The murmur of the crowd seeped through the gap in the truck window, sending a wave of dread down Finn’s spine.

They weren’t even at the marketplace yet. But as they drove down the bumpy, muddy road, Finn heard the blending of voices, the hushed whispers as the pack gathered at the empty marketplace.

All afternoon, Rhett had howled a message every hour: Pack meeting at 7. Gather at the marketplace.

Finn had tried his best to plug his ears. He could already feel the weight of the pack’s judgment, the whispering, the disgust in their eyes.

He’d left his concealer off; there wasn’t any point hiding his pregnancy at this point. But the blue lines on his arms made his stomach twist, made bile rise up his throat. The pack knows.

Dante squeezed Finn’s hand, glancing over worriedly as he drove.

“Maybe we should just leave,” Finn said, leaning back into the headrest. “I can’t... can’t face all of them.”

“I’ll be there.” Dante grimaced. Finn had told him to quit apologizing, but it was clear by his expression that he still thought it was his fault. “We’ll be fine,” Dante said uncertainly. “If anything happens, we’ll leave.”

They’d made plans for everything. Running on foot, escaping by vehicle. Hiding away in Old Bill’s place, or heading down to the Pacific Coast Highway, and hitchhiking from there. Maybe even following the river out of the canyon, paddling as fast as they could.

“I still think something will go wrong,” Finn murmured. “Like it’ll catch us off-guard, and that’ll be that.”

We could die tonight, a voice in his chest said.

Closer to the marketplace, Dante pulled over on the side of the road, cutting the engine. Then he leaned over and slipped his fingers against Finn’s nape, pulling him into a kiss.

His lips were soft and familiar against Finn’s, his breath warm on Finn’s skin. Finn leaned into him with a sigh, his pulse erratic.

“I can’t relax,” he said.

He felt Dante’s unease too, the wariness in his limbs. But unlike Finn, Dante didn’t know the rest of the pack. He didn’t have to face Finn’s mother, see her disappointment. Or answer to Finn’s neighbors, or his students, or the parents of his students.

Finn was a teacher. By taking Dante as his lover... he’d breached his students’ trust. Even if he were allowed to stay, he’d probably lose half his students by the end of next week.

“We’ll leave tonight,” Dante whispered, nipping on Finn’s lip. “Rent an apartment elsewhere. I don’t want you to feel this way again.”

Finn trembled, sliding his palm over his belly. The pregnancy had been wearing on his body. In the last few hours, he’d lost his energy; lifting his limbs felt like dragging leaden weights. The scar tissue on his leg ached.

He wanted to curl up in bed, pull the covers over himself. But now was not the time.

“C’mon,” Dante murmured. “We need to show our faces.”

Finn’s stomach flipped.

Dante stepped out of the truck, jogging around the hood to open the door for Finn. Then he undid Finn’s seat belt, took his walking cane, and scooped Finn into his arms.

Outside, the fresh air of the forest swept around them. Finn picked out the medley of scents on the breeze—the damp earth, the herbal scents of omegas, the woodsy scents of alphas.

Dante kissed him again, pressing Finn against the seat, his chest solid against Finn’s body. He stroked down Finn’s side, his scent lingering on Finn like a reassurance.

“Ready?” Dante whispered.

“I’ll never be ready,” Finn mumbled, tucking his head under Dante’s chin. Then he sucked in a deep breath, pulling himself together. He was going to be a dad. He would have to set a good example for his pups. “We should get this over with.”

Dante pressed his lips to Finn’s forehead. “I love you.”

Finn managed a wobbly smile. “Love you too.”

Then they shut the truck door, Finn leaning on Dante for support. His ankle throbbed, aching from the fight.

“I’ll carry you there,” Dante said.

“No, I’ll walk.”

Finn had seen his pack sneer at the Weregrits. Years back, when Dante had first come to live with him, the pack had given Dante the side-eye, then ignored him. Dante had been young, and temporary.

For the last five years, all the pack knew was that Dante had killed Finn, and then gone on to murder others.

They trudged along the uneven path to the marketplace, Finn tensing when the nearest wolves turned to look at them.

