“To allow your wolf to become the master is a dangerous thing. To trade your intelligence for base instinct is the first step to becoming a rogue. Never lose control, lest you lose yourself along with it."
The boy soaked up his father's words as they trudged through the woods; his bare chest streaked with the same shade of deep red that speckled his father's face and arms. Both hands wrapped around one filthy, lifeless ankle; gripping it tightly despite the offensive smell emanating from the foot attached.
The aroma made his wolf shiver and his nose wrinkle, overpowered only by the nauseating tang of iron that trailed along behind them both. Bonded for only a few months, they had yet to learn the extraordinary control that would come to define them.
Avery, casually holding on to the other ankle in one hand and balancing the body of a wolf across his shoulders, appeared unaffected by the noxious mix of smells that left his son gritting his teeth to keep from gagging.
Together they had hauled the dead rogues towards the nearest clearing – Avery in full ‘teaching' mode and Blake staring avidly at his surroundings, determined to avoid looking too closely at the gaping wounds in the dead man's chest where his wolf’s claws had torn the life out of him just moments earlier.
“To cast aside your humanity and allow your wolf complete control is the first step to madness,” his father continued, ignoring the steady thunk-thunk as the rogue’s head bounced unceremoniously along the forest floor. “All rogues show signs of it eventually. You can see it in the red tinge around their eyes,” - his father paused a moment to adjust the dead weight on his shoulders – “The deeper the red, the further they've fallen.”
He turned to fix his son with a fiercesome glare. “Never assume that a mad rogue will be easier to kill. If anything, it makes them more dangerous than ever. They rely on their instincts, completely in tune with their wolf and just as deadly. More importantly, incapable of rational thought, consideration or fear."
Blake nodded silently as they continued their trek through the forest, the bright summer sunshine dappling across the leaves, defying seriousness of the heavy burden he carried with him.
To his tortured conscience, the shadows cast eerie shapes across the forest floor, all pointed accusingly towards the rogue they hauled along behind them like a piece of meat – or so it seemed to the boy who could still hear the echo of the man's dying scream ringing in his ears.
He tried hard not to flinch every time the head hit yet another exposed tree root; knowing the reaction would only irritate his father. Growing up, he'd imagined that his first kill for the pack would be a great triumph - a clear sign that he was ready for his training as Alpha. Something he could boast about and be proud of.
The reality was dirtier than expected. Murky and not nearly as noble. The casually, dismissive way his father ordered him to help ‘clean up' afterwards, even more so.
Avery did not allow him to flinch from the harsh reality of taking a life; coldly noting as they dumped the corpse next to a pile of firewood: “This kill will blur into the first of many. Your first duty, before all your wants and needs must be the safety of your pack. This” – Avery gestured to the lifeless rogue – “Is the price of that safety.”
Later, as the bodies burned on their funeral pyre, and Blake watched the last of his childhood fall away amid the rancid smell of cooking meat; Avery offered one last piece of advice.
“Born rogues are the most dangerous of them all. Never underestimate them. They've never known the restrictions of a pack. The madness doesn't touch them the same way. If you ever find yourself face to face with one...”
“What should I do, father?”
Avery looked him straight in the eye, his face as grave as Blake had ever seen it. “Kill them. Before they kill you.”
“They kept that one quiet!” His Beta's shocked exclamation pulled Blake's attention back to the bright hospital ward.
“No wonder,” snorted Alex over the swell of muttering that rolled around the room. “A rogue Alpha? It's unheard of.”
“Are you sure about this?” Blake asked darkly, gesturing for calm. It would explain a lot. Meagan’s sudden appearance. The mystery surrounding his past. The touch of feral Blake had detected in his mannerisms.
And his name, Rothan reminded him.
I didn't even think of that, Blake admitted.
When a werewolf turned rogue, they would ‘abandon’ their human names and choose to carry only the name of their wolf, instead. A symbolic way of casting off the shackles of pack-life and embracing the wolf within. Personally, Blake believed this was one of the reasons so many rogues went feral so quickly – the human side keeps the wolf grounded. Civilised. A step above a wild animal. Without it...
“Trust me, I'm positive,” Asher was saying, “I came across a plethora of useful information in the Elmwood files. He might be slippery in all other areas but, strangely, Syrus is a stickler for accurate records.”
Barnaby handed a piece of paper to the Alpha. “Meagan’s birth certificate,” he explained.
Blake frowned down at the official looking document. On the surface it seemed perfectly normal; name, date of birth, parents etc. It was only when he looked closely that he could see the faint shadow of another set of words underneath the ink.
