CHAPTER 1

Silver.

Of course it would be a silver bullet.

The tiny hunk of misshapen metal clanked on the kitchen table. The blood was still fresh on it, but drying quickly. Only one type of enemy used silver bullets and that was the only thing on his mind. The only real question was how many would he have to kill.

“Hunters,” Connor growled, “Of course it would be hunters. Shit.”

Connor punched his fist on the table. Any more weight behind his fist and the table would have toppled under his strength; instead he left a dent that wouldn’t be easily mended.

“Dug it out of the bear this morning.”

“Dammit … er …”

“Billy,” he said.

“Billy,” Connor sighed, “gimme a second to think.”

The bite in his tongue shut Billy up quick. Connor was still lost in the last battle; the grim, bloody, war of attrition that had cost him a few great soldiers. But, why did the hunters help the wolves in the last fight.

Connor couldn’t get over the helplessness he felt being surrounded by bears. He could still see the bears with their salivating jaws and sharpened claws waiting to end his meager existence. Only to watch them flee into the trees as hunters opened fire, ending their attack.

What was it that their pack master said? How did we cause all the fighting? They were the ones that started everything!

Why did it have to be hunters?

The greatest weakness of all shifters, wolf and bear alike, was silver. It could punch right through the thickened hide of a bear like it were paper.

What a fool’s death.

Only hunters used silver bullets to take down their prey. Anything else would be a waste of time. A regular bullet might sting a bit, break the skin, but the taught muscle would stop it like a tank. Silver, however, was always a death sentence.

Sunlight began to beat through the window. Another nice day ruined by bad news. Good riddance to the bears, there were less to kill later. Now, the only question on his mind was how many hunters he would get to taste.

The only road that led to the farm house was crimson stained from the blood of the most recent battle that had yet to fully wash away. The ramshackle houses that normally lined the sides of the street were battered and broken. Those that remained were empty and quiet. By this time of day the children were usually playing about, or being herded into the farmhouse for study, but now they were gone. At least they were safe.

Then there was the matter of his prisoner, Samantha. She sat lazily in her cage. She was a bear shifter and, according to Alex, a willing prisoner. Her auburn hair was tangled and knotted from spending the last few days confined. She was rather attractive, with youthful good looks, barely over 19 years old if he had to guess. Her leg was still bound in a cast, a wound that Alex gave her or so he claimed.

Just looking at her made Connor’s blood boil; he could feel the wolf inside beckoning him to be released. He fought against it, even as it crept across his brain. Now wasn’t the time.

“Why don’t we use silver bullets?” Billy asked.

Why don’t you ask me another stupid question?

Connor turned his head to get a better look at Billy who stared back with a dumb look on his face. Connor slowly walked closer like a predator looming in for the kill.

“Where are we going to get the silver,” Connor asked, “How would we pay for it?” Billy backed away as Connor continued to advance. “Where would we get the guns to fire those bullets?” Connor continued, “All of these things cost money, Billy, money that we don’t have. This farm produces enough food to get us through some hard times. Hell, we can barely pay the mortgage as is. What kind of a mongrel are you, anyway? You wanna be some coward, hiding behind a shotgun, go for it. But, the only people I know that use silver bullets are hunters. If you wanna try to take one of their guns then be my guest,” Connor said, poking Billy in the chest.

It was clear that Billy got the hint. Connor returned to the kitchen table, questions still burning in his mind. Samantha was a threat but she claimed to have information that might help. He could question her but he’d just as soon bite her head off.

What would Tess do in this situation? She was the light of his life and the only thing that kept him together in difficult times. He barely even knew if she was alright. Who knows what could have happened on the way to the other den. If only she were here right now, she would know the right words to soothe his frazzled mind.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

The silence in the room was broken by the clack of walking stick against the old wood floors. There was only one person that used such a thing and that was Tess’s father Marcus, the old Alpha of the pack.

“You can stare all you like, but that won’t help anything,” Marcus said. He was Alex’s father as well. The sting of Alex’s rebellion sat uncomfortably in Connor’s mouth. He wondered if he should speak kindly to the father of his future wife, or if he should speak down to the man that was the father of a deserter?

Just after the bears attacked their den, Alex had defied him and left the pack. Good Riddance, we don’t need any traitors amongst us.

Connor slumped into his shoulders in deep thought. Marcus had more experience with leadership than anyone else in the den. Any advice he could offer would be useful.

