“So, what exactly is your job?” Callum wondered the following morning, as he followed Elliot across the tarmac toward the lodge. The ominous sense of foreboding from the previous night was absent in the daylight.
“I’m a drill sergeant. I run survival training, weapons and combat training. Basically, I ensure our pack is prepared for anything King, or anyone else might throw at us.”
“Seriously?” Callum scoffed. He’d known Elliot’s job was defense, but in today’s world, he figured that was self-defense, or something with technology, not military combat. “You really think it’s necessary?”
“Believe it or not, this feud with King’s pack isn’t something to be taken lightly. Some of our members, well, if they didn’t have the training and speed to outrun and outfight King’s pack…” Elliot shrugged one shoulder. “They’d be dead.”
“This feud is legitimately deadly?”
Elliot glanced at him and in a low voice replied, “Yeah. Maybe not in our time, unless you count the bloody mess that happened when we were young. Whether Thatcher or one of his men killed my dad, and Rafe’s dad, things were really tense between the two packs back then. There were a few really scary months around that time.”
“Okay.” Callum matched his whisper. “Seems like a dangerous job for you. Why would Thatcher trust you to do that? To handle impressionable people and all those weapons?”
“He needs a capable alpha for the job. Besides,” Elliot replied with a smirk. “I’m good at dealing with assholes who think they know better than me.”
“Ha, ha.” Callum rolled his eyes. “What about assholes who do know better than you?”
“I’ll let you know if I ever meet one.” They stepped up onto the curb, but before they could reach the door, Elliot paused. “Keep in mind that sometimes it’s better to fly under the radar, like Rafe. Or to have a position that keeps me apprised of Thatcher’s military plans and what he’s capable of.”
“I think I got it.” And he really felt as though he was starting to understand. The problems with this pack weren’t just surface level.
But a part of him, a big part, knew that nothing would change until they eliminated Thatcher’s useless, abusive ass.
At only five to eight, the lodge was quiet when they walked in. Elliot led him down a hallway and around a corner. They headed into a room with a long, wide table surrounded by multiple folding chairs. It reminded him of the conference room at Wildlings, Drew’s wildlife sanctuary, but rather than gray and steel, it was in cedars and wood.
Thatcher sat at the head of the table in the only chair that was not a folding chair. His was some wooden monstrosity, that couldn’t be very comfortable, but definitely alerted everyone to his status.
On the table in front of him was a binder, and several papers were scattered across the surface. Dispersed along both sides of the table were multiple men, cups of coffee, donuts and napkins.
It surprised Callum to see Thatcher looking so chipper after what he assumed had been an evening of drunken debauchery. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, the alpha poured over the documents before him, preparing for the meeting. Maybe he was a morning person by nature.
The man sitting on Thatcher’s right was the exact opposite. He hadn’t yet met the pack beta, but he assumed the man sitting to the right of the alpha held that role.
He was looking rough. Head in his hands, coffee half empty in front of him. He wore a rumpled shirt that sported the slept-in look and had wild hair and a scruffy jaw to match.
Norman Conners was definitely not a morning person.
Elliot led Callum to the coffee table in the corner. Despite being up until after midnight, Elliot was pretty chipper as well. Apparently, his cousin was a morning person as well.
Having already eaten breakfast, they skipped the donuts, but both opted for a cup of coffee. With so little sleep, he wasn’t going to turn down a second cup of caffeine.
For all his tomcat ways, Callum had been in a pretty good routine before he’d left Drew’s pack. Gym five days a week before work, full eight hours at the factory, a few hours volunteering each weekend at Wildlings. Add in pack runs and booty calls which had kept his evenings busy. He was used to a full schedule, but also a solid six to eight hours of sleep each night.
Coming north had disrupted his routine, so had the weeks leading up to his departure, when he and his brother-in-law Maddox had left their pack to hunt down the stray shifter who had been harassing Drew’s mate, Alyssa.
It had been months now since he’d had any type of schedule. It wasn’t a lifestyle he particularly cared for. He liked predictability.
Taking a seat next to Elliot at the far end of the table, Callum wondered what exactly he should expect from a Monday morning meeting in this pack.
Elliot had recommended he attend, suggesting it would look good to Thatcher, and everything was about appearances here. Case in point, Thatcher’s ugly-ass throne.
Jessop sat on Thatcher’s left, dark rings around his eyes, and his head drooping, much like the pack’s beta. He was clearly in rough shape from whatever had happened the night before.
Rafe, however, was absent. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.
A few more men came in and took the remaining seats, then the meeting began.
Callum sat in silence as Thatcher went through a list of upcoming events and tasks that needed attention.
