Taken by storm(81)

“Well,” Devon said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “I believe that Phoebe is in Minnesota, and Sage is running the border in Iowa, and Jackson was just telling me that he’d always wanted to see Missouri.…”

The plan had never been just to take North Dakota from Shay.

I wanted it all.

The man I’d taken it from stepped toward me, every muscle tense, violence and rage battling for supremacy in his eyes.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Devon told him. “Our alpha’s really been very understanding about the issue of trespassing, but I’d suggest you stay where you are.”

Shay’s pack had been quiet up until now, but I could hear the murmurs starting—growls and grunts and human words, hushed to whispers.

They were the third-biggest pack in North America, and now they had nowhere to go.

“Seven people cannot claim a territory.” Shay spoke through clenched teeth, and his jaw trembled. He was fighting the urge to Shift.

If I kept pushing him, Senate or no Senate, Callum or no Callum, rules or no rules, he was going to kill me.

I summoned my knack, channeling every fear I’d ever felt into this moment.

Let him try.

“Is that what your instincts are telling you?” I asked Shay facetiously. “ ’Cause that’s the funny thing about werewolf laws—it’s not about numbers per se. Four people can be a pack if they’re bound as a pack. A human can be alpha, if she’s the one the others look to for leadership. And seven people can claim a territory, if they represent enough of the pack.”

Cedar Ridge had twenty members. Counting the peripherals, there were seven of us in this territory—including the alpha, the second, and the strongest female. That was more than enough. We were the pack, and standing there, flanked by the others, I could feel the power humming between the four of us.

Pack. Pack. Pack.

The bond that connected us to each other was the same thing we’d used to mark the land. It was why this place smelled like us, felt like us.

It was why the Snake Bend Pack registered as foreign to our senses, when this land was once their home.

Pack. Pack. Pack.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

“It’s been nice chatting,” I told Shay, “but you have five seconds to get the hell off my land.”

He lunged at me. I saw it coming, and my knack, already active, already waiting, came online full force.

Fight. Fight. Fight.

Run. Run. Run.

Survive.

One second he was flying at me, human teeth bared like fangs, and the next, I ducked out of reach. I felt air against my face, felt his teeth snap an inch away from my throat.

His human hands encircled my neck.

I can’t breathe.

I fought—fought dirty, fought hard, rode the power like it was a wave. I had to get out, had to get away, had to stall—

Shay’s body flew backward. A growl echoed all around us, and phantom claws dug into Shay’s flesh.

Thank you, Griffin, I thought.

In retrospect, it was a really good thing he was there. Flashing out let me push my body to its limits—but the limits themselves were still there. I would never be as strong as a werewolf. I would never be as fast.

Luckily, being attacked by an invisible opponent took Shay off guard, and in the moments it took him to recover, Devon came to stand directly in front of me.

The message was clear: you want her, you go through me.

Dev? I knew what he was thinking, knew that the moment Shay had attacked me, there was no other way this could end.

Devon reached back to grip my hand, briefly, then dropped it, settling into a position that Callum had taught him, the same way he’d taught me.

“You’re trespassing on Cedar Ridge territory. You just attacked the Cedar Ridge alpha.” Devon’s voice was loud and deep, and the words sounded like they were spoken through him as much as by him. “You’ve just saved me the trouble of having to transfer to your pack to kill you.”

Inter-pack aggression wasn’t allowed. An alpha could only be challenged from within—but Shay had broken the rules first, and there was nothing more animal, nothing more basic, than retribution.

He’d attacked me. Devon could kill him. End of story.

Shay’s pack—spread out along the border like the crowd at a concert—responded to Devon’s words like an intense electric shock. Some of them Shifted. Some of them growled.

None of them came forward to help their alpha.

“You really think you can take me?” Shay asked. He climbed to his feet, dripping blood from wounds that were already healing. “Take us?”

There were so many of them, too many, and if Shay ordered them to fight, they’d have no choice, Senate or no.

Callum would kill them—kill him—but by that time, Devon would be dead.