the doorway. Caleb winced in recognition of those cold tones and turned slowly, dreading who he would see.
Sure enough, it was Wynter Olson, the younger sister of Kirk, the alpha of the Alaskan wolf shifters who’d been slaughtered along with the rest of his pack the previous Saturday.
“Wynter Olson,” he said, wishing it could have been anyone else, and she glared at him.
“Don’t tell me that you thought I’d stay home and catch up on my knitting,” she said, moving with purpose toward the bar. The crowd had fallen silent to stare at her. “You know I’m not interested in traditional gender roles, Caleb, and this is war.”
Wynter was tall and slender, with black hair cut very short. Her eyes were a grey-blue, while her lashes were dark and long. Her skin was so fair that her lips looked red, even without make-up. Her movements were decisive and tinged with impatience, and she braced her hands on the bar to eye Mel. Animosity rolled off her in waves, just as it always had, and Caleb wished she had stayed home—whether she’d knit or not.
There was something about Wynter Olson that riled up males everywhere she went. Most hated her. Some wanted her. She challenged and defied them all and seemed to enjoy every moment of it.
“How many of you saw the battle up close and personal?” Wynter said as she walked into the bar, hips swinging. Caleb saw a veritable army of women behind her. They were wary but determined and most led small children by the hand.
The children were mostly boys.
Caleb inhaled deeply and recognized that the children were wolf shifters. These were the mates, then, the women whose wolf shifters had been killed. Judging by their expressions, they weren’t in the frame of mind to forgive that easily—or to stand aside and let others take vengeance.
Just what they needed in this war: two dozen well-intentioned but vulnerable women, each one with at least one young child. Caleb rubbed his brow.
Wynter Olson was making even more trouble than could have been expected. She’d brought these women from Alaska to New York, and they weren’t going to return home without a fight. He hoped at least some of them managed to return home at all.
Meanwhile, there was a rumble of assent to Wynter’s question.
“I saw Kirk’s murder,” Wynter said. “I saw that Fae warrior cut out his heart and eat it. My alpha, my brother, my leader! I’m not going to stand by and let anything like this happen again! Are you?”
Fists were pounded on tables and Murray glanced to Caleb.
Caleb didn’t like that the leadership of the meeting had been effectively stolen from himself and Murray. He raised his voice. “For those of you who don’t know, Wynter Olson is the sole surviving wolf shifter of the Alaskan pack.”
“I prefer to be called alpha of the Alaskan pack,” Wynter countered, her voice hard.
Caleb was startled. “But you’re the only wolf shifter left.”
“Which means there’s no one to remind me that I’m female and thus unqualified to be alpha,” she replied with a snarl. “No other wolf shifter left standing means I win.” She gestured to the women whose features were set with resolve. “And I have a pack already, the one you all insisted I didn’t deserve to lead.” The women gathered behind Wynter looked even more resolute than they had on arrival.
Whispers passed through the group gathered at the bar.
Caleb didn’t know what to say, so he shared the news with the Others. “Twenty-three of our kind were lost in Alaska,” he said. “And seven here in Manhattan.”
“They weren’t lost,” Wynter said. “We didn’t forget them in our shopping cart at Walmart.” She gave Caleb a hard stare as her words elicited a few chuckles. “They were slaughtered in our lair by the Fae.”
Caleb wondered whether Wynter meant to challenge him for authority over the New York wolf shifters, too. He glared at her and she took a step closer, shimmering slightly blue as their gazes locked.
“Fighting between ourselves is just what she wants,” Mel said, appearing between them and holding up her hands. “I think we should take a closer look at Wynter’s suggestion.”
“What suggestion?” Caleb asked.
“It’s shifters that the Dark Queen is hunting,” Mel said. “And those with some skill with magick.” She gestured to the women. “What about the mortals who have a stake in this battle, too? What about the mothers and mates? What about the allies you all have, the ones who aren’t