Page 8 of Alpha’s Vow (Copper Canyon Shifters #3)
CHAPTER 8
SABLE
S everal days later, the moon hung low over the desert, its pale light casting a silvery glow over the rugged terrain. Sable crouched on a rocky outcrop, her sharp eyes locked on the faint glow of a campfire in the distance. The hunter she’d been tracking was there, isolated and unaware of the predator lurking just beyond his reach.
Her wolf stirred within her, restless and eager. The primal urge to act, to strike, was almost overwhelming, but Sable forced herself to stay still. The element of surprise was her greatest weapon, and she couldn’t afford to waste it.
The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of sweat, gun oil, and stale beer. Her lip curled in disgust. He smelled like death, his presence tainting the wild beauty of the desert. The sight of him stoking the fire, his automatic propped casually against a nearby log, made her blood boil. This man—one of those responsible for the death of her family—sat as if he had no cares in the world. He was wrong. He had one care, and that care was about to end his life.
Sable’s fingers brushed the hilt of her blade, her grip tightening as she fought to steady her breathing. She’d enacted more than one of these moments: the confrontation, the reckoning. She’d envisioned plunging her blade into the hearts of the men who had destroyed her world, feeling their lifeblood spill out as payment for what they had taken from her.
But now that she was here, on the edge of vengeance, a knot coiled in her chest. It wasn’t fear—not for herself, anyway. It was something deeper, something that twisted her rage into something far more dangerous. Her mind flickered with memories she couldn’t suppress.
The sound of laughter echoed through the forest, bright and carefree. Her younger brother tackled her to the ground, his silver coat glinting in the sunlight as they wrestled playfully in their wolf forms.
“Come on, Sable!” he teased, his voice ringing in her mind as they shifted back to human. “You’re getting slow.”
“I let you win,” she shot back, brushing leaves from her hair. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Her mother’s voice called from nearby, warm and melodic. “Leave your sister alone. Dinner’s ready.”
The pack gathered in the clearing, their laughter and easy banter filling the air. Her father leaned against a tree, his sharp eyes softening with pride as he watched his family. They were whole, complete. Untouchable.
Sable felt the warmth of her mother’s arm around her shoulders, the strength of her brother’s grip as he pulled her into another teasing embrace. She was safe. Loved.
And then, like the shattering of glass, the memory faded, leaving her in the cold, unforgiving desert.
Sable clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The memory wasn’t a comfort—it was a wound, raw and bleeding. The laughter, the love, all of it had been stolen, ripped away in a storm of gunfire and blood.
Her gaze snapped back to the hunter by the fire, her anger reigniting. He was talking on the phone, laughing now, his voice a cruel echo of the warmth she’d once known. She didn’t need to know the joke or the source of his amusement. It didn’t matter. His laughter was a mockery of everything she had lost.
Sable rose from her crouch, her movements silent as she descended the rocky slope. Her wolf prowled just beneath her skin, her instincts sharpening with every step. She stayed low, her body moving with fluid precision as she closed the distance between them.
The man didn’t notice her until it was too late.
She struck like lightning, her blade flashing in the moonlight as she grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against a nearby boulder. His eyes widened in shock and fear, his hands scrambling for his rifle, but she knocked it away with a vicious kick.
“Who sent you?” she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.
The hunter struggled against her grip, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “I don’t...”
Sable’s blade pressed against his throat, silencing him instantly. Her eyes burned with fury as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a growl. “Don’t lie to me. I know who you are. I know what you’ve done.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, his words trembling as he stared into her unyielding gaze.
Her wolf surged forward, her instincts screaming for blood. She could end him now, cut him down like the animal he was. It would be easy—so easy—but something held her back.
“Think,” she hissed, her grip tightening. “The pack you slaughtered in Montana. The family you destroyed. Do you remember them?”
The man’s eyes flickered with recognition, a fleeting shadow of guilt crossing his face. It was all the confirmation she needed.
“Why?” she demanded, her voice cracking with the enormity of her pain. “Why did you do it?”
His lips trembled, his voice barely audible. “Orders. We were just following orders.”
The words hit her like a blow, her grip faltering for a moment. Orders. As if that excused the carnage, the horror. As if that absolved him of the blood on his hands.
Her blade pressed deeper, drawing a thin line of blood. The hunter winced, his fear palpable. Sable’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, her wolf clawing at her to finish it, to take the revenge she had sought for so long.
The fire crackled and hissed in the cool night air, its flickering light casting jagged shadows across the rocky clearing. The wilderness around Sable was still, the sounds of nocturnal life muted, as if even the animals sensed the storm brewing. Her breath came in sharp bursts, her pulse drumming in her ears as she loomed over the trembling form of the man pinned against the boulder.
The hunter's back was pressed hard against the jagged surface, his eyes wide with fear as Sable’s blade glinted in the firelight. The steel was steady against his throat, the sharp edge biting just enough to draw a thin line of blood. She could hear the erratic beat of his heart, smell the sour tang of his sweat. He reeked of desperation.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he sputtered, his voice cracking. “I...”
