Untamable

Chapter 12 Fateful

Elizabeth’s POV

I've decided to stick around, and over time, Maggie, Catherine, Echo, and I have become very close friends. Catherine and Echo have dished out their backstories—similar tales of treachery served cold by loved ones.

Catherine’s mate, Keith, a Warrior from the Silver Moon pack, cheated on her with her twin sister Claudia, while Echo's mate, a Gamma from the Red Moon pack, had an affair with her stepmother.

In comparison, Aiden’s betrayal feels like a minor misstep—at least he didn’t decide to tango with any of my relatives or close friends. That would’ve been double the drama and heartbreak.

As for Maggie, she's more reserved about her past. She gives no details about her origins, only dropping hints about a husband so noble that he could evade justice and her pangs of guilt regarding the rogues.

In my view, this suggests she was once a big deal. My gut tells me she hails from The White City and was once one of the Lycans. But that’s just my hunch, a theory floating around in my head. I have no solid proof to pin it down.

Before I know it, three months fly by and my archery and combat skills have noticeably improved. Catherine has started teaching me the wild world of whistle signals. Initially, they sounded like a melodious mess to me, but with her patient guidance, the chaos began to form a symphony of meaning.

A short low whistle means "Copy that."

A short high whistle indicates "Attack."

A long high whistle signifies "Retreat or regather at the base."

A long low whistle means "Surround the prey,"—I'll never forget this one, since it was the ominous tune I heard when I first met Catherine. She directed the wolves to make me her prey.

And then there are more complex signals, like long-short-short, long-short-long, and short-long-short—I joke that I'll probably never master those in this lifetime.

Catherine teases that if I never learn them, she'll just pay daily visits to my grave and whistle until my ghost gets it right.

Motivated, or perhaps threatened by her humor, I persevere and gradually become familiar with each tone.

“Next, you’ll learn to whistle,” Catherine tells me, her eyes full of mischief, “It requires precision and lung capacity—plus, you’re accountable for the messages you send. The listener only has to decode it, but if you’re off-key, the consequences could be serious. Imagine orchestrating a retreat when you meant 'soup's ready.'"

I nod, all too aware of the responsibility—and the embarrassment—of getting it wrong.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow.” Catherine reassures with a smile, “When you’ve nailed it, there’s a shiny metal whistle in it for you as a reward.”

“Where did you get that?” I chuckle.

“From the human world. I make a Halloween run every year to stock up on goodies,” Catherine says, pulling a face that says she's still surprised by their peculiar traditions, “You wouldn’t believe the treasures humans keep hidden.”

“Next time, count me in,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to visit the human world.”

“No problem,” Catherine says with a playful grin. “They've got free popcorn and drinks, like a buffet without the sneaky charges."

Right on cue, my stomach grumbles its agreement. Catherine raises an eyebrow and smirks, "Ah, I'll never forget the glint in your eyes when you spotted that popcorn bucket in my hands. You really have a thing for them, huh?"

“Absolutely adore it,” I confess, grinning widely.

Just then, we hear Mrs. Penny's frantic voice calling for her daughter Lucy. I’ve seen them a few times, but between training and our mismatched schedules, we haven’t properly met.

“Let's check it out,” Catherine suggests, leading the way toward the cave.

"Everything okay, Penny?" Catherine asks gently as we arrive.

“No, not really,” Penny replies as she wrings her hands. She is visibly upset. “My daughter and I had a fight, and she stormed off. She’s not back yet.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll help find her,” Catherine assures the mother calmly. “She’s probably nearby. Any favorite spots your little adventurer likes?”

Penny rattles off locations like top-of-the-waterfall and deep-in-the-jungle, basically a checklist of places parents would prefer weren’t their kids' playgrounds.

“My daughter is a daredevil in that way," Penny mumbles through her worry.

Before we can respond, our conversation is sliced in half by the sharp sound of a high whistle. For a fleeting second, Penny’s face shows confusion before horror swiftly takes over. “Oh no! Lucy, my Lucy!”

“Stay put, Mrs. Penny,” Catherine says with calm authority, like she’s dealt with this a hundred times. “We’ll find your daughter. One, two, three, four, five…” She counts the whistle’s duration like it’s a ticking clock, her brow furrowing with each number. “Boundary alert—danger level five. Lycans are spotted near the edge.”

