5. ALPHA PACK

FLETCHER'S POV

Snap....

My bones crunched back into place, a symphony of agony.

Each joints realigned with a loud crack that echoed through the empty road. 

A burning sensation raced down my spine, and I bit back with a scream. After decades of shifting, you'd think I'd get used to the pain. I never did.

I gasped, clutching my side. The skin knit together, sealing the deep wound Logan's men had left, but the phantom pain remained.

My fingers came away sticky with blood—some mine, some theirs. The silver traces in the wound made my skin itch and burn as my body fought to expel the foreign substance.

I stood up, naked and covered in dirt.

I didn't care about the nudity. Carlos and I had shifted in front of each other a thousand times.

My clothes were scattered across the road in shredded pieces, soaked in blood. 

I'll probably need new ones before we reached Centro Villa, but that was a problem for later.

"I don't know whether to be happy or offended," I rasped, spitting blood onto the sand. "He left us alive."

The words tasted bitter. Logan had humiliated us. Beaten us. And then walked away like we weren't even worth finishing off.

"I blame myself," Carlos whispered.

"He thinks we're a joke," I growled. "He thinks the Belmont pack is so weak he can just toy with us."

I spotted the girl's knapsack lying in the dirt.

She'd come here with nothing, likely running from something.......came here looking for refuge.

And we'd failed her within minutes of her arrival.

I walked over and picked it up. I unzipped the side pocket and grabbed a water jug, draining it in seconds.

But it wasn't the water that satisfied me. It was the smell.

"I'm not going to be a toy for that fucker," Carlos said, his voice dropping an octave. But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the bag.

"We need to raid Port Alvarez," I said, watching him closely. "We need to get her back before Logan touches her."

The thought of Logan's hands on her made my claws threaten to pop out. 

I had my own share of women but the idea of a "forever" mate always terrified me.

But this... this was different. I felt like I was starving, and she was the only food in the world. Like I'd been walking through life partially blind and had suddenly seen color for the first time.

"I felt it too, Fletch," Carlos whispered.

"Felt what?" I asked, though I already knew.

Carlos looked up at me. His eyes were glowing gold.

"The pull," he said. "I hope she's my mate."

My stomach dropped.

"Your mate?" I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "She's my*l mate, Carlos. I felt it the second I saw her."

"So did I."

Three words. Three simple words that changed everything.

We stood there, two Alphas, naked and bleeding, staring each other down over a girl we didn't even know. A girl whose name we hadn't even learned before she was stolen.

In the old world, we would fight. We would tear each other apart until only one of us was left to claim her.

But Carlos was my cousin. My brother in arms. We'd fought side by side for over a century. We'd saved each other's lives more times than I could count.

Could I kill him over a woman I'd known for barely five minutes?

Yes, my wolf snarled. Yes, without hesitation.

"Two Alphas," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Sharing one mate?"

The concept was foreign, unnatural. Alphas didn't share. We dominated, we possessed.

"It's rare," Carlos said, his gaze intense. "But not impossible."

He looked at the bag again, then at the horizon where Logan had taken her.

"There are stories," he continued, his voice rough. "Ancient legends of powerful wolves blessed by the Moon Goddess with twin mates. Or of mates so rare they needed multiple protectors."

"Fairy tales," I spat, but my conviction wavered.

Nothing about tonight made sense. Why would the Moon Goddess give us both the same mate unless there was a reason?

"We don't have time to argue about claim rights," Carlos snapped, his Alpha voice rising to meet mine. "Logan has her. And if he figures out what she is..."

"He'll break her," I finished.

The rage returned, hotter than before. It burned through the confusion, the jealousy, the territorial instinct demanding I fight my cousin for dominance.

None of that mattered if she died in Logan's fortress.

I looked at Carlos. I saw the same murderous intent mirrored in his eyes. The same desperate need to protect what was ours. We could figure out the sharing part later. Right now, we had a common enemy.

And Logan had made the fatal mistake of taking something that belonged to both of us.

"We share," I said, the words tasting strange but right. "She is ours."

Carlos nodded once. A silent pact. The kind we'd made a hundred times before in battle, but this one felt different. More sacred. Binding in a way that went beyond pack law.

"Ours," he agreed.

I grabbed the backpack, slinging it over my shoulder. It felt like carrying a piece of her heart. Her scent surrounded me, and my wolf settled slightly, content to have even this small connection.

"We go to Centro Villa," I commanded, my Alpha voice returning in full force. "We get the mercenaries. We get the guns."

The time for subtlety was over. Logan wanted war? We'd give him war.

I turned toward the north, toward the dark fortress of Port Alvarez. 

Toward her. I could feel her through the bond now that I wasn't fighting it—fear and confusion and a stubborn spark of defiance that made me want to smile despite everything.

 She'd need to be to survive until we reached her.

"And then," I growled, "we paint the streets with Logan's blood."