Finn whimpered when Dante fell out of sight. Mercy be with you.

Do my best, Dante growled.

They should’ve seen this coming. Finn should’ve asked how Dante had found him, how everything about their mating had seemed too easy. It had been five whole years. Dante had gone to jail, had murdered people. Nothing would ever be easy for them again.

Outside, a wolf snarled. Finn’s heart stumbled.

Old Bill closed the window, then flicked a set of gauzy curtains across it. “There,” Bill wheezed. “Now ya can look.”

Bill glanced pointedly at Finn’s belly. Finn grimaced, cradling his pups. Needed to keep them safe.

He hobbled over to the window, peering over the kitchen sink into the garden.

Dante had backed himself up against the house, on the concrete walkway surrounding the garden. The garden soil was soft, unstable—terrible to gain leverage with.

The three wolves fanned out around Dante, two larger than him, one smaller. They were all black-furred, their fangs sharp, glistening. Dante was outnumbered.

Finn’s heart pounded with dread. His own wolf howled. He needed to get out there, defend Dante’s blind spots.

“There’s too many of them,” Finn whispered.

Keep omega safe, Dante answered.

Then two wolves pounced, jaws snapping. Dante whirled on his feet, dodging one. He sank his fangs into the second wolf; the third sprang at him, biting into his unprotected hind leg.

Pain filtered through their mental connection; Finn gasped. Dante snarled, releasing the second wolf. The first lunged at him, fangs sinking into Dante’s throat.

Dante snarled, twisting out of its jaws. He sank his teeth into the largest wolf’s throat, biting in deep. The wolf jerked away and snapped at him; his accomplices leaped at Dante, attaching themselves to Dante’s flank, claws ripping into him.

Fury seeped into Finn’s mind, along with pain. These were Dante’s feelings, reduced to the ferocity of a snapping wolf.

“He needs help,” Finn gasped, clutching at the counter. Neither he nor Bill was fit to join in—not Finn, with his bad leg, or Bill, with how frail he was.

Scarlet bloomed through Dante’s fur—blood. It smeared on the fangs of one wolf, and there was blood on Dante’s teeth, his ear, his back.

Finn swayed. Dante couldn’t last like this, not by himself. “I need to get out there,” he said, his wolf bristling just under his skin. His teeth ached, pushing further into his mouth.

Bill narrowed his eyes. “You’ll be a liability to him, Finn.”

“But I—”

“I’ll call the pack.”

Finn turned to Old Bill, freezing when Dante snarled in pain. More blood soaked through Dante’s fur.

As hard as Dante fought, there were always two wolves he couldn’t fend off, sinking their teeth into his body. Finn groaned, sick with worry.

If he tried to keep Dante a secret, if he kept the pack away from Dante... he might not even have a mate come midnight.

Bill threw open the window on the other side of the kitchen. Then he stuck his head out, and howled. Pack, Old Bill needs help.

The attacking wolves pricked their ears, wary. Dante lunged at them, and they tore into him again, incensed by the smell of blood. Dante staggered.

Finn whimpered. “I need to get out there. I need to help.”

From somewhere faraway, someone howled back. We’re coming.

Finn trembled, peering out through the window. All he needed to do was get out there. Let himself be a distraction so Dante could take those wolves down.

Fur scattered across the backs of his hands. He pressed his face to the window, his chest rumbling. A wolf bit Dante hard on the hind leg, and Dante yelped. Blood trickled through his fur.

“I can’t stay inside, Bill,” Finn said, his fangs pushing into his mouth. My mate needs help.

“Ya have pups,” Bill said.

Finn cradled his belly, closing his eyes. Pain shot through their connection. His heart pounded, loud as a drum, matching Dante’s pulse. “I can’t—can’t listen to him die.”

Dante yelped again.

Finn’s wolf tore through him. His fur bristled along his skin; his bones ached as they shrunk and lengthened, his tailbones snapping and growing. His vision sharpened; he smelled the coppery tang of blood on the wind.

Then he was wolf, he was animal, and he was needed.

Finn turned on three of his paws, springing for the open kitchen window. His bad leg buckled beneath him.

“Finn,” Bill said, frowning deeply. “Don’t.”

