Chapter 2: Aiden

Our pack are all good fighters, even the pups, but the attackers have the ferocity of the desperate. I can see the collars they wear, and my suspicion is confirmed when a cry of “Hunters!” goes up from the East side. Hunters are human, but they know about werewolves and they hate us. The collared werewolves fighting for them will be captured rogues, made into their slaves through their twisted science. Hunters know our weaknesses, and use them against us- silver, mainly, fashioned into weapons.

They don’t know my weaknesses.

I’m out of favour with the Moon Goddess, that's what they whisper behind my back. I have my own weaknesses, but I don't share those of my Pack. My connection to the Goddess is too weak. I lack the link that the rest of the Pack share, I'm unable to hear the mental commands of the Alpha. The light of the Moon's full face doesn't force me to Change. Four years past the age at which she should have blessed me with a Mate, and I still have none.

Flanked both sides by Pack warriors, I'm tight for space as I dodge and duck. It's still easy to evading the slobbering, frenzied werewolf I'm facing while trying to find an opening. "Oh for Goddess's sake, stop prancing around like a damn ballet dancer and fight, freak!" one of the warriors snarls as he picks up his own foe and flings her bodily into another.

I duck a swinging claw, raking my own across the side of my attacker, going low when he spins around and taking out his hamstrings. I leave him helpless- one of the pups can finish him off, I don’t need the glory of a kill even though my wolf is howling for blood and the warriors will mock me as squeamish. I see a gap and dive for it, sprinting eastwards towards the cries of warning, as the fighters behind me curse me for fleeing.

A small squad of our best fighters have already engaged the Hunters and for the moment seem to have the upper hand, but I know there will be more of our attackers out there somewhere. I skid to a halt then slink into the undergrowth, sneaking past the fight, hunting the Hunters. Deeper into the forest, beyond a large clearing, I find them. There are two, two with sniper rifles, each concealed in a tree. The attacking werewolves fighting for them will probably have orders to pretend to retreat and draw the Pack in this direction, so the snipers can pick us off with silver bullets.

Moving in silence, I am up the first tree in a flash, and the sniper is dead before he can react. The other sees me. He swings his rifle my way and I feel the white-hot pain of the bullet passing through me before I hear the cough of the silenced gun.

I grin at the sniper. I’m a freak, you see. I’m immune to silver.

Getting shot still hurts like a b****. I’ve known that since my Father shot me on my fifteenth birthday. It’s the traditional Pack fifteenth birthday ‘present’, learning what it’s like to get shot and how to fight on through the pain. A bullet won’t kill me that easily. I’ll be healed within a few days, and it’s not going to slow me down now.

I leap from one tree to the next, dodging another bullet and snatching the rifle from the Hunter’s hand. His silver knife is no more effective against me than a common steel one. He is dead before he can do me any real harm, his expression frozen in disbelief. Inside my head, my wolf howls a victory.

I am barely breathing hard as I drop to the forest floor and start to make my way back to the rest of the Pack. Everything's quiet. The fight must have ended.

The snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves alerts me to Caleb's approach. He never could move quietly. I head towards him, and regret it immediately.

“What the h*** were you thinking?” My little brother lifts me bodily and slams me against the trunk of a tree, knocking the breath from me so that I can’t answer him. His fingers are leaving bloody marks around my throat. More blood is splashed across his face and clothing. None of it is mine- yet- and I suspect that none of it is his either. The impact has reopened the bullet wound through my gut, reawakening the dull throbbing into a sharp pain. “You were running away. You're the heir of the Alpha. You should be fighting until you're dead!”

“Not... running,” I manage to wheeze.

“Looked like running to me,” Caleb counters, grinning vindictively and displaying bloodstained teeth.

“Get... round... behind them,” I croak.

“Oh, running 'round to stab them in the back?” Caleb jeered derisively. “Of all the cowardly, dishonourable ways to fight. You fight like a girl!”

“So girls are cowardly and dishonourable?” asks a new voice. It's our little sister, Imogen, come looking for us. She's an amazing fighter, and can kick both our asses.

“That's not what I meant!” Caleb splutters, thankfully relaxing his grip enough that I can find my feet and my breath.

“Then what did you mean, Caleb?” Imogen asks sweetly. “That I'm not a girl?”

“No, I...”

“Shut it, Caleb. Mom's looking for both of you-“

”-Mom's found you,” comes our mother's voice, and she strides into the clearing like a Valkyrie, tall and proud, battered but not cowed. “What are you doing all the way over here, boys?”

