Dane’s eyes bug out as he’s dragged away. That leaves Lorne. There’s no point in dragging this out.
Signaling Liam to stand down, I drop to a knee, wrenching Lorne to me by a punishing grip on his hair.
“Apologize to her,” I growl. “Or I’ll kill you the way my wolf is begging me to.”
He huffs with a smirk. “You expect me to lick your boots, too? It’s a disgrace to see you losing yourself over that little traitor.”
I bare my teeth and deck him. He goes down hard, catching himself on his palms. He spits blood.
“I expect you to do as your alpha commands.” At the mutinous scrunch of his features, I serve him a hard look. “You challenge your alpha, then?”
Lorne’s gaze darts to his father watching this unfold from a seat at one of the picnic tables. Fury dances in his eyes. Lorne backs down, shaking his head.
“No, Alpha. I don’t,” he grits out.
Without a formal challenge, he holds no power to defy me. I’m taking his chances at claiming this pack for himself out of his reach. He loves waving the name of our bloodline around. I’m taking it from him because it’s the thing he values the most—his rank.
“You’ve been dropped from your rank. I revoke your name by birthright. You’re not recognized as a Blackburn anymore.”
Lorne jerks at the ancient shifter magic passed from Alpha to Alpha infused in my decree, fingers lengthening to claws that dig into the ground. Liam holds him for me.
“You’re nothing. You’re at the bottom of this pack and your job will reflect it. You’re forbidden from full moon runs with the pack beginning immediately. You’re to move out of your current quarters and will be assigned a spot in the dormitories with the other unmated males. Your place in this pack will remain on probation until you’ve proved your loyalty.”
My uncle slams his fist on the picnic table with a gnashing growl. I stare him down, hoping he’ll lose his composure so I can nail them both at once.
“Would you like to join him in his stripped rank, Uncle?”
He stills, waiting me out for a long stretch. At last, he shakes his head. My jaw works. I nod to Liam, watching him escort Lorne from the commons to pack up his shit in my uncle’s compound.
Avery comes back over of her own accord, not needing to wait for my permission or summons. Pride expands in my chest when she lifts her head, my regal Alpha female.
“Anyone who attacks my mate is an attack on me,” I declare with an underlying oath of vengeance for anyone who defies me. “Anyone who attacks their packmate is challenging me. This isn’t how we do things in Silver Falls Pack.”
Assent sounds through the clearing. Avery squeezes my hand.
“Good. Now let’s put this behind us and enjoy tonight’s run.” I wave an arm to the tree line in invitation.
Taryn whoops, the first to peel out of her clothes and go to fur. Callie’s right behind her and others join in until the crowd dwindles, packmates taking to the woods as their wolves. Avery returns to her sisters, giving them each a hug.
“Will you two be okay here?”
“Of course. We get to eat as much as we want,” Beatrix says.
They aren’t the only ones remaining at the bonfire. Some of our oldest shifters barely make the transformation, content to sit around the bonfire and smoke pipes. Some dams have stayed behind to chat while their pups toddle in the grass. Others not of age yet tuck into another plate of meat.
“I’ll hang back with the girls,” Alma offers. “My knee’s acting up. Not feeling a run tonight.”
“Thanks. Is it bad? You should’ve told me. I’ll make you some compresses soaked in ginger and willow bark to help. Maybe some arnica, too.”
“I’m alright for now. Go let your wolf out. Beatrix, help me prop my leg up by the fire and I’ll be good.”
“You’ve got it, Miss Alma.”
I draw Avery to the trees. “Ready to run with the pack?”
She smiles and I want to bottle the electric feeling in my heart.
We leave our clothes on a fencepost by the road and let our wolves free. Her stunning red wolf climbs a partially downed tree, taking in the scents and sounds of the forest. Paws thump the ground and yipping barks filter through the trees.
She howls, bounding off to join our pack. I’m right on her heels, marveling at her.
A group of brown and gray wolves link up with us. We explore a hollow in an oak and weave through elderberry thickets. She pounces on the small gray one and one of the other wolves joins the fun. My wolf sits, content standing guard.
Two from the group split off when they scent the groundhog burrow nearby, then we cross paths with a bigger group. I recognize Taryn trotting along with my sister. They run with us.
Avery’s wolf releases a series of joyous vocals.
This is how her first shift should’ve gone. A celebration of camaraderie with packmates.
We reach Silver Falls. Several people have shifted back in favor of swimming or climbing the rocky overhang to plunge into the wide pool. Laughter echoes above the rush of the falls. I wrestle for a bit with Callie’s wolf, our sibling bond restored. Then Taryn and Callie drink at the water’s edge before flopping to the mossy bank in a dogpile.
Despite the tense start to the evening, everyone looks like they’re enjoying themselves, my mate included. I nudge Avery and we go off on our own. Time for a hunting lesson.
I keep my ears pricked, searching for easy prey to get her started on. There’s a hawk circling overhead. A couple of wild boars roaming the hillside moving south away from the pack. Fish splashing upstream where a beaver dam interrupts the brook.
When we’re far enough from Silver Falls, secluded deep in the wilds of the territory, I crouch low in the cover of ferns, listening. She mirrors me, ears swiveling to me. I rumble until she focuses, then send praise along our bond.
Wait. Listen and wait.
The boars crisscross near our hiding spot. They get her excited, but she remains with her belly to the ground. Good. Progress.
I show her how it’s done, tracking a gopher I hear leaving its burrow. I’m completely still, breathing shallowly.
Waiting until the gopher is close enough to be an effortless catch, yet far enough that it doesn’t sense the predators stalking it, I make my move, swiftly leaping from the ferns to snatch the gopher before it has time to escape.
I drop the offering at her feet, chest puffed. She tears into it and my wolf purrs. She allows it when he takes a bite for himself, basking in her attention when she licks his jaw. I nudge her back into position for her turn to try.
She scents a prairie dog and dismisses it for the hare that stops to munch on the weeds. Her instincts are sharpening.
I paw at her to signal her when to go. She darts forward in a bolt of red fur, focus locked on the hare. It evades her in a ditch, but she anticipates the opening, jumping to cut it off. It squeals, but it’s no use. She’s on the creature, teeth snapping its neck as they clamp down.
If I wasn’t in my fur, I’d be cheering for her. I race to her, circling her and lifting to my hind legs with a rush of energy. She jerks her prey with a shake of her head.
My wolf is all about providing for his mate. I am, too. But pride fills me to see Avery coming into her own with her wolf. I want to teach her skills to fend for herself because I like seeing her strong.
I’ll always fight for her. Protect and treasure her. Never again will she fight on her own, not with me as her mate.