Destiny looked through the open doorway of the YMCA apartment that he shared with Markus, not sure whether to be just surprised or absolutely astonished at the sight before him. It was only the day after he discovered Markus was pregnant, and he had been expecting to have much more time to feel peaceful and wonderful about the news.

But seeing Cain and Brock standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the hallway outside his apartment was not a peaceful or wonderful thing.

His hackles went up, and he couldn’t help it. Squaring his shoulders, he glared at both men and waited to see what the hell they could possibly want from him.

“We need help,” Brock said. His eyes slid up to look at Destiny right in the face, and they were glassy, empty, and hopeless.

Destiny nearly went reeling from the blank gaze. He felt somehow extremely shitty after locking eyes with Brock, as if he had seen straight through to the wolf’s core and found absolutely nothing. That was not at all how things should have been, not when Brock was one of the most solid and composed people that he had ever known. Brock’s solidity often infuriated him in the past, that he could be so utterly fucking clueless about the reality of things going on around him; the absence of it made him wish to have it back so that he could get mad and pretend everything was normal.

“Please,” Brock added.

Destiny nearly swooned, because Brock never said please in his entire life. The disparity between what he knew and what was happening now was like vertigo, a dizzying sense that something had gone completely and utterly wrong when he wasn’t looking.

“Come inside,” Destiny said.

He was full of misgivings about this. He probably wouldn’t have allowed Brock to come inside if not for the fact that Cain was with him. Cain possessed his own astonishing level of stubbornness, though this had been tempered a great deal after mating with Ralphie and having their child together. Since then, his instincts had grown gentler, and he thought things through with more clarity, almost as if he and his mate were rubbing off on one another so that they acquired some of the other’s traits.

Cain wouldn’t have agreed to come along unless there was a very good reason for this, one that he believed in himself.

So, Destiny would allow them inside.

He stepped back away from the door so that the other alphas could come in.

The pair hesitated, glancing at one another as if trying to decide who would go through first.

Brock lowered his head, gesturing for Cain to take the lead.

Holy shit.

Brock never willingly took second place for anything.

Taking a closer look at the two men as they entered the apartment, Destiny started to see things that he had missed. Brock’s hollowness wasn’t limited to his eyes. It showed in every part of his being. He was thinner than he had been, and his muscles no longer seemed as impressive because of the limp way he held himself, like the only thing holding him together was his skeleton. His shoulders drooped. He slouched. His hair even seemed patchy.

No. It was patchy.

He’s been pulling it out.

Cain looked even worse, though in a different way. He was used to leading the pack and taking charge, what with the fact that he was second-in-command and often gave out orders and guided the members of SC whenever Destiny was absent. However, he hadn’t ever had to do that for longer than a few hours at a time, and now he had been at it for almost a month.

His handsome, strong face had acquired a gaunt look from stress. His eyes were haunted. His movements were twitchy, jumpy, and sudden. He fiddled around with his hands, a decidedly nervous habit that he had never had before. While he hadn’t gone as hollow as Brock, he did have a certain aged look about him. Everything about him, from his eyes, to his skin, to his stature, looked as if it had been put through the wringer and hung up wet. He could have announced that he was having his 50th birthday today, and it would be believable.

The two of them were united in a single, horrifying way. They both reeked of blood, though they were more or less clean right now.

If there was anything Destiny knew, it was that the coppery reek of bloodshed hung around long after it was washed away.

Of the two wolves, only Cain looked around the little apartment. There really wasn’t much of it, since it was smaller even than the room where they had stayed at the Days Inn. The only decorations were what had come with the place when they rented it out: a few mirrors, some furnishings. Nothing else.

Everything else here had been bought out of necessity, including some food in the cupboards, some plastic utensils and dishware, a laundry basket, and a coffee pot. The two of them also had some clothes and a few other personal belongings that Cain had fetched for them.

Markus was sitting in what could be called the living room, idly browsing through a newspaper. Both of them had gotten very big on the news, since it was now their only connection to the outside world, except for what Cain could tell them.

“That today’s paper?” Cain asked.

Markus glanced up over the top of the paper and blinked rapidly. He stood up, approaching a little. “Brock? What are you doing here?”

Cain looked at Destiny before anyone else spoke, pressing his eyebrows together in a silent question.

Cain had been through the whole pregnancy thing with Ralphie. He knew what he was looking at when he saw Markus, knew how to identify the pregnancy by scent alone. Right now, he was asking Destiny what was going on with that.

Reluctance prickled at Destiny’s spine. Momentarily ignoring Markus, he shook his head at Cain. He felt Markus’ annoyance—and his understanding—and saw Cain fight to smooth out his features again.

