Page 36 of Taken By The Wolves (Blackwood Forest #2)

REED

Our father’s territory lies three hours to the north.

In the truck, as the forest closes in on the pack land, a tense silence grips us all.

We haven’t called ahead. We didn’t want to give them time to think about our arrival.

This way, they’ll see our mate and Ahya simultaneously.

It’ll provide us with a distraction before we have to broach the subject of Gregory.

“What’s your mom like?” Scarlet asks.

“She has Nixon’s eyes. My nose. Reed’s sense of humor.”

“Do you think we’ll get along?”

I shrug because what can I say? I have no idea if our mother will accept our mate.

Matt’s death shook her to her core. When we left, she didn’t say goodbye.

This whole confrontation is going to be a challenge.

We’ve been putting off telling Scarlet about our brother, but it isn’t fair to let her walk into our family pack without knowing why we left.

“Matt was our oldest brother,” I begin, eyes fixed on the trees as they flash past the window. “Cocky, always smiling. He used to sleep sprawled out between Nixon and me, even after we were grown. Mom called him our protector.”

Scarlet’s expression softens, her fingers stilling on my chest.

“The day it happened, we were out tracking through the eastern woods.” My voice thickens.

“Matt was fast. Goddess, he was fast. He outran us. Got too far ahead showing us what he was capable of. The alpha in wait…” I swallow hard, the knot in my throat sharp and old.

“The rogue wolf wasn’t supposed to be in our territory, but it came out of nowhere.

A shifter gone feral. It—” I clench my jaw. “It was a slaughter.”

Scarlet’s hand curls over mine.

“By the time we caught up, it was already done.” My voice cracks. “We tore the rogue apart. There was nothing left of him. But it was too late. There was nothing we could do for Matt.”

The scent of our old pack fills the air, the deep musk of familiar wolves.

It presses against my skin like humidity.

Scarlet shifts in her seat, her hand resting lightly over Ahya’s chest as the little one naps in her car seat.

Even asleep, she clutches Scarlet’s shirt in a tight fist, as if she knows who provides safety.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says softly.

“We could have been closer,” Nixon mutters from the driver’s seat.

“Would that have made a difference?” Scarlet challenges.

Nixon doesn’t reply because we know the truth. The rogue would have taken one of us. If Nixon had been faster, our mother would have buried him that day.

“We’re almost there,” Nixon says. His grip on the wheel is tight enough to make the leather creak.

No one speaks.

As the truck rumbles up the long gravel drive, the house comes into view. It’s as we left it; low, stone-faced, ancient. Our father always said it was built to outlast time, and maybe it will. The main doors are already open.

They scented us. They knew we were coming.

As the engine cuts off, four figures step out of the house: our father first, then our mother, followed by Chris and Macon, our cousins who are now the chosen heirs.

All in human form. All waiting.

But they’re not alone.

Standing behind them is Cami, the spiritual wolf. She doesn’t speak much, but when she does, people listen. Her presence isn’t an accident.

She sensed something unusual about our arrival.

I step out first, unbuckling Ahya so that Scarlet can slide from the truck.

Scarlet stands tall, chin high, eyes bright.

She’s nervous, but she won’t show weakness.

Not when she’s aware of our complex history and the importance of today’s visit.

Her flaming red hair hangs long over her shoulders, and she’s radiant in a long white skirt and forest green top that brings out the color of her eyes. I couldn’t be prouder.

Our father watches us approach with his thick arms folded across his broad chest. The gray in his hair has spread since we last saw him, but his expression is as hard, scrutinizing, and assessing as always.

Mother’s gaze flicks first to the child, then to Scarlet, and something softens in her face. She steps forward instinctively, reaching out as if to touch our mate, but stops herself short.

“Why are you here?” Father asks.

Nixon stiffens. “Before we talk, we should make introductions first. This is our mate, Scarlet. Scarlet, these are my parents, Frederick and Angeli. Cousins Chris and Macon. And Cami. This is Scarlet, and Ahya.”

He leaves Ahya a mystery, but Cami’s eyes linger over her, and she steps forward to get a better view. I tighten my grip on the child as Scarlet moves closer, revealing her protectiveness.

“You brought her,” Cami says, her voice gravelly but high with awe.

Scarlet answers before any of us can. “I found her. She is ours.”

There’s a pause, long and loaded. Our father’s jaw tics. “She’s not yours by blood,” he says.

“She’s ours by choice,” Nixon grits out.

Cami’s eyes flash at that. She steps forward, her silver braids glinting in the fading light. “Let me see her.”

I hesitate, but when Ahya stirs and turns her cheek toward Cami, as if she knows, I adjust my grip so she can be seen. Her eyes are wide and clear as she stares out over my estranged family.

Cami extends a hand, and the moment her fingers touch Ahya, the air thickens.

Wind rushes through the trees without warning. The leaves tremble. Cami closes her eyes.

Everyone watches in silence as the spiritual wolf chants softly in the old tongue. After a minute, her eyes snap open, bright and knowing.

“She's not what you think. She is more.”

Our mother steps forward, eyebrows drawn. “More how?”

“She is born of pain and violation,” Cami says softly. “Of forced bloodlines.”

Our stomachs twist. Scarlet’s hand touches Ahya possessively, and I let her lift the child from my arms and cradle her close to her breast.