There were seventy wolves in the pack, fifty-two old enough to vote. The pack wolves were crowded in the muddy clearing in rubber boots, huddling with each other in the chilly March air.

Finn glimpsed Daisy and her alpha in the crowd—she’d probably left Little Thom back home, so he didn’t have to witness this atrocity. Then he saw his mom, and his aunts.

Mom wore a frown, and a cotton smock with an overcoat. As their gazes met, sheer dismay flooded her eyes. Finn’s pregnancy lines itched.

She picked her way across the uneven ground. “Finn?” Mom whispered, glancing at Dante. Then she looked away, as though it pained her to look at him. “It’s true? You mated with the murderer?”

She caught Finn’s elbow in a death-grip, shielding her face from the rest of the crowd. Mom was embarrassed by this, couldn’t show her face to the rest of the pack.

Finn didn’t have her support, then—he’d expected that. Still hurt when your own kin didn’t have your back.

“Yes,” he said, gripping Dante’s hand. “It’s true.”

Her face fell in slow-motion. She looked down at the blue lines on his arms, dragging her nail over a line, trying to scratch it off.

The blue line stayed.

“I’m carrying pups, Mom,” Finn said.

Her nostrils flared. She could smell the bonding, too, dill and cherry-wood mingled as a mated pair’s were. Her shoulders sagged. “I thought I raised you right, Finn.”

“You did,” he said, his throat tight. How did you explain that you had failed to meet someone’s expectations? How did you solve things when it felt like your whole life was a mistake?

Dante growled next to him. Stop thinking that. You’re perfect.

Mom looked warily at Dante, her lip curling. “He’s all over the papers, Finn. You know what he’s going to do to you.”

Then she straightened her shoulders, stepping in front of Dante like a mother wolf defending her pups. “Away!” Mom snapped, her eyes flashing. “You murderer! You took my son away from me!”

Dante flinched, and Mom seemed to find strength in that, prodding Dante’s chest with her finger.

“I lost my son because of you,” Mom said, her voice rising. “I spent years thinking my Finn was dead. You don’t know what it’s like, setting a tombstone for your child. All you’ve done is put people in those graves!”

Dante’s throat worked. He faltered then, and Finn read the uncertainty in his eyes. He squeezed Dante’s hand. I’m still here.

“I returned six months after the accident,” Finn said loudly. “It wasn’t years, Mom. I slipped and fell.”

“You remembered wrong,” Mom said. Her eyes were sharp as glass, and Finn felt the weight of her remembered grief. “He’s going to trick you, and he’s going to kill you in your sleep.”

The pack surged forward, made brave by Mom’s fury.

“I’m staying with him,” Finn said. “Murderer or not, he’s my alpha.”

Mom paused, looking incredulously at him. “Did you hit your head? Are you not afraid of death, Finn?”

Finn stared at her angry eyes, her white hair falling loose from her bun. How did you convince a person they remembered wrong? How did you begin to explain that your love had carved a path like a river through your heart, and it would only flow deeper from now on?

“He was my student,” Finn blurted. “I taught him. I know him better than you do.”

Mom’s gaze sharpened. “Your student?”

Finn gulped. That had slipped out in the heat of the moment. The pack murmured, and Finn’s cheeks burned. He hadn’t foreseen this when he’d taken his student’s cock up his ass. Hadn’t thought this would come to light when he’d knelt, and begged for Dante.

Mom shook her head, her gaze disbelieving. “You’re setting a terrible example, Finn. You’re a teacher.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Finn breathed out, thinking about turning away, leaving his pack forever. He couldn’t deal with their stares, couldn’t deal with the judgment his pups would receive.

“I can’t believe you’re my son,” Mom said, her face falling. “I thought... I thought I raised you well.”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Dante growled. “You don’t know anything about him.”

Mom’s eyes flashed. She whirled around, swinging her walking stick at Dante, almost taking out his eye. Dante snarled, knocking the stick away.

“How dare you corrupt him?” Mom snapped. “How dare you put your seed in his body?”

“He’s old enough to make his own decisions,” Dante said, baring his teeth.