“Shut up.” Sable’s voice was low, cold, and steady. Her hazel eyes, hard as flint, bore into him, her wolf clawing just beneath the surface. “You’re not talking your way out of this.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the blade. Sable barely noticed. Her focus was razor-sharp, locked on the man who had been part of the group that destroyed everything she’d ever loved. He wasn’t one of the ringleaders— just another cog in the cruel machine—but he was still guilty. Still responsible. And now he was at her mercy.
The campfire flickered, the light playing tricks on her vision, but she didn’t waver. She pressed the blade harder against his skin, earning a strangled whimper from him.
“You were there,” she said, her voice barely more than a growl. “You and your pack of butchers.”
He shook his head frantically, the words tumbling out of him like a dam breaking. “I didn’t—I mean, I was there, but I didn’t do anything! I was just following orders!”
Sable’s lip curled, her wolf snarling at the pitiful excuse. “Orders. That’s what you’re going with?”
His hands rose slowly, palms out as if to placate her. “Please. You don’t understand. They would’ve killed me if I hadn’t gone along with it.”
Her laugh was sharp and bitter, cutting through the silence like broken glass. “You want me to feel sorry for you? You were part of a massacre—my pack. My family. They’re gone because of you.”
His lips quivered, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “I didn’t have a choice...”
“Neither did they,” she snapped, her voice rising. Her grip on the knife tightened, the muscles in her arm taut with the depth of her rage. “Do you even remember them? Do you remember the sounds they made as they died?”
His silence was answer enough. The fire spat embers into the night as the tension between them thickened, Sable’s wolf clawing for release. Her mind flashed with images she couldn’t suppress—her mother’s desperate howl, her brother’s silver coat streaked with blood, the stillness that followed as everything she loved was torn away.
Her jaw clenched, the tip of the blade trembling as her hand shook. Every instinct screamed at her to end him, to drive the blade home and silence his pathetic pleas. It would be so easy. One clean strike, and he’d never hurt anyone again.
But as the firelight danced across his terrified face, another thought pushed its way through the haze of rage. Would they have wanted this?
But the memory of her pack’s laughter lingered, soft and haunting. They wouldn’t have wanted this—not like this. Her mother’s voice, her father’s steady gaze—they would have told her to be better, to honor their memory with more than vengeance.
Her grip faltered, her mind flooded with memories of her family—not their deaths, but their lives. Her father’s steady voice as he taught her to track. Her mother’s warm laughter as they shared stories around the fire. Her brother’s mischievous grin as he challenged her to races through the forest. They had been strong, proud, full of life.
And now she was here, standing on the edge of losing herself completely.
The hunter’s voice broke through her thoughts, trembling and desperate. “Please, I’ll tell you anything. I’ll tell you where they are—just don’t kill me.”
Her eyes narrowed, her mind sharpening like the edge of her blade. “Where who are?”
“The others,” he gasped, his voice rising in pitch. “The ones who planned it. The ones running the operation. I can give you names—locations.”
For a long moment, Sable didn’t move. The knife remained steady at his throat, her hazel eyes boring into him as she weighed his words. She could smell the fear rolling off him, the sour stench mingling with the smoke of the fire. He was weak, pathetic, but he might be telling the truth.
Her wolf growled, demanding blood, but she forced herself to take a step back. The knife lowered, though her grip on it remained tight. “Start talking.”
The hunter slumped against the boulder, his legs shaking so badly he nearly collapsed. “There’s a ranch,” he said, his words tumbling over each other. “Out in New Mexico. It’s remote, heavily guarded. That’s where they’re operating from—where they’re planning the next hunt.”
Sable’s heart pounded, the promise of a lead stirring both hope and fury. “And the names?”
He hesitated, his eyes darting toward the knife still clenched in her hand. “Silas Seton,” he said finally. “He’s in charge. He’s the one giving the orders.”
The name hit her like a blow, cold and sharp. Silas Seton. She’d heard whispers of him before, but this was the first time she’d gotten confirmation. Her jaw tightened, the fire in her chest reigniting. This was it. The next link in the chain.
She stepped closer, her knife lifting just enough to press into the man’s cheek. “If you’re lying to me...”
“I’m not!” he yelped, his voice breaking. “I swear. That’s all I know. Please, just let me go.”
Sable’s eyes burned into his, her wolf bristling with barely restrained fury. For a moment, she considered finishing him, ending his miserable existence as payment for the lives he’d helped destroy. But as the firelight flickered, her memories of her family pressed against her.
With a low growl, she stepped back, sheathing her blade in one smooth motion. “Get out of my sight.”
The hunter didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself as he fled into the darkness. Sable watched him go, her chest heaving as the adrenaline ebbed.
