Alpha Queen (Claimed by Wolves #4) - Callie Rose Page 0,74

of the “neck” levels out into a semi-flat plain.

Archer straightens. “That ridge overhead looks like the best location for us to monitor the battle while we go up against Cleo.”

Ridge nods. “I think you’re right.”

“Thank you, Patrice,” Trystan says, squeezing her shoulder. As she shifts and heads toward her team, he turns to the rest of us and says, “Well, it’s now or never.”

Smaller groups were already formed back at the village, and they begin to split off from us now, heading silently toward the mountain. The plan is to surround the stronghold with these smaller groups, and attack once we’ve drawn the witches out. Our hope is to present ourselves as a weaker force than we are, taking advantage of the coven’s overconfidence before the full strength of our army descends.

Once we’re back in wolf form, Ridge takes the lead, and I fall into step beside Sable. We cross the river easily and splash out on the other bank, then veer right toward the base of the mountain. The climb is treacherous—much steeper and more craggy than any journey I’ve ever taken before. We move as quickly as we can without getting out of control, and we stay low, darting through brush and other cover as we skirt past the hidden stronghold.

When we reach the narrow ridge over the coven’s hideout, the view is fucking breathtaking. Sable is the first to shift to human form, and she opens her pack to extract her clothes, her wide-eyed gaze sweeping the horizon. “Wow.”

Yeah. Wow.

The late-day sunlight has painted the plains and mountains in a riot of reds and golds. The Two-Tone River weaves into the distance like a snake, sunlight glinting off the surface to turn it a pale orange. It seems like the whole of Montana is laid out before us.

“Are we sure this is where we should be?” Trystan asks as he gazes down at the clearing below. Even though we can’t see any of our people yet, I know they’re down there, getting into position.

Sable’s hands shake as she pulls her hair into a ponytail and replies. “Yes. Cleo isn’t the type of leader to join the fight. Definitely not the type to lead it. She didn’t when they attacked the village, and she won’t now.”

Archer nods in agreement. “She’ll stay safe in the stronghold and let her subordinates fight for her.”

“But she’ll reach for me. She’ll use the mind link.” Sable drops her hands to her sides and squares her shoulders. “And we’ll be ready when she does.”

Archer steps up close to her and takes both of her hands in his. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m scared,” she admits.

Fuck, I love her honesty. She’s the most authentic person I’ve ever known. She’s not afraid to be vulnerable, and that makes her so much fucking stronger than people who boast about their bravery.

Archer pulls their entwined hands up to his chest, tugging her closer. “It’s okay to be scared. All the bravest people are.”

He leans in and kisses her, and I hold back to give them their private moment. When Archer steps away, Ridge takes over. He pulls her close, murmuring something about how she’s changed his life. Then Trystan swoops in and makes a dumb joke that makes her laugh. It strikes me how different we all are, and how our differences complement each other. How they all fit with a part of who Sable is.

We’re all part of one whole, and it’s pretty fucking amazing.

When it’s my turn to have a moment alone with my mate, I freeze up. I have no idea what to say. Hell, that speech I gave back at camp two days ago was as eloquent as I get, and I used up all my pretty words for the week doing that.

So I just kiss her. I kiss her soundly, with everything I have, so that she knows I’m here. I’ll always be here.

The shadow to her moonlight.

She kisses me back, the warmth and sweetness of her surrounding me for a moment as she wraps her arms around my neck, her body molding to mine.

Then, suddenly, a howl rises up from below.

I pull away from her, my heart racing.

The attack has begun.

27

Sable

I watch breathlessly as wolves stream across the sloping plain below our position. They move like phantoms in the slanted sunlight, legs pumping, fur billowing, the smaller groups moving in such fluid synchronicity that it almost looks like a dance. Their howls sound more like mournful cries, and it strikes terror through my heart.