“I can’t believe the nerve of you.” Mom shook her stick at Dante. “Showing up back here, tainting my son with your paws. You’re the devil’s spawn. You’ll kill all of us!”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Dante glared. You aren’t tainted, he told Finn.

But Finn felt the pack’s judgment—he felt the moment they made their decision, stepping forward as a whole.

“Murderer,” someone in the crowd yelled. A balled-up piece of newspaper sailed through the air, hitting Dante in the chest. More balled up newspapers and trash flew through the air, bouncing off Dante’s shoulders, his head.

Finn gritted his teeth, stepping in front of his alpha. Dante didn’t deserve that.

I do, Dante said. I took you away from them.

On the ground, people had trampled on sheets of newspaper—Dante’s picture faced up, a footprint stamped across his face.

His stomach turning, Finn looked away.

“It’s not too late, Finn,” Mom said, grabbing Finn’s elbow. “We’ll get you sorted out. Follow me.”

He tried to tug his arm away, but he didn’t have the strength to. The pack surged forward, swallowing Finn’s mom. Then they crowded around Finn, too, and fists rained down to beat upon Dante’s shoulders, his back.

“Go away,” someone yelled. “Get out of here!”

“Don’t do that,” Finn cried, batting their fists off. “Don’t hurt him!”

The crowd snarled, angry faces and gleaming eyes, the surge of bodies pushing up against Finn. He could almost hear their chanting: Defend pack, defend pack.

We should leave, Dante said in Finn’s head, a voice that Finn clung to. C’mon.

Then a fist came flying out of nowhere, headed straight for Dante’s face. Finn released Dante’s hand, trying to fend the attack off.

Mom tugged hard on Finn’s elbow, yanking him through the crowd. Finn stumbled. Pain lanced up through his ankle; his scar tissue throbbed. Dante!

The pack crowded Dante from Finn’s view. They rained fists down on Finn’s alpha, Dante alone amongst them, trying his best not to fight back. Finn? Where are you?

Here, Finn said, stumbling again. Hands caught him, lifting him up, but he could no longer see Dante, just the press of bodies in dark-colored coats.

I need to shift, Dante said.

No! Don’t. You can’t hurt them, Finn answered, panic slipping through his veins. You can’t control your wolf.

Where was Dante? All he could see was the white hair of Mom’s head, and the blurred faces of his pack. His walking cane caught on muddy boots. His leg ached something fierce, and all Finn knew was his alpha was no longer with him.

They broke out through the other side of the crowd. Mom paused, whirling on him. She looked over him warily. “How far along are you?” she asked.

“A week,” Finn said, leaning on his walking cane, rubbing his belly with his free hand.

“Right. Drink this.” Mom fished out a vial from somewhere, uncorking it. A deep purple liquid oozed inside. Then she pushed its opening past Finn’s lips, and poured. Liquid spread behind his lip, against his teeth. “It’ll take the pups out of you.”

Horror stabbed through Finn’s gut, then fear. He knocked the vial out of Mom’s hand, watching as it thudded against the wet ground. Then he spat.

The vile taste had spread across his tongue—the terrible bitterness of gall bladder, the sear of peppers, and a hint of pungent wolfsbane. Finn groaned, his stomach heaving.

“Finn!” Mom stared at him, aghast. “You don’t know how much I paid for that!”

My pups. I’ll lose my pups.

His ears rang. His head spun. Finn trembled, unable to move.

He pressed his hand to his belly, expecting a contraction, or pain. Maybe he’d miscarry right there in the marketplace.

Then, Finn felt a sharp spike of rage in his mind, Dante’s horror and fear balling up into a snarling beast.

Across the crowd, Dante roared. The crowd snarled, fighting back.

Finn yanked himself away from his mother, hobbling as fast as he could. His hand shook against his walking cane. We need to leave, Dante. Can’t stay here.

He’d almost lost his pups. Dante’s pups.

Finn searched the crowd for his alpha, his hands shaking. Nausea swam in his gut. He shouldn’t have come to the meeting at all.

Silence, a deep snarl rang through the crowd, commanding, cutting through all their minds. “Silence,” Arnold snapped aloud, his presence sweeping through the marketplace. “I called you here to cast a vote, not fight amongst yourselves.”

