Baldwin just shrugged. He was a wolf of few words.
“Man, I was looking forward to a little recreational killing. Everyone’s going to be disappointed.” Anders grinned and stuck his hands in his jeans pockets.
It was true. The town square was much more crowded than usual. Half the shifters in the territory had taken off work and gathered at the center of town for the bus’s arrival. They were itching to see the fight between Miles and whatever suicidal fool the Montenegro Pack had sent to “lay down the law”. Their Alpha, Ludwik Torville, had sent formal notice that their challenger was arriving on this morning’s bus to seek revenge against Miles for killing one of his grandsons.
Of course, the Montenegro Pack knew their challenger was a dead wolf walking, but they had little choice. If they didn’t send someone, they’d appear weak, and other packs would start moving in on them. Miles had heard a rumor that they’d all drawn straws, and the one who’d picked the short straw had been the one forced to come up here to die.
Miles scowled at the bus. “So the Montenegro pack are a bunch of liars, as well as thieves,” he growled.
Miles had killed Shaun Torville after he’d been caught stealing from the Fenris Pack’s job site. Shaun had been nothing but trouble since he’d showed up at the Greenlands territory a couple of months earlier with his ratty little nieces and nephews in tow. He’d drunk, he’d stolen, and he hadn’t done a lick of work. At first Miles had let it slide because of the cubs, but then he’d figured out that Shaun left them to fend for themselves anyway.
“And my ribs had just healed,” Anders mock-groaned, patting his broad chest. When Miles didn’t have anyone to fight, he sparred with his packmates. The power that coursed through him needed a release – or the consequences would be deadly, for him and everyone around him. Baldwin did his job as Omega and absorbed as much as he could, but he could only cycle so much through his body without getting desperately ill.
“Don’t get your fur in a knot,” Miles said. “There’ll be another death challenge before the week’s out.”
Well, no arguing that. In this raw, newly developing territory, packs were still jostling for power and land – and everyone turned to Miles for answers. He didn’t have a problem with that; he was Alpha Prime, and death challenges came with the job. He and his pack had been the first to arrive there six months earlier, and Miles had made it clear from the beginning that he would be the one laying down the law.
Everyone needed to register with a pack, pride, or clan; no lone wolves (or other shifters) allowed to settle in the western half of the territory. East of town was where all the troublemakers gathered, but they knew to behave themselves when they came to town.
Each pack would lay claim to an acceptable parcel of land, and would not encroach on other pack’s territory unless they wanted to challenge them for it. All disputes would be settled by traditional shifter rules – death challenge between Alphas, or a formally declared pack war.
It was the only way to ensure a decent quality of life for the many packs and clans and prides who’d made their way to the new territory, seeking to escape the human encroachment onto their lands that was happening in other parts of the country.
However, the human government was doing its best to dispose of all the nation’s shifter riff-raff by sending them to Greenlands, and it was a slow week when Miles didn’t have to step in and remind everyone who was boss – by ripping someone’s spinal column out.
Miles hadn’t told his pack members yet, but it was starting to take a toll on him. Not physically, but emotionally. Having to constantly summon up that bloodlust was dangerous for an Alpha Prime. Miles found himself struggling to keep control more often than he’d like, these days.
“Well, the news isn’t all bad. No challenger on the bus, but there’s some fresh talent right there,” Anders said, inclining his head at the women who’d just arrived.
The women were unloading their suitcases, stretching out after their long trip and looking around in wonder at their new surroundings. Off in the distance, the mountains were outlined in sharp relief against a pale blue sky. The town of Granite Flats, the center of the new Greenlands territory, looked like a set from a Western movie. Buildings up and down the main street were still under construction, but the businesses around the square were all complete. Thom’s General Store and Grocery, the meeting hall, the barbershop, the Watering Hole Saloon, Sam’s Steakhouse, the First National Shifter Bank, the Grubstake Restaurant, the Early Bird Café, and Finnegan’s Fine Furnishings were all so new you could still smell the paint drying. It was a beautiful thing.