Present

Julian did his best to focus on the course he set rather than Dallas’ presence aboard the yacht. Bad enough he’d given into temptation once, he refused to allow himself a second mistake. Cool air blew from the vents and the engine ran quiet, though he could detect the rumbling. It wasn’t until he completed adjusting his course for the Channel Islands—specifically the storm damaged side, where the docks were closed and there would be no witnesses—that he allowed himself to acknowledge he listened for her return.

The length of her absence began to grate. Had she gone down to question the prisoners? Or was she exploring the Wayfarer? The yacht had been his for years, his private escape from the turmoil and politics. In the not too distant past, he could put out to sea for weeks at a time without issue.

No more. He had to stay within range of the shore, and more often than not, he had to dock his boat and head inland to deal with issues which seemed to be boiling over. If Mitch and Amelia hadn’t found a safe haven at Mitch’s cabin, he’d been tempted to offer them his yacht.

Fortunately, it hadn’t been an issue. Their safety surpassed his need for privacy. At their current speed, it would be another hour before they reached their destination. He couldn’t leave the bridge. Irritation scraped beneath his skin at her continued absence. The need to hunt her down vied with his questionable choices in even allowing her aboard in the first place.

The vibration of his phone distracted him from the dark journey his thoughts traveled. Digging it out of his pocket, he sighed at the name on the screen. Hitting answer, he put the phone to his ear. “Yes?” It was an improvement over his earlier greeting to Amelia.

But only slight.

“Is my mother with you?” Chrystal’s voice betrayed only a note of trepidation. The young woman had matured since discovering the security of pack and the grounding influence of her mate along with an alpha strong enough to balance her natural gifts.

“She is,” he admitted, to alleviate her concern. “I met her in Santa Monica as planned.” Chrystal had arranged the meeting with Dallas in the first place—though her first contact offering the information included a number of caveats and the extraction of a promise from him to hear Dallas out and not to kill her.

The pleading in her voice made him agree rather than undermine the security she’d discovered for herself. Of all the Lone Wolves he’d ever dealt with, Chrystal had always been too damn innocent for her own good. It added another log to the pyre he planned to roast Dallas on—she should never have left Chrystal so defenseless.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Don’t believe me?” A part of him wanted her to challenge him. Blind faith only led to battered hearts and shattered belief.

“At the risk of upsetting you, no, I don’t. You’ve hunted my mother for as long as I’ve known you, and you’ve never been particularly forgiving where she or my father were concerned.” The chastisement reminded him of the conversation he’d had with her while driving her from Willow Bend to Three Rivers.

Julian handed her the slip of paper with the phone numbers for the two alphas—Cassius and Brett had both offered her a place in their packs. As the daughter of Brett’s cousin, blood ties secured her a place should she desire it. Carlo’s family had been more circumspect, though they put great value in their lost son. The Garcias were wealthy and influential, but it was Cassius who offered her protection. She’d need it if she went to Sutter Butte. That pack would eat her alive.

“Thank you for the ride,” Chrystal spoke in a low, almost inaudible tone. The girl was more mouse than wolf, but he’d begun to have his suspicions as to why. She wasn’t submissive, no matter how demure.

“You’re welcome, Trouble.” The nickname fit her. She spent the first ten minutes in his presence lying her ass off—terribly. What fascinated him was she had zero concept he could scent the lies or that she wore every emotion in her expression.

“You know I’m not really…a problem for you anymore. Maybe you could just call me Chrystal?” The challenge was a first. Maybe her dalliance with the arrogant Willow Bend whelp had been good for her.

A faint smile creasing his lips, he contained his amusement. “Maybe.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Another first. Impressive.

“You can.”

Sweat stained her scent, nervousness invading her manner but he and his wolf remained calm. She needed that calm more than she realized. “Why now? Why tell me what packs they belong to, now?”

Studying her, he debated sharing the truth. Was she ready to hear it? Could she handle what it would mean? When he’d found her, she’d been inconsolable after he’d called her on her lies. Her need to protect her mother, he understood even if the woman in question deserved no loyalty. “I didn’t know for certain which Carlo was your father, since you only had a first name. Your mother changed her last name.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but close…

“You’re lying.”