A downed tree had destroyed a young family’s roof. He instructed three members to remove the tree and bring in two other pack members, who specialized in roofing, to fix any damages to the structure.
He assigned another member the job of helping Susan Conners unload a delivery truck that was expected on Wednesday.
Ms. Maddison’s dock needed to be repaired. Sam Dodgerson’s boat got stranded and needed to be retrieved. Mrs. Daily needed a hand with her plumbing.
Stunned, Callum listened to Thatcher deal with all the problems and grievances. Even with minor items and chores, he was thorough and thoughtful about who he sent to respond to each task.
Men shifted in their seats, but before he called the meeting to a close, Thatcher called out to him. “Callum.”
His head snapped up, his gaze moving from where his thumb traced over the paper coffee cup in his hand, toward the head of the table.
“Thank you for joining us this morning.”
His gaze flicked quickly to Elliot, then back to Thatcher.
“I take your presence to mean that while you’re here, you’ll be volunteering your time?”
Clearing his throat, Callum considered his answer, but ended up just nodding.
“Great. My mother and the members of her horticultural society need some extra muscle today, lugging soil and tools and stuff. She said something about clearing a bunch of bricks and rocks from a new bed they want to turn into a community garden. You can handle that?”
“Of course. Not a problem.”
“Great. Her name is Anna. She’ll be waiting at her cabin. Elliot can take you there this morning before he meets with the recruits. And Elliot,” Thatcher said, pulling his cousin’s attention, “While I appreciate the extra set of hands, Callum is not to sit in on your meetings with the Curusm committee. Am I clear?”
Elliot’s face remained neutral, but Callum couldn’t help his own frown. Being excluded from the meeting bothered him.
“Crystal.”
“Good.” Thatcher closed the binder, loose papers jutting out from it. “That concludes this morning’s meeting.”
Chairs scraped, conversations started, and paper cups were refilled or thrown out. Elliot and Callum dumped their empty cups and headed toward the door. They didn’t speak until they were back in the truck.
Before Callum could open his mouth, Elliot started up the truck and told him, “For the record, I had no intention of letting you come with me to the Curusm committee meeting. I know your stance on it, and your opinions wouldn’t be welcome.”
“I can’t believe you guys still host that ritual.” He also couldn’t believe how efficient Thatcher had been. After all he’d heard about Thatcher, and after their awkward introduction last night, he hadn’t expected the arrogant, demanding charlatan to be a competent leader who actually did good by his people.
That couldn’t be normal, could it?
“Shifters travel here to take part in the Curusm, and it’s not just the males. There’s clearly a need. Everyone wants to be there. Everyone has signed up. And everyone is a shifter. So, there’s no more abducting mortal girls and forcing them to run down a hill, fearful of their life, only to be raped, bitten and turned.”
“Do you even hear yourself?”
“I said that doesn’t happen.”
Callum exhaled and rested his head back against the seat.
“Look, it’s mostly omegas, anyway. Shifters that can’t find their mate, or are too lazy to try. Sometimes it’s pack alphas and betas from half a world away, looking for a little thrill or an exotic mating. It’s harmless fun that results in lifelong matings. You need anything from the cabin before I drop you off?”
Callum looked over, the change in topic throwing him. “No.”
“You good to do manual labor in that?”
Callum glanced down at his worn jeans and shirt. He checked his pockets. Wallet and phone both familiar bulges. “Yeah, I’m good. Do I need a key, or will you pick me up after you’re done with work?”
“I’ll pick you up. Around four-thirty or five. My mom’s making dinner for six, and we’ll need to get cleaned up before then.”
“Okay.” He watched as the building disappeared, replaced by trees once more. After a minute, he spoke. “I didn’t expect Thatcher to actually do anything.”
Beneath the beard was a smile. “You really think he’d be in power if he was useless?” Elliot shrugged. “He does all the things a good leader should do. Takes care of his people, looks out for the vulnerable and sick.”
“But…”
His cousin turned the wheel. “But he’s also greedy, and he’ll do anything to stay in power. Not everyone sees that side, though. And those that see it either can’t help, or don’t care. It suits some people for Thatcher to stay in power.”
“The girl from last night?” Until now, Callum had avoided asking. It made his stomach twist. “The party?”
His cousin’s voice was quiet and filled with disgust. “He likes to get some of the younger pack females hopped up on coke and heroin, whatever, to make them complacent. They’re junkies and they’ll let him and his friends do whatever they want in order to get their next fix.”
“Fuck.”
“Before you even ask, it’s hard to get them out. They’re junkies and they don’t want help, despite how often we try to save them.”
“But you have tried?”
“We’ve gotten a few out. Mostly ones whose family helped too. But it’s expensive.”
