Taken by Storm
Page 47

He’d done it to intimidate me.
To remind me that he had the power.
That I was nothing.
Well, look who was nothing now.
“While we were waiting for you, the four of us went for a little run in the woods,” I said, my voice downright chipper. “And our peripherals? The ones you’ve been more or less stalking from your side of the border for the past year?” I turned to Devon. “Remind me where they are again?”
“Well,” Devon said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “I believe that Phoebe is in Minnesota, and Sage is running the border in Iowa, and Jackson was just telling me that he’d always wanted to see Missouri….”
The plan had never been just to take North Dakota from Shay.
I wanted it all.
The man I’d taken it from stepped toward me, every muscle tense, violence and rage battling for supremacy in his eyes.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” Devon told him. “Our alpha’s really been very understanding about the issue of trespassing, but I’d suggest you stay where you are.”
Shay’s pack had been quiet up until now, but I could hear the murmurs starting—growls and grunts and human words, hushed to whispers.
They were the third-biggest pack in North America, and now they had nowhere to go.
“Seven people cannot claim a territory.” Shay spoke through clenched teeth, and his jaw trembled. He was fighting the urge to Shift.
If I kept pushing him, Senate or no Senate, Callum or no Callum, rules or no rules, he was going to kill me.
I summoned my knack, channeling every fear I’d ever felt into this moment.
Let him try.
“Is that what your instincts are telling you?” I asked Shay facetiously. “’Cause that’s the funny thing about werewolf laws—it’s not about numbers per se. Four people can be a pack if they’re bound as a pack. A human can be alpha, if she’s the one the others look to for leadership. And seven people can claim a territory, if they represent enough of the pack.”
Cedar Ridge had twenty members. Counting the peripherals, there were seven of us in this territory—including the alpha, the second, and the strongest female. That was more than enough. We were the pack, and standing there, flanked by the others, I could feel the power humming between the four of us.
Pack. Pack. Pack.
The bond that connected us to each other was the same thing we’d used to mark the land. It was why this place smelled like us, felt like us.
It was why the Snake Bend Pack registered as foreign to our senses, when this land was once their home.
Pack. Pack. Pack.
Ours. Ours. Ours.
“It’s been nice chatting,” I told Shay, “but you have five seconds to get the hell off my land.”
He lunged at me. I saw it coming, and my knack, already active, already waiting, came online full force.
Fight. Fight. Fight.
Run. Run. Run.
Survive.
One second he was flying at me, human teeth bared like fangs, and the next, I ducked out of reach. I felt air against my face, felt his teeth snap an inch away from my throat.
His human hands encircled my neck.
I can’t breathe.
I fought—fought dirty, fought hard, rode the power like it was a wave. I had to get out, had to get away, had to stall—
Shay’s body flew backward. A growl echoed all around us, and phantom claws dug into Shay’s flesh.
Thank you, Griffin, I thought.
In retrospect, it was a really good thing he was there. Flashing out let me push my body to its limits—but the limits themselves were still there. I would never be as strong as a werewolf. I would never be as fast.
Luckily, being attacked by an invisible opponent took Shay off guard, and in the moments it took him to recover, Devon came to stand directly in front of me.
The message was clear: you want her, you go through me.
Dev? I knew what he was thinking, knew that the moment Shay had attacked me, there was no other way this could end.
Devon reached back to grip my hand, briefly, then dropped it, settling into a position that Callum had taught him, the same way he’d taught me.
“You’re trespassing on Cedar Ridge territory. You just attacked the Cedar Ridge alpha.” Devon’s voice was loud and deep, and the words sounded like they were spoken through him as much as by him. “You’ve just saved me the trouble of having to transfer to your pack to kill you.”
Inter-pack aggression wasn’t allowed. An alpha could only be challenged from within—but Shay had broken the rules first, and there was nothing more animal, nothing more basic, than retribution.
He’d attacked me. Devon could kill him. End of story.
Shay’s pack—spread out along the border like the crowd at a concert—responded to Devon’s words like an intense electric shock. Some of them Shifted. Some of them growled.
None of them came forward to help their alpha.
“You really think you can take me?” Shay asked. He climbed to his feet, dripping blood from wounds that were already healing. “Take us?”
There were so many of them, too many, and if Shay ordered them to fight, they’d have no choice, Senate or no.
Callum would kill them—kill him—but by that time, Devon would be dead.
No. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t lose him, too.
“Are you saying you can’t take me on your own?” With the skill of younger siblings everywhere, Devon delivered the taunt with one arched eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re scared to accept the challenge of fighting me head-on?”
That was the magic word.
Challenge. Challenge. Challenge.
I could feel it, in the air. My pack could feel it. The Snake Bend Pack could, too. Devon wasn’t one of them, but he’d challenged their alpha.
There was a reason that people from different packs weren’t generally allowed to challenge each other.
A challenge to the alpha was always settled with a fight to the death.
Driven by instinct, the Snake Bend werewolves circled the two brothers. Lake, Caroline, and I joined them, and I found myself standing directly between Griffin—who’d chosen to manifest—and Maddy, who appeared to have survived the journey unscathed.
Challenge.
Devon and Shay were standing four or five yards apart, mirror images: taller, bigger, broader through the shoulders than any normal Were. Dev looked old for his age—maybe twenty—and Shay looked less than a decade older, despite his many years.
Fight. Fight. Fight.
I couldn’t interfere, couldn’t fight beside Devon, no matter how much I wanted to. All I could do was open the bond between us as wide as I could, willing my strength to flow into his body, willing my love to spare him from harm.
Without any forewarning, Shay attacked. The space between them disappeared to nothing, and an iron-hard fist crashed into Dev’s jaw. He fought back, and I focused on the fight, pushing out any thoughts that might distract my best friend from the battle at hand.
The two warriors were nothing but a blur. I couldn’t make out where Dev’s limbs ended and Shay’s began. I heard each impact more than I saw it. I smelled blood in the air. I felt energy, running electric through the rest of my pack.
The rest of Shay’s.
Tell Devon that he’s the only thing I ever did right. Sora’s words echoed in my mind. You’re it for him. You always have been.
In the circle, Devon was on the ground. He was still. Bones broken, bleeding, he spat. He struggled against his own body—he fought to stand, to keep fighting.
I’d never done a thing to deserve Devon.
All that I had, all that I was—I gave it to him, the way he had always, always given everything to me.
Shay Shifted—not entirely, but in monstrous parts. His mouth grew into a muzzle, his fingers into claws. His spine broke itself, his body caught in between the human’s form and the wolf’s. There was no beauty in this moment, nothing natural or animal or right.
This was Shay, looking as monstrous on the surface as he was at his core.
He loped toward Devon. He swung one massive hand back to strike the death blow.
Devon rolled forward, into a squatting position. He met Shay’s eyes, and instead of dodging the blow, he sprang toward it, Shifting midair. The change was fluid and instant. As monstrous as Shay was, Devon was beautiful.