“No,” Markus said after a moment. “It’s yesterday’s.” He turned back to his brother, as Brock continued to stare at the floor. “Bro? What’s going on?”

Brock didn’t reply. It almost seemed as if he couldn’t, as if he had gone mute with shame in the presence of his younger sibling.

Cain cleared his throat. “There’s something you haven’t heard about. It just happened.” He looked up at the ceiling, at the fan slowly rotating up there, and a sound like a whine rose up in his throat.

“What haven’t we heard?” Destiny commanded. “Cain, Brock. Sit down, both of you. Tell me what’s going on, and how the hell the two of you can be standing in the same room without ripping each other apart.”

But he knew. He didn’t have the specifics. Didn’t need them. It was the message in their scent, that bloody reek uniting them. That was how they could stand to be near one another, how they seemed to almost be supporting each other. He had the sudden, eerie feeling that if he ushered Cain out in the hallway again, Brock would drop down to the carpet and start weeping.

Cain and Brock went over to the couch in the living room. Their combined weight made the cheap piece of furniture creak and groan, sloping heavily downwards in the middle. They might even have damaged it permanently.

Striding over to the armchair where Markus was sitting, still holding onto his newspaper, Destiny leaned one hip against it. He didn’t want to sit down, didn’t feel like he would be able to stay seated after hearing what these two had to say.

Cain glanced over at Brock, who was slouched down so far on the couch that he looked like a lump of meat. Sighing, Cain fiddled restlessly with his hands in his lap. His throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing wildly up and down. He licked his lips, wetting the cracked surfaces.

Can’t rush him. Just gotta let him get it out on his own.

After about a minute of mental preparation, during which Cain started to churn his hands together as if he was trying to wash off a particularly disgusting substance—blood perhaps?—the alpha finally spoke. “There’s been an attack.”

Even though Destiny had known more or less what this was about, he still felt the news strike right through him like a jab from a sharp spear. Reaching out, he wrapped one arm around Markus’ shoulders. “Okay. Who’s dead?”

“Who isn’t dead?” Brock muttered. He started to weep, tears sliding down his hollow cheeks. They were the large, burning tears of a tired child who doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do.

Destiny felt another jab from that spear. “Okay,” he said, almost a sigh. Memories of poor Stacy rose from the back of his mind like the tide coming in. He clenched his fists, struggling not to let his fear show. “Okay. Tell me. All of it. Now, please.” Markus leaned closer to him, and they clutched at each other.

Brock was beyond speaking, so Cain went at it. His hands churned and churned, already rubbed raw and red. Pretty soon he would only be making more of what he was trying to get rid of. “You were right, Destiny. With what you said about that third pack. They must have been spying because it was like they knew that they couldn’t keep playing the subterfuge game. No more pretending to be from one side or the other so that we’d fight each other.”

I don’t think they’re that clever.

He didn’t say this out loud, but he was pretty damn sure that that ragtag group of filthy alpha males wouldn’t have needed to do any spying. They had to have seen it in the newspapers, on TV, or just plain overheard it. The fact that a large number of bikers had been injured in a fight where no one wanted to press charges. That would have been hint enough to them their plan had worked, probably much faster than they expected it to.

God, how little it took to upset the balance of everything.

“They attacked. Hard. All over the west. Yesterday. We don’t know when it started. Police are still trying to sort everything out. Must have come out of the fucking shadows or something. Knuckles is dead. Crow is dead.”

Remembering those two, the alphas who were secretly in love, sent fierce pain through Destiny’s stomach. He couldn’t breathe. They would never have their chance now.

“Warhammer is dead. Salty Sue is dead. Tiny is dead. Bacco Bart is dead. The Shepherd is dead.”

And on and on and on. A list that numbered in the dozens, as many as 30. Cain recited them all in a hollow monotone, a brief pause punctuating the list with each name.

Destiny saw them all in his mind’s eye. Warhammer, that nerdy beta who only rode his motorcycle when he wasn’t playing computer games. Salty Sue, the alpha female with a chip on her shoulder. Tiny, who really was tiny, a little omega girl who rode her father’s cruiser to keep his memory alive. Bacco Bart, who was never anywhere without his disgusting chew; he left brown globs of spit behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs. The Shepherd, who was religious as hell despite being an avid gambler who was known to spend his winnings on prostitutes.

He knew all of them. He had spoken with all of them, argued with them, instructed them, fought at their sides, listened to their grievances. He had done his best by each and every one of them.

Now they were nothing but bodies in a morgue.

The pain didn’t stop there. They had left behind families. Loved ones. Salty Sue’s girlfriend had killed herself. Tiny’s mother would be beyond devastated, having now lost the last thing keeping her connected to her deceased mate. Friends would feel their absences for the rest of their lives, always aware that something was missing.