“Be very careful about making accusations, Trouble.” Another first, the challenge came with no aggression on her part. “As I recall you didn’t want to know about the packs. When I mentioned them to you the first time, you were terrified.”

Actually, she’d vomited all over his shoes. Then she’d been even more horrified, and rushed into a bathroom to throw up again. It had taken two hours to settle her long enough to hear his explanation.

“I was, but in all fairness, you were scary as hell. You said you’d tracked my father, killed him, and you were after my mother…another Rogue. What was I? I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I thought about it.” Though only for a half-second. Chrystal could not be held accountable for the poor judgment of her parents. What she needed was a keeper, and since Dallas abandoned her, it fell to Julian.

“Okay, you could have lied about that.” The protest amused him. She didn’t quiver or go pale. Nor did she throw up.

She was getting stronger.

“Embracing your wolf will open the world up to you. Deceptions will become clearer, so will agendas.” Pleased at her progress, he wanted to acknowledge her growth. “I’m glad to see you’re not afraid of your wolf anymore.”

“Did you really have to kill my father?” Then again, her time with Dylan seemed to have made her bolder.

“He was a Rogue, Chrystal. Even if the relationship between him and your mother hadn’t violated the laws…what they did with you most certainly did.” A betrayal which continued to sting him even as the presence of the vital young woman next to him who reminded him of her mother in a myriad of ways.

Confronted with the truth, she surprised him with another small lie. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Three Rivers.”

“No you’re not.” Chrystal had run to the nascent pack to escape him. He wasn’t a fool. “That paper has my number on it. If things go wrong here…if it doesn’t work out, call me. I will come get you.”

The alphas should have executed the Italian and her mate, then decided the fates of those they lured into the so-called pack on a case by case basis. Taking her back to Three Rivers didn’t sit well with him, but she had reached her maturity. She had the right to make her own decisions.

No matter how bad they were.

Surprise filtered through her scent and she stared at him. “Why?”

“Because I said I would. Now get out. Your Alpha is coming.” It was time for him to go. Though Luciana Barrows did not make the mistake of approaching his vehicle, the temptation to resolve the upheaval and take Chrystal back to California. “Be careful, Trouble.”

The farewell earned him a small, if honest smile. She’d been abandoned enough in her young life. Transferring his gaze to Rayne Barrows, Luciana’s mate and a former Lone Wolf now gone Rogue, Julian stared at him and his wolf peeked out. The other man fought to hold his gaze, then dropped his chin in a small nod.

If anything happened to Chrystal, Julian would be back. The other man needed to understand that.

Despite his idiotic actions, the wolf seemed to read his intentions.

“Julian?” Chrystal’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“One moment.” He put the phone on mute, then touched the intercom button. Dallas had gone to the kitchen in search of a beer, which meant she might still be there or in the salon. He didn’t think about her in his salon too closely. “Dallas, your child is on the phone and requires proof of your continued well-being. Return to the bridge.” He didn’t wait for a response, simply released the button. Then he waited.

Her scent, still drenched with the musk of their sex, preceded her arrival. Picking up the phone, he turned off the mute. Quiet conversation on the other side of the phone told him Chrystal was with her mate, Dylan, as well as her alpha Mason. “Your mother is here.”

Drawing close, Dallas leaned against the console and giving him an eyeful of her toned flesh. Wolves possessed naturally fit physiques, and Dallas seemed built more like one of his Enforcers. She’d always been in good shape, but now she had nothing to spare. The faint stretch marks across her ripped abdomen added to her beauty. She’d carried a child in her womb.

Cold reality drenched him. She’d borne a child for another man.

Lust curbed, he focused on the seas before them as she took the phone. “Hello, baby.” Tenderness softened her voice, a note he hadn’t heard from her in years.

“Hi, Dallas,” Chrystal’s words carried as clear as if the phone were at his ear. Dallas could walk away if she wanted privacy; instead, she stayed by him as comfortable in her bare skin as she’d been facing him down on the beach. “I was worried about you.”

“Baby girl, I can take care of myself. How are you?” Tenderness turned to concern, but her attention was no longer on him but elsewhere. Taking advantage of her distraction, Julian studied her expression. Her barriers were up, her eyes were cool and her expression remote, a perfect contrast to the gentleness in her voice.