Caleb is only too happy to explain. “Aiden was sneaking around behind them to...”

”... cut off their retreat?” Mom finishes, speaking over him. “Good thinking.” I stare at her, stunned. I'd expected to have to argue my case, and it never goes well when that means referring to my silver immunity. Is she really letting me off that hook? “But next time, tell your battle commander what you're doing!” Okay, I'm being taken off one hook and hung on another one. How am I supposed to tell him when I don't have the mind link? “Caleb, I obviously need to schedule you some sparring practice with Imogen,” Mom continues, and Imogen winks at me while Caleb gasps in horror.

“But why... why not him? He's the one who needs the practice!” Caleb bursts out, giving me a little shake with the fist he still has bunched in my shirt, just stopping himself from contradicting Mom. “He's the one who can't fight properly.”

Caleb is right, in a way. I can fight, I do fight, but not the same way as Caleb and Father. They're both a foot taller than me and twice as heavy. I'm fast, good at dodging and using others' strengths against them. That makes me a trickster and a coward in their eyes.

“Sometimes I think you're wishing I'd just die in battle,” I mutter, and Caleb lets go of me so he can give a slow clap.

“Finally he gets it,” my little brother says.

“Caleb!” Imogen scolds him, but Mom is silent and I know the idea must have crossed Father's mind.

“You know I'm not the heir that the Pack wishes it had, Imogen,” I say, “and I'm not the heir Father needs. I'm a freak, they all say it, and it's hurting his authority just when the whole Pack needs to be united against our enemies. You know Father can't just make Caleb his heir. Not while I'm still alive, healthy and sane. Not under Pack law. So why don't I make things easy for everyone?”

Imogen stares at me in dismay. “Aiden, what are you...”

“You couldn't find me,” I interrupt her, looking between the three of them, Mom, Caleb and Imogen, hoping they understand what I mean. “You searched everywhere and only found blood. One of the attackers got away, maybe he took my body to use in one of their experiments or something. If I'm missing presumed dead, Caleb can be heir.”

“Just where do you think you will go?” Mom asks sharply, and I can tell she's guessed that I've been planning this for a long time.

“London,” I reply. “I have a scholarship, to art college. I'll disappear properly. None of the Pack will find me all the way over on the other side of the Atlantic. I won't be here to embarrass you all, and I won't have to keep being told how much of a failure I am. Win-win.” I'm glad my voice stays steady. I'm feeling a little choked up.

Only Imogen looks upset. “Aiden! I'll miss you!”

“I know your number. I'll text,” I try to comfort her.

“Because her Mate will just love that,” Caleb drawls. “When she finds him. He'll just love to find his new Mate texting some strange man.”

“I'll use another name, duh,” I reply, because that seems obvious to me. Aiden Cooper is supposed to be dead, so Aiden Cooper shouldn't be texting his sister. “You've told me often enough that I look like a girl and fight like a girl. I'll be Princess Glitter Sparkle.” I glance at Imogen, and from the narrow-eyed glare she is directing at Caleb he is going to pay for using 'girl' as an insult.

“It... may be for the best,” Mom says slowly and with reluctance. “I know you would do your duty in your own way...”

I nod. ”...but the pack needs a war leader, not an-“

“Artist,” Caleb can't help but sneer. “A freak!”

Imogen launches herself at me and almost sends me stumbling with the force of her hug. “You shouldn't have to do this!”

My sister and I feel another set of arms encircle us both. Mom is giving in to one of her rare moments of physical affection. “Best if your father doesn't know,” she tells us. “He's terrible at lying. If we want the rest of the Pack to believe this, we keep it between ourselves. Aiden, do you have everything you need? Money? Clothes? Passport? How are you travelling?”

I enjoy the hug while it lasts. Mom-hugs are a rare and precious thing. “I've been saving my allowance since forever. I've got a bag hidden at the edge of our territory, my guitar's in a locker at the bus station and the college has helped me get a student visa and an airplane ticket. I can catch a Greyhound to the airport.”

“You promise you'll text,” Imogen demands.

“I promise, I promise.”

I feel Mom pulling away, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “You'd better hurry, Aiden, son. The others will come looking soon. The Goddess's blessings on you.”

“And on all of you. Even Caleb.” I do mean it. Caleb has always been the eldest son they really wanted. It's nobody's fault that I was born first instead. Taking a deep breath and reluctantly freeing myself from Imogen’s arms, I straighten up and step away. I give my family one final, slightly watery smile, then walk away towards my new future.