After Juan has finished making his announcement, the Santos file out of the room slowly, in a wave of murmurs and noises as they discuss what he said and where we go from here. You can feel the tension thickening, the uneasiness, and the nervousness, as it sinks in that this is real and life as we know it is about to change dramatically. Colton pulls me aside, tucking us out of the way of the door to let people pass, and grabs a passing male who is very familiar to me.
“Mateo, take Alora to our room and wait for me there. Assemble the pack; I want to talk to you all. I won’t be long; my father wants me.” He nods out towards the front of the room, where Juan’s still concealed by moving people, and I instantly feel sick with apprehension.
Being left with someone and separated from Colton reminds me that for all the things I am mad at him about, I still feel secure when with him. His strength, quiet confidence, and air of control are the calm to my nervous floundering, and it only hits home that I need his presence more than I want to admit. He’s my safety net and the only person in the world who cares about me in any kind of way.
“Dude, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Carmen and Alora in the same room … she will ….”
“Are you questioning me?” Colton’s tone instantly changes, ha growling snarl in the undertones, irritation fast to show his displeasure, and that aggressive air kicking in as Mateo looks away sheepishly. Knowing he overstepped the mark. Questioning of command never goes down well with Alphas of any sort, especially not by one of his sub-pack, and it shows me that Colton is way more patient with me than even his closest.
“No, mi alfa, me disculpo.” Mateo responds in fluent Spanish, lowering his head and displaying his regret. He shows the demanded respect, obviously chastised as his leader is Colton, apologizing and addressing him as Alpha.
We have one major rule in our world. Never query your Alpha for any reason, and never disobey. I forgot what that was like when living severed from any natural pack and only following basic rules in the home. Being here reminds me of how it used to be when my family was alive, and we all followed Samuel Whyte before his family was taken down and never returned.
It makes me rethink Colton’s refusal to defy his father and leaves me churning it over in my head, a new angle on a frustrating situation. Reality sinking in that just because I lived outside the restraints and rules of our social norm for a decade doesn’t mean he has.
Colton and Mateo are a sub pack, a smaller group divided from the main and lorded over by a single dominant—Colton. They’re called Beta packs, or subs, and much like the hierarchy of leadership, even the sub packs rank in order of importance and command, like smaller units in an enormous army, with ranking officers and Colton’s right up there in the top five. His father’s pack of Beta second commanders is number one. This is how large packs like the Santos keep everything running smoothly.
The order depends on skill, experience, and how battle-scarred they are, and Colton’s sub pack was of an age to defend us ten years ago. They all tasted real war on our lands. Even so young. It’s why they train together every day and are some of our most capable soldiers when needed. I should never forget that even though Colton is not yet the Santo Alpha, he is one in his own right and his own sub pack, and I underestimate the importance of his responsibilities. He isn’t just some nineteen-year-old high school jock with his eye on a future crown. He’s already a commander, performing his duty and caring for his pack.
“Go with him. He’ll keep you safe. He’s as close as a brother to me.” Colton leans in, pulling me to him so he can murmur, almost nose to nose, that gentler tone waving through me and breaking down my defenses. That sweet look I now know is only reserved for me, and he reluctantly pushes me towards Mateo until a hand lands on my shoulder. It's an unfamiliar touch, and I flinch at the contact but try to hide it.
“The rest of the pack are not going to like this.” Mateo points it out, raising a brow at Colton, but gets a blank stare that I can tell was a move from verbal conversation to mind. Whatever Colton says, Mateo looks away again and gently taps me to nod towards the door that people are filing out of. He flushes slightly, his face reddening high on his cheekbones, and I guess he got a quiet dressing down away from listening ears. To save face, Colton didn’t do it outright, showing he cares about his friend, even if he was pissed at him for questioning his authority.
I won’t be long. Try not to engage with Carmen.
His voice is like a last lingering stroke, giving me tingles as I move to leave him. I nod at him, not anywhere close to feeling as confident as I pretend, before turning on my heel, steeped in nervous energy, and letting Mateo guide me with that single hand on my shoulder.
Colton’s memories show me they’re best friends, but Mateo is also one of his commanders, and he trusts him completely. Mateo is as familiar a face in my memories as Colton as they were always together, like brothers or inseparable shadows. He’s the one who teased him that day in the lake in the memory Colton showed me, and I guess he already knows that a long time ago, Colton knew who I was. That Colton harbored some sort of juvenile feelings. Even as children, the Fates were trying to draw me to him.
