Midnight Wolves

Chapter Twenty One: Keep

They stalked past the security guard, not bothering this time to give him time to warn her uncle of their arrival. Vik was pressed to her back, stalking her every move. He didn't want to be here, didn't like to be on someone else's pack territory, and he certainly didn't want to be on her uncle's packlands either - or for her to be anywhere near him.

It had taken her a while to convince him. But she'd made a promise that she wasn't about to break.

Her uncle met them in the centre of the packlands, anger pouring off of him in waves. "What is he doing here?" he seethed, his wolf dancing in his eyes. Around them, his pack gathered, some of them sporting fresh injuries, some of them eyeing the half-rabid wolf that had killed their loved ones.

It was their fault, she reminded herself. Her uncle's fault. He betrayed her and his wolves were dead because of it.

"We aren't here to fight," she said, letting her wolf seep into her voice, letting her power sit on her shoulders and brush over her uncle. A reminder. A warning – it wasn't just the hulking, half-rabid wolf at her side that was a danger to them. She could be too.

"Then why are you here?" her uncle hissed, but hope lit his eyes. "Do you have the deed?" His eyes slid between her and Vik, assessing, calculating.

Callie shook her head wordlessly, her jaw tightening. "I don't, and you'll never have it either."

Her uncle growled and stepped forward, a man stepped to his side. For a moment Callie thought it was Grant, but then she remembered.

Vik's growl was deadly. It was the man who'd held the gun. Who'd shot Vik. Who'd tried to shoot her. Callie's wolf lunged for the surface but she held herself back.

"I'm here for Kennedy."

She had anticipated her uncle's reaction – anger at the idea of her taking one of his wolves, fury at her stealing a female werewolf – but instead, all she got was confusion.

Her uncle looked to the wolves around him, all of their faces more confused than the next.

It was only as Kennedy shuffled out of the crowd and headed towards Callie, every step heavy and desperate – like she was falling towards her, that her uncle realised who she meant. The wolf that he'd broken to convince to stay. The female wolf that he'd likely give to one of his preferred wolves. Just as he had Callie.

Callie shuddered. Vik's growl silenced the crowd.

Danger. That's what he was. Every part of him yelled danger and destruction. She could sense his wolf, poised on the edge of losing control. He had not been joking when he'd said she grounded him. Here, surrounded by these other wolves, his wolf flashed in and out of focus, his every breath jagged and laced with a growl. She wondered what would happen if she wasn't here. If she wasn't near enough to touch – which he kept doing, she noticed.

A hand gently trailing across her. A shoulder bumping against hers.

Anything, it seemed, to remind him that she was right there. To assure him that she was safe.

Kennedy was within reach of Callie, if she'd stretched out her arms she could have grabbed hold of her. Should have grabbed hold of her. With nothing but a nod from her uncle, three wolves lunged forwards and grabbed hold of Kennedy, dragging the screaming she-wolf backward.

Vik was instantly beside Callie, his arm wrapping protectively around her, as though he was afraid her uncle would try to grab her too. Callie's wolf lunged forwards, her world sinking into monochrome.

Her uncle watched them carefully. Seeing too much. Not seeing enough. He should have been paying more attention to Kennedy. Less to the bond that had seemingly formed between Callie and Vik.