Chapter Two: Claws of Trust and Tangled Lust

I stepped outside the games room door when Cade shoved me against the wall, the rough wood scraping my back through my shirt. "What the hell was that?" he growled, eyes boring into mine, glinting with a fury that made his alpha presence flare. His breath was hot, tinged with the faint scent of coffee from the meeting.

"It's not what it looks like. She was just—" I started, but he cut me off, his grip tightening on my shoulders.

His growl deepened, low and threatening, vibrating through the narrow hallway. It didn't rattle me much—being beta had its perks, like a thicker skin for alpha tantrums—but his voice rose, sharp enough to echo. "Not what it looks like? She was sprawled on top of you. Explain that."

I shoved him back, patience fraying, my own wolf bristling under my skin. I could only take so much pinning before I snapped. "We were messing around. She grabbed for the controller and fell on me. That's it!" My voice spiked louder than I meant it to, bouncing off the walls.

His face twisted, fists clenching tighter, veins bulging along his forearms. "You expect me to buy that crap?" he shouted, his tone raw with disbelief. A crowd was forming—packmates from the house drawn by the noise, their curious eyes peeking from doorways and around corners, whispers already buzzing like flies.

Electra stepped out of the lounge, arms crossed, scowling, her hair still mussed from our tussle. "Cade, stop. He's telling the truth," she said flatly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade, her green eyes flashing with irritation.

Cade's growl softened, but his glare didn't waver, flicking between us. "You're training with me tomorrow," he snapped at me, his words a promise of punishment, then stormed off around the corner, his boots thudding against the hardwood. I watched him go, my pulse still hammering, then turned to the gawkers.

"What the fuck are you all staring at?" I snarled, baring my teeth just enough to flash fang. They scattered, whispering as they went, their footsteps retreating like a receding tide.

Electra lingered, the only one still there, her expression softening into something hesitant. "Kyan, I—" I didn't let her finish. I strode to the front door, the cool brass knob a lifeline in my grip, and slammed it behind me, the bang ringing in my ears. I needed to blow off steam, and shifting was the fix. A run would help—and I'd need it, with Cade's brutal training looming tomorrow. He'd go hard, no mercy, probably make me spar until I could barely stand. Fine. I'd take it. Anything to burn out this mess.

In the forest, out of sight behind a thick cluster of pines, I stripped down, tossing my shirt and jeans onto a low branch. Not that I cared who saw—modesty was a human thing, and the pack had seen worse—but I wanted my head clear, no distractions. I relaxed, picturing my wolf—sleek almost black fur, amber eyes, coiled muscle—and felt the shift take hold. Bones stretched and popped, a familiar ache that bordered on pleasure; senses sharpened, the world bursting into vivid scents of pine, damp earth, and distant prey. When my eyes opened, they were his, glowing faintly in the dusk.

I tore through the trees, free, claws digging into the soil, the wind whipping past my ears. For what felt like hours, I ran, dodging roots and leaping streams, the rhythm of my strides pounding out the day's chaos. Only a mate by my side could've made it better, her scent mingling with mine, our wolves in sync—but I shoved that thought away and ran harder, letting the tension bleed out with every mile. As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple, I knew I had to head back—Shauna was due soon, and I wasn't about to leave her waiting.

I grabbed my clothes where I'd left them, the fabric cool against my heated skin, and dressed quickly, slipping into the pack house through a side door to avoid the main hall. A faint hum of voices drifted from the kitchen—dinner prep, probably—but I aimed straight for my room, boots silent on the stairs. Halfway down the hall, Cade blocked me, arms crossed, his broad frame filling the space. "Been looking for you," he said, voice flat, still simmering from earlier, his jaw tight. "Sentinels caught rogue scent on the border."

I knew what that meant—trouble, and not the kind you could punch away. Without a word, I followed him to his office downstairs, the air between us thick with unspoken words. The hallway clock read 6:45 PM—Shauna was due at 8:00. No way was I letting this drag past that, not when I needed her to ground me tonight.