“You’re with Julian,” Chrystal’s voice carried warning not trepidation. “He’s been hunting you for years…and he told me he killed Carlo. Yes, Dylan, I know he can hear me, and I don’t care. He’s with my mom, and I don’t want him to kill her, too.”

Fierce. Delicate, distracted, and easy to spook, Chrystal had developed a backbone and a ferocious protectiveness. Her mate had done right by her, as had her new pack. Willow Bend might benefit from having an Omega in their midst, but the young Omega had found her teeth and claws. Dallas glanced at him, and a smile curved her lips. For a moment, they were in a perfect accord.

“Don’t worry, baby. I told you I can take care of myself, and I’m not afraid of big, bad Julian.” Her smile grew with every word. “He and I laid a few facts bare between us.”

Infuriating as she was, the woman still had the power to amuse him. He tipped his head to the side and indulged in a leisurely, long look at her. Her nipples peaked as he stared, the pebbling tightening them until they looked like the perfect dark raspberries. When his gaze collided with hers once more, he shook his head.

“I won’t put a finger on Dallas, Chrystal.” Directing the comment toward her daughter sent heat sparking in her gaze. She wasn’t the only one with the power of verbal claws.

The girl’s huffed sigh betrayed impatience. “Mason wants to know if either of you have an update.”

“Tell that pup to keep his focus on his pack, and we’ll take care of the rest.” Dallas pushed away from the console, and gave Julian her back as she walked to the windows and stared ahead. It gave him a view of her back, and ridges of old scars he’d failed to notice when he’d fucked her earlier.

A braid of a scar lifted the skin along her left shoulder blade. The raised flesh indicated a wound that hadn’t healed properly. A crisscross pattern of scars along her lower back ignited another set of questions within him. What the hell had she been doing all these years?

“Dallas—Mom,” Chrystal said. “Don’t start a fight with Mason. They attacked his mate, and his kids were there. Everyone is on edge…and it’s exhausting.”

“Are you handling the stress all right?” Apprehension marked her guarded tone, and her shoulders stiffened as her head raised. She had mastered hiding her scent, and she safeguarded her emotions behind a bland expression. Yet he tasted the caution on her, it added a worried aftertaste to her musk, the flavor bitter on his tongue. “Do they have anywhere you can take a break from them and still be safe?”

“It’s not like that, Mom. It was hard at first, but I’m coping. Dylan helps a lot. He can make me laugh, even when I want to cry. I just want everyone to be safe and the deaths to stop. It’s…hard, especially for the Lone Wolves who are here. They aren’t comfortable with the pack, and the pack isn’t comfortable with them.” Chrystal laughed, and it was like sunshine poured over Dallas and the stiffness in her posture eased.

Julian turned the new observation over in his mind. Though she’d hidden the child from the packs, raised her in secret, then abandoned her—she cared. More than Julian would have suspected her capable. The thought took root even as his wolf clawed at him. His beast wanted nothing to do with him, not after he pushed her away earlier. It roused a pervasive need to protect he’d long since believed he’d abandoned.

“I want you to be able to come and see me. I want to get to know you again. Wolf to wolf. Mason said he would extend the protection of Willow Bend to you…”

Of course the little whelp did. Julian rolled his eyes. Mason wanted to change the world. Instead of respecting centuries of tradition, he took their world by the balls and wrenched it in the direction he wanted.

“…because you’re my mom. You say the word, and it’s yours.”

Two of five alphas declared for her. Diesel would either abstain or more likely support her. The two made the most unlikely of friends. Cassius would do it to stick it to Julian. Despite the recent peace brokered between the Enforcers and Sutter Butte after hundred and fifty years of animosity, Cassius wasn’t a fan. That left Serafina, and she and Dallas had history.

It wouldn’t matter—three of five was all she needed to clear her name and expunge her record. The act would take her fate out of his hands, absolving him of having to hold her accountable for her actions, but that didn’t liberate him from his choices.