Forged, his wolf muttered in disdain.
“It’s been doctored,” Asher confirmed. “The chemicals they used were crude, but effective.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Took me a while to figure out how to raise the letters underneath.” Beside him, Barnaby shuddered and Asher shot him a wicked grin. “Barnaby here was a little concerned I'd damage it. It is an official document, after all.”
Blake raised an eyebrow. “How did you know it was a forgery?”
Asher grinned. “Smell. Go on...”
Blake sniffed hesitantly at the paper. The faintest whiff of a harsh chemical assaulted his nostrils and his nose wrinkled involuntarily. It was vaguely familiar and half-buried under a another, less tangible scent – flowery and pungent.
“Acetone,” his brother laughed. “Faint but still traceable, if you know what you're looking for. Not a particularly fool-proof method of erasing ink. I was able to retrieve most of it using my own special mix.” He glanced at the disapproving Eta. “Don't worry, the reaction fades over time. Give it a few days and it will look as good as new again.”
Simon gingerly took the offending document from his Alpha's hands, and began to examine it carefully, a troubled look deep in his eyes.
“Well,” Charlie exhaled. “It explains Meagan's little display at the ball, anyway.”
“And the pack’s dislike of him,” Marcus pointed out. “I doubt he can hide his rouge nature completely. Actually, that's a good question... I wonder how many of the pack are up to speed on Meagan’s true origins?”
“As few as possible, I'd wager,” Asher surmised. “Even Syrus isn't that confident in his abilities to force a pack to accept a rogue for a leader.”
“No one,” Samuel stated firmly, his old eyes bright with conviction. “No one will know. Reuben Hallow hated rogues. It was his one redeeming quality. He'd have disowned his son if he even so much as suspected Syrus had lain with a rogue she-wolf... never-mind, born a child with one. Syrus wouldn't have risked it becoming common knowledge.”
“I defer to your expertise,” Asher murmured with a smile.
“Should we kill them?” the warrior, James, asked fervently. His eyes shone brightly as he looked between his Alpha and his Gamma, one hand flexing involuntarily.
“I think you should put a leash on this one, Alex,” Asher suggested, looking him up and down. “I can't think of a quicker way to start a full-blown civil war than by killing those two.”
kill them. Before they kill you.
Blake heard his father's voice echoing from the past and he stared at his brother, his eyes transmitting a message of concern that Asher understood only too well.
“Isn't that the whole point?” Alex drawled, even as he shot his warrior a warning glance. “We can hardly let it slide. War is inevitable after all, and the winners are usually the ones left standing at the end of it. Why not make it simple?”
“They have to make the first move,” Asher pointed out, as much to Blake as the others. He held his brothers gaze intently as he spoke. Asher's first kill had been a much darker affair than Blake's, but he'd endured the same lecture as his brother afterwards, and his eyes communicated their shared understanding. “The last thing we need right now is other packs getting involved because you've assassinated an Alpha without just cause.”
To everyone's surprise, Simon nodded his head vigorously, the first time he’d agreed with his Alpha's brother all week.
“We have just cause,” James continued to argue, his natural inclination to bow down to another Alpha warring with his disgust towards Meagan. Alex let a low growl tremble past his lips, warning his warrior that he was being too liberal with his opinions. James fell silent, a look of agitation still playing across his features.
“Now, wait a minute,” Simon said, his face taught with worry. “So, Meagan is a rogue. That doesn’t mean Elmwood is working with them. Samuel is right. The rest of the pack must be in the dark about his true origins... what if it's really just as simple as a father hiding the truth to protect his son?”
James scowled at him. “What if it isn’t?”
This time both lieutenants intervened; Marcus snarling at Simon, frustrated by his constant arguments and Alex with a vicious admonishment for James, who finally bowed his head in apologetic submission.
Asher ignored them, focusing his attention on his brother. “All we have is a pile of documents obtained in a less than legal manner. Present these to the Elder council and they'll argue speculation. You want justification? Give Elmwood the rope to hang themselves with and let them tie their own noose.”
The room began to buzz once more as the warriors muttered amongst themselves. Blake allowed the speculation to run its course; taking advantage of the brief pause to observe his two most outspoken warriors carefully.
Simon, ever the diplomat, had always been careful to tie up every loose end before choosing a course of action. His careful consideration had earned him a high-rank amongst the Blackridge pack, but lost him the position of Beta when Blake had first taken up the mantle of Alpha.
