Page 23

Ethan

AFTER OUR HEALING session, the four of us rejoined the rest of the pack in assessing the outcome from tonight’s rumble. When we stepped out from under the cover of the trees and headed around the pack house to where our truck was parked, we found most of the wolves had shifted back to human form. Some were clothed, others naked except for footwear, all focused on getting things done. Nudity in shifter communities is a natural state, and except for Xander, until recently, most of the pack is comfortable in their skin.

Billie’s gaze was glued to the truck as we passed by several nude members. She managed to keep her steps even and unhurried, though her cheeks and even the tips of her ears were red with her discomfort. We all quickly changed into one set of the backup clothes we’d brought, having anticipated the potential for shifting and fighting when we were preparing for tonight. Though I don’t think any of us could have predicted what actually did happen: That we’d all be covered in this much blood, with so many wolves dead by our teeth and claws. That Little Fox would nearly fry herself out of existence. That the pack house would be in shambles, and resemble the set of the Red Wedding from Game of Thrones .

Xander made sure we all ate at least one peanut butter and Fluff sandwich—again, we came prepared—and we also downed a bottle of water each before he went about checking on the situation. First, he determined the status of the wolves he was to meet that had not shown up. His mother, Elder Ralph, and Bruce, who was limping and grimacing in pain, joined us in a quick planning session. Xander instructed Bruce to gather other injured members and head to the pack hospital, where they could shift back to wolf form and be tended to by our healers. Billie and Jax opted to help the elders get the pack house in some sort of order. While they did that, I stayed with Xander as he went to every single pack member who had showed up to support him and answered his call.

He gave hugs, shook hands, patted backs, and bumped shoulders, seeming to know how each member preferred to be greeted. He acknowledged their bravery and expressed his deep gratitude for their presence, assuring them he would continue to do what needed to be done and that their efforts and sacrifices weren’t for nothing. Their enthusiastic and hopeful responses to his actions, to his words, to his show of comradery brightened an otherwise dark night. Some were shocked and shy at first, but Xander was able to read each member and give them a version of himself that best fit who they needed him to be. It must be the mantle of the alpha, but I also know Xander. I know his soul, and I can honestly say that though his approach may have varied, he himself never disappeared. He wasn’t putting on different masks, playing a part, or putting on a show. No. He was simply magnifying the aspects of himself that best related to those he was interacting with.

This type of personal connection, of the alpha walking among his pack members, acknowledging their support, is nothing like the example his father portrayed. Xander’s father ruled from a metaphorical throne. He made himself appear powerful by making sure he put himself above his subjects so they were always looking up at him or looking out for him. His position was to be viewed of such importance that very few were worthy of interacting with him, and hardly ever in any type of informal manner.

Xander’s approach is completely different. He’s showing the pack how important they are to him, while his father kept himself apart, wanting the pack to see how important he was to them. In human terms, one could say that Xander is a man of the people, an alpha of the wolves. Taking on the role not for himself but for them, wanting to represent their wishes while also ensuring the ideals, morals, and beliefs that make us, us, are kept not only intact but at the forefront—at the core of what defines him as a leader and us as his pack.

By the end, my heart is full, the edges of my lips tipped up in a small smile, and my soul is at ease. I see him being who I always thought he could be: The alpha to change the packs across the nation. The alpha worthy of not just standing behind but standing for.

After his last interaction, he turns and jerks his chin to the pack house. I dip my chin in acknowledgment, and once he’s by my side, I spin around and closely follow him up the hill and out of the woods. “Colette and her parents were the only ones who didn’t show tonight,” he comments, slowing his pace so my arm brushes his. “They’ve been detained at the pack station in one of the interview rooms.”

Bobbing my head several times, I refuse to comment about the fact the family apparently spearheading this resistance is the one whose daughter seemed to be obsessed with me. I’ve been keeping all my emotions in check tonight, a skill I’m well versed in, knowing how messy they make things. I’m not letting myself think about how much death my wolf and I delivered and how close to death those I love came. My chest constricts, and I force my attention on the tasks, on what needs to be done, asking, “Has Mayland or White discussed anything with them? Have they alluded to any knowledge about what transpired here tonight?”