“I appreciate the gesture on his part, and yours. I’ll be fine, baby, I promise you. What I need from you is to stay safe and protected in the heart of that pack. As long as you can cope, and they will take care of you, and you’re happy, everything else is cake.” Unconditional honesty filled every syllable.

Dallas needed her child safe. Needed her protected. So why the hell had she left her, then?

Unless she left to protect her. The concept left its mark, creating a gulf between what he knew and what he believed.

“I love you, Mom.” The declaration from Chrystal didn’t surprise him.

“I love you, too.” Simple and forthright, though she pressed her fingers to the glass. An action to ground herself? To ease her conscience? Fuck, he couldn’t interpret her body language. “We should get back to work…”

“Mom, before you go…Julian’s not as bad as I always thought he was.” Hell, the little Omega was going to plead his case. It was sweet—and a little insulting. “He’s protected me. Even when I didn’t think he had to, he made sure I went to school, and he looked after me when I joined Three Rivers. Before you tell me what a bad idea that was, I know, and I still have no regrets. It brought me to Dylan and Willow Bend. Anyway, Julian’s not the boogeyman. Or maybe he isn’t anymore. So, be nice to him.”

Dallas’ chuckle caught him off guard, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. Raising her eyebrows, she gave him the once over. “Chrystal, Julian’s safe in my hands. I won’t hurt him.” She mimed snapping her teeth together, and he scowled. “Much.”

“Mom…”

“Goodbye, Chrystal. Go fuss over your mate. We’ll call you when we have more answers.” She hung up the phone and tossed it to him. He caught it easily. They were alone and the silence closed in.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth?”

“I don’t know, Captain Ass. Are you ready to listen?”

Throttling her began to look better and better. Listen. Protect. The wolf knew what it wanted. Chrystal didn’t want her dead, and more, she wanted her mother to work with him. “For her.”

Shock played out over her expression, her eyes widening slightly and her pupils dilating.

Satisfaction unfurled within him. He didn’t know Dallas anymore, but he was a quick study.

“If you give me your word on her life…I’ll believe it.” The choice was the right one; it penetrated her defenses. The only question he still held was whether she really trusted him.

A declaration he had no reason to believe.

Walking toward him, she paused at the console, and he divided his attention between the sea beyond the window and her studious expression.

“I will help you with the Volchitsa. I will tell you what I know. I will do everything in my power to stop this…whatever the hell they are doing.” That was a start, then she added, “I give you my word, and I swear it on Chrystal’s life. I want her safe. Always.”

Maternal ferocity echoed within every word, and her brown eyes went to pure liquid gold. The shimmer startled him, not because of the color, but because a sheen of tears glistened within them.

Julian accepted his wolf’s determination.

“Then we’re in this together,” he said and extended his arm. She gripped his proffered hand, and he tugged her forward. Not resisting his pull, she came around the console, not halting until she stood so close he could feel her breath on his bare shoulder. “You’ll stay by my side. We’ll make every decision together, unless I give you an order.”

“No leashes, Julian.” The rebuke made him smile, and he glided a hand up to her nape. Her respiration hitched.

“You’ll wear my collar for the duration. Trust, Dallas.”

Her jaw clenched. “You’re serious?”

“Choose—or were you shining me on with your declaration of trust?” Even his wolf went still as they waited for her to decide. At this point, they had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“You’re a real son of a bitch.” She scowled, and Julian began to smile. He had the perfect choker to put on her, and he’d had it for years. She didn’t need to know that part.

“Is that a yes?”

“Fine. Put a fucking collar on me you anal, overbearing, control freak. The minute this is done, I’m going to shove it up your ass.” As assents went, it was very clear.

Entertained, he swooped down and kissed her. She hadn’t opened the beer, because only coffee lingered on her lips. Squeezing her ass as he kissed her, he imagined her in the bed in the captain’s suite. Her body sprawled before him as he reacquainted himself with every inch of her.

A hand slapping against his chest interrupted the fantasy, and she shoved free of him. “Where’s the damn collar?”

“I’ll put it on you when I’m ready,” he told her, enjoying the flare of her frustration. “You’ll ask me for it, too.”

“Keep dreaming, Captain Ass.” She gathered up her clothes. The need for armor pleased him inordinately. “I’m going to shower. Tell me when you’re done manning the poop deck or whatever, Skipper.”