I walk with him now, side by side, a male as tall as Colton and as broad. They share similarities, and I wonder if they’re maybe cousins or have a close blood tie because they look alike. Same thick straight brows and black hair that’s a little ruggedly messy, like they have a natural curl, although Colton’s is shorter, so harder to tell. Same darkest brown molten eyes, tanned Latino skin tone, and square jawline, although Mateo is not as cleanshaven or groomed. His hair is not clipped or manicured, and his eyebrows are not as angular and tamed.
Mateo’s like the rougher, less kempt version of Colton, who just rolled out of bed and threw on the first clothes to hand. He has a casual quality, is less pulled together, and sharp. Mateo seems less concerned about his worn faded jeans and gray hoodie, which don’t look designer.
Colton takes pride in his appearance and clothes, and it’s evident to everyone he comes from wealth when you see him on an average day. He just oozes that effortless polish, expensive labels, and self-confidence.
“So, you’re Alora ... from the Whyte clan, right?” he nods as we dodge fast-paced walkers, and I’m not oblivious to how many glance my way, with sneers and weird looks, as we pass them going to their rooms, or wherever they have to be. My presence is noted, and the vibes I’m picking up on tell me that people know who I am or know I’m responsible for trashing their packhouse. I ignore it, lower my chin to avoid eye contact, and silently exhale to blow it all away.
Everyone leaving the room at once causes mayhem in this narrow hallway, and I can’t tell which way we’re even moving as we’re crammed among so many. It’s like ants evacuating a collapsing den via the only escape route. It’s claustrophobic.
“Yeah, I think we used to play in the same places as children,” I answer distractedly, avoiding collision with oncoming traffic, trying to be polite. Still, I’m too busy side-stepping large males pushing by and trying not to get trampled underfoot.
“We did. I remember you. You had a brother, Jasper, about my age.” Hearing his name coming from someone else’s mouth sucker punches me unexpectedly, and I have to bite my lip to stop the sudden inhale from the slice of pain it inflicts. Even after all these years, I’ve never really fully mourned their loss. I try never to think of them and push them down whenever one surfaces.
“I did. He didn’t come back from the wars.” It’s a fast, audibly painful response, my voice wavering, as I shake my head to expel the vision of him, so like my father in looks, and look to the ground instead to watch my steps. The comment about his age means Mateo is older than Colton by at least five years, if not more, so it’s weird that Colton is the sub Alpha and not Mateo. It gives me something else to focus on and not the memory of a brother I will never see again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess time is not a healer like they say.” He seems momentarily uneasy, and I smile his way, bringing my eyes back to his with a sympathetic shrug. It never is the right time to have these kinds of awkward conversations.
“I’m not used to hearing anyone say his name. It was forbidden to talk of our loved ones at home because they were seen as shamed. They failed our people by dying.” I grind, tightening my limbs as I churn out the words I hear so many times. Mateo frowns, something dark in the depths of his eyes, hinting at a reaction I don’t understand, and then it’s gone.
“This way.” Mateo changes the topic and points to a hallway veering off to the right of where we are, taking us out of the crush of people and into the near silence of an empty passage. He stands for a moment, looking around, and I can tell he’s mind linking, probably calling their pack to where we’re going. He takes a minute or so, and then he turns his attention back to me. “The rest are on their way, so we may as well show it to you before they get here.” He walks down the dark hallway and opens a door at the very end using a keypad. Pushing open a heavy solid cherry wood door reveals an already lit room inside. It has working lights, so I guess they started replacing bulbs down here first, and we walk in, letting the door swing shut behind us.
It’s like a large study from an old-world time, with substantial leather armchairs and a massive wall-hugging fireplace off to one side. There’s one large walnut desk with a heavy dark green padded chair behind it, facing out into the center. Matching dark green leather couches by two walls, bookcases lining another, and what looks like a minibar in the gap left by the door. There’s a thick animal hide rug under our feet. I think it might be a brown bear or some huge rough-haired animal, and absolutely no windows in here at all.
“Every pack has a communal room for hanging out, bonding, and talking shop. Ours is the best because we’re lucky enough to have Juan Santo’s son as our Alpha. It’s a perk as we get favor.” I can’t tell if he’s serious or sarcastic, and I don’t pick up on any actual malice in his tone. It’s an odd thing to say if he isn’t trying to be an ass. He nods me towards a seat as he strolls to the fireplace, presses a button, and it explodes into instant flames. I thought it looked real, but I guess it’s gas.
