7

Gideon was fiercely territorial and protective, and would have preferred to keep his inner circle under one roof, tucked safely within the stone walls of the main estate. But Silas had his own idea. He loved his pack, and his loyalty to Gideon was absolute, but the trauma of his past had left him with a deep need for personal space. So, he had built his own retreat.

Situated a short quarter-mile through the trees from the Alpha’s mansion, Silas’s house was a rugged, timber-and-stone cabin hidden behind a wall of black spruce. It sat high enough on the rise to give him a clear vantage point of the approach paths, doubling as a tactical gatehouse for the territory. It was modern, quiet, and completely shielded from view. It gave him the isolation he craved, while keeping him close enough to his Alpha. 

Silas guided his truck through the gates of the territory, the heavy tires crunching against the gravel as he wound through the dark pine canopy toward the main estate. He parked, cut the engine, and stepped out into the crisp night air.

He pushed through the massive double doors and headed straight for the living room. The space was massive, with a high ceiling, and a fireplace where thick hardwood logs crackled, throwing light across dark paneling and plush leather sofas. There was a bar in the corner, and heavy drapes framed the windows overlooking the woods. 

Alpha Gideon Hale was sitting in his favorite wingback chair near the hearth, almost as quiet and motionless as the walls around him. Though he was in his early fifties, he looked much younger and could pass for a man in his forties—a gift of his wolf heritage. His pale blonde hair was cropped razor-short, contrasting sharply with the piercing blue of his eyes and the jagged scar running down the left side of his face, dangerously close to his eye.

Gathered around the room were four other pack members: Callum Mercer, Julian Mercer, Rebecca Knox, and Zack McKenzie.

Callum Mercer sat on one of the sofas. Roughly Gideon’s age, he was one of Oakhaven’s premier nightlife and hospitality magnate, owning a sprawling empire of elite hotels, private lounges, clubs and high-end venues. His position gave the pack unfettered access to the city’s high-society gossip, political dealings, and dark secrets. When Logan died, many had assumed Callum would challenge for leadership of the pack, but he had backed Gideon instead.

Julian Mercer was Callum's son. Young, handsome, and thoroughly spoiled, Julian was in his mid-twenties, drove expensive cars, and charged most of his lavish lifestyle directly to his father’s accounts, and Callum didn't mind in the slightest. Julian was the only living memory of his late wife who'd loved dearly, making the boy the most precious thing in Callum’s world… a fact Julian exploited freely. 

Rebecca Knox sat perched on the arm of a leather sofa. Sharp, and effortlessly beautiful, she was the only female in the pack. Callum had been hopelessly in love with her for years, routinely pressing for something deeper. And while Rebecca clearly harbored strong feelings for the older wolf, she stubbornly resisted a real commitment, preferring her independence…a boundary Callum endlessly tried to push.

In the shadows near the bar stood Zack McKenzie. Zack had been brought into the fold a little over a year ago after being bitten by an unknown stray while caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was Silas who'd found him, and brought him home to the pack—just as Logan had found him many years ago.

The only member of the pack who wasn't in the room was Damien Holt. Unlike the rest of them, Damien thrived in the chaos of the cities, constantly traveling and preferred to live among humans. Silas often wondered how he managed to do so, especially how he handled the change, but obviously Damien made it work somehow. Right now, he was far away from Oakhaven, and he moved around so much Silas couldn't even recall where he was at the moment. 

“Nice jacket,” Julian mocked from the corner, eyeing Silas's suit with a smirk. “How was it being the hero at the party tonight?”

Silas glared at him, strode forward and thumped him on the back. Julian stumbled and shoved Silas away, who regained balance and bounced back at him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. 

“When you two are quite finished, please take a seat,” Gideon’s voice cut through the room.

Silas paused and turned to look at him, “Woah,” he drawled, gliding over to the bar. He unbuttoned his collar and poured himself a drink, “You’re using your serious voice.”

Gideon always looked and sounded serious, but the pack knew him so well that they understood the subtle shifts in his demeanor. They could tell when he was his usual serious self and when there was something to worry about, and right now, it sounded like there was something to worry about. 

Silas tossed down the liquid, “What's wrong?” he asked. 

“They found a body tonight,” Rebecca answered, her eyes locking onto his, “In the county reserve woods six miles south.” 

Silas shrugged, clearly unbothered as he refilled his glass, “So? Humans die all the time. How is that our problem?”

Gideon shifted slightly in his chair, “It's our problem, Silas, because we think a werewolf did it,”

That got Silas’ attention, “A werewolf…” He repeated. 

“Yes,”

A werewolf had killed someone. The wild dog story was a plausible explanation devised by locals desperate for an answer. There had been canine tracks around the body. The kill itself was canine, throat ripped out and the body partly devoured. Of course, no one could explain how the young woman had come to be wandering around the forest at night in the first place, particularly in a skirt and high heels. It looked like a wild dog kill, so the locals had decided that it was. 

But the pack knew better. 

The killer was a werewolf. All the signs were there. When the dead woman had disappeared Gideon knew about it but paid little attention, and neither did Silas. Humans went missing all the time. There had been no suggestion that the disappearance had anything to do with a werewolf. Now the woman's body had been found, but it was too late.