The gravel crunches under our boots as we emerge from under the cover of trees into the open parking area. Xander shakes his head. “My understanding is Mayland and White have been remaining tight-lipped about what happened, not wanting to give anything away. They told the Devereauxs there was a change in the process and to meet at the station.” Canting his head to the side, he gazes at me and hitches a brow. “However, White let me know that the family seemed very on edge, and when left alone in the interview room, their nervousness had them forgetting about their environment.” I raise a brow in curiosity, and he continues. “We have recordings of them discussing the risks of Merrick’s plan, their concern over his well-being, and the potential positive outcomes for particular members of their family if Merrick succeeded in removing certain obstacles.”

“So it seems White was correct in assuming they lured him from his rounds on purpose,” I muse with furrowed brows, trying to figure out what their hopes were. “It doesn’t make sense. Bonnie and Phillip along with Colette would have been accepted into the Southeast Pack. What do they gain from aiding Merrick? He always seemed to be an outsider among his family. I never dated Colette—her family can’t be that attached to the idea of her and me being together.”

The deep voice of Elder Ralph giving orders funnels out from the open doors of the pack house, greeting us as we climb up the large stone steps.

“Colette is her father’s perfect little... lady,” Xander states with a short scoff. “He may not be as brash as Brian, but I wouldn’t question his commitment to his daughter’s happiness.” Xander places a hand on my shoulder, stilling our steps and turning me to him right as we reach the landing. His arctic eyes hold mine for a moment before he intentionally drops his gaze to my feet, pulling my attention along with it. I feel the heat of his gaze trailing up my body, from my worn jeans to my threadbare black and red flannel with only two middle buttons done up, exposing skin both below and above. His pupils dilate as his eyes reach my face, and I feel a corresponding heat of my own flushing my cheeks. He drags his teeth over his lower lip and hums. “I’ve caught Mr. Deveraux following the gaze of his daughter’s hungry eyes.” His grip on my shoulder tightens, and he steps closer, close enough our body heat mingles, and his plush lips brush my cheek as he murmurs, “I think the idea of you becoming part of their family intrigued him more than you know.”

My spine straightens and body stiffens at the statement. His hand on my shoulder skates across my upper back to rest possessively on my nape. He continues our progression while side-eyeing me. Reading my obvious confusion, he says, “Not that you paid attention to his...” He huffs a chuckle. “Attention. Regardless, I think the Devereauxs had more interest in removing me as alpha than we acknowledged.” Knowing me as he does and that I’ll want to mull over his words silently, he throws an arm out in front. “Let’s see where we are with cleanup and then make our way over to the station.” I nod and lift my gaze to the main hall, finding over a dozen people working together in clearing up what’s left.

All of the treasonous wolves have been removed and taken to either the station or to the pit depending on their status, incapacitated versus dead. The creaking and clanging of broken furniture and anything burnable being loaded into trucks resounds from the open back doors. Gazing around, I note many members are already working on washing down the walls and mopping up the floor, which is clear of broken glass. Searching more intently, I find our mate in a back corner wearing one of Jax’s old White Mountain High School T-shirts, wringing out a mop before plopping it down on the floor. Her hips and her shoulders sway from side to side as she almost dances her way backward, like she’s at our home cleaning up after one of her Jax’s cooking lessons and not mopping up pints of blood that are beginning to congeal on the stone floor. The sound of low voices coming from the back doors has my eyes swinging in that direction right before Jax strolls in, wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his matching WMHS T-shirt, which is far tighter than it used to be on him. His head is close to Colin’s as they speak lowly to each other. Pulling a rag from the back pocket of his loose-fitting jeans, Colin wipes up the sweat beading on his forehead and bare chest while bobbing his head several times in response to whatever Jax is saying.

“Looks like most of the heavy lifting is done,” I observe just as Luna Ophelia and Elder Ralph make their approach. Xander’s mother is dressed more casually than I’ve seen recently, wearing what appears to be a men’s green-and-blue flannel loosely buttoned with rolled sleeves and a folded blue bandanna banded around her head to keep the sweat off her face.

