3
I knew that. That was the worst part of this, realizing how vulnerable I suddenly was.
“I thought you were tougher than this,” Niko laughed, raising his foot and aiming for my chest. He intended to secure his first victory by taking advantage of my weakness, but he didn’t know just how dire my situation was.
“Don’t,” I rasped desperately, reaching out to stop him.
He would have followed through if not for my father suddenly calling, “Aislin!”
Instead, Niko’s foot crashed back to the ground and he stepped aside. My father charged over, but frantic to hide my feeble condition, I stifled my cough and staggered back to my feet. “I’m fine,” I said, but the words barely made it out. Just speaking made me feel like my left lung had deflated.
My father paused beside Niko. “What happened?” he asked, looking between us.
“She couldn’t take the hit,” said Niko.
I bared my teeth at Niko. “He just caught me off guard.”
“You’re wheezing,” my father pointed out.
“It’s nothing,” I insisted, staggering past them both. “I just need a break.”
He hesitated. Behind me, I heard him turn his voice to Niko. “Go against Albin for now. I’ll spectate.”
All I wanted was to escape from their prying eyes. I couldn’t let them know how bad it was, and I was grateful that they accepted my excuse and let me retreat to the cabin. Stumbling into the bathroom, I leaned against the counter and my chest rattled, expelling bloodied phlegm into the sink. My chest felt like it was going to explode.
I knew what was wrong. A portion of my left lung must have collapsed during the fight with Dalesbloom and the Inkscales a few days ago. Whoever I was fighting at the time had struck me hard in my ribcage, and I suspected the rib had fractured, a splinter puncturing my lung. My chest kept feeling tighter as air slowly filled the pleural space where the collapsed portion of my lung usually sat. I hadn’t bothered approaching Muriel for healing because I thought my condition as a wolf shifter would expedite my recovery, but instead, the injury kept worsening. It was too late for me to approach Muriel now, anyway. Her healing magic had put such a strain on her over the past few days that she’d grown weak, and I didn’t know how much more it would take from her to help me.
I would survive it on my own. I had no other choice.
Chapter 2: Everett
T
he pride of the Grandbay wolves was going to get them killed, and it pained me that nothing I could say would grant them any sense.
I slouched in my chair, staring out the wide window that spanned the back wall of my office. My postmodern house decorated in dark granite sat on a mountainside on the southeastern edge of Gunnison National Forest. Its tall cement pillars rose up among birch and aspen on a cliffside that overlooked my domain, my humble town of Eastpeak sprawled between the mountains, whose peaks dominated the horizon around us. Vibrant sunshine from the late August afternoon illuminated my office, its glare in the window reflecting my image back at me: Everett March, Alpha of the Eastpeak pack and CEO of March Lumber Mill. With legs clad in blue denim, old grey sneakers, and an olive-green utility shirt unbuttoned one down from the collar, I barely looked the part. Most executives didn’t keep their dirty blond hair in a bun on their head, or sit in chairs barely big enough to hold them. Stormy grey eyes emphasized my look of wildness.
Nobody ever said it out loud, but I used to think my intimidating presence was what impaired peoples’ ability to trust me. I had a better idea of what it was now. I had never allowed Eastpeak to get involved in the small quarrels between our neighboring packs. The effect of Eastpeak’s avoidance had chipped away at the trust my allies held in me, and now they would rather condemn themselves to certain death than let me into the situation.
The Mythguard should have taken Muriel Vale out of here weeks ago. Now, none of them could even set foot in Grandbay territory without the threat of reproach from Gavin Steele.
After the fatal clash between Dalesbloom and Grandbay a few days ago, I realized that something needed to be done, and I had no choice but to act in the background. It seemed impossible to me that David couldn’t be reasoned with. The relationship between him and Gavin had soured somewhere in the process of merging Grandbay and Dalesbloom, and I was confident that the lack of mediator was what intensified the fight. Even with the truth revealed about David’s crimes—his scheme to have Gavin’s parents murdered by the dragons, his kidnapping of Elizabeth Rathbone, now Billie Jesper—some fragment of the logical, grounded man I had known all my life must still exist. Perhaps he was unwilling to relent to Gavin, but our relationship had always been professional, pragmatic. I thought I could talk some sense into him. All I needed was to get him on the phone.
When the landline on my desk finally rang, I swiveled my chair around and answered. “Everett March,” I said briskly, hoping to hear David’s voice.
At the same time I glanced at the caller ID, a woman’s voice piped back at me, “Good afternoon, Mr. March. The invoice from the Gunnison Millwright’s Association has come in and the payment is awaiting your signature. Will you make it into the office today?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll let accounting know.”
Maybe I was a fool for being optimistic about David. Gavin was just a kid, so I understood David disregarding him, but if he wasn’t going to take me seriously either then the conflict between our packs was going to degrade much faster, and much worse, than I’d anticipated.
My mind ran amok with catastrophic thoughts as I gazed out the window, observing the world that had fallen under my control. Among the mountains puffed thick plumes of smoke from the March Lumber Mill, the company I inherited through my family, and as the CEO it was what I dedicated most of my time to. Between work, my pack, and my commitments to the Mythguard as a local correspondent, I didn’t get many moments to myself, but when I did, I spent them here in my home office. It was my base of operations. Most people were surprised to learn that I was only 26 years old. Even in my late teens, responsibility ruled me. I suppose my perseverance had caused my social life to suffer—now, my detachment from my allying packs, or… anyone, really, was baring its ill effects.
Still, I would do what I could to help. Even if Gavin and his pack didn’t want me.
I leaned over my desk and grabbed the phone again, punching in a number I knew by heart. The phone rang, then the familiar voice of my Beta, Taylor Byrne, answered. “Hey, Ev.”
“I haven’t been able to get ahold of David. We need to know what’s going on in Dalesbloom,” I began. “Can I get you to pay them a visit?”