Finn snapped at him. Then he scrambled up a chair with his forelegs, balanced on his good hind leg, and leaped out through the window. Landed on three legs in Bill’s driveway. Pain shot up his sprained paw, but he didn’t care.

He skidded around the house, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. Snarled when he found Dante bleeding, his teeth smeared with blood.

Dante’s eyes flashed when he saw Finn. Go back.

No, Finn thought, springing forward. Not leaving mate.

The black wolves had turned when they heard Finn, their fangs bared. Finn leaped at them. The wolves lunged, and Dante snarled.

Dante bit into one wolf, ripping its hind leg open. The other two wolves bit into Finn’s shoulder, his muzzle, and Finn snapped at them. He bit into someone’s snout, ripping at flesh. He had teeth and claws. He could still fight.

He’d sunken his fangs into a wolf’s throat when sharp teeth punched into his bad leg. Pain shot through his body; he yelped, his leg buckling.

Mate, Dante growled in Finn’s head. Must keep mate safe.

Then teeth sank into Finn’s shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through his body. Finn jerked, whirling around, snapping at the enemy.

But the black wolf released him; Finn glimpsed the beast rounding on Dante instead, clawing into his alpha. Dante clamped his teeth down on the wolf’s snout, bleeding from his face.

Snarls rumbled in the forest. Paws thudded. Then a chorus of voices grew in Finn’s mind.

Save pack, save pack.

Four gray wolves burst into the garden, heading straight for them. Through his pain, Finn recognized Gabe’s white snout. Kendrick’s white paws, Humphrey’s black tail. Rhett’s brown ears.

Dante snarled. Finn squirmed away from his attacker just as Dante shook himself free. Then Finn flattened himself against Dante, pushing his head under Dante’s snout. Mine. Don’t attack him.

Dante turned, snapping at the black wolf that leaped at them again.

The pack split up around them, two on either side of Finn and Dante. Claws slashed; teeth glinted. A wolf whimpered, and then the coppery scent of blood burst through the air. Someone’s flesh had torn open.

The scent flooded through Finn’s nose, made him growl. Prey.

Dante joined Gabe, tearing into one black wolf. Finn followed him, biting, clawing, until there was a mess of blood on his muzzle.

Rhett snarled at the black wolves, his teeth coated with scarlet. Fall back, Rhett said. Don’t kill.

Finn released the wolf, nudging Dante away from it. Dante wasn’t pack—he couldn’t hear Rhett’s command. Leave him, Finn told Dante. Fall back.

Dante looked at Finn dubiously, before he, too, backed away.

The black wolves whined, blood dripping from their fur. They looked miserable now, but all Finn could think was Leave mate alone.

Then Rhett snarled, baring his teeth.

The black wolves fled with their tails between their legs, limping, blood dripping across the garden as they disappeared into the forest.

The pack whirled around to face Finn and Dante.

Dante bared his teeth, standing his ground. Finn pressed himself back against Dante, putting his own body between Rhett and Gabe, and his alpha. My mate. Leave alone.

Now that he was surrounded by pack, Finn began to relax. His wounds throbbed. But his own hurts weren’t everything—Dante carried long slashes down his sides, and bite marks on his legs, his paws, his snout.

There weren’t bad injuries, but Dante was hurting all the same. Finn whined, licking Dante’s wounds clean.

Am fine, Dante said. Protect pups.

That made Finn growl low. Protect pups, he whispered through the connection to his alpha, so the others couldn’t hear.

The wolves around them shifted—Rhett and Kendrick, Gabe and Humphrey.

With spiked blond hair and sharp mahogany eyes, Rhett was Arnold’s firstborn alpha, the successor of the Topanga pack. When Arnold wasn’t around, the pack took orders from Rhett.

“I heard Old Bill’s call,” Rhett said, glancing around sharply. “Where’s Bill?”

“Here,” Bill said, opening the front door. He peered out, taking stock of all of them. “Sorry. These youngins needed help. Finny-boy wasn’t gonna call.”

“Hey, runt,” Kendrick crouched by Finn, rubbing his ears. “Wasn’t expecting trouble from you.”

Kendrick was litter-mates with Finn and Gabe. Where Gabe was brash, Kendrick was more easy-going. And even though Gabe and Kendrick were both in their forties, they were unbonded.

“I was wondering when the trouble would start,” Gabe muttered.