I sit close to it on an armchair, not cold, but watching flames has always brought me a sense of calm and reminded me of another time and place when my mother would brush my hair by ours. A time when I had no cares in the world. A time when I was secure and loved and nestled in the lap of my family. I try not to dwell on it and stare into the depths, emptying my mind.
“Drink?” Mateo pulls my attention to him, now at the dark wood and glass bar, and I shake my head. I’m already nervous about them arriving, and I can’t relax, even if he seems more tolerant of me than most of this pack. The last thing I need is to dull my senses and get drunk with a guy or group that I don’t know and have every reason to treat me cruelly.
You okay?
Colton comes through loud and clear, checking on me, and for a second, it warms me that he does, that maybe he felt my nervousness. His voice is that sound of home that I never knew I needed, and I find myself exhaling like I’ve been holding my breath as I lean back into the chair a little more relaxed.
I am just waiting on the others and sitting by the fire.
I reply, setting his mind at ease and hoping I sound as comfortable here as I am pretending to be.
I won’t be long. My father kept all the leaders back to talk about plans and schedules. You know what I mean. I’ll leave our link open if you need me. Don’t let any of them give you any shit, or they’ll have to deal with me.
His deep husky voice has me pining for his presence, and I sigh wearily.
Mateo is being a gentleman and taking care of me; I’m sure he’ll intervene.
I’m trying to make him relax, but the overwhelming surge I get back from his emotions that he didn’t like what I said surprises me. It’s a hint of jealousy, and I blink at Mateo as though I’m missing the point. He has his back to me, pouring his drink, and is nowhere near me.
Right. As I said, I won’t be long.
His tone is clipped, and he closes the link before I respond, despite saying he wouldn’t. He sounded off and moody, and I swear it makes me want to laugh at how ridiculous he’s being. He sent me here with Mateo, and now he’s what? Jealous because I said he was being nice. I knew males were territorial and possessive by nature, worse when they mate up, but I’m not even his, and he has nothing to worry about. We imprinted, and the Fates made sure I have no desire to look at anyone else, even if he did reject me.
I inhale sharply, shake it off, and go back to staring at the fire, trying not to let him get to me as the door swings open and two boys stomp in, arguing with each other
“You’re a liar. I didn’t say anything of the sort.” The first male snaps, turning and spotting me and instantly frowning like he’s just faced a terrible or vile sight. He stops dead as the other collides into the back of him with an exaggerated ‘oomph’ noise. He’s unsurprisingly dark-haired, tanned, and has your typical native Colombian look. All the Santos originated from there before coming here a few generations ago. They usually mate up with others like them, so the bloodline stays purest, and most of the males get sent back in early childhood to spend time in their homelands, so most have mixed accents like Colton does.
“Hey, watch it,” the voice snarls and shoves him forward, exposing an identical face and equal build, and I realize these two boys are twins. If memory serves correct, I can pull out of Colton’s mind that this is Domi and Remi. They’re younger than Colton by a year, making them eighteen, like me. Both lean, tall, athletic boys with light brown hair and soft hazel eyes. More Santos, and I know for sure they’re Colton’s distant cousins on his mom’s side.
“And she is here because …?” The first one turns to Mateo with a growl and gets a snarl in response. Mateo, seemingly growing an inch taller and faces them down.
“Because Colton said so, and I doubt he wants to hear you were questioning it!” It’s not a friendly tone, and it has the desired effect of dampening down the attitude of one twin, at least.
“He’s not questioning. He’s just a little shocked that our pack room has someone ... not of our pack,” the other chirps in, throwing me a devious side-eye, and I fade back into my chair, aware the waves of prickling heat coming my way are hostility, even while he is smiling on like it’s not.
“Who’s not in our pack?” That female voice I’ve been dreading comes waving in as she walks in the door. Thick like honey and sultry, preceding her entry. She sashays in like the Queen of the manor and stops dead in her tracks when she spots me. Gray eyes instantly storm over, pouty mouth forming a thin, tight line and porcelain skin paling as rage ignites under the surface. Her eyes glow intense amber as she growls her dislike for me and lowers her chin to move into an attack stance. Wolves are aggressive by nature, and we jump to fight for every little thing. Bite, nip, attack. It’s just how we are.
“Why in the fuck has he let her in here?” Carmen loses her cool, steps towards me fast, but Mateo zaps forward, using his hyper-speed, blocking her in a nanosecond, and zips between us. He stands firm, lifts his chin, and makes a good show of exerting his dominance.