“I will, Gilligan. You’ll sleep in my bed tonight.”

“Are you freaking kidding me with that?” Arousal, not anger, deepened in her scent. She could feign her fury all she wished, but he had the scent of her.

“No,” he said, smiling. “You agreed to obey my orders. Consider that one of them.”

If he planned to let her burn him, he wouldn’t stop until they were both ashes.

“Fine, but if you snore, I’m smothering you in your sleep.” She stomped off the bridge. His smile faded as soon as she was gone. Life had punished him viciously for his sins.

Having Dallas with him, keeping her in his bed, chaining her to his side—it was punishment and reward.

The intercom clicked on. “I’m going to make food. Get this damn boat wherever you’re planning to anchor then get down here. We’ll sort this shit out then question the Volchitsa.”

“We’ll get there when we get there.”

She didn’t cut the line off before her growl echoed through the analog channel.

Rattled. He’d shaken her up and put her on the defensive.

What the hell was she hiding?

Decades earlier…

The only problem with Dallas as a lover was leaving her. No sooner had he spent a night in her bed than he wanted another. She’d returned to camping on the beach, and didn’t look for a place for the two weeks he’d spent tracking a Rogue from the Grand Canyon to the Glacier National Park. The bastard hadn’t wanted to be found; yet he left a trail of bodies in his wake.

Wolves thrived on structure; outliers like Julian and the other Enforcers relied on the structure of law in the absence of pack. Lone Wolves, as a rule, needed something beyond pack, whether it was the freedom of roaming, the discovery of self beyond the sheltering safeguards of pack bonds and family, or the lack of open challenge by wolves of similar temperaments and dominants.

During his tenure as Lone Wolf, then Enforcer, now Senior Enforcer, he’d seen all types. The Chief Enforcer relied on him more and more. Few, if any, of the Enforcers even knew about Old Hadrian anymore. The Chief Enforcer withdrew into the shadows, governing like a myth, trusting Julian to meet those challenges.

Wolves like Denton Keen were outliers beyond the outliers. They had a taste for chaos and thrived on it. Anarchists flouted the rules of pack, and the sanctity of the laws, which protected their anonymity, and the security of the packs. Denton’s lust for the kill, particularly young brunettes, violated the first law of human interaction—killing humans was forbidden unless in absolute self-defense or defense of the pack.

Even when those conditions were met, killing one made killing another easier. Then killing became matter-of-fact, an unemotional decision. Denton and Rogues like him took it a step further. They lusted for the kill, deriving pleasure from the death of another. They were more than a threat, and Enforcers took the appearance of these Rogues seriously. Julian had received word of Denton’s activities an hour after leaving the warmth of Dallas’s bed. The message on his service detailed a sighting. Coordinating with Hattie, an Enforcer tapped into the FBI, gave him a head start.

Julian set aside his feelings and interests, then headed for the last known location. Every twelve hours, he called Hattie and she provided him with more information and clues. In Wyoming, Julian left his bike in a storage locker, retrieving an off-road vehicle along with weapons and supplies. Snow came early in the northern climes, the temperatures a far cry from the sunshine drenched beach Dallas slept on.

Trailing Denton all the way to the entrance of Glacier National Park, Julian parked beyond the crime scene investigating a ranger’s death. The gruesome discovery had been made at dawn, some hour before he pulled in. The scent of wolf was strong. As were the words of the investigators suggesting they bring in a few hunters and some tracking dogs.

The local LEOs were not interested in arresting the perpetrator, but justice. Denton couldn’t be allowed to continue his slaughter. Leaving his vehicle, he set out into the park. It took him twenty-four hours, but he located the wolf in question on the southeast slope of a mountain.

“It took you long enough,” the wolf snarled. Running had taken its toll on Denton. Hollows left his cheeks in sharp relief. Lack of healthy weight made his bones jut, and his clothes fit awkwardly. “I thought you’d have found me in Reno.”

Reno hadn’t been on the list of possible sightings, but Julian said nothing. “I’ll give you the opportunity to fight.” Common courtesy might be lacking of late, the younger generation desperate to celebrate their rights and forgetting how those rights were secured.