Though his father had held the rank for many years, Simon had been known to adamantly hold his ground whenever he came to a fork in the road, dithering incessantly before choosing an absolute path. He was an excellent peacekeeper however and Marcus frequently chose him for diplomatic missions beyond the borders, knowing that when he returned, relations with whichever pack he had visited would always be stronger than before.
James, in contrast, had been known to close his eyes, spin around three times and jump blindly down whichever path his feet carried him to. If at all possible, he'd travel down both paths at once, just in case. Act first, apologise later was his motto.
The two warriors had been known to clash frequently on patrols and the lieutenants kept them on separate teams whenever possible. After careful consideration, Alex had recommended James for their tactical analysis team. He had proven his worth more than once over the last few years; planning raids, running hypothetical simulations and bolstering their defences against every conceivable attack. Both were fine men and loyal wolves. But...
There was a traitor among them.
The thought intruded on every conversation Blake had that afternoon. Every warrior that argued a point or questioned his reasoning provoked another round of: could it be... what if they... and his wolf had paced agitatedly up and down, itching to confront them.
Given the levels of security the traitor must have penetrated to retrieve the stolen plans, and the information they must have been privy to in order to remain hidden and one step ahead at all times... There could be little doubt that whoever it was, sat in the room with him right now.
Only a handful of suspects weren't present. Like it or not, no situation could justify leaving the borders without protection, especially now. But Blake had made certain to choose only those he thought least likely to betray them to remain out of the loop.
His eyes continued to graze the room, scouring each face for a sign they might be plotting treachery. His stomach turned every time his mind forced him to doubt one of his most trusted wolves, and more than once Rothan had risen close to the surface, held back only by Blake's superb level of control.
It was a risk, bringing the traitor in on their council. Blake knew that. By revealing the depth of their knowledge of the enemy, they exposed their ignorance too. But the Hunter brothers had been taught at an early age how to flush out their prey. The first step was drawing them in.
Blake’s lieutenants had played their part, observing the room carefully throughout the meeting. Quietly taking note of each wolf's reactions to Blake's revelations, searching for any sign of recognition or discomfort. Later they would find the time to compare notes and narrow the list down.
He waited patiently for a natural pause in the speculation drifting back and forth around the room, allowing them a moment to voice their opinions and concerns. Then, in full Alpha mode, took back control of the meeting – outlining basic plans for the defence of the borders and making it absolutely clear that, while advice and opinions were welcome, his decisions in any and all matters involving Elmwood would be final.
The wolves in the room bowed their heads in respectful submission, fully in awe of their Alpha's dominance. As a result, the next few hours passed swiftly.
The wolves split into natural groups around the room. Most of the strategists and scouts gathered around the Beta's bed as he filled them in on the possible rogue hideouts and their plans to smoke them out.
The bulk of the patrol leaders migrated to the Gamma to hash out detailed preparations for defence along the borders and the drills Alex intended to run through over the next few days.
Both lieutenants were being careful to hold some information back, feeding them just enough to make reasonable preparations possible but keeping enough back to counteract any leaks should the traitor turn out to be amongst their group.
The rest remained huddled around the table, discussing the inevitable siege on Elmwood.
As the sun began to drift towards the eastern horizon, Blake finally called an end to the gathering.
Doc had been hovering just outside the doors for nearly an hour. His calm demeanour tested unendingly by the untidy ward, he refused to set foot inside until the ‘visitors' all dispersed, leaving him free to tend to his patient.
Simon was amongst the first to leave, his sharp eyes catching sight of Jenni as she hurried past. With a smirk, he wasted no opportunity to pursue her. The others slowly followed.
Alex, Asher and Hannah hovered a while, pooling all their discussions into one and ensuring nothing had been forgotten.
“Shall I increase the guards around your family?” Alex inquired as he summed up the plans he'd put in place. “I know Sarah is a force to be reckoned with but, given the circumstances...”
“No. That won't be necessary,” Blake sighed. “They won't be here much longer.”
“They won't?” Asher looked up in surprise. “Where are they going?”
“Back home. With you,” Blake told him, his face set in stone. Asher opened his mouth to argue but Blake spoke over him, cutting his protest off before it could begin - in no mood for arguments. “Sky is safer in Darkmoon, Ash, and you know it. My pack is heading into war.”
He could see both his lieutenants gearing up to protest – surely, they wouldn't make a play for the Alpha’s family? That would be a dirty way to win a war.
Blake wanted to agree with them, desperately wanted to hold on to his belief that the battle could be won without risking those he loved. But his mind refused to let him hold on to hope, replaying Ethan's sharp retort back to him on a loop:
Don’t be so naive. Rogues don't play fair. They never have.