“What am I supposed to do,” Connor asked, teeth clenched and fists full of rage, “there’s no way we can last against the bears.”

“Looks like I chose the right person to become an alpha,” Marcus said, laughing right in Connor’s face which did nothing to calm his nerves. He eased himself into a seat at the table, “an unworthy successor would do what he wanted without considering all possibilities.”

Connor fell into his chair at the table, the legs squeaked against the ground, groaning against his weight. Sitting face to face with the old pack alpha, and seeing the lines of stress on the old man’s face made Connor wonder if he really wanted to be, or should be the one in charge.

“I’m not so sure,” Connor remarked sarcastically, “I can barely keep my head on straight right now.”

“I picked the man who would be right for the job,” he said. The old man let out a sigh and stamped his walking stick on the floor. “I’m sure your father felt the same way before he passed on.”

Connor hadn’t thought much of his father lately. His death became the catalyst that brought the shifters back together in the first place. If he’d been alive, Connor wondered how the fighting might have ended. His father was relentless when it came to battle. He would charge headlong into an entire pack of wolves to come out the last one standing. Nobody would dare challenge him for leadership. Connor used to be amazed at the strength his father exhibited, but everyone dies. That was the truth. He pushed his thoughts of his father from his mind; there was only one alpha in this room and that was him.

“Why would you bring him up now,” Connor asked.

Marcus toyed with the silver bullet, the blood stained his fingers. It was such a tiny piece of shrapnel, yet it had caused the death of a powerful shifter, only to become a play thing.

“Your father was a proud man,” Marcus said, “But in a way he was too proud.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Connor barked back.

“Everything,” he calmly replied.

“Are you trying to say I’m acting like my father?” Connor demanded as he stood to his feet. He leaned over the table dominantly and eyed the old dog closely.

“No,” replied Marcus, who didn’t even flinch, “what I’m trying to say is that you’ve become your own man. The only man you looked up to for so many years was never willing to compromise. I hear he tried to train you to be a great leader one day, well now is your chance; lead.”

Connor let his head fall and sunk back into his chair with a heavy sigh. He’d never imagined the burden of leadership would weigh so heavily, nor how well his father managed to carry the load. He never understood the decisions he would have to make when he was top dog, or how many lives depended on him making the right one.

“I didn’t know you before you dated my daughter. But, I did know your father. You act just like him when you’re alone but you change completely when Tess is there, you become a different man,” he said.

Connor lifted his head to look at Marcus’s old wrinkled face. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though he could see right through Connor and knew the decision he was about to make.

Dammit, he knows me too well.

Connor needed to see Tess if he was going to make the right decision. He needed to know that the woman bearing his child was safe from harm. He needed to hold her and have her calm the aching muscles and shaken nerves. Perhaps she would have the words of wisdom that he needed to hear.

“I’m going to see Tess,” Connor said, “I can’t make the same mistakes my father did. If she makes me a better man then I need to see her. However, I’ll need you to watch the pack while I’m gone.”

Marcus used the table to return to his feet, cracking his back as he stood. His injuries persisted; he ripped at the blood soaked rags that still covered half of his face, tearing them from his skin. Bear claw marks streaked at an angle across his eye, still cut deep, but healing quickly. Never doubt a wolf’s resilience, especially an alpha’s.

“They were safe enough when I was in charge, I’ll make sure they’re here when you get back,” he replied.

Connor clasped a hand over Marcus’ shoulder and held it firm as a sign of thanks, a gesture that was returned in kind. Connor, not satisfied, reached over the table and pulled his father-in-law into a strong hug and Marcus disappeared beneath Connor’s bulging muscles.

“I’ll return as quickly as I can,” Connor said, “Thanks old man.”

“Get out of here before I change my mind!” he said as a raspy laugh escaped the old man’s mouth.

Connor pushed his way outside and inhaled the morning air, only to be distracted by Samantha in the cage. She sat still, silent, and she stared with eagerness at Connor. He scowled at her with disgust, clenched his jaw, and tore his eyes away.

Again, his heart raced as the wolf cried to be released, but he inhaled deeply and exhaled to calm himself. He had someone he needed to see.

Outside the farmhouse was a familiar truck. The old yellow paint was chipped and gave way to more rust with each passing day. The body was still in a bit of a mess from old battles, but it would still start reliably as it always had. He got inside and patted his hand along the dashboard.

Thank you.

And, with a turn of the key and a press of the gas pedal he left the farmhouse in his rearview mirror.