“He challenged his Alpha for the position, lost the duel, and refused to submit.”
Shocked, Jaime leaned forward. “He chose to die rather than submit, even though he had a mate and son to take care of?” Her horror was understandable. Shifters often didn’t survive the breaking of a mating bond—a metaphysical connection that allowed mates to feel each other’s emotions and bolster each other’s energy. Damian would have known his death could lead to that of his mate and, consequently, leave his son without parents.
“That’s what I heard,” said Ryan. At that moment, Rhett returned. “What did you find out?”
Returning to his spot on the sofa, Rhett replied, “Damian Lewis is your cousin, which I’m guessing you already knew.” At Ryan’s nod, Rhett continued. “He mated when he was in his twenties. His mate gave birth to twins, but one died within hours of being born. His son, Zac, was eight when his father died in a duel with his Alpha. Damian’s mate died days later. His pack—the York Pack—is small, extremely private, and resides about five miles from Lance’s pack.” Lance was Taryn’s father, who she didn’t have a great relationship with. “Apparently the Alpha, a guy named Brogan Creed, is a tough son of a bitch who runs his pack with an iron fist.”
“What about the loner?” Taryn asked. “What did you find out about her?”
“Nothing.”
Dante arched a brow. “Nothing?”
“Either Makenna Wray doesn’t exist, or someone’s erased her proverbial paper trail. There’s absolutely no record of her anywhere.”
Ryan stilled. He was assuming Makenna had been cast out of her pack, since it was rare for shifters to choose to be a loner. If she’d changed her name, she must have done something so bad that she was in hiding—maybe even had a bounty on her head. Volunteering at a shelter could mean that she regretted her actions and was seeking some form of redemption. Or maybe she was simply using it as a place to hide.
Trey looked at Ryan. “I don’t like this.”
“Asking you to meet her could be some kind of trap—an attempt to get you someplace, alone and vulnerable,” Dante warned.
He was right. But . . . “I have to know.”
Trey inclined his head. “So, Dante and I will go with you.”
“And me,” added Taryn. “You’re not leaving me out of this.”
Jaime gave Dante a look that said, “Nor me.”
Trey pinned his tiny mate with a hard glare that had no effect. “I’m not okay with you being around a lone shifter. They’ve been hired to breach our defenses and invade our territory many times in the past.” He looked at Jaime. “Hell, you were shot by a loner.”
“So was Roni,” Dante pointed out, referring to the mate of their fellow enforcer, Marcus.
“Not all loners are hired guns,” said Jaime. “Makenna said she works at a shelter.”
“Yeah,” Trey confirmed, “but we don’t know for sure if that’s true.”
Taryn raised a hand. “Let it go, Flintstone. Ryan is one of my wolves, and this situation is a tricky one. I intend to be there tomorrow.”
“I’m going too.” Jaime looked up at her mate when his fingers clenched in her hair. “I won’t stay behind, Popeye.” She’d given him that nickname due to his very muscular frame.
Of course, Dante—a wolf who valued control as much as Ryan did—wasn’t too happy with his mate’s response. Apparently he hadn’t yet resigned himself to the fact that Jaime would never be someone he could control, because he continued to pressure her to change her mind.
Several futile minutes later, a defeated-looking Dante burst out, “Fine, we’ll all go. But if this Makenna person makes a wrong move, we end her.”
Ryan’s wolf’s claws sliced out as the animal released a threatening snarl. The same snarl built in Ryan’s throat, and he forced himself to swallow it back. The idea of causing her harm . . . it went against something inside him. The reality that she was a lone shifter and had likely committed an appalling crime against her pack didn’t change that.
Ryan always listened to his instincts. And at that moment, they told him that Makenna Wray was going to be a world of trouble.
CHAPTER THREE
He’s not coming.”
Makenna looked at Zac. His eyes were darting everywhere as he slouched on the park bench, shoulders hunched, arms folded; he was subconsciously making himself seem smaller, just like prey. “He’ll be here.”
Zac looked at her, dubious. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because he almost ripped me a new asshole for keeping you from him. I’ll warn you, the guy’s pretty intense; he seems to have a natural scowl, and you might find him a little intimidating. But I don’t believe he’s a danger to you.”