the eyes, waiting for his acceptance or his fury.

Darius nods, but his commanding posture does not waver. His eyes lift to mine. "Show me your arms."

I scowl as Rowan's wolf grumbles, hackles raising. I do not take kindly to receiving orders from werewolves— much less an alpha who is already testing my patience. Over his shoulder, I catch Imogen leaning forwards a little, her dark eyes locked on me with piercing intensity.

"Why?" I ask instead.

"They say you're a hunter— a Ferreus, at that. I've heard rumours of your kind. Hunters with markings who clear out entire packs in one night. Let me see if you've got the right pedigree."

If I refuse, it could mean the difference between Darius accepting our help or condemning us to a fight. So, with clear reluctance, I bite my tongue and shove up my hoodie sleeves. Scattered across the clearing, I catch indistinct whispering.

The swirling lichtenberg figures and symbols of the Ferreus hunter legacy shimmer vaguely in the cool afternoon light, the echo of a Haze prowling just out of sight. If Darius doesn't let down his guard and call off his wolves soon, he may be getting a demonstration of my hunter nature.

Darius glances at Imogen over his shoulder. I watch, a little lost, as she nods sharply and, strangely enough, something about Darius' tense posture wilts a little as he turns back towards me. "You know how these hunters work?"

I shrug, pulling down my sleeves once more. "I can find out. The basic principles are the same."

"And you can stop them?"

"I will stop them."

His gaze drifts past me, as though checking for shadows that do not belong. "Alone? Where's the rest of your family?"

A struck match. A lit fuse.

I take a step forward, my Haze whispering promises in my ear. Wolves growl warnings. The whispers fall deathly silent. Control balances on a wavering tightrope.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

"My family is right here," I say, my voice a piercing dagger, my glare razor-edged. "As for the rest of the Ferreus hunters, you'd better hope you don't meet them. I'm only here because Matteo seems to think you need our help, but mention them again, and you'll find out exactly how I got these marks. Do I make myself clear?"

Darius takes half a step backwards, but a smile twitches at his lips, his brows raise, and his eyes flicker to Rowan's wolf. "I think I believe he's your fated now, Rowan. He's got some alpha in him— that's for sure." At last, when I'm nearly shaking with anger, and a warning growl rumbles from Rowan's wolf, he levels his attention on me. "I get it. We've all got family issues. You can help us."

"Oh, joy," I shoot back. "You realise I'm doing you a favour, right?"

Matteo winces. Of all the welcomes his former pack could have offered us, I'm guessing this is one crumbling step above worst-case scenario.

Content with Darius' verdict, Rowan, Lachlan and Kay waste no time in shifting back and shrugging on their clothes as quickly as possible.

Assured in the knowledge that we're not here to stir even more trouble, people and wolves alike begin to disperse, disappearing into the woodland like ghosts. I watch them go, the coil of tension within me beginning to relax a little.

Matteo clears his throat and retreats a little until he's nestled safely within our group. Kay nudges him and he nudges them back with an apologetic smile.

He turns his focus back to Darius, who stands watching us with an idle frown. "Hey, where's Grace and Klaus? I thought they'd be the first out here."

Milo drops his gaze, shrinking in on himself a little. Imogen's curious expression — which I belatedly realise has been fixed on me this whole time — shuts down and is replaced by something cold and empty.

Darius' jaw ticks and ghosts stir in his shining golden eyes. He swallows thickly and manages to choke out, "Dead."

The air seems to drop a few degrees below freezing. Matteo recoils as though Darius has just brandished a knife. "Holy shit, I... I'm so sorry."

The rest of us don't know where to look.

Darius sniffs and clears his throat. "These hunters... they, uh— well, they really know what they're doing. Every time we think we've boarded this place up tight, they find another way in."

Milo frowns, crossing his arms, hounded by dark memories. He stares at his alpha with steadfast attention, as though these hunters are going to manifest from the woods and kill him if he looks away.

My brows pinch as echoes of bygone plans whisper through my head. Guessing at the tactics of hunters instead of being in the room with them as they plan is like reaching through the dark for a knife— I'll either grasp the handle or the blade will slice me. I could guess right or wrong and lives are on the line.

Darius clears his throat and holds out his arms to encompass the woodland all around him. "Anyway, welcome to Lakeside. I am grateful for your help, and I apologise for the... less than hospitable welcome. We weren't expecting anyone to take up our call for aid— much less an alpha pair." I blink, startled by the title, but he forges on, "With hunters breathing down our necks, we can't be too careful. I'm sure you understand."

"We understand," Rowan says, though his form is still wound tight with tension. He crosses his arms and his voice is cold as he continues, "Teo tried to warn you of our arrival, but you stopped answering his calls."

Darius winces a little and sends an apologetic glance to Matteo. "Sorry about that. I've been swamped with organising patrols and scouts. I haven't had the time to check and no one else has answered our call— I assumed we were on our own."

"You're not anymore," Matteo says. Then, he catches my gaze and holds it with a blazing dedication that catches me off-guard. "Whatever you need us to do, River, we'll do it. You're the best qualified to guide them out of this mess, just like you helped us."

Darius shrugs concedingly with a gruff noise of brittle assent before turning and stalking into the house.

Imogen watches him go, her brows pinched, before offering us a tentative smile. "If Matteo trusts you, I do too. Our resources are yours, River. Whatever you need. But," she continues pointedly, "work can come later. It must've been a long journey. Let's get you all settled and we can talk plans over dinner. I assume you're staying with us?"

"If that's alright. We don't want to impose," Rowan tells her, his voice losing its harsh bite as he recognises her lack of hostility.

Imogen waves him off, already turning for the front door. "Nonsense. If you get these hunters off our backs, you can stay as long as you like. Come on, I can find you some spare rooms."

The legacy of my name precedes me, and usually that would welcome a whole lot of suspicion, like it did with Duskland. Imogen, at least, doesn't seem all that concerned that she has her back to a Ferreus hunter, and I find that strange.

She knows my name. She knows what I am capable of. And yet she appears almost... relieved.

It must be the fated bond, I muse, my brows pinching. The pack believe they have no reason to worry because I'm fated to Rowan — a werewolf — and that prevents me from acting on my hunter nature. I'm not a threat to their pack, only to the hunters who target them, because werewolf custom demands it.

It's not the truth. Trust ties me to Rowan with peaceful strings that tangle in my veins, cooling the fire of my nature. I am not a threat to him— but I am a threat to those who would bring him harm.

So far, this pack hasn't given me any reason to cool that fire inside of me. They need to earn my loyalty, just like Rowan did. I will get rid of these hunters, but if anyone dares to try anything, I won't hesitate.