mind drift to Twin Rivers, to the stark differences between Tyran and Burke. Maybe it’s because Britton offered up this information to me, that I feel like repaying the favor, because I say, “The alpha who dumped me here, he killed our prior alpha and a lot of good shifters—including my dad—just because he could. He definitely wasn’t doing anything honorable.”
Britton grunts. “Yeah, I’ve heard of that shithead.”
I step around a rock, my slightly too big boots squishing as my foot lands in a damp spot. “He killed my mom too. I can’t prove it, but...I just know.”
A whistle streams through his teeth. “What are you going to do about it, Luna?”
No, I’m sorry for your loss. No weird pat on my shoulder. Instead, this shifter just lays it out, and his question repeats in my head. What am I going to do about it?
“I’m not sure yet.”
He nods, and I notice that the quiet forest is saturated with noises coming from up ahead—voices compounded together with an underlying, steady hum of something else I can’t quite identify. “Well, when you figure it out, let me know. I’ll watch your back.”
His words are so simple, so easily offered with no strings attached that I’m taken aback for a moment. He doesn’t even know me, but his blind and complete support calls to something deep in my soul. All at once, the word pack lights up in my mind and warms my heart. My throat grows tight with appreciation, and I send the surprising male a small smile. “Thank you,” I tell him simply, unable to really communicate what his words mean to me.
We fall quiet the rest of the way, and I can’t help but study this unusually loyal male and wonder how much more of this pack is made up of shifters just like him.
I’m figuring out that Ruin Falls is full of surprises.
Night has well and truly fallen when we make it to the gathering. It’s not some open fighting field like I expect, though, but the noise is explained the moment I see the massive waterfall crashing down from the cliffside above. It’s at least a hundred feet high, with curtains of white crashing into the water below. The river itself isn’t very deep—made obvious by Warrik and Reap currently standing in it calf-high, fur covering their legs to insulate from the cold. But what’s dangerous is how strong and fast that current looks, as if it would sweep you away the moment you lost your footing.
The rest of the pack is gathered on both sides of the river, and directly to the left, a dawning moon can be seen peeking over the horizon. There are no fires, no flashlights. Just the light of the moon and the churning water, and two shifters waiting in the current.
“This way, Luna.” Britton cuts across the space, bringing me past the watchful eyes of the pack.
I set my spine straight and tall, keeping my head raised up with a stoic expression on my face. I have no idea what I’m walking into, but the significance of the night is apparent.
He leads me straight past the gathered shifters this side of the river, where a single tree stump sits. I look over at Britton for confirmation, and he nods silently. The moment I take a seat, everyone’s attention seems to settle on me, each pair of eyes lying on me like a brick. There’s obviously some importance to me sitting here, because I don’t think they’re staring just because of my off-the-shoulder Musketeer shirt.
Movement across the river draws my eyes, and I watch as the pack steps aside and Tyran appears with two other betas in tow. Shirt off, hem of his pants wet and muddy, brown hair disheveled, and muscles tense, he looks untamed and gritty and sexy as hell. I press my thighs together, suddenly glad I’m sitting, even if everyone is standing up. The alpha power roiling off of him seems magnified beneath the first light of the moon and has more than just my wolf perking up.
His eyes collide with mine, and he gives a single obvious nod of his head. A gesture—just like the one Britton gave me. I may not know the ins and outs of the pack, but I know a sign of respect when I see one, and the alpha just recognized me in a moment of honor in front of everyone.
It takes a lot not to fidget on the tree stump, but