Then Cain was done. He had simply run out of words. A third of Shadow Claws, obliterated in less than 24 hours.

That was only the beginning.

Brock spoke through his tears. His voice was nasally, clogged with mucus. “Reuben is dead,” he started. That was the only name that Destiny knew, followed by a list of biker monikers so long that he lost count. The leader of Lethal Freedom must have talked for almost five minutes before he quit.

Destiny looked at Markus, who wore a completely stunned expression that hurt his heart. “How bad?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t bad. It was terrible. Horrific. LF already had fewer members than SC did, and they had now lost even more.

Markus struggled for words, just as Cain had. “I…that’s…most of us. Seventy? Eighty? Oh, my God.”

One hundred wolves. Gone.

The city must be fucking terrified. Holy shit.

Then he thought, that pack started at one end and just ripped their way across the city. Every wolf they must have come across.

How many shifters had died who weren’t part of either pack? Would the other group have killed everyone or only those who they were really after?

Destiny didn’t know. If he’d had more time to observe them out by that recycling building he might be able to make an educated guess, but when the reality of it all was like this, he had no fucking clue.

“Police are pretty fucking freaked out.”

“No shit,” Destiny said, harsher than he meant to. He wanted to howl and howl for everyone, to drop down and scream until it didn’t hurt anymore. It felt like everything inside him was being tortured, and he just wanted it to end.

But it was up to him to make it end. He knew that. It wouldn’t just stop. It had to be finished.

“Dusty,” Cain said, “I can’t do this. I tried. I gave it my very best. I made sure that everyone practiced fighting, that they knew where all our safe places were just in case something happened. As far as I can tell, no one who was attacked managed to get very far. It was all for nothing. I can’t do it anymore. I’m not a leader. I’m terrified. And Ralphie is terrified. I need to be with him so I can protect him. The pack needs you.”

Destiny turned on Brock, who had covered his face with his hands like he was trying to hide from the world. “And you?” he demanded. “Brock Tremors, the fucking leader of Lethal Freedom. You are a leader. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you pulling your pack together? Why aren’t you out there? You’re here in my place, licking your wounds. Why?”

Brock dropped his hands down from his face, harrowing his cheeks with his nails as he did so. His expression was twisted, a chaos of pain. “Because!” he shrieked. “I fucking disbanded the pack! There is no more Lethal Freedom!”

No one spoke.

Markus seemed to stop breathing, just staring at his brother with his features similarly twisted with shock and horror. “What?”

“There is no more pack. No more LF motorcycle club. We’re done. We’re finished. I failed. I fucked up. I was wrong. I’m the one who caused the fight between us. I’m the reason all this happened. If we had joined together, if we had fought together, none of this would have happened. It’s all my goddamn fault. I shouldn’t be in charge of anyone.”

“But your wolves need you!”

“What wolves?” Brock said hollowly. “They’re all dead. Even if they’re alive, they’re dead. I did that.”

Destiny closed his eyes. He didn’t have any idea what to do or what to feel. There was just too much going on around him. Too much pain. Too much death. He couldn’t handle it. It was going to crush him. Here he had just been thinking about a peaceful future with himself and Markus and their baby, and now everything had been turned upside down.

A small hand on his arm brought him out of his stupor. He turned his head and found himself staring right into Markus’ sweet brown eyes. Markus’ gaze was filled with his own pain, grief, and fear.

“Dusty,” Markus said. His voice shook. “Dusty. If Brock abandoned his wolves, if Cain can’t do it, it’s up to you. You know that, don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question.

Destiny trembled, feeling the enormous weight push down on him again. “Markus,” he whispered. “What if I can’t, either?”

Markus shook his head. He was being the same stubborn omega he always was, yet there was a different reason for it this time other than just a need to be ornery and get his way. It was like he had made a resolution to see this all the way through instead of giving up on it like he had so many other things in the past. He reached out, grabbed onto Destiny’s hands and held them tight between his. “You can. I’m with you. We’re going to see this through together. When it’s all over, then we can focus on having our family.”

When it was over, they were supposed to discuss being together. Now when it was over, they were going to focus on having a family. It suddenly seemed to Destiny that it would never be over. Maybe there would keep being issues on top of issues and it would never stop. He could feel the years stretching out ahead of him, so long and so short, and…

Slow down.

The voice wasn’t his own. It belonged to Markus, a soothing echo inside his head.

Destiny slowed down. He squared his shoulders, stood up straight, and prepared to face the hardest challenge that had ever come his way. “Let’s do this shit. We’re going to get these fuckers. I have a plan.”

He also had a plan for what would come in the aftermath of all this, but that would come later. One step at a time.