“How so?”
“There’s a special rehab center for people like us. We need to send them there, rather than a normal human rehab. Then the center helps them find a new pack to join so that they don’t come back and just start the cycle over again.”
Callum sighed. “How about his mother? What’s she like?”
“Anna? You’ll like her. She makes an awesome chocolate chip cookie.”
“Seriously? She raised Thatcher. How does someone who makes awesome chocolate chip cookies raise the devil's spawn?”
“She also raised Rafe after his parents died.”
“Oh.”
“She’s great. You’ll like her.” Elliot stopped the truck in front of a wooden cabin.
Four steps led up to a white door. A woman waved from inside the window to the left of the door before turning her attention back to what Callum assumed was a sink. On the small porch, a wooden swing hung from the overhang, and on the opposite side, a white wicker armchair. Matching baskets overflowing with purple and white flowers hung from each corner of the porch roof.
As they reached the cabin, she rushed out the front door and down the steps to greet them, drying her hands on an apron, before gathering Elliot into a hug and kissing both his cheeks.
“You boys have breakfast yet?” She reached over and grabbed Callum for a hug.
“Yes, Anna,” Elliot chuckled.
“Good.” She released Callum and stood back to examine him. He took a moment to do the same. She was on the short side, for a shifter. Her hair was mostly gray, with a few streaks of black. Kind eyes and a bright smile had Callum smiling, too. “You must be Callum. Rafe and Elliot have told me all about you. You can call me Anna.”
“Hi Anna.” Callum smiled at her. “Seems I’m your laborer today.”
“Excellent. The rest of the ladies will be very pleased.” She gave him a once over, clearly hinting that he’d be eye-candy.
Callum leaned over, and in a half-joking whisper, told Elliot, “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to be slugging a bunch of stuff around while her friends are in recliners sipping lemonade?”
“Not a bad idea!” Anna tapped her finger against her chin before winking at him. “You’ll likely be too hot in that shirt, though. It’ll probably need to come off.” Laughing, she turned away and started up the stairs. “Come on, then.”
Smirking, Callum asked, “Is it safe for you to leave me with her?”
“I’m not sure.” Elliot laughed, before calling toward the cabin, “He’ll be in one piece when I pick him up?”
Anna popped her head back out. “No promises!”
“I gotta go.” Elliot, grinning, said his goodbyes and left Callum at the cabin.
Glancing up, he followed Anna inside, but before he made it to the screen door, she re-emerged, this time with no apron, and wearing a big sun hat flopping over her forehead. After locking her front door, she heaved a purse onto her shoulder and dropped a cooler on the porch.
“What can I carry?”
She smiled at him, the hat bending as she moved. “Come with me. We have tools to grab from the shed.”
Behind the cabin was a tiny shed smelling of dirt and grease. A few spiders scurried away when they tugged the door open.
Callum helped her pull out a bag of gardening hand tools, a few empty pails, a wheelbarrow, and several rakes, hoes and shovels. He glanced at the pile of items. “Looks like it’ll be a fun day.”
“Atta boy.” She grabbed as much as she could carry, and Callum did the same. Once the tools lay next to the porch, she applied sunscreen to her arms and face, insisting he do the same.
Soon, Rafe pulled up with a much newer SUV and helped them load everything up. Apparently, Callum wasn’t the only laborer/eye-candy who had been voluntold to help.
Callum took a back seat while Anna sat on the passenger side, and Rafe drove them to their destination.
He spent the day working side by side with Rafe and Anna. The work wasn’t too difficult, but it was constant. The only breaks came when the ladies debated over what exactly was going where, and when Anna demanded they break for water and lunch.
Working in the sun all day had been pleasant, but the highlight of his day had been when he’d caught her scent.
His mate.
It was sweet and lovely and stirred his blood like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
Glancing around, he searched for the source, but it had been fleeting, a whiff on the passing breeze. He paused, with his hoe in hand, and Rafe, who was following behind dropping carrot seeds, almost ran into him.
Rafe gave him a funny look. “What’s up?”
“She’s here.” He was still looking around. Rafe’s gaze searched the area, peering at all the women.
“These are mostly already mated females. And a lot of them are my grandma’s age.”
Callum gave him a cheeky grin. “I barely caught the scent. It’s already gone.” His grin widened. “But she’s here. She’s definitely in this pack. I can feel it. I can sense her.”
Rafe’s shoulders relaxed. He continued to look at the people gathered. “Could be one of their daughters.”
“It doesn’t matter who. I’ll find her soon.”
Now he knew for sure. His gut, his mating instinct, had been right. She was nearby, and soon she’d be his.