The crowd quieted. Finn watched as Dante barreled out of the crowd, his canines sharp, his eyes flashing, fur spread across half his skin.

Finn whimpered. Alpha.

He stumbled toward Dante, and Dante caught him in his arms, pulling Finn tight against his chest.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Dante said, dragging his fingers through Finn’s hair. The fuck did she give you?

Finn spat again, scrubbing his tongue on his sleeve. Poison. To purge the pups.

Dante tensed, horror and rage sweeping through him. “The fuck?”

Finn groaned, spitting. He needed to get the potion out of his mouth. “Water?”

“Fuck, I don’t have any.” Dante looked around, frantic.

“It’s come to my attention that we have a trespasser in our midst,” Arnold said over the crowd, his voice booming. The crowd snarled.

Someone stopped beside Finn, grabbing his arm—Old Bill. Bill shoved a mud-coated bottle at him.

“Sorry,” Bill wheezed. His cheeks were flushed with exertion. “Got here fast as I could. That’s water.”

“Thanks, Bill.” Relief rolled through Finn. He took the bottle, his hands shaking as he tried to uncap it. Dante helped him.

Finn rinsed his mouth out, getting water all over himself. The water was cool on his tongue, sweet, wetting his clothes, but all Finn cared about was removing the traces of wolfsbane from his mouth.

“You knew?” Dante asked Bill, narrowing his eyes.

“I heard.” Bill made a face. “Took a while for me ta get here. Ran on all fours, but my damn teeth can’t hold a bottle in place.”

Finn focused on the sweet taste of water, gurgling. The potion made his eyes water. If he’d swallowed the potion, if he’d kept it longer in his mouth... How much damage had the potion done, just by touching his skin?

“He’s a murderer,” someone in the crowd yelled. Others followed. “Murderer, murderer.”

“We’ll leave,” Dante said, looking at Arnold. “No need to vote.”

“But Finny is pack,” Old Bill cried. He shook his walking stick at Arnold, glowering. “Remember how the pack accepted ya, Arnold, boy. Doncha forget that.”

Arnold stood on a fallen tree trunk, looking over the crowd. Finn didn’t remember when Arnold became pack leader. Arnold was sixty, but it felt as though he’d been leader forever, even before his father had died. With deep scars sweeping across his face, he cut a foreboding figure against the shadowy forest.

Arnold stared at Old Bill for a long moment. Then he nodded at the crowd. “Finn has taken Dante of the Weregrits as his mate,” Arnold said. “We have come together today to decide what should be done.”

The crowd muttered. Finn shook his head, his stomach twisting. After the potion, after he’d almost lost his pups... He was no longer certain about staying.

More wolves entered the marketplace—Gabe and Kendrick held torches up, flames lighting the crowd as the sun sank past the horizon. From another side, Rhett and his brothers joined them, each bearing another torch.

Rhett came to stand beside his father.

“Years back, this wolf took Finn away from us.” Arnold nodded toward Dante. “Now, he has been released from prison and in our midst.

“Rhett has spoken on behalf of Finn,” Arnold continued. “On that basis, we shall have a vote. If five pack wolves are willing to bear the burden of Dante’s future misdeeds, then he shall be allowed to stay two months.”

“What if he kills us all?” an omega shouted.

“I won’t kill anyone,” Dante snapped. It didn’t help that he was still half-shifted, on the verge of losing control to his wolf.

“Banish him,” Finn’s mom said.

Finn looked over and saw the betrayal on her face, the disbelief and disgust. He glanced away, his throat tight.

The potion was gone from his mouth. All they needed to do was leave.

“If he kills anyone in this period, then I shall put an end to him myself,” Arnold declared.

Finn looked at the muddy ground, curling his fingers into Dante’s. It would be easier to leave. No one wanted them around, anyway.

“I’ll bear the burden,” Old Bill said, stepping forward. He raised his cane, nodding at Dante. “That young wolf tilled my garden. We shared a meal. He cares for Finn.”

Finn’s lower lip wobbled. Dante bowed his head, and Finn felt the wave of gratitude coming from his alpha.

