Quetzalli and Galena were the first to arrive, dirt still on their fingers from the garden but all softness gone from their eyes. The human Acacia had her daughter Lantana latched onto one breast, her werewolf husband Berndt hovering protectively over them. Tia was bleary-eyed, as if she’d just woken up from a nap, leaving only Wolfie’s uncle Oscar unaccounted for. Except for the yahoos, Keith, and Chase, of course, who I hoped would all be together soon, safely on the other side of the mountain.
“Berndt, take Acacia and Lantana to the safe room,” Wolfie ordered, jerking his head toward the left side of the compound, and the father seemed glad to obey. I expected Wolfie to send the rest of the women packing too, even though that would have left him with only the missing Oscar for backup, but Wolfie continued to overturn my preconceived notions of alpha behavior. He motioned for Tia, Quetzalli, and Galena to form a protective arc behind us as he and I walked together toward the door.
It’s only been ten days, I told myself. Father wouldn’t show up before the month is over. But I didn’t believe my own lie. I’d been expecting Chief Wilder to arrive on our doorstep ever since Wolfie sent my cousin packing a week before, and it almost felt like a relief to be able to stop looking over my shoulder. Almost.
The pounding stopped abruptly when Wolfie wrenched open the door, leaving one of my cousins to catch his balance as he lowered his fist mid-pound. The cousin sidled away down the steps, giving us a clear view of Chief Wilder leaning against a huge black SUV and flanked by four more male cousins. A fifth cousin restrained Oscar, the older werewolf’s hands tied together behind his back with a zip tie while a bruise rose on one cheek. For the first time ever, I heard a low growl rise out of usually gentle Tia’s throat as she took in the view.
After spending time around Wolfie’s bulk, my father appeared smaller and older, but no less dangerous. In fact, if we’d been in wolf form, I would have expected the Chief to circle around behind our pack and jump on Wolfie from the rear, taking down the stronger alpha through pure cunning. Not that my father needed to use trickery since he currently made up for anything he lacked in personal strength due to the presence of hefty enforcers strewn across our front yard. We were clearly outclassed.
But Wolfie would never let another alpha show him up. “Crazy Wilder,” Wolfie greeted the Chief with the nickname I’d never heard anyone say to the old man’s face. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
I waited for the scene to descend into bedlam, but after a moment, my father merely began to laugh. “Bloodling Wolf,” he responded in kind. “Aren’t alphas supposed to protect their women and children instead of vice versa?” The older alpha nodded at one of my cousins, who sent Oscar stumbling toward the front door. “Here, have your mother’s bleeding-heart brother back. It looks like your pack is a little short on testosterone.” As if to highlight his words, my father leered at the women behind me, and I could feel Quetzalli clenching her hands into fists in response.
We parted to let Oscar inside and Tia drew him out of my father’s line of sight to worry at the zip ties around his wrists. But my attention remained riveted on the two alphas. Although I found it hard to believe, Wolfie seemed bored by the exchange, smothering a yawn as he stared down my father, whose face darkened at the affront. Turning his eyes to easier prey, Chief Wilder addressed me.
“Little Terra,” he continued. “I had expected to see more progress after all this time. Why hasn’t my grandson been introduced to his wolf?” When the words of a reply stuck in my throat, a wide smile strained my father’s cheeks, although his eyes remained cold. “So the reports are true—my daughter is a shiftless wolf. As useless as her brother.”
I stumbled backwards as if I’d been struck. Like the term “meat,” “shiftless” was an awful slur to apply to a werewolf. But my father was right. Despite all of Wolfie’s hard work to bring my wolf and me together, the last time I’d locked myself into my basement room and attempted to shift, I hadn’t felt a single hint of the change. I’d have to learn to embrace the term. Shiftless. My head bowed, and I was no longer able to look into my father’s eyes.
Wolfie had been quiet, giving me the chance to respond on my own, but when I seemed struck dumb, the younger alpha angled his body to hide me from view. “What do you want, old man?” Wolfie demanded, his tone as cold as my father’s had been.
“Well, I certainly don’t want her anymore,” my father replied cheerfully, as if he and Wolfie were two farmers leaning over a fence to talk horse flesh. “I looked into your claim, by the way,” he added, “and Keith is no more your heir than Brooke was your mate. I’ve taken what I wanted.”
With those parting words, my father and cousins slid back into their gleaming SUV. Doors banged, and the huge vehicle rolled down the driveway and out of our sight.
***