In the office, Cade, his parents, the Luna, and Electra were already hashing out the rogue problem, maps and patrol logs strewn across the oak desk. The Luna—Callie—sat perched on a chair, her pregnant belly straining her sweater, her blonde braid swinging as she traced a finger along the eastern border on the map. Mr. Harris paced, his greying beard catching the lamplight, muttering about old patrol tactics from his alpha days. Mrs. Harris scribbled notes, her pen scratching furiously, occasionally glancing up with a worried frown. Electra leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression a mix of focus and frustration, like she was itching to say something but holding back.

I leaned against the doorframe, half-listening, my mind still replaying the games room fiasco. Cade laid out the sentinels' report: fresh tracks near the river, a musky scent too strong to be a stray, no visual yet. "Could be a lone wanderer," he said, rubbing his temple, "or something testing us."

"They're getting too close," Mr. Harris growled, pausing to jab a finger at the map. "Two incidents this month, you said?" His eyes flicked to me, and I cursed inwardly—my slip in the car was still haunting me.

"Two sightings," Cade corrected, his tone clipped, shooting me a look that promised a reckoning. "No kills yet. We're tracking, not engaging, until we know more."

Callie tilted her head, her voice soft but firm. "If it's just one, we can't overreact—spook it, and it might call others. But the pups need protection." Her hand rested on her stomach, a quiet gesture of maternal instinct, and Cade's gaze softened for a split second before hardening again.

"What about traps?" Electra cut in, pushing off the wall, her voice steady despite the room's tension. "We learned at the academy—pitfalls with weighted nets. Slows them down, gives us time to respond. Non-lethal, so the council won't care."

Cade raised an eyebrow, grudgingly impressed. "Good idea. Kyan, you're on that tomorrow—after training." His tone dared me to argue, but I just smirked. Traps meant action, not desk duty. I'd take it.

"We could bait them too," I added, crossing my arms. "Fresh kill—deer, maybe—near the border. Draw it out, see what we're dealing with." It was reckless, but I was itching to do something, anything, to shake off the day.

Cade's eyes narrowed. "Too risky. If it's a pack, we'd be inviting a fight we're not ready for."

"He's got a point, son," Mr. Harris said, surprising me by backing me up. "Control the encounter—better than waiting for them to pick the time."

Callie shook her head. "Not worth it yet. One rogue's a nuisance, not a war. Let's stick to traps and patrols for now."

The debate dragged on—scent markers, shifting schedules, even pulling warriors off hunting duty—but by 7:55, we'd circled back to the same stalemate. Rogues were a puzzle with no easy pieces: too wild to reason with, too tough to kill cleanly without proof they'd gone feral. Cade sighed, calling it, his shoulders slumping slightly. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Get some rest."

I bolted first, sprinting upstairs, my boots thudding on the steps. Shauna stood at my door, looking puzzled, her blonde hair catching the hallway light like a halo. "Shauna!" I called, jogging over, relief washing through me. She smiled, slow and teasing.

"Thought you'd bailed," she said, poking my chest with a manicured nail, her hazel eyes glinting with mischief.

"Nah, just pack crap," I grinned, catching her hand. "You look amazing in that dress," I murmured in her ear, voice low, the familiar dance of our routine kicking in. The dress—red, tight, short—hugged her lean frame, a stark contrast to the sweatpants I'd seen Electra in earlier.

Shauna was striking—long blonde hair to her elbows, those hazel eyes that always seemed to see through me, tall enough at six feet to nearly match my six-four, all killer smile and confidence. She stepped closer, licking her lips. "Rough day for the big bad beta?"

I nodded, and she tugged my collar, pulling me into a kiss. I growled, deepening it, my hands sliding to her hips—until a throat cleared behind us, sharp and deliberate.