“Colton wanted her here and will be along soon, so pipe down, go sit over there and behave!” Mateo has a tone not too dissimilar to Colton’s Alpha tone, only less effective, and she draws her eyes from me to him, not as affected as she would have been had their Alpha said it.
“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my Alpha. Hell, you’re not even his Beta.” The undercurrent of a snarl between them sizzles, and I tense, waiting for it to get crazy in here. I am surprised that Mateo is not his second in command, and I rake my memories to find out who he is. I swear to god it better not be Carmen, or I’m in trouble.
“Ahora, que tenemos aqui?” Another female voice floats in, soft, light, and strangely alluring, with a deep raspy undercurrent as three more wolves stroll in unannounced. I recognize her as Meadow, one of the older femmes in her late twenties, mated to Cesar, the one behind her. Her brother is in tow, Jesús, and they stop to gaze over the little scene.
“Ahora, chicos, go sit down before I break a claw reminding you who is Beta in this room when Colton is not here. Sit!” Her accent is heavy and thick, clear she’s an incomer to Radstone, and English is not her first language. Her accent has never faded, though. It’s not uncommon for wolves with links elsewhere to bring in a family pack from further away, to live with them or find a mate, and I know Meadow’s been with us for a few years, maybe even as far back as the war.
Mateo and Carmen give one last snarl and separate, walking to the couches, chastised and, surprisingly, not defying her. They’re followed by the twins, who avert their eyes from their new member and instantly go into sulk mode, slumping together on one sofa and staring at me with lowered eyelids. No hint of warmth, which adds to my growing uneasiness as I sit stiffly where I was. Meadow walks into the room entirely, confidently, eyeing me up, unashamedly, and I feel like I’m being weighed up as prey.
She’s a sight to behold, strong, graceful, and sassy at five feet eight. Black hair, the most amazing pale blue eyes under sculpted black brows, and deeply tanned skin. She has full lips, catlike eyes with perfect makeup, and an outfit of clingy denim with a blouse that shows off her ample cleavage.
She’s beautiful but has an aura of terrifying. She doesn’t stray out of the Santo side of the lands much, but it’s evident that Mateo is not Colton’s second in command. Meadow is. I wouldn’t argue with her, her natural nails are long, sharp, and pointed, with a shellac of blood-red, so I can’t imagine what her wolf claws would be like. She puts fear in me with just her presence.
“Hi. I’m Cesar. This is Jesús and the infamous Meadow here.” Cesar nods at me, with no hint of either dislike or friendliness in his blank statement. He’s another tall, stocky type, and I see a pattern with this pack. Best of the breed and all alarmingly alike, except Carmen, the only blonde among them. They’re all big, strong, and have lashings of aggression and attitude, which are common among our strongest. I’m sure as a pack, they have many a battle of wills and lots of spats.
“She knows who we are, don’t you, amiga? She has Cole’s memories, and I’m sure she knows how to access them.” Meadow strolls in front of me, heels clicking on the hardwood floor, her eyes wandering over me as she takes me all in without caring how uncomfortable it’s making me—devouring my appearance with a critical eye.
“I do,” I answer sheepishly, aware another has entered the open door and praying that has to be all of them. I don’t even glance their way, as Meadow has a commanding quality that demands you give her our full attention. This is getting crowded, and I feel like I’m raw meat that’s being lowered into a hungry lion’s den.
“Oh, how did the Fates get this so wrong?” Jesús sneers at me, appearing beside her, not too dissimilar in looks to his sister, only masculine where she is feminine, and instantly shuts up when Meadow throws him a pointed glare with a subtle growl.
“The Fates are never wrong! Don’t you know that?” Before taking a calming breath, she snaps, lifting her hands, making motions in the air as though to accompany deep breaths. She smirks when she catches my eye and bends towards me, almost dropping her massive boobs from her low-cut top in my face. “I don’t know. I sense something in this one. You think, Papi, she has a little summit, summit?”
Cesar doesn’t seem impressed or unimpressed - totally blank, and I can only assume he is who she calls Papi. I know it’s a name for your lover or mate. She reaches out, picking up a strand of my wild, unbrushed hair, and slowly runs her fingers through it, tingling my scalp as it tugs gently. Putting me on edge and making me so uncomfortable, I feel like calling on Colton, but I don’t. I expect his pack to be like this at a first meet. I mean, he just threw me in with them amid all that happened today, and they’re sizing me up to see how much grit I have. I can’t show them weakness, or they’ll shred me.