“I’ll share the burden,” Gabe said. When Finn looked up, Gabe gave him a half-smile. “I’ve seen him step up to protect my brother. Finn needs an alpha.”

“Not that alpha,” Humphrey said from somewhere in the crowd. “There’s better.”

“Exactly that alpha,” Gabe retorted.

“I’ll share the burden, too,” Kendrick said. Gabe glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. So Kendrick said, “I visited with Bill this afternoon. Bill convinced me that Dante should have a chance to prove himself. If someone gets hurt, I’ll compensate for it.”

“All of you,” Finn’s mom snapped, her forehead deeply creased. “I can’t believe this.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Gabe said, shrugging. “He’s our runt.”

“I’ll share the burden, too,” Rhett said, stepping up beside Bill, Gabe and Kendrick.

“Rhett.” Arnold frowned, his expression heavy with disapproval.

“Yeah, I am,” Rhett said, lifting his chin. He looked at his father and added, “There will always be those of us who need forgiveness.”

“Even a murderer?” someone in the crowd asked.

“Even a murderer,” Rhett said. “Think about the times you’ve done something wrong. Then think about the times you’ve regretted doing it afterward. Do you wish you could’ve taken it back?”

The crowd murmured.

There were shadows in Rhett’s eyes, and a thinness to his lips that made Finn feel sorry for him. Through the time Finn had known the pup, Rhett had never gotten along with his father.

“One more,” Arnold said, glancing at the volunteers.

“Me,” Finn said, squeezing Dante’s hand. “I should bear the heaviest burden.”

The crowd’s muttering grew into a crescendo. Finn chanced a look at them, reading horror and revulsion on their faces. Dante squeezed his hand, murmuring in Finn’s head, We’ll leave.

“We have five volunteers to compensate for any trouble Dante of the Weregrits might bring,” Arnold announced. His eyes were narrowed in disapproval, but he held his word. “In two months, we’ll review his stay in the canyon, and then vote again.”

“What if he kills someone before that?” someone called.

“Then you report it to me, and I will end him,” Arnold said. “These five will bear the price.”

The wolves muttered amongst themselves. Finn swayed on his feet.

He couldn’t stay. He’d now implicated Old Bill, Rhett, Gabe and Kendrick, and he wasn’t going to have the pack turn against them, too.

Dante squeezed Finn’s hand, his fur receding. He looked hesitant, like he couldn’t believe this had happened.

“The meeting is over,” Arnold told the crowd. “The forecast will be cloudy this week—some showers expected. If you need your driveways cleared, ask for help ahead of time.”

With a number of resentful looks in their direction, the pack dispersed. Finn watched as his mother turned her back on them, leaving the marketplace.

With the pack’s vote, it felt like he’d lost half his family in one fell swoop. Finn looked at his brothers. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

“We’re sticking our necks out for you,” Gabe said, elbowing Finn. “Willingly. At least accept the help.”

“I can’t,” Finn cried. “It’s too much to risk.”

“I know what I’m getting into, Finny,” Old Bill said, rolling his eyes. “Trust an old wolf’s judgment, won’t ya?”

“At least stay for a week,” Kendrick said. “Don’t you leave your brothers in the lurch.”

Finn chuckled weakly. “I’m trying to steer trouble away from you.”

“But you’ll need all the help you can get.” Rhett studied them. “Dante has enemies, doesn’t he?”

Dante sighed, squeezing Finn’s hand. “You shouldn’t have volunteered,” Dante said. “I did make enemies.”

“Then you have two months to prove yourself worthy,” Rhett said easily.

“Why are you even helping me?” Dante looked at the wolves around him. “You know who I am and what I’ve done.”

“Because Finny loves ya,” Bill said. “And if I look closely, I can see why.”

“Like I said, everyone deserves a second chance,” Rhett said, shrugging.

Finn didn’t know what had happened to Rhett to influence him so, but he felt sorry for the pup. “I can’t thank you all enough,” he said.

Dante bowed his head. “You have my gratitude and my services,” he said. “Thank you.”

Beneath the flickering light of the torches, Finn leaned into his alpha, meeting the eyes of his family. So much had happened today. The attack. The vote. His mom had tried to poison his pups.

What would he do if he miscarried?

