Page 10 of Night with a Gamma (Golden Strings of Fate #2)
IS IT TRAINING IF IT’S WITH FRIENDS
Harrison
The sun hangs in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the training field as I tread the familiar path.
Each step feels heavier with the weight of the day ahead.
The air is thick with the scent of earth and sweat, mingling with the faintest hint of pine from the surrounding trees.
I can hear the distant thud of bodies meeting sand and the occasional grunt of exertion.
As I approach, I spot Dalton and Wyatt, already engaged in an intense sparring session.
Dalton, the pack Beta, spots me first. He takes a step back, a playful grin breaking across his face, and gives me the signature head dip that has become our unspoken greeting.
It’s a sign of camaraderie, one that has been forged over years of training and battles fought side by side.
I return the gesture, a flicker of a smile crossing my lips despite the undercurrent of tension that has been building within the pack.
Wyatt, my Alpha, wipes sweat from his brow with a towel, his black hoodie clutched in his other hand. He glances my way, his expression shifting from concentration to concern. “Any more rogue sightings?” he asks, his voice low but firm.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the unease that settles in my gut. “The warriors mentioned they spotted tracks, but they couldn’t tell if they were old or new.”
Wyatt lets out a huff of annoyance, the sound echoing in the stillness of the field. I can feel the frustration radiating off him like heat waves. This rogue problem has been a thorn in our side for far too long, and the uncertainty gnaws at him.
Dalton interjects, “We have that phone call meeting with Alpha Rex in two hours about the rogue issue.”
I nod, my heart sinking further. I’m not looking forward to that meeting. Alpha Rex’s reputation as an idiot and an asshole precedes him. His arrogance knows no bounds, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding something from us.
We finish our workout, each punch and kick a welcome distraction from the reality of our situation.
When we’re done, I head to the packhouse, showering off the sweat and grime of training.
The hot water washes over me, but it can’t quite cleanse the anxiety that lingers in my mind.
I take a moment to center myself, steeling my resolve for the meeting ahead.
Once dressed, I make my way to Wyatt's office, the familiar scent of cedar and leather welcoming me as I knock lightly on the door. “Come in,” Wyatt's voice calls out, filled with a mix of authority and exhaustion.
I step inside, finding him bent over the oversized coffee table, setting up the map of our territory. It’s a meticulous arrangement, and I can tell he’s already deep in thought. Dalton enters shortly after, his expression serious.
As the three of us gather, I feel the tug of my inner wolf, a restless creature that senses the tension in the air.
“We should link with Little Bird,” my wolf suggests, referring to Wren, the witch who has captivated both our hearts. I can’t deny how much I miss her presence, her laughter, and the warmth she brings to our lives.
“After the meeting,” I reply, feeling a pang of longing. “We’ll go find her. I promise.” My wolf huffs in response, but I brush it aside, focusing on the task at hand.
Just as we settle, the office phone rings, piercing through the quiet. Wyatt’s hand darts out to grab the receiver, and I can feel the tension mount as the meeting with Rex begins.
“Hello, Alpha Rex,” Wyatt says, his tone professional yet strained. The connection crackles slightly, and I can hear Rex's gruff voice on the other end, greeting us with a curt acknowledgment.
Wyatt dives into the topic of the rogue sightings, outlining the concerns we’ve been facing.
Rex listens, his silence heavy. After a moment, he responds, “We caught one of the rogues and brought it to my prison cell. Unfortunately, it had a pill stashed away and took its own life before we could interrogate it.”
Dalton shakes his head, disappointment flickering across his face. I can sense Wyatt’s rising frustration; he’s made it clear before that he suspects there’s more to this rogue issue than meets the eye.
“Someone is behind this,” Wyatt asserts, his voice rising slightly. “I can feel it. It’s not just random rogues appearing. This has been building for years, and I need you to tell me if you suspect anyone.”
Rex’s response is evasive, his tone dismissive. “We’re all dealing with rogues. I can’t investigate every whisper of suspicion.”
The call drags on for what feels like an eternity, the tension thickening with every exchange. Finally, after thirty minutes of back-and-forth frustration, Wyatt slams his finger down on the end button, the sound echoing through the office.
Dalton breaks the silence first, “I feel like Rex was holding back something. He knows more than he’s letting on.”
I nod in agreement, the sense of unease growing stronger. “He’s not the only one. There’s a bigger game at play here, and we need to figure it out before it costs us even more.”
Wyatt exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll call some of the other packs. See if they’re experiencing anything similar. We need to gather information.”
As we discuss our next steps, my thoughts drift back to Wren. She’s a light in the darkness of my life, and I can’t help but yearn for her presence amidst the chaos.
“Let’s wrap this up,” I suggest, eager to find her. “We’ll regroup later and figure out our strategy.”
With a plan taking shape, I feel a flicker of hope. Together, we’ll uncover the truth and protect our pack. But for now, I need to find Wren, to feel her warmth and hear her voice — our sanctuary amid the storm.