I turned, breaking the kiss. Electra stood there, expression unreadable, glancing between me and Shauna, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "Uh, Kyan, can I talk to you a sec?" Her voice carried a hopeful edge, eyes darting anywhere but us, a faint flush creeping up her neck.

"Not now," I said, sharper than intended, my patience razor-thin. "Kinda busy." Her face flickered—disappointment, maybe hurt—before she forced a tight smile.

"Oh. Okay," she mumbled, barely looking up, her sneakers scuffing the floor.

"Tomorrow?" I offered, grabbing Shauna's hand and steering her toward my room, eager to escape the awkwardness.

Electra's gaze lingered on Shauna for a beat, something unreadable flashing in her eyes, then she muttered, "Okay," and walked off, her steps quickening down the hall.

Inside, I pushed Shauna against the closed door, kissing down her neck, her pulse jumping under my lips. She giggled, a sound that usually melted my tension. "Looks like you've got a fan."

"Yeah, a fan who almost got me decked by Cade today," I said, pulling back to meet her eyes. Shauna was easy to talk to—our friendship ran deeper than the benefits, forged over late-night patrols and shared gripes about mateless life.

She brushed a hand along my cheek, her touch light. "Tough day, huh? Who's the girl?"

"Cade's sister," I sighed, leaning into her hand. Shauna, newer to the pack, wouldn't know her history—Electra's years away, her return still fresh gossip.

She nodded, piecing it together. "Alpha blood. Big brother playing guard dog?"

"Pretty much," I said, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "How'd you guess?"

"Word travels," she smirked, hinting at the gossip mill that churned through the pack house. "Now, let me take your mind off it." Her lips found mine, fierce and hungry, and damn if it didn't work, pulling me under like a riptide.

An hour later, we lay under a sheet, staring at the ceiling, our breathing still uneven. "You know," Shauna said, pausing, her voice softer now, "once we find our mates, no more spilling secrets to each other."

I rolled onto my elbow, smiling faintly, though the thought stung. "Guess we'll have them for that." Mateless wolves clung to each other like us—temporary fixes for a permanent ache.

"Don't you dare give up," she said, jabbing my chest, her tone fierce despite the yawn creeping in.

"Not giving up," I said, meeting her gaze. "Just wondering when."

She grinned, mischief sparking again. "With your track record? Won't be long."

"I don't get around," I shot back, smirking, though my player rep wasn't wrong—twenty-six notches, if I was counting. Which I wasn't. Not out loud.

"Sure," she teased, sitting up and tugging the sheet with her, leaving me bare. "Round two?" I whined, half-serious, reaching for her.

"Tempting, stud, but I need sleep," she yawned, grabbing her clothes from the floor. No sleepovers—that was our rule, keeping it simple, no blurry lines.

I pulled on sweatpants and walked her to the door, leaning on the frame as she stepped out. "Till next time," she winked, sauntering off, her hips swaying in that way that always made me grin.

Electra appeared down the hall, eyes catching Shauna's exit. She offered a weak smile—Shauna probably returned it, ever polite—then looked at me. Her gaze flicked to my bare chest, widened, and dropped to the floor as her cheeks pinked. She sped past, head down, her footsteps a quick patter on the hardwood.

I chuckled, low and rough. That flustered look? Pure gold. Payback for the mess she'd stirred earlier. She didn't stop to talk—guess she'd forgotten her earlier request—and bolted to her room, the door clicking shut behind her. I stepped back inside, the day's weight settling into my bones. Cade's training tomorrow would be hell, but I'd earned it—pissing off an alpha came with a price.

I flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the day in jagged fragments: Cade's fists, Electra's heat against me, Shauna's lips. Sleep tugged at me, but a nagging itch lingered—not the rogues, not yet, just the mess of my own head. I rolled over, punching the pillow into shape, and let exhaustion drag me under. Tomorrow, I'd face Cade's wrath, and maybe—just maybe—figure out why Electra's eyes kept sticking in my thoughts.