“What do you mean?” Kendrick asked.

Gabe shrugged.

Finn licked at Kendrick’s fingers, sighing. He couldn’t defend Dante as a wolf, not against his pack. So he pulled on his human form, felt the torn flesh of his wounds tugging painfully. Then he was in his human form again. Finn gritted his teeth, resting his weight on his good leg.

The pack alphas sucked in a sharp breath.

Beneath the scratches and cuts on Finn’s arms, some of his concealer had rubbed off, revealing the blue pregnancy lines on his skin. Finn tensed. They know my alpha’s not pack.

“Finn?” Kendrick asked uncertainly. “This is new. You never told me. You have an alpha?”

Rhett’s eyes narrowed. He looked for a long moment at Finn, then the wolf behind him. Jerked his chin at Dante. “Who’s he?”

“My mate,” Finn said.

Dante shifted in a shimmer of silver. Finn watched him in dismay—he wasn’t prepared for this. Not for the pack to attack Dante, not for Dante to be hurt even more.

When the light faded, Finn glimpsed the long, bloody gashes on Dante’s arms, the blood soaking through Dante’s shirt. But Dante wasn’t looking at his own wounds. He had his teeth bared, straightening so he could stand by Finn.

The pack alphas snarled.

“Murderer,” Kendrick growled, his eyes locking on Dante. “You took Finn away from us.”

Dante froze. Finn hobbled in front of his alpha, putting himself between Dante and his pack. “He’s my mate. Don’t hurt him.”

He’d expected the hostility. But it still hurt when Rhett, Kendrick and Humphrey stepped closer, their teeth bared.

“You fucked a murderer?” Humphrey said, his lips curling with distaste. “Plenty of better alphas around.”

“You are trespassing,” Rhett said to Dante, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Finn, you know that’s against pack rules. You don’t harbor an outsider on our land.”

Finn’s stomach dropped.

I’ll leave, Dante said in his mind.

No! Finn looked at his alpha, his breath hitching. If you leave, I’m coming with you.

“Seriously, Finn?” Kendrick stared at him, his forehead furrowed. “You remember what happened five years ago. I can’t... can’t believe you’re carrying his pups.”

“That bastard’s a murderer,” Humphrey spat. “A liability. I can’t believe we defended Weregrit scum.”

Rhett pressed his lips together. Then he glanced at Finn’s belly, and Finn’s heart stopped. He slid his hand over his abdomen, protecting his children.

But against four alphas, Finn and Dante didn’t stand a chance.

Old Bill shuffled over, coming to stand by Finn. “I second Finny,” he wheezed. “Don’t hurt Dante. He’s welcome on my property.”

Kendrick looked at Bill, incredulous.

Humphrey scowled. “He’ll murder you, old man.”

“Humphrey,” Rhett said. “Silence.”

Humphrey glared, his eyes bulging. Finn spread his arms in front of Dante, and Old Bill clasped his hand.

Felt like it was him and Old Bill, protecting Dante from the world.

“No more bloodshed in my garden, please,” Bill said.

“You know the rules, Bill,” Rhett said. “No trespassers on our land.”

Bill lifted his chin, his rheumy eyes fixed on Rhett. “I know a good wolf when I see one, Rhett, boy. And you can tell your Pa I said that.”

Rhett narrowed his eyes, staring at Finn. Finn tried not to quail.

“You agreed to be his mate, Finn?” Rhett jerked his chin at Dante. “He didn’t... force you?”

Finn stiffened, horrified. “Gods, no! Dante has been my alpha for years. Since... since before.”

“He’s young,” Kendrick said, eyeing Finn. “I saw your injuries when you returned, Finn. I can’t believe you’d...”

Kendrick paused, like mate with him was too terrible to say. Finn’s cheeks burned.

“We’ll hold a vote tonight,” Rhett finally said. “We’ll have the pack decide if you’re allowed to stay.”

Dante’s doubt weighed heavily in Finn’s chest.

“I’m not sure you should,” Finn said. Having more of the pack find out about them? Having the pack know he was carrying Dante’s pups? It was a huge risk. “We’ll leave right now.”

“You’ve seen the news,” Humphrey said, his beady eyes glinting. “That bastard’s been convicted. Let him stay here, and you’ll find yourself murdered in bed. Worse, he’ll tie you down and—”

Dante snarled. “I’m not that kind of person.”

