Chapter 3

Knox

I sit in my office, leaning back into my leather office chair. I sigh at the memory and run a hand through my hair. It was never supposed to be like this.

It’s been three months since Lyra was killed. Three months of trying to get any leads we could on the rogues.

What we’d gotten so far, Lyra stepping in to save Sarah fucked with the rogue's plans. They were strictly looking for she-wolves to mate with, as not many unmated females end up staying rogue for long or surviving it.

I glance around my office, looking for a distraction from the latest set of commercial contracts I need to draft up. A row of pictures above the fireplace has my chest constricting. I haven’t been able to take them down. Shifting my gaze, my eyes land on the desk that has sat untouched since the last Supermoon festival.

Ironic, I had my mate by my side at the last festival, ready to start a family, but now I’m mateless…

A ping on my laptop pulls me out of my thoughts. Shifting in the chair, I lean towards the screen and click on the new email notification. I quickly read over the accommodations for my pack members attending the festival in Copper Summit’s Pack tonight. I respond with the file of transportation notes and expected arrival times and pick-up tomorrow. Maybe some pack members will find their mates and get to experience the bond.

I wonder if I’d ever get to feel that kind of connection again…

In southern territories, where my pack Onyx Ridge resides, we take turns hosting, inviting other packs to increase the chances of our members meeting their mate. Of course, all packs still celebrate regardless of whose hosting.

The only pack that doesn’t participate in the exchange is Golden Claw, the royal pack. Alpha King Maksym is a royal prick if you ask me. He’s a purist, set in his old, outdated ways, believing those not of pure alpha blood or pure shifter genes are an abomination. Aside from setting laws or hosting the yearly Alpha Summit, the pack and his family are virtually unknown.

I close my laptop and I decide to head down to the gym. I need to work out some stress before tonight.

***

I suck in one last deep breath, readying myself to step outside to start the festival when I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder. I turn to see Bennet standing behind me, a tight-lipped smile across his face. He doesn’t say a word, just nods at me and then drops his hand.

The large clearing behind the packhouse is filled with members chatting, music playing in the background. The kitchen staff set up a table of sub sandwiches,with a dozen or so different types of chips and an assortment of desserts.

Voices quiet as I walk past. When I reach the stairs of the cedar gazebo, I turn to face my pack and clear my throat.

“Good Evening, all! I’m glad to see that even with members off at Copper Summit tonight, we still have a good group for our own run and festival. I know that this is our first supermoon without our Luna Lyra and it's my first time leading a lunar lap since. I apologize to you for not being here for the last two runs.” I pause drawing in a deep breath.

Clearing my throat, I continue, “I was dealing with my grief but it shouldn’t have taken me away from my duties to you all and your own grief. You may have noticed that we have increased patrol and squad numbers since that night to be proactive against intruders. I’m happy to report that we haven’t had any signs of rogues since, but now for tonight! Tonight we will eat, run and dance, and we will do it all in remembrance of Lyra!”

The pack cheers, and some shout, “For Lyra” in between claps. Getting that all out and hearing their support helps to lessen the pain in my chest.

– 8 Months Later –

I glance at the time on my phone to see that I’ve got fifteen minutes until Bennet wants to meet in my office. I kick back the black duvet on my bed then I swing my legs over the edge and drag a hand down my face.

Sleep and I haven’t been the best of friends lately. It’s a hard adjustment sleeping alone after sharing a bed for a year and a half. Blowing out a breath, I crack my neck before standing up and heading to the large master closet.

I grab a pair of tapered dark gray slacks from the hanger and one of my many black dress shirts. I leave the closet as quickly as I entered it, and drape the clothes over the back of a chair by the bathroom while I tend to my quick morning routine.

As I slip on my black leather loafers, the sweet smell of freshly brewed coffee draws me downstairs to the large open kitchen. I pour myself a mug, and mumble a thank you to Anna, the head cook, before heading down the opposite hall to my office.

Not three minutes later, Bennet is standing in the doorway of my office. He takes up most of the door frame at his bulky 6’2” height. This packhouse was built with alpha and beta shifters in mind. Standing at 6’4” myself, the extra clearance on doorways is appreciated.

He steps in and closes the door behind him, before sitting down in his usual chair across the desk from me. I see a flicker of something I can’t place in his gray eyes as he sighs and brings an ankle to rest on his knee.

“What’s got you calling a meeting at seven am the day after the Supermoon festival,” I ask, leaning forward on the desk.

“I got a call last night from my sister; she said that her mate had spotted about six rogues while on patrol, and it didn’t sit right with her after what happened here. They never crossed the border and stayed on no man's land, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I started calling all across the southern territories to see what they could report.”

Bennet has my full attention now. Rogues traveling in numbers near our pack borders is a concern we haven't had to deal with since Lyra was killed last year. Before that, it’d been years.

I lift an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue.

“It seems there's a group of rogues that have formed like their own pack. The six my sister talked of seem to be only a portion because Eclipse pack had two breach their borders last night. There's no way they could be the same ones. Other packs have reported sightings, breaches, or attacks on she-wolves, and even Lotus pack lost two unmated females during an attack last month,” he finishes.

A ripple of anger rises in me. I don’t like the thought of an impending war against an army of who knows how many. Sure, my warriors are strong, but rogues are ruthless. They had literally nothing to lose, and this information confirms all our suspicions.

– 2 Month Later – Present Day –

The evening sky is clear, the forest is just starting to glow with the moonlight as I lead my pack through the trail on our lunar lap under the full moon.

The earth is warm beneath my paws, and dust is kicking up around me as I bound down the straightaway before the final curve. It has been a drier winter, and the weather is a bit weird. The chill from winter still hangs around, not ready to give way to spring yet. Being shifters, we run hot. Like that damn Disney princess that Lyra loved says, ‘the cold never bothered us anyway,’ or some shit like that.

Just as the breeze picks up and the cool air begins to dance through my fur, a smell wafts to my nostrils. I stop dead in my tracks. The familiar and sickening smell of decay hangs heavy in the air, taunting me.

Rogues.

I let out a snarl, I link Bennet to tell him to guide the pack directly off the trail and back to the community center while I follow this scent. I start prowling through the trees, my thirst for revenge is growing with each step when a smell I will never forget hits me.

This is the fucker that killed Lyra.

I didn’t get him that night. He’d already torn her throat out and moved on by the time we got there. The image of Lyra’s limp body there haunts me and the only thing that made me not lose it completely was knowing what an honorable Luna she was. She died protecting a pack member.

It should have been me, though.

I’ll get justice tonight. His scent is stronger over here. What a fucking moron to hit the same place twice. I push my wolf to go faster, both of us wanting to tear this guy to shreds. Leaving my territory, the moon’s brightness makes navigating through unknown packs easy.

I have no idea how far I’ve actually gone until I see the massive packhouse that resembles a castle poking over a high fence. Golden Claw.

I’ll deal with Maksym when I have to, I’m not stopping now. Behind the perimeter fence, the trail stops dead at the water. Fuck!

Just when I thought he’d gotten away again, I hear a high-pitched scream ring out. I run toward the scream, following the river deeper into the trees.

I couldn’t save Lyra, but I am sure as hell going to save whoever that is.