You won’t, Dante said in his head, rubbing his back. They’ll be fine.

Finn leaned into him, remembering the horror from before, the pure fear that clawed up his throat.

Behind him, the rest of the pack slowly cleared out of the marketplace, sending their group disgruntled, wary looks.

“I’ll keep a couple of artichokes for whenever ya visit,” Old Bill said. “And I’ll teach ya ta make some preserves.”

Finn was about to answer when pain jolted through his insides. He gasped, crushing his hand against his belly. Hurts.

“Finn!” Dante said, his horror shooting through Finn’s mind. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t know,” Finn panted. The pain dulled into a burn, like a slow-growing flame, eating away at his gut.

The wolves around them stiffened, peering worriedly at him.

“Was it the potion?” Dante muttered, pulling Finn against his chest.

“What potion?” Gabe asked.

“Your mom tried to kill our pups,” Dante growled. “She fed Finn a potion.”

Gabe cursed. “Wolfsbane?”

Finn nodded, remembering the thick, acrid potion against his teeth, his gums. Maybe it had already seeped into his blood vessels, going straight down to his belly. His throat grew tight.

“How much did you drink?” Kendrick asked sharply.

“I spat it out.” Finn shuddered. “Mom fed it to me. I was... confused. I didn’t know what was going on.”

Kendrick swore. “What the hell, Mom.”

“Lucy’ll have an antidote,” Rhett muttered. “I’ll get some for you.”

Lucy was the pack’s doula. She knew best how to counteract the effects of wolfsbane, but Finn rarely spoke to her. What if she refused to help?

“She was just here.” Finn squirmed, his head spinning. Was his body trying to expel his pups? “She won’t share her potions with me. Mom probably bought the wolfsbane from her.”

“I’ll go,” Dante said. “Tell me where she lives.”

“No, I’ll go,” Rhett said decisively. “She’ll listen to me.”

Finn groaned, holding his belly. If he lost his pups... it’d be another six months until he went into heat again. Who knew what might happen before then? What if he lost Dante, too?

He held his belly, sick to his gut. Dante hugged him close, tucking Finn’s head under his chin. “We’ll be okay. Shh.”

Finn groaned, shaking his head. Couldn’t stop the burn inside his body. What if his pups died?

“I’ll meet you at your place,” Rhett said. “Head there for now.”

He shifted into a wolf, gray with brown ears, and loped off into the forest.

“I’ll follow,” Old Bill said, waving his stick. “If Lucy ain’t listening ta him, she’ll have me ta deal with.”

Bill shifted into a silver-furred wolf, trotting off after Rhett.

Finn dug his fingers into his belly, his heart pounding. He shouldn’t have stayed through the vote. He should have just left, rinsed his mouth out. He should have started looking for the antidote.

He leaned against Dante, his hands shaking. Dante growled.

“Damn it, Finn,” Gabe said, a deep frown on his forehead. “Mom—Mom did that to you? I mean, I knew she was strict, but this... Fuck.”

“Let’s get you home,” Dante said, pulling Finn close. “What do I do?”

“Get Finn settled,” Kendrick said, his eyes narrowed. “Short of an antidote, the best way to neutralize wolfsbane is through hormone secretion. Oxytocin. It’ll stimulate enzyme production to counteract the poison molecules.”

Dante frowned. “Say that in English.”

“You fuck me.” Finn chuckled. “That’s how we get oxytocin.”

Dante looked incredulously at them. “Are you serious?”

“Only question is when you’re gonna start,” Kendrick said. “Right here?”

Gabe made a face. “I’m not gonna watch.”

“I’ll drive you guys back,” Kendrick said.

As Dante reached into his pocket for the truck keys, pain scorched through Finn’s body. It burned lower this time, just at his belly, a jolt that punched Finn’s breath out of his lungs.

He doubled over, sweat beading across his skin. Was that a contraction? Was he miscarrying right here?

“Fuck!” Dante pressed his hand to Finn’s belly, winding his fingers through Finn’s hair. “Damn it. What now?”

“Looks like we can’t wait.” Kendrick’s eyes were solemn. “You’ll have to start the hormone production right now.”