Since I turned eighteen and don’t have to go to school in the village anymore, I’ve protected myself from my half-brother by keeping to the mountain slope. The worst Dawson’s done to me in the last three years is give me a black eye and bruised ribs.
The look on his face now is dark and wild, his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth.
Damn. He must be here to show the other two shifters how tough he is.
While they take a beat to size me up, Dawson strides straight toward me, calling to the taller blond man at the same time. “Do you see, Cody? She’s a freak.”
I guess I’m not dressed up enough for them. I’m wearing a navy-checked flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It’s untucked and falls past my backside, hiding my curves. My soft leather ankle boots sit below the hem of my jeans. My red hair is piled on top of my head in an untidy bun, a few wisps falling across my shoulders, loosened while I was splitting wood.
Still holding on to the piece of wood, I back quickly toward the splitting block, wrench the axe out of it with my left hand, and circle behind the block. The block isn’t big enough to form any real barrier between me and Dawson, but it will disrupt his stride.
“Stay the hell away from me, Dawson,” I snarl.
My half-brother laughs as he circles around the block. “Or what, Tessa? You’ll tell your daddy I broke the rules?”
He glances back at his friends with a smirk. Dawson is allowed to go wherever he wants within pack territory during the Conclave, but the visiting shifters are supposed to keep to the village. This rule is intended to protect members of the host pack—a rule that my father was relying on to keep me safe tonight.
I heft the axe, holding it securely as I quickly backstep to maintain the distance between us. “Stay back, or I’ll slice you open like a piece of firewood,” I say.
Dawson misses a step.
It’s unusual for me to threaten him. But—damn it—if he’s here to make a mess of me, then there’s a high chance he’ll beat me until I’m barely breathing. I promised my father that I wouldn’t reveal my strength, but I’m done not fighting back in my human form.
Resuming his prowl toward me, Dawson snarls. “You don’t have the strength to challenge me, Tessa. You’re weak! A pathetic waste of air.”
I pull to a stop beside the wheelbarrow. “Try me, little brother.”
His eyes widen. The muscles in his neck cord and his nostrils flare, telling me I’ve made him truly angry. He made it clear to me when we were younger that he hates the fact that we’re related.
His hands dart out. He makes a grab for my head and I picture his intentions a mile off. He plans to knock my head into the pile of wood in the wheelbarrow, kick my knees out from under me, and wrench my hands behind my back before I can scream.
Darting beyond his grasp, I pitch the chunk of wood at his temple, hitting him squarely on his forehead.
He flinches and jerks to the side, gripping his head before he checks the damage.
“Fuck!” His fingers come away coated with blood. “Bitch!”
I don’t have time to waste. Snatching up another piece of wood, I aim for his throat, but he dashes to the side and the projectile thuds harmlessly into the ground.
The other two men stride toward me, their animals visible in their sharpening teeth and descending claws, taking on a partial shift. It’s hard to predict if they’ll fully shift. Only the strongest alphas can maintain a partial shift for more than a minute.
I pitch a piece of wood at each of them, one after the other, as fast as I can. These chunks are heavier than the last, but I’m practiced in chucking wood into the wheelbarrow.
One piece hits the tall blond guy—Cody—in the shoulder. The golden aura around his body suddenly blazes again, much brighter than I was expecting—much stronger than Dawson’s aura.
I suppress a new shudder. This guy will be a much more formidable opponent than my half-brother.
The other chunk of wood smacks the younger guy in the ribs. Unlike Cody, his aura weakens with the hit, confirming that his wolf isn’t as strong as Cody’s.
Both men jolt and curse at me, but they resume their unwavering stride toward me.
Misery rises inside me. I can keep chucking wood at them, but I’m simply delaying the inevitable.
Short of killing them, I can’t stop them.
Running away will only trigger their instincts to chase me. They’ll shift into their wolf forms, and I can’t outrun them as a human.
In the distance, the sun is beginning to set, the horizon flooding with amber light, but it’s still another half an hour until the forest will be dark enough that I could hide in it.
I fight my fear and the paralysis that comes with it.
My human side swings between rage and despair.
Do I break the rules I’ve kept my entire life—or risk death right now?
Raising the axe in front of me, I hold it like a shield as all three men descend on me. “Stay. The hell. Away from me.”
To my surprise, Cody pulls to a stop with a growl. His fists are clenched, the muscles in his torso shifting with his indrawn breaths, making the outline of his wolf tattoo ripple across his chest.
His growl is pure animal, the sound an alpha makes when he’s establishing dominance. It’s directed first at my brother and then at the freckled guy.
“I want her,” Cody says.
My heart sinks. For a second, I stupidly thought he was going to back off.
Dawson checks his forehead again, slow and considered, as he studies the blood from the cut I gave him. “If you aren’t afraid to draw blood, Cody.”
A smile grows on Cody’s face. The tip of his right incisor peeks between his lips. “Never.”
My half-brother laughs, a low, unsettling sound. “Whatever you want. I won’t stand in your way.” He arches an eyebrow at the younger guy. “Cameron?”
Cameron shakes his head, grinning. He confirms my theory that he and Cody are brothers when he says, “She’s all yours, big brother.”
I back away from them. It’s unlike Dawson to hand over control of any situation to anyone. If he’s willing to let Cody take charge, then Cody must have a lot of power—political or physical.
I’ve never met any of the other alphas or their intended heirs, but I’ve heard their names over the years.
Rapidly digging into my memory, I search for any mention of an alpha-in-training named Cody.
My blood suddenly runs cold.
Wait… He can’t be…
Not Cody Griffin?
All packs are supposed to be equal in the hierarchy, but the two Lowland pack alphas are ruthless and feared.
The most ruthless is Tristan Masters, the youngest alpha in our history. He fought and killed his own father a year ago to take his place as alpha of the Western Lowland pack. His territory spans everywhere west of the Willamette River all the way across Portland up to the edge of the Tillamook State Forest. Any wolf who crosses him ends up not only dead, but killed in a way that sends a message to the other packs not to mess with him.
The second most feared alpha is Baxter Griffin. For generations, the Griffin family has ruled the Eastern Lowland territory that stretches east of the river to the base of the Cascades. In contrast to Tristan, he’s the oldest alpha and has a large extended family at his back. The Griffins are undefeated, close to gods among shifters.