“They’re having a party.”
Saul Bennett, President of the Dire Wolves turned to look at his second in command, Haskin Sims as he spoke.
“A party?” he repeated to the younger shifter, his grandson, in fact.
“Yes. They are celebrating something,” Haskin told him.
“What?”
“I’ve no idea. We’ve lost all of our people we had inside their group.”
“Then we need to get someone back in there and find out what is going on.”
“And the attack?”
“It goes forth. No matter what they think they have to party about, they are still at a disadvantage. In fact, they are at more of a disadvantage while they are all drinking and not minding their hides.”
Haskin nodded and walked out, past where Grant stood quietly listening, along with several others. He hadn’t been with the Dire Wolves long, but had become far more trusted than he had anticipated when he had come here. It had been his intent to join up with the Silver Wolves, but they had rejected him. He understood. He was a stranger and they were forced to close ranks to protect themselves. Instead, he had turned to the Dire Wolves for a place in their club. It hadn’t been easy getting in, but they were larger in number and more willing to take a chance on a stranger. It wasn’t as if he had a lot of options with his past.
“You can all go,” Saul had growled at the half dozen that had remained after Haskin departed.
They had all begun to file out when Saul had called him out, telling him to stay for a moment. It caught Grant off guard, as he wasn’t usually privy to something one on one with the leader of the pack. He waited quietly as the door closed behind the others, still wondering what Saul could possibly want with him.
“How long have you been with us now, Grant?”
“Almost a year now I think.”
“Do you have any ties outside this club? Friends in town, confidantes, folks that recognize you?”
“What? No. I don’t think so. I keep a pretty low profile and stay away from town as much as possible. It’s not in my best interest to be recognized, as you know.”
“Right. Of course. Good. That’s good.”
“Is something wrong?” Grant asked.
Saul stood looking out the window, seeming to think through something for a moment. When he turned, his face was dark, serious. Grant couldn’t help but note how gaunt the older man looked. There had been no rumors about his health, but he could see dark circles beneath his eyes. Perhaps it was just fatigue, but he seemed a bit less than healthy.
“I need an inside man in the Silver Wolves. I need for you to get in there and be my eyes and ears.”
“Me? I don’t think I can. They’ve already turned me away once. I told you that when I came here to you.”
“Yes. Yes, you did. Your candor about how you had come to be with us was part of why we chose to let you in. I want you to go back to the Silver Wolves, find a way to get in with them. You’ll work it out.”
“Of course. Yes,” Grant replied.
Saul waved him away without further discussion. Grant left his chambers and walked down the hall to his room, wondering how he was going to manage getting into the Silver Wolves when he couldn’t before. He was completely lost in thought when one of the second lieutenants stopped by and barked at him.
“Get up and get ready. We’re going in ten minutes.”
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to now,” Grant began to say, but the lieutenant cut him off.
“I don’t know what you are going on about, but I don’t have time for any bullshit. Get your shit together and join ranks.”
Grant knew that he could tell him about the conversation with Saul, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to do that. Instead, he got up and got undressed, preparing himself to shift and join his brothers. A thought occurred to him. Why was Grant telling him to join a pack he intended to attack? If the attack was successful, there would be no need for anyone to be inside the other club. It was obvious that he didn’t think they would be successful in wiping out the other pack, so perhaps he only intended for it to be a warning.
Ten minutes later, he was standing in the middle of the other wolves as they prepared to make their way toward the Silver Wolves clubhouse, prepared to take on an enemy that would never see them coming. He took a deep breath and then they were running through the woods toward battle. His heart raced as he jaunted through brush and bramble, the cool night air exhilarating as it cooled down his rapidly heating coat of fur.
Soon enough, the enemy would come into view and everyone had their orders. This had been carefully organized. Well thought out and planned by all involved. Grant was built for battle. They all were. Still, he had lost his taste for it after what had happened to him before he had come here. His last encounter had taken everything from him - his home, his family, his future. Now, he was just another nameless stray that had fallen into a pack of animals more lethal than he had ever really considered himself.
It wasn’t that he was skittish or had any fear of what was to come. Few would argue that he was one of the most powerful and vicious wolves among them when it came down to it, but it was more by reputation than anything they had actually seen. What they didn’t realize is just how much he had lost his taste for violence. He would do what he was asked to do. That was his job as a member of this pack.
His thoughts drifted away as the clubhouse came into view. This was it. Inside the compound were less than a hundred shifters and they were being surrounded by several times their count. Their biggest defense wasn’t numbers, but security. The protective walls of their clubhouse would be their saving grace, but many would still fall and each attack would take out more of them until there were none. A howl filled the air as everyone came into position and there was a flurry of activity beyond the edge of the woods where they stood as the Silver Wolves guarding the exterior became aware of their presence.
For those wolves, it was already too late.