“Why bother?” Denton grinned, his teeth yellow stained. Blood stained his chin, and dried blood clung to his dirty hair. Tracking his scent from the dead body hadn’t been difficult—he reeked. “Just get it over with…I’ve been running. All I wanted to do was get away, but people are everywhere.” Sinking to his knees, the wolf spread his arms and closed his eyes.

Puzzled, Julian studied him. What game was the wolf playing?

“What are you waiting for? Just do it.” He opened his eyes and his teeth bared again in a snarl. “Or would you like me to attack you to assuage your conscience?”

“I want to know why. You want to get away…from what? What are you running from?”

Denton shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” The dazed look he wore coupled with the lack of focus in his eyes reminded Julian of shell shock. Had Denton served? It hadn’t been in the dossier, then again, they were pursuing him based on actions. Hattie hadn’t given him a full history.

Dropping his pack, Julian narrowed the distance between them. Illness left a scent marker—as did madness. The wolf’s unwashed stench, muddied by blood and filth of his travels, soured the air. “It does matter. Tell me what you are running from.” He left no room for argument within the command.

Snarling, Denton surged to his feet. The lunge incomplete, he stared at Julian bewildered. The action lacked any real sense of menace, only desperation. “Why won’t you just end it?”

“Because suicide by wolf is not a solution to every problem.” Gripping the other man’s shoulder, he frowned. The wolf had lost even more weight than he’d suspected. He had to be on his last dregs of his energy. If he kept going at this rate, his next human kill might end up being food.

Man-eaters were anathema.

“I told you it doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. I’ve killed humans—a lot of them. All women.” Every word seemed designed to hammer the final nails into his own coffin. “Pretty girls, children really. I didn’t always make it quick.”

Every word seemed calculated to earn swift retribution. “Sit down,” he ordered, and the wolf went to his haunches. The swift obedience decried his claims of madness. Pulling a packet of jerky from the bag, he opened it then tossed a piece to the other wolf.

Denton snapped his hand out and caught it. Reflexes were there. He stared at the dried, seasoned meat then licked his dried and cracked lips. Julian waited a beat, then pulled a canteen of water free from his pack and tossed it over. Without dropping the jerky, Denton caught it with his free hand.

Cognitive function, recognizing he needed moisture to eat, combined with solid reaction times. Balancing the jerky on his knee, Denton twisted open the canteen and began to drink. He drained it of half the water before lowering it then biting into the jerky. Allowing him to eat in silence, Julian observed the measured chewing, then following each bite with fresh water.

Underweight.

Dehydrated.

Exhausted. Shadows darkened the underside of his eyes. With each bite, the trembling in Denton’s hands grew more pronounced.

The demand to die seemed real enough, as did the litany of his crimes. All Julian lacked was the reason why. Wolves didn’t wake up one morning and decide to slaughter their neighbor, or a truck stop waitress, or a park ranger—not for the hell of it.

“As last meals go, I’ve had worse.” The other wolf said after finishing off the jerky.

“Want more?” It had taken him two weeks to catch up to his prey. He could afford another few minutes.

“No,” he answered, shaking his head though he did take another long drink. Just watching him take another long swallow from the canteen made Julian thirsty. How long had he been without? They were in the middle of a national park on the slope of a mountain. Seven hundred miles of hiking trails, streams, rivers, and lakes—yet he made a beeline for this mountain.

“What’s up there?” Julian asked, jutting with his chin to indicate the slope.

“I don’t know,” Denton said with a wistful sigh. “I thought I’d climb it, find out—then throw myself off. We can’t survive that kind of fall can we?”

Weird conversation. “Unlikely.” Rocks littered the landscape, and tall trees. If he climbed high enough to achieve terminal velocity, what he landed on wouldn’t really matter. Shattering every bone in a wolf’s body couldn’t be repaired by shifting.

“Good, then I better get climbing if you’re not going to kill me.”

“You still haven’t told me why,” Julian said, not attempting to intercept him when the other wolf stood. “What happened?”

“You ever seen war?”

A straightforward question deserved a straightforward answer. “Yes.”

“Then you know, what you see. What you’ve done. It doesn’t ever go away.”

