Page 38 of Jace’s Mate (East Coast Territory #1)

“S he’s going after the Alpha,” Ciaran barked, shaking his head as he watched the security monitor. His voice held a note of awe—and rising concern.

“Go!” Megin commanded, but the order was unnecessary.

Both Ciaran and Ragnor were already in motion, stripping off their clothes in a blur of muscle and determination.

Their bodies shimmered, bones snapping and shifting mid-stride, until two enormous wolves launched from the doorway like arrows loosed from a bow.

“I’ll keep things safe back here,” Megin muttered to himself, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and admiration. Then his eyes caught movement near the door.

Three shapes. Slouched shoulders. Eyes wide. Listening intently.

The teenagers.

James, Stephan, and Boyd stood just inside the frame of the hallway, partially hidden in the shadows, watching everything unfold. They weren’t trying to eavesdrop—they were absorbing, calculating, silently asking themselves if they had a place in this world of strength and instinct.

Megin arched a brow, planting his fists on his hips. “You three want to help?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge. Their gazes dropped to the floor, not out of fear, but out of deference. Yet none of them broke eye contact entirely. That was the part Megin noticed. That was the part that mattered.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest like a distant storm. “Think you can keep up with the Alpha and two of his betas? Not to mention his mate?” He gave the word mate the weight it deserved. Sacred. Fierce. A tether of power and protection.

The boys exchanged a glance, silent words passing between them in a heartbeat. Then they looked back at Megin, eyes steady now. Resolved.

“Go!” he barked again, sharper this time. “But stay safe! And hurry back. We need you with us.”

For a heartbeat, they didn’t move.

Then, with a burst of motion, they sprinted down the corridor, stripping off their clothes mid-run, the sounds of transformation echoing behind them. In a matter of seconds, the hallway was empty, the air still vibrating from the heat of their departure.

Megin stood there, listening to the distant pad of paws hitting pavement. The boys were fast. Not as fast as the Alpha, no—but fast enough. Determined enough. Pack, he thought. They’re starting to understand what it means.

Still, he felt the weight of responsibility press against his chest. They were young. Brave. But untested in battle. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialing.

Calls went out to a handful of trusted pack members—older wolves, battle-hardened and sharp-eyed. Quiet instructions, check-ins, and contingencies. Just in case , he told himself, though the unease in his gut said otherwise.

As the last call ended, Megin turned back to the security monitors, his eyes narrowing at the flickers of movement on the screens. His fingers hovered over the controls, tracking each signal, reading the land like a chessboard.

“Be smart, you lot,” he muttered to the empty room, his voice almost a prayer. “And come back in one piece.”

Then he settled into his chair, sharp eyes scanning every flicker and blip, guarding the den while the pack ran into the night.