When the clearing was silent once more, she sank to her knees beside the fire, her head falling into her hands. The flickering flames danced in her vision, but they didn’t bring warmth. The hunt wasn’t over. The fight wasn’t done. But for the first time, doubt crept into her thoughts.
Would her family have wanted this? Would they have wanted her to throw herself into this endless cycle of blood and vengeance?
The flames offered no answers, only the quiet crackle of burning wood and the hollow ache in her chest.
She had let him go.
Her wolf howled in frustration, but she silenced it, her hand brushing the hilt of her blade as she turned back toward the rocky slope. There were others—bigger targets, men who gave the orders that set this nightmare into motion. She would find them.
And when she did, she wouldn’t show mercy.
The stars overhead seemed to mock her, their light cold and indifferent as she made her way back to her truck. The ache in her chest was as sharp as ever, but her resolve was unshaken.
Her pack’s laughter echoed in her mind, a reminder of what she had lost—and what she still had to fight for.
She headed back to her truck, making her way through the desert night. Her boots clambering over the uneven ground until she climbed into the cab, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. The interior smelled of leather and dust, the familiar scent comforting her as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. The anger simmered beneath her skin, hot and unrelenting.
Back at her temporary base—a small, rundown stable she’d rented just outside of town—Sable threw herself into the only outlet that could steady her. Throwing her saddle up on Ghost, she swung up on her back.
“Let’s go to work,” she muttered, her voice low but firm. She didn’t have time for softness, not now. She needed something to focus on—something other than death.
Ghost, her gray mare, nickered softly, shifting beneath her, eager and restless, as if feeding off Sable’s energy. Sable picked up the reins, guiding Ghost into the makeshift arena she’d set up behind the stable.
The training session was harder than it needed to be. Sable pushed the mare more than usual, running barrel patterns at speed, the sharp turns and bursts of acceleration testing both of them to their limits. When Sable reined Ghost in, the mare snorted and tossed her head, her muscles rippling with expended effort.
“Faster,” Sable urged, her voice cutting through the night. “We can do better.”
The mare complied, her hooves pounding the dirt in a steady rhythm that echoed Sable’s heartbeat. Each run was an outlet for the storm raging inside her, the anger and frustration pouring into the precision of the patterns. But no matter how hard she pushed, the knot in her chest refused to loosen.
She dismounted after the fifth run, her legs trembling with exhaustion as she led Ghost back to the pen. The mare’s eyes locked onto Sable with a mixture of challenge and understanding.
“I’m sorry,” Sable murmured, leaning her forehead against Ghost’s. “It’s not your fault.”
The horse nudged her shoulder gently, a quiet reminder of the bond they shared. Sable exhaled, unsaddled Ghost and began giving her a good rub down. It was the least she could do. She turned her back into the corral, giving her plenty of feed and water. Leaning against the fence, Sable’s gaze drifted toward the horizon where the faint glow of the town lights flickered.
Her wolf stirred, restless and uneasy. The sensation was faint at first, like the whisper of a shadow at the edge of her awareness. But it grew stronger with every passing moment, a quiet hum that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Bryce.
The bond between them was faint but undeniable, a thread that connected them no matter how far she tried to run. She could feel him closing in, his presence growing stronger with each mile he crossed. The realization sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through her—anger, frustration, and something else she couldn’t quite name.
“Damn it,” she muttered, her fingers curling into fists.
She had hoped the distance would be enough to keep him at bay, but Bryce wasn’t the kind of man to back down. She had seen the determination in his eyes, the unyielding strength that mirrored her own. He wouldn’t stop until he found her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face him again.
The memory of their last encounter lingered, sharp and vivid. The way he had looked at her, his eyes blazing with both frustration and concern. The heat of his presence, the sheer force of his will—it had been almost unbearable. And the way her body had responded to him, the undeniable pull of the bond…
Sable shook her head, trying to banish the thought. She didn’t have time for distractions, especially not ones as dangerous as Bryce. He might have claimed her as his mate, but that didn’t mean she had to accept him. She could handle this on her own—she had to.
But the bond was relentless, a quiet thrum in the back of her mind that refused to be ignored. It wasn’t just Bryce’s presence she felt—it was his emotions, his determination, and his worry. He was coming for her, and she couldn’t shake the sense that when he found her, everything would change.
Sable’s gaze hardened as she pushed off the fence, her resolve solidifying. If Bryce wanted to follow her, so be it. But she wouldn’t let him derail her mission. She had a purpose, and she wouldn’t let anyone—not even her fated mate—stand in her way.
She turned back to the stable, her movements sharp and deliberate as she began preparing for the next step. The hunters’ network was vast, but she was closing in on the threads that would unravel it. And if Bryce thought he could stop her, he was in for a rude awakening.
The night deepened around her, the stars cold and distant as Sable worked in silence. Her wolf stirred uneasily, a quiet warning that she couldn’t quite decipher. But she ignored it, focusing instead on the task at hand.
Bryce might be closing in, but so was she, and when their paths crossed again, it would be on her terms.