“That’s what they always say,” Humphrey snapped.

Rhett growled, straightening to his full height. “Enough, Humphrey. Your presence here is no longer required.”

Humphrey scowled. “You’re just using me, Rhett. Discard your pack as you need.”

“I don’t need you sowing discord,” Rhett said.

“Really? Educating the public is sowing discord?” Humphrey jabbed a finger at Dante. “Take him in, and we’ll wake up one morning, half the pack dead. You’re gonna tell my Ma you let a killer join the pack.”

This time, even Gabe and Kendrick growled.

“We’ll let the whole pack decide,” Rhett said, his eyes narrowed. “We’ll meet tonight at the marketplace. Until then, save your opinions.”

“You’ll regret this,” Humphrey said, shooting a dirty look at them. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Rhett.”

They watched him disappear into the forest. Finn’s pulse thudded in his ears. “Sorry,” he said. “Dante and I will leave today. You won’t receive any more trouble from us.”

Rhett shook his head. “You’re still pack, Finn. It won’t be any safer for you out there.”

And he was right. Today had proven that he and Dante weren’t enough to fend off anyone.

“Then I’ll leave,” Dante said. “It’s just gonna give you trouble if I stay.”

Finn whirled around, his heart sinking. “But—”

“Don’t be silly, boy.” Old Bill prodded Dante in the chest. “Finny needs ya. Doncha forget that.”

Dante hesitated, his eyes darting toward Finn. Finn swallowed.

“Ya promised to be his alpha, dincha?” Bill continued. “Ya imprinted. Ain’t anyone out there left for Finny-boy but ya.”

Dante looked down at Finn, his eyes despairing. Sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you into all this trouble.

Kendrick sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re imprinted?”

Gabe narrowed his eyes even further. “It’s not acknowledged by the pack. You can still lose the pups.”

He was right, too. Finn whimpered, leaning into Dante. “We should leave.”

“At least stay for the vote,” Rhett said decisively. “You’re still part of the pack, Finn.”

Everyone looked at Finn. Finn squirmed, his skin too tight. He had been selfish. He’d gotten involved with Dante, and now he carried Dante’s pups. The black wolves today could return, and when they did... who else would get injured? How much of the pack would be caught in the crossfire? Worse, how many would be killed?

Dante couldn’t remain in the canyon. He would catch the pack’s wrath every time something went south. Finn couldn’t ask that of him. And if Finn left with Dante... Dante would have an omega and pups to care for. Finn’s leg was a liability.

Dante met Finn’s eyes, his gaze solemn. I’ll go wherever you want me to.

“You shouldn’t base your decisions on what I want,” Finn murmured.

Dante slipped his fingers into Finn’s hand, squeezing him. The coppery tang of blood bloomed through the air; Finn looked down, saw it dripping from the open cuts along Dante’s fingers.

This was just the start of their troubles.

“Get yourselves cleaned up,” Rhett said. “I can vouch for your safety until the end of tomorrow.”

Finn hesitated. If there was time to leave, he wanted to say goodbye to everyone first.

“There’ll be a call for the pack to vouch for you,” Rhett said, looking at all of them. “If anyone wants to bear the responsibility of Dante presence, come forward then.”

“I’ll be there,” Old Bill said. “First in line.”

Finn managed a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Bill.”

“Don’t forget to take some artichokes back with ya,” Bill said. “Get some growin’ in ya garden. Dante here helped till this entire patch, ya know. We were just sittin’ down to lunch when those thugs came along.”

Bill nodded at the soil they were standing on. Rhett, Gabe and Kendrick looked at the garden, then back at Dante.

Dante rolled his shoulders. “All I’m here for is Finn,” he rasped. “Thought I killed him years back. Didn’t know he was still alive.”

“Oh, hush,” Finn said, pushing himself up on tiptoes. He pressed a kiss to Dante’s lips. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“As far as I remember, it was his fault.” Kendrick eyed Dante, suspicious. “He... murdered you. At least, we thought he did. I still remember that day—Mom sobbed for a whole week. Guess what she’ll say when she sees this guy again.”

Finn sighed. He didn’t want to see the terror on Mom’s face, or hear the snide comments from his aunts. “I slipped off the jetty. It was my fault.”

