Ryan had known that his only chance of escaping would be to cross over the knife edge of feral, giving his animal total control. He’d known that the extra speed and strength would enable him to fight the fuckers. But he’d also known that if he did that while he was so enraged and no more than an animal in mind and heart, he could possibly turn rogue.
As such, he’d hesitated for over two weeks, hating the idea that going rogue would force his pack to track and kill him. But the more the Linton Pack had hurt him, the more they’d fed his need for freedom and vengeance.
Drugged, tired, hungry, enraged, and in utter agony, Ryan had finally given in. Completely feral and out of control, his wolf had lunged to the surface in spite of the drugs—and had escaped and ripped apart his captors. Ryan didn’t remember much about it; there had been so little left of him that felt human.
After that, his wolf had fled to his territory. By then, he’d calmed enough that Trey and Dante were able to call him back from the edge. The only words Ryan had spoken had been to say that the small Linton Pack had caught him, and they were now dead. They hadn’t pushed him for more information—maybe sensing there would be no point. He’d been so emotionally numb, yet so close to the edge.
Time around his pack had helped him heal, and he was about as functional as could be expected. Being a member of a tight, supportive, loyal pack could heal many wounds. That was why he believed his pack would be good for Zac. He just needed the kid to figure that out for himself.
Zac glanced through the glass door of the shelter’s entrance. “Ryan said in the message that he’s coming alone today.”
That surprised Makenna. “You sound relieved.”
“I like the others. It’s just that, you know, there’s a lot of them, and . . .
And a group of strong personalities could be intimidating. “I get it.”
Zac licked his lips. “Why do you think they’re not coming with him?”
She could practically see his worry flashing in neon lights on his forehead. “It’s not because they don’t like you.”
Colton nodded. “It was obvious that they want you in their pack. Maybe Ryan doesn’t have enough tickets for the game.” He patted Zac’s shoulder. “Don’t worry so much.”
“Don’t worry so much,” the three-year-old little girl hanging from Colton’s neck repeated, which is why she earned the nickname “Parrot.” All kids loved Colton. Beneath that muscular build was a complete marshmallow.
Hearing his cell beep, Zac said, “That might be Ryan.” Swiping his thumb across the screen, Zac smiled devilishly. “It’s Dominic.”
Makenna arched a brow. “Do I want to know what it says?”
“Nope.”
Colton looked at her, eyes smiling. “You thought any more about Madisyn’s suggestion?”
She knew he was referring to the feline’s idea that Makenna should let Ryan “take that bite he seems to want.” Makenna personally wasn’t convinced he was attracted to her. Even if he was, and even if it didn’t matter to him that she was a loner . . . “I don’t have the time or ability to handle this particular individual.”
He snorted. “You handled me just fine. I pushed you too hard, too often. You pushed right back. Never took any crap from me.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “I just want you to be happy. There’s more to life than the shelter.”
“Hmm.” She peeked through the glass door just as a familiar Chevy pulled up. “Here’s Ryan.” Her stomach clenched and her wolf sat up, pleased. “Let’s go.” By the time she and Zac reached the bottom of the path, he was opening the front passenger door. “Hey, White Fang. No pack mates to protect you from me?”
Ryan grunted, taking a swift inhale of her scent. And he scowled. There was a slight whiff of Colton there. His wolf raked his claws at Ryan, demanding he challenge the male. It was tempting.
Body unnaturally stiff, Zac shyly tipped his chin at him in that way teenagers often did. “Sup?”
Ryan gave him a brief nod before his attention darted to the car lurking a short distance from the shelter. The two males inside the vehicle looked everywhere but at them, pointedly avoiding his gaze. They had done the same thing the previous day. It would seem that Remy was having the shelter watched.
“Zac, why don’t you ride shotgun?” suggested Makenna. “That way, you guys can talk.”
Once they were all in the Chevy, Ryan put the car in gear, pulled away from the curb, and scowled at Remy’s wolves as he passed. Then a silence fell. For the first time that Ryan could recall, he found silence uncomfortable. Knowing he had to talk to Zac, get to know him, was the kind of pressure that made him edgy. And the more minutes that passed, the edgier he became.