Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)

His warning doesn’t stop her and I’m so glad it doesn’t.

Her bright green eyes light up even brighter. “I know, I know,” she exclaims. “Most kids will steal candy—not that we want them to be stealing anything, mind you—but candy would have at least made some sense. But no, these little mavericks would head off to play in the cornfields just outside town.”

The guys all bow their heads, like they’ve suddenly grown too heavy under the weight of their own embarrassment. My cheeks hurt from grinning so hard.

“They had to be, what, six? Seven?” she asks, looking over at Alpha Morgan, who nods, a wide smile on his face. “Mr. Hendricks’s fields are great little mazes. He designed them that way, instead of rows. Anyway, these stinkers would head out there every day and stuff themselves full of corn. We even found a little bonfire pit where they’d roast it.”

“They didn’t.” I can’t imagine Ellery being a rule breaker at any point in his life. Or Ruger. Perth and Gannon…maybe.

Mirth colors her cheeks pink as she lifts her glass of wine. “They thought they were renegades. Thought they were so bad. Would come home giggling. Not eat dinner. Little did they know, we’d bought out that whole crop for the fall fair, so it was all our corn anyway.”

Next to her, Ruger’s mom, Jordana, titters. The woman initially gave me tough as nails vibes, but under her fierce-looking exterior, she seems nice. Ruger’s mom seems to be the complete opposite of Ellery’s; I’d guess the beta spends more days at the gym than a salon. But they get along like two sisters.

Jordana adds, “Remember how Hendricks used to sneak down and take pictures when they weren’t paying attention? Didn’t they make grass skirts out of the corn husks and call themselves hula monsters?” She starts to wheeze with laughter as she recalls. “I think they’d heard about Gila monsters and totally warped that word.”

Melana snaps her fingers. “Yes! I remember. I’m sure I’ve got a photo of that around here somewhere. Maybe it’s on my wall.”

“Mom. No.”

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Ellery look embarrassed. The alpha male always seems so calm and confident. But his look right now as he takes a sip of his beer is pure chagrin. It’s a little adorable.

Melana Arcan might be joining my list of new favorites next to Karen.

Sitting at her side is her husband, Morgan Arcan—Ellery’s dad. He shifts in his seat. If I thought the lumberjack-chic alpha was intimidating the first day I met him, it’s nothing compared to how unapproachable he seems in a suit without a tie. I’m talking mafia-don level power, which is only emphasized by his slicked-back hair. Unrivaled authority radiates off him, and it’s like his scent is embedded with shrapnel. I feel the need to duck and cover.

When his eyes settle on me, I gulp.

“So, the boys were telling me earlier that you heard someone outside of their den mindspeak to you last night.”

Well, crap. The lighthearted mood evaporates in a flash as everyone at the table turns their attention to me.

“I did,” I reply, barely able to stifle a “sir” from slipping out along with my answer. “How could they talk to me? I didn’t think it worked that way.”

He shakes his head. “It shouldn’t work like that. I’m not sure.”

His head tilts thoughtfully and he turns to glance at Gannon, who’s seated on my side of the table a few chairs down. His watchful stare studies the younger shifter. “Didn’t you install more sensors and security cameras? Anything?”

My head twists to watch Gannon too, because I knew he was off doing something earlier today, but I didn’t pay attention to what.

Gannon sets down his water glass. “I did, and no. They were all online, yet not a single one picked up on anyone entering or leaving our property aside from us. It’s weird. I’ve added more and adjusted the angles to cover the hole that must have been there. We’ve also increased our shifts.”

“Do you want me to assign some additional enforcers?” the alpha offers.

Wait. They already have enforcers around the house? I didn’t know that.

Gannon’s head tilts from side to side as if in thought. “Yeah, but until we know who the threat is, the vetting process is going to take time.”

Alpha Morgan presses his lips together. “True. But you have an inner circle, don’t you?”

Ellery pipes up. “There are definitely some deputies I can ask.”

The alpha nods. “Do you want me to call the orcs, see if they can spare a team?”

Ellery looks at his den in thought and then over at me. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but yeah. Let’s reach out.”

Orcs. Okay. Yeah. I’m just going to sit here and take another sip of water and pretend that sounds all normal and everyday to me too.

“You said you found a footprint?” Leon, one of Ruger’s dads, asks.

Ellery pulls his phone from his pocket and swipes to unlock it and find the photo. “A partial. Looks too big to be female.” He slides it across the table to the alpha, who plucks it up and studies it before handing it down the line. Each of Ruger’s parents takes a look, zooming in and examining the photo, nodding their heads.

“Just the one imprint? No sign of others?” Jordana questions, passing the phone back to Ellery when it’s completed a full circuit around the table.

“Only one print,” Ruger confirms.

“I know you’ve been looking at dens because of the Hunt angle, but what if you’re dealing with a lone male?” another one of Ruger’s dads asks.

I try to recall his name, but it’s lost in the chaos of the eighty thousand introductions I received tonight.

“Had Fife pull a list of lone wolves. We’re working through the possibilities,” Ellery responds before giving a sigh. His blue eyes glance over at me with a look of apology, as if he’s sorry he hasn’t caught the fucker yet.

I’m sorry too. I offer a look of sympathy right back because I don’t want to be caught up in this chaos any more than I want him to have to deal with it.

Alpha Morgan strokes his chin. “A loner could make sense. Whoever got onto your property last night had an opportunity to take her, but they didn’t. From the sound of things, Gannon out patrolling was the only thing stopping them. We’re probably dealing with someone low in the hierarchy. An individual who can’t beat you in a fight, which is why they’re sneaking around in the shadows.”

I find myself staring down at my empty plate, as the whole table tosses around their theories and suggestions. Warmth colors my cheeks as I listen and absorb their genuine concern. I know the guys take my safety seriously, but to hear the others express the same worries or offer to help in any way they can, it takes me aback.

Not one of them sounds resentful or annoyed that my appearance brought on all this trouble. No one has insinuated that I might not be worth the hassle. It’s so strange. So antithetical to everything I’m used to. Despite all my fears and reservations, a part of me is starting to believe that this den and their family practice what they preach.

Ivy Asher, Ann Denton's books