“No.” Julian couldn’t disagree with him. He’d left a war twenty five years before, and he still saw those battlefields in his dreams. “But you don’t have stay there. You can get help.”

“Long before I killed my neighbor, I had blood on my hands. Human blood. No one understands. No one cares. They throw things at us, spit on the contribution. Tell us we’re monsters.” The who seemed vague, but Julian didn’t need him to define his shadow attackers.

“How long have you been home?”

“A year. I couldn’t stay in my pack. Papa wanted me to,” Denton admitted. “He ordered me to stay, and he wanted me to talk to someone, but I didn’t belong there. I was a stain on the pack. I would have ruined it for everyone. So I left…”

Papa…that made him Delta Crescent. They called their alpha Papa, and having met the man, Julian understood the affection.

“Papa was mad. He sent some Hounds to bring me home, but I’m good. They couldn’t find me.”

Not mad. Worried. Julian peeled apart the layers of the tale.

“Finally, I told that Enforcer I was going to settle. I got me a tiny speck of land, a couple of acres, and I moved into a house. I was away from people. I could just be alone.” No wonder Papa Andre wanted him back. The wolf had been suicidal when he left, and the alpha recognized the signs and wanted to protect his wolf.

“Go on,” Julian encouraged him and Denton sighed. He finished the canteen then looked at it bewildered a moment before screwing the lid back on. When he tossed it back, Julian caught it then tugged a second one free from his pack. It was half full, but he could easily find more on his way out.

When he approached Denton, the other wolf didn’t flee. He still looked up at the mountain. Taking the canteen Julian pressed into his hands, he took another drink.

“Two months after I moved in, they sold all the land around me and started putting in these little houses. Like cardboard cutouts, they were all the same. Sawing and hammering all day long…”

“The noise aggravated you and your wolf.” Not unreasonable.

Denton nodded. “It didn’t stop, every day for months on and on. I had nowhere to go. I used everything I had for what I had. Then…the realtor moved into the house nearest mine. She kept coming over and tried to talk me into selling. She wouldn’t stop.”

Cornering him. Julian sighed internally, but he maintained a quite façade.

“Every day, she was on my stoop, hammering on the door.”

“Why didn’t you call one of the Enforcers?” They would have helped him. They could have relocated him, whether he had the money or not. Looking after Lone Wolves meant more than policing them. It meant protecting them, too.

“I didn’t want any trouble. I didn’t want to go back. I just wanted to be left alone.” The wolf’s shoulders slumped. “She wouldn’t stop, and I made her stop…then I knew I needed to go. I ran.”

And left a trail of bodies behind him. Denton wasn’t evil or malicious. He was damaged. “You can still go back.” His crimes needed punishment, but the wolf needed help. Help he would find in his pack…

“No. I am already dirt. I will not take this further stain to them. If you won’t kill me, I’m just going to climb.” Without another word, he began walking.

Scooping up his backpack, Julian followed him.

“What are you doing?” Denton asked.

“Going with you.” No matter the nature of his actions and his horrible mistakes, the wolf was in tremendous pain.

It took them nearly a full day to climb toward the peak. Twice, he’d had to render aid when Denton lost his balance. Once he’d kept him from falling and the wolf gave him a look of such absolute despair, Julian almost regretted helping him.

At the peak, he finally got Denton to eat more jerky and drink water. Not speaking, they sat side by side as the stars came out. The air temperature dipped, growing chill, and Denton lifted his head, wonder in his expression. “What’s the smell?”

“Snow,” Julian told him, recognizing it.

When the other wolf stood, Julian blew out a breath. Denton turned into the wind, his nostrils flared. “I’ve never seen real snow…” Then he bolted, racing toward the edge and flinging himself off.

Closing his eyes, Julian listened to the wind. He didn’t hear the other wolf land. But he would be able to find his body. From the moment Denton surrendered to him, there had been no chance of saving him. The wolf died in the war; he’d returned a shattered shell. Maybe if he’d stayed with his pack…maybe.

War was hell.

Hell followed a body.

He’d give Denton a proper burial then notify his pack.

Afterward, he’d go in search of Dallas and the sunshine on the beach.