He shook his head. He'd take no chances. “They'll target anyone close to me,” he said catching and holding his brother's eyes. “I won't risk my family in another war. Not this time. Not even Aunt Sarah can argue with that.”
Asher stared at him for a moment, his eyes speculative as he followed his brother's line of thought. Finally, he nodded, releasing a soft sigh – as a hint of amusement crept into his gaze. A“You're going to order Aunt Sarah to leave the pack before she's ready?” he asked, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “Rather you than me. You're a braver wolf than I am... or should that be stupider?”
Blake scowled at him.
“Is stupider even a word?” Alex asked, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “More stupid, maybe?” A pause, then a snap of his fingers. “Idiotic?”
“That sounds better,” Asher agreed, playing along. His eyes scrolled down one of the documents, avoiding his brother's piercing gaze. “I should have used idiotic,” he murmured.
“How about eviscerated?” Blake snapped, his dark eyes shining. “That's a word. One I'd be happy to teach you.”
“No... no,” Alex disagreed. “I don't think that would work.” He tilted his head to one side and mimed a slice across his abdomen with an invisible weapon. “You can't be more eviscerated.... can you?” His face displayed nothing but earnest sincerity.
“You can if you try really hard,” Asher insisted. “I had to practise a few times before I got the technique right.”
Blake looked between them, irritation warring with affection. “I hate you both,” he told them flatly.
“No, you don't, you love us,” Asher argued with a grin. He dropped the document onto the table and it floated down gracefully to settle on top of the untidy pile of papers. “In all seriousness, though. How are you planning to evict our beloved matriarch without risking evisceration yourself?”
Blake looked at Asher and scoffed. “I'm not. Do you really think I dare tell Aunt Sarah what she can and cannot do? You’re right. I'm not that brave.”
Hannah snorted softly and he offered her a half-smile of reluctant admission.
“I'm rather hoping she'll evict herself.”
“Ah, the old ‘make her think it was her idea’ ploy,” Asher smirked. “It won't work. She'll see right through you.”
“It will if we present a good enough argument,” Blake insisted.
Asher shot him an incredulous stare. “What do you mean, we? This is your pack, big brother, not mine.”
“Yes,” Blake returned with a triumphant glint in his eye. “But thanks to our beloved father you are her Alpha. Not me.” He shrugged. “If all else fails, technically, you could order her home.”
Asher shuddered and sat upright. “So, about this argument of ours...”
Blake smiled internally. It was a universal truth that no Hunter could look into Aunt Sarah's steely gaze and hold their ground indefinitely. Even his father, though not for lack of trying. He looked over at Hannah, strangely content considering the events they'd spent the day discussing.
Tomorrow they could pull apart their observations, claw at the doubts surrounding each loyal warrior and hash out the next stage of their plan to expose the traitor. Tomorrow. Tonight, he felt like spending more time with his future mate. Tonight, he would take her out for a meal, allow his pack to see them together as a pair, and enjoy watching her flaming hair dance in the candlelight.
With a gentle smile he allowed himself to anticipate the brush of her lips against his own and the warmth of his skin next to hers.
She looked over at him and, correctly reading the desire in his eyes, blushed a beautiful, crimson.
His wolf purred.
He was on the verge of inviting her to join him when he felt a surge from the pack-link.
“Alpha, we have a situation at the border...” It was Issac.
Utilising his Alpha senses Blake felt, rather than saw a brief flash of the scene through the eyes of his warrior.
A car parked erratically across a side road that led towards the pack border, the wheels almost touching the invisible line. The skid marks behind the back tires suggested that the occupants had had no intention of stopping without the interference of Issac's border patrol.
“Rogues?” he asked sharply.
Marcus and Alex exchanged worried glances.
“No, not rogues. You have... visitors.” There was something in Issac’s voice that alerted Blake to his warriors’ unease; and it put his wolf instantly on edge. “I think you'd better get down here, Alpha. They say they're a gift... from the Elmwood pack... and they’re demanding entry.”
Rothan's hackles shot up at the insolence but cold shaft of ice trickled down Blake's spine. With a foreboding he couldn't explain, every muscle in his body tensed. “Who are they?” he asked.
Another flash gave him a brief glimpse of two men standing, disgruntled a short distance away from their car. They were surrounded by Blake's warriors and looked none too happy about it.
One was tall and lean, barely into his twenties judging by the scraggly beard he was trying unsuccessfully to grow. The other older, larger and far more confrontational. Both men had a thick head of red hair.
“They claim they're Hannah's family, Alpha. Her uncle” – the warrior hesitated, almost afraid to continue – “and her mate.”