Page 7 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Maurice looked me over, from top to toe, slow and considering. His face didn’t move an inch when Griffin mentioned Thornebane, but I felt the air shift. I held my breath.

Then Maurice extended his hand. I shook it. His grip was firm. Not aggressive. But there was no mistaking the test in it. I met his stare and didn’t flinch.

He grunted, then released my hand and jerked his chin toward the woods behind his cabin. “They’ve been restless lately,” Maurice said.

“‘They’?” I asked.

Griffin folded his arms. “Wild wolves. Unaligned, feral. Some of them pass through the deeper parts of the border. Usually harmless. Sometimes not.”

Maurice added, “Couple days ago, I caught scent of a den to the west. Small pack. Not local.”

I frowned. “What are we supposed to do if we run into them?”

Maurice’s eyes gleamed. “Hope they’re not hungry.”

I was about to respond something cocky, when a low, ragged howl split the air. It was too close. I turned toward the sound, muscles tightening, breath catching.

Griffin tensed beside me. “Stay alert.”

The underbrush rustled. Then, just beyond the clearing’s edge, three wolves slunk out from the trees. Lean. Ragged. Eyes glowing with something too wild to be natural.

They bared their teeth and growled low in their throats. My pulse jumped. I didn’t wait. I shifted in a few minutes, bones snapping, fur bursting along my spine, claws hitting dirt.

Griffin shouted behind me, “Dean, no!”

But I didn’t listen. The thrill of the chase hit me like fire in my blood. My wolf lunged forward, powerful and eager. We closed the distance fast, teeth bared in anticipation.

The wild wolves scattered, but I picked one and tore after it, joy flooding me with each pounding stride. This was what I was built for. Not hiking. Not waiting. This.

The wolf I chased darted through trees, tried to lose me in a thicket of brush, but I stayed on him, fast and relentless. I wanted to prove something. Not just to Griffin or Maurice, but to myself.

I wanted to show I could handle this. That I wasn’t some exile they had to babysit. I chased him for maybe half a mile before I lost track of the others.

The second I realized how quiet the woods had gotten, it was too late. They came from the shadows. Not three, but seven.

Snarls erupted around me, vicious and hungry. Wild eyes glinted in the gloom. My wolf froze for half a breath, instincts screaming. Then I was in it, fighting tooth and claw.

I lunged at the first one, sank my teeth into its shoulder. It yelped, retreated, but another took its place. Claws raked my side.

I spun, slammed into a tree, then sprang forward, snapping jaws and guttural growls filling the air. I fought like hell. But I was outnumbered.

A savage bite caught my hind leg and dragged me to the ground. I twisted, kicked free, got up again, but they were circling now. Herding me.

Panic tried to claw up my throat. I shoved it down. I was a Thornebane wolf. I didn’t panic. But dang it, I was in trouble. Then came the howl. Not wild. Pack. Familiar.

Griffin’s dark-furred form exploded into the clearing, slamming into the wolf closest to me. A second later, a silver blur who I realized was Maurice, crashed into another. Teeth and claws flew.

Growls shook the air. The scent of blood turned sharp. I staggered back as the wild wolves turned their focus, now outnumbered, outmatched. They fled, crashing through the trees.

Griffin gave chase to one, but Maurice stayed behind, circling me.

I shifted back, panting hard, bruised, bleeding from a dozen places, and more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life.

Maurice shifted too, silent as he handed me a shirt. “You done showboating now?”

I didn’t answer, because I was. We made it back to the cabin in silence. Griffin shifted and said nothing, but the disappointment rolled off him in waves.

I hated it, but I earned it. I sat on the edge of the porch, wrapping my arms around my sore ribs. The mountain wind cooled my skin, and I stared out at the trees without really seeing them.

Eventually, Griffin said, “We don’t fight for ego here. We fight smart.”

I didn’t respond. He sighed and stepped inside to grab water.

Maurice came to sit beside me, arms crossed, his silence heavy but not judgmental.

“You’ve got fight in you,” Maurice said finally. “No question.”

I snorted, low and bitter. “Didn’t help much.”

“Not today,” Maurice agreed. “But you’ll learn. If you let yourself.”

I stared down at my hands. My knuckles were scraped, and my palms were raw. “I just wanted to prove I belonged,” I muttered.

Maurice turned his head to look at me, eyes sharp but not unkind. “Then stop trying to do it alone.”

I didn’t have an answer to that. Couldn’t find the words. But the sting in my chest told me he had a point. The screen door creaked open behind us.

Griffin stepped out onto the porch, arms folded, shoulders taut with leftover adrenaline. He leaned against the post and looked down at me.

“I told you to wait,” Griffin said.

“I had them,” I muttered.

“No,” he said, flat and certain. “You didn’t.”

My jaw tightened, the shame sinking deeper. “In Thornebane, you don’t wait around when there’s a threat. You take it out first. Fast. Or you end up bleeding out on your own,” I explained.

Griffin didn’t flinch. “You’re not in Thornebane anymore,” Griffin pointed out.

I looked away, out at the trees. The breeze stirred the leaves, and somewhere deeper in the forest, a bird called. I felt like that bird. Alone and loud and completely out of place.

“In Pecan Pines,” Griffin continued, “we protect first. That’s the rule. If there’s an attack, the first priority isn’t retaliation. It’s protection. You get the vulnerable out of the way. You cover your team. You work as a unit.”

I scoffed. “And what, just let the enemy run free?”

“You trust that your pack’s got your back. That we handle the threat together.” Griffin’s voice sharpened. “You were reckless today. You left us behind. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Or worse, dragged us into a trap trying to save your ass.”

That last part stung worse than the claw marks on my side. “I was trying to help,” I grumbled.

“You were trying to prove something,” Griffin corrected. “And you almost made things worse.”

My hands curled into fists. “That’s not how I was taught. In Thornebane?—”

“I don’t care how they did it in Thornebane.” Griffin’s voice cracked like a whip, and Maurice shifted beside me, silent but listening. “I get that things were hard there. I know it wasn’t fair. But you’re not there anymore. Stop dragging their rules into our house.”

Silence settled over us. Not angry silence. Just real, and it settled into my bones like truth. I sat with it, breathing heavy, chest tight.

I hadn’t realized how deeply Thornebane had wired me. How instinctual it had become to lash out first, to act before someone else could act against you. Fight first, ask questions later.

You didn’t think about who might be watching. You didn’t consider who could be caught in the crossfire. You survived. But now wasn’t just trying to survive. I was trying to belong.

Maybe that meant more than just being strong. Maybe it meant learning how to be part of something. Maurice clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.

Griffin nodded once, like that was all he had to say.

But the way he looked at me then, steady and measuring, told me something else. I had another chance. I hadn’t burned it all down. Not yet, and I wasn’t about to.