“Violation?” Reed asks, voice low. Even though we know some of Aura’s story, Cami has the power to discern more.

Cami’s eyes gain a sharper focus. “Her mother’s pain clings to her.

Two violations. A rogue wolf. And a bear with black in his heart.

She survived it, barely. But this child…

” She looks at Ahya who’s still sleeping.

“There is wolf in her. But also… bear. And something else. Something veiled. She is not cursed. She is blessed. The old powers touch her. This child may be the only bridge between what was... and what must come.”

Father’s face is stone. “You brought the child of a bear to this house.”

Scarlet steps forward, fire rising in her. “We brought a child who had no say in what was done before she was born. No one should judge her for her bloodline.”

There’s silence. Chris and Macon exchange looks but stay quiet.

Then our mother speaks. “Her scent is of all of you now. Your bond is sealed.”

“She’s our daughter,” Nixon says flatly. “And Gregory, a rival alpha, wants her.”

That gets our father’s attention.

“You think Gregory knows what she is?”

“He knows the child is female,” I say. “That’s enough to make him come for her.”

Cami leans in, her voice hushed. “He will. The child’s blood sings to those who are hungry for power. You’ve brought her to the right place, but it will not be enough.”

“We need allies,” Nixon says. “From your pack. Or we walk into war with our bear allies only.”

“Bear allies?” Father’s face screws with disgust.

“They’re good men, and they’ll stand with us against a shared enemy.”

“Bears?” Macon says. “You’ve allied with bears.”

Father’s eyes narrow on us all, but when his eyes lock on Ahya, something changes. Finally, he says, “Come inside.”

He doesn’t offer peace.

But he opened the door.

***

The stone threshold under our boots seems rougher than I remember. This house, our house, is filled with echoes that never fade. Matt’s laughter. Our mother’s crying. Our father’s anger. And the silence that echoed behind us after we left.

Now, we bring our mate and a child made from violence and mystery back into our childhood home. Every step inside is like walking through memories we thought we’d buried.

The main room is dimly lit. A fire crackles in the hearth, but the room is as cold and formal as I remembered. No warmth here, only legacy.

Scarlet holds Ahya tightly, her shoulders braced. Our mother trails behind, glancing over her shoulder at Cami, who walks with the sure, steady gait of someone who knows where this is going. Chris and Macon flank our father like lieutenants.

We sit when offered, but the tension doesn’t soften.

“Tell us everything,” our mother says, gaze on Nixon. “From the beginning.”

Nixon rubs his brow and then sighs. “We found a child abandoned on our territory. She had a familiar scent, from a rival pack. Gregory’s mate Aura …”

“Scarlet found her first,” I add, glancing toward our mate. “She protected her before she even knew what she was.”

Scarlet’s voice is steady. “She didn’t need to prove herself special to be worthy of care.”

Cami speaks again. “That instinct is important. That kind of bond, one chosen rather than forged in blood, is stronger. When this child shows her true nature, you will need that kind of devotion.”

Father’s face remains impassive. “And Gregory?”

“He sent two wolves across our land,” I say. “Claimed he wanted to see the child. He’ll come for her. I don’t know what he knows. But he knows enough.”

“There are whispers,” Cami says, tilting her head like she’s listening to something none of us can hear. “Of wolves gathering. Of rogue bears answering his call. His ambition is no longer confined to territory. He wants something more.”

“He wants her?” Nixon’s attention drifts to Ahya.

Chris finally speaks, arms resting on his thighs. “You think Gregory would risk war for a child he doesn’t even understand… who isn’t his legacy?”

Cami turns her gaze on him, eyes bright. “It’s not what he understands. It’s what he feels. He feels her power, and that is enough.”

Macon shifts beside him. “So we’re supposed to fight a war over this? Risk everything on a baby born of—”

Scarlet stands slowly, Ahya in her arms. “No one chooses how they’re conceived.”

Macon’s jaw tightens, but he looks away.

Scarlet continues. “But we all choose who we protect. And I will die before I let anyone hurt this child again.”

Our father watches her with narrow eyes. “You speak like an alpha.”

“Nixon is my alpha,” Scarlet says firmly, and across the room, my brother expands with pride. “But I’m now the mother of a girl who will be hunted by men like Gregory. That makes me dangerous.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Cami rises from her seat.

“There is more,” she says. “She is not only a bridge between wolf and bear. She holds the echo of something old. The blood in her... it sings to the earth. To the spirits. That power will need guidance.”

Mother’s eyes are wide now, fear and wonder braided together. Father rises, voice low. “Then she’s more than a child. She’s a threat.”

“To Gregory,” I snap. “To anyone who thinks her blood makes her a pawn. But not to us.”

He stares us down, but Nixon rises to meet him eye to eye.

“I didn’t come here for your approval of my family,” Nixon says. “I came because war is coming, and we’re stronger together than apart.”

Another long silence.

Then our father looks toward our mother, then to Chris and Macon.

“You’ll stay the night,” he says finally. “Cami will stay near the child. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

It isn’t a yes. It isn’t a no.

But it’s more than we expected.

Scarlet exhales slowly. I reach for her hand, and she takes it without hesitation.

We’ve taken the first step.

But with so much unknown, the path of our future is shrouded in darkness.