“Here at least,” Elder Ralph amends with a heavy nod of his head, his hand stroking his beard from chin to tail, wearing a flannel in a similar fashion to Xander’s mom, though much tighter.

“Yes,” Luna Ophelia agrees, her head slowly rotating around taking in the scene of wolves working together to bring order by restoring one of our most sacred communal spaces. There may be lines pulling down at the corners of her mouth and the start of dark circles around her eyes, but her gaze is steady, and her brown eyes seem bright as she stares at her son. With raised brows, she inquires, “How would you like to proceed, Alpha?”

Xander’s head has been swiveling around since we entered, and his eyes have been glowing as he’s let his focused gaze settle on each wolf he sees. His lips purse and twist, and he ruffles his fingers through his hair before crossing his arms over his chest and meeting his mother’s inquisitive gaze. “If you and the elders along with Colin, Jasper, Madison, and Mike could get the pit set up and alert the rest of the pack of the situation, we’ll”—he indicates Jax, Bille, and me— “head to the pack station and check in on the wolves in holding to determine whether more...” He hesitates and shakes his head while looking at the floor, no doubt feeling the weight of what we’ve done and what we must do. I move a half step closer, just enough that the sleeve of my flannel brushes his, and I feel the slight weight of him leaning into me. He lifts his head and blows out a breath. “Whether we have more who need to be added to the fire.”

“If I may, Alpha,” Elder Ralph interjects with raised brows. Xander nods, and Ralph returns the gesture. “I think it may be helpful to have an elder and a beta that helps maintain the border security with you. If any of the wolves who attacked tonight are kept alive but banished from these lands, then we’ll need to mark them as enemies, ensuring that we’re alerted if any dare return to our lands, Alpha.”

“Agreed,” Xander replies on a long exhale. “We’ll take Jasper and Eleanor with us.” He scrubs the back of his neck and tiredly says, “And at some point, I and at least one of my betas need to understand the process of maintaining the security of our borders and what exactly that security entails. But for now, this will work.” His eyes swing from Elder Ralph to Luna Ophelia. “Keep your phones on, and alert Ethan or Jax should anything come up. I don’t intend to drag things out at the station. My wolf has already gotten a sense of many of them thanks to the altercation. His assessment is”—his throat bobs— “clear on the majority of the wolves.” Hearing the weariness and the resignation in his voice, the acceptance of what must be done, I place my hand on his shoulder. Not alone—he doesn’t have to do this alone.

“With what happened and how these wolves acted, that is to be expected,” Luna Ophelia says. Her eyes do not waver as they hold Xander’s pained but resolute gaze. “The right decision can be clear, but it doesn’t necessarily make it any easier. We’ll do as you wish and reach out if needed.” She steps over to him, and I release my hold just as she clasps her hand around his upper arm, giving it a squeeze. Leaning up and bringing her mouth close to his ear, she flatly states. “You and your wolf acted as true alphas. Your determination to do what is right while still feeling conflicted proves that you are being who you’re meant to be. If it ever comes to the point when making these types of ruthless decisions does not affect you, that’s when you’ve got to look inward, to reassess, Alpha.”

Xander pats her hand on his arm several times before placing his on her shoulder and pulling her in for a half hug. “Thank you, Luna,” he murmurs, and I watch her eyes water with the show of affection from the boy she thought was lost to her, from the boy, she, in her eyes, failed to protect as she was suffering her own version of abuse. She nods into his shoulder, and they slowly release each other.

Xander knocks my shoulder with his and says, “Come on. Let’s gather our forces and head on over to the station.”

“Sooner the better,” I reply while gesturing to Jax and making my way over to him. Xander sets his eyes on our mate shaking her derriere while mopping up blood and guts, and his lips curve into a lopsided smile as he all but prowls over to her. The small show of sensuality has my eager dick twitching. The adrenaline from the fight, the sharing of energies with my pack-mates, and the need to reaffirm we’re all alive have come together in a simmering concoction of sexual energy, ready to boil over with one turn of the knob.