“You never said it was your fault.” Gabe frowned. “All I remember is this guy coming into town, saying you died.”

“I did tell you. No one believed me.”

“‘Cuz we all spent six months thinkin’ you were dead, Finny-boy.” Bill shook his head. “That’s a lot of time for beliefs to set in.”

“And it’s a lot of damage to undo.” Finn sagged. “Give us until tomorrow. We’ll be out of your fur.”

Kendrick stepped forward then, pulling Finn into a hug. Finn yelped.

“Take care of yourself, runt,” Kendrick said in Finn’s ear. “We try, but we can’t be there every hour to fish you out of trouble.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dante said.

When Kendrick pulled away from Finn, he gave Dante a hard, wary look. “I don’t know if I trust you,” Kendrick said. “It’s difficult for me to.”

Gabe nodded at Kendrick. “What Ken said.”

Dante shrugged. “I’m not trying to change your opinions of me.”

“Fair enough.” Kendrick stepped back between Gabe and Rhett. “See you later, Finn?”

“See you,” Finn said.

He watched as his brothers left with Rhett, smears of mud and blood on their clothes.

“I’m glad they answered the call,” Old Bill said.

“Same here.” Finn shivered, turning to Dante. “Gods, Dante. We need to get you cleaned up.”

“I’m fine,” Dante said. “Shallow wounds.”

“You’ll still need stitches.” Finn touched his arm gingerly, afraid of hurting Dante more. Blood streaked Dante’s sides; he had blood dripping along his jaw, down his shirt.

Right now, they could still be run out of the canyon. The pack could take Finn away, kill his pups.

Dante growled, pulling Finn against himself. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he muttered, pressing his lips to Finn’s forehead. “We’ll go home and start packing.”

Bill scrunched his face. “Ya can’t be leavin’. They’re darn idiots if they can’t see ya should stay.”

Finn had no wish to leave Old Bill behind. Bill was pack, and so were Gabe and Kendrick.

It was one thing to say Leave the pack, but another to remember all the pack had done for him. Old Bill had visited Finn when he’d fallen ill. Gabe always helped to clear Finn’s yard after the storms, and Kendrick was who Finn turned to for nuggets of information.

Finn’s mom had nursed him back to health after the accident, and during that time, the pack had visited, bringing nourishing food, cards and flowers and fruit.

To leave Topanga meant leaving part of himself, and Finn wasn’t sure he could deal with that. “Thanks for all your help, Old Bill.”

“Anytime.” Bill winked. “With old age comes wisdom... and a great deal o’ farts.”

Finn cracked a smile. Even Dante chuckled.

“We should be going,” Dante said. “I want to get Finn all cleaned up. Damn lot of things to do.”

“Right, then. I’ll pack up some lunch to take with ya,” Bill said, turning back toward the house. “Doncha get up ta no good out here.”

Dante laughed. The sound flowed into Finn’s ears, filling his chest.

It was rare, hearing his alpha laugh. Dante had been back for just over a week, but even now, Finn hadn’t had enough of him, hadn’t breathed enough of his scent, tasted enough of his skin.

Gods, Finn thought, I’ve missed your laugh.

You have me now, Dante answered, wrapping his arms around Finn. If you want to risk being with me.

In Dante’s arms, with Dante’s warmth pressing into him, Finn felt safe again.

He sighed, closing his eyes. Today had proven that they weren’t better off alone—two wolves were nothing against a pack. But they’d make do if they had to. Maybe they’d move into the big city, maybe they’d disguise their scents somehow. Maybe they’d become nomads, and home-school their pups. But if they didn’t have to leave...

“If you somehow became part of the pack... that would be incredible,” Finn whispered against Dante’s shoulder. “So you don’t just have me to depend on. So you have other wolves at your back.”

Dante’s sigh rustled through Finn’s hair. “Guess we’ll see.”

But Finn felt the glimmer of hope in Dante’s chest. They were wolves; they craved to be pack, to be part of a whole.

He pressed his palm over Dante’s chest, feeling every beat of Dante’s heart.

Mine, Finn thought, wishing for the carefree days they’d once had in the past.

Yours, Dante answered.

There wasn’t an answer Finn needed more in the world.