Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(28)

Three hunters walked the edge of the meadow. With my night vision kicked in, I was able to make out a bush hat and craggy nose—Amos Fletching—leading two hunters who had to be a year or two younger than I was.

The two younger hunters were watching me with interest as they obediently tramped behind Amos, who was rambling in his coarse voice at a tone too hushed for me to make out what he was saying.

I frowned as I watched them disappear into the forest.

They shouldn’t be out here this late at night. I’m pretty sure Greyson told him the lodge area was off limits in the evening.

I dug my cellphone out of my backpack and started sending out messages, starting with Ember as I hadn’t seen her among the wolves, which hopefully meant she hadn’t transformed and would be in a position to read her phone, and quickly adding Original Jack into the message so he’d know what was going on.

“Hunters on the prowl, seen near the lodge.”

My phone dinged as Original Jack and then—thankfully—Ember acknowledged my text.

But as I started off in the direction of my cottage, it was Ember’s follow up message that made me grimace.

“Understood. Be careful—Amos has made it clear he considers your part in the Low Marsh wolf’s death a crime.”

Great. Whatever happened to an easy, open-and-shut case?





Chapter 8





Greyson





I was ready to maim something, but I knew if I decked Amos Fletching like I wanted to, there’d be too much paperwork to make it worth the momentary satisfaction.

Paperwork is the worst thing to happen to this world.

“—we are sent by the Regional Committee of Magic, means we are freely able to travel where we choose for observation,” Amos rattled on.

I stared down at the paperwork the state needed me to fill out for the multiple businesses that operated under the Northern Lakes Pack LLC. I’d gotten remarkably fluent in paperwork-speak since I’d taken the position as Alpha, but having to fill out the same paperwork for the various businesses we owned was monotonous at best.

Match it with a windbag hunter who was on a power trip and smelled as if he’d been chewing on raw onions that morning, and it ratcheted the experience from tedious to physically provoking.

“Which is why we are not required to observe any of your rules, boy,” Amos sneered. He adjusted his bush hat as he peered down on me.

Though his manners would have stirred up any wolf—much less an Alpha—I kept my seething powers locked down.

That was the difference between a real Alpha worth his power, and one that was petty, greedy, and a terrible leader: the ability to control our instincts and the power that comes with being an Alpha.

Only a bad Alpha would fall for such manipulations—or give in to instinct and snap like a starving wolf over table scraps.

I wasn’t, however, going to let Amos walk around Timber Ridge as puffed up as a turkey ripe for plucking.

Not at all. I’d control my powers and respond appropriately, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to react.

“Amos Fletching,” I said in a low voice that was just shy of a growl.

A muscle on Amos’s face jumped, and he tried to curl his lips back in a sneer, but when I rested my gaze on him and let my power as Alpha ooze off me, he didn’t move.

“I don’t care who sent you. The Northern Lakes Pack will cooperate with your investigation; however, you will observe the rules I gave you earlier, which includes staying off Pack land beginning at sunset.”

Amos opened his mouth to argue.

“No,” I said, speaking with the full authority of an Alpha.

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

A crooked smile escaped my control.

It seems not all hunters have the grit of our Pip.

It was hardly surprising. Pip was a law unto herself—I knew that better than anyone else in the Pack. But it was interesting that she was so easily able to flaunt an Alpha’s power when Amos, it seemed, was having a much harder time.

“Do you understand?” I asked Amos after several long moments.

Amos kept his eyes down and scowled at the ground—a sign of his resistance.

That was fine. Intimidation worked when my authority wouldn’t. “Amos Fletching,” I deeply growled.

“Understood,” the crusty hunter said.

I inhaled discreetly, sniffing out the sour smell of Amos’s body odor. His heartbeat was steady, indicating he was scared but wasn’t lying.

My message had been received.

I leaned back in my chair and returned to studying the state paperwork.

After this I need to look over the new options for our 401(k) employee programs, and glance at the report the accountants made on the new hospital we’re purchasing three cities over.

A minute passed before Amos moved, his leather boots cracking as he paced from one side of my office to the other.

“I will be certain to make note of your requirements in the case file,” he said.

I didn’t bother to reply.

He seemed to think I cared what the Regional Committee of Magic thought about us. I didn’t.

I just wanted to find out what had been put on the Low Marsh wolf to turn him wild. If this was how the committee investigated the issue, I’d bear with it, until one of my wolves or I uncovered the spell, that was.