Penny gasps, clutching onto hope with urgency. “Please, help her!”

“I’ll bring her back,” Catherine promises, then turns to me, all business. “I’m heading to the boundary. You handle the head count here.”

“No way, I’m coming with you,” I insist, the words bursting out like they’ve been waiting for this moment for years.“I’m not cut out for sitting out the action. Please let me do something for our pack!”

“We’re rogues, not a pack,” Catherine gives me a strange look and reminds me gently.

“But you’ve given me a sense of home,” I retort, meeting her gaze firmly. “Let me return that kindness, just like you’re doing for Mrs. Penny.”

Catherine looks like she’s about to launch into an argument but pauses instead. “Alright, come on then,” she says and turns to instruct Penny, “Let Maggie know and don’t move an inch until we’re back.”

With that, we dash into the forest. “Up here, Elizabeth,” Catherine calls, effortlessly swinging onto a tree branch and extending a hand to help me up.“It’s got the best views, and we’re hidden from unfriendly eyes.”

“Oh is that so?” I scoff. “I used to believe that—right up until your grand entrance sent me tumbling from the tree.”I grumble, accepting her steadying help to climb up.

Catherine laughs, clearing branches with ease. “Fair point. Nowhere’s ever truly safe, is it?”

We swiftly comb through the southern quadrant, but there’s no sign of Lucy.

“She’s probably up north,” Catherine muses, squinting at the horizon. "How on earth did she miss the whistle when it was practically blaring from that direction—oh, that defiant girl! She ignored it on purpose. I'll have to head north."

“I’m coming with you,” I declare.

“It’s risky. Lycans don’t play nicely.”

“Which is exactly why I should tag along. More eyes, more chances. And hey, spreading kindness is what Maggie taught me,” I add with a determined grin.

“You’re ridiculously persistent,” Catherine sighs, but there’s a smile in her voice as we head north.

In no time, we find ourselves at a fork in the path, and I look at Catherine.“We can split up and cover more ground,” I suggest.

“That’s risky,” Catherine cautions, raising an eyebrow at me.

“But efficient,” I respond, winking for good measure. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

Catherine hesitates, clearly torn between her better judgment and the logic of my idea. Finally, she nods, reluctantly agreeing. “Okay, but at any sign of trouble, you hightail it back.”

“Got it, mom!” I laugh, giving her a teasing salute.

She rolls her eyes, thoroughly unamused by the title, and heads left while I take the right path.

It’s not long before I spot footprints—fresh ones, courtesy of the rain making them practically a trail of breadcrumbs. Squinting, I’m relieved to see they belong to a girl, and I start to follow them.

The whistle grows louder, a persistent reminder of the stakes. As I near the boundary marked by a red 'X' on a tree, my heart sinks—Lucy’s footprints have crossed it.

A rustling sound snaps my focus to a nearby tree. I am relieved when I find it's Cora on duty. She waves me away, her face scrunched in frustration.

“What the hell are you doing here? Didn’t you hear the whistle?” she hisses, looking like she might just strangle me… with love, of course.

“Penny can’t find Lucy,” I explain quickly. “Did you see her?”

“Yeah, that little troublemaker stomped right past the boundary, despite all my frantic signaling—hey! What are you doing!” Cora shouts as I leap down from the tree.

“I’m bringing Lucy back,” I reply, looking up at her with a determined smile.

“One day, rule-breakers like you will be the end of us,” Cora grumbles but tosses me her knife. “Be careful, Elizabeth.”

I fasten the knife to my belt, nodding in thanks before racing forward.

Lucky for me, within ten minutes, I spot Lucy—muddy, barefooted, with her back to me.

Unluckily, a male stranger stands a few steps away from her.

Shit. s**t. s**t.

Every fiber in my being screams danger.

No time to hesitate.

“Lucy!” I call out, trying to sound more like a friendly neighbor and less like a panicked adult.

Her head swivels at the sound of my voice, eyes widening in shock.

I rush forward, giving her a quick once-over. "Are you okay?"

“I’m fine,” she insists with the petulance only a teenager can master.

“Go back,” I urge.

"No way, Elizabeth," she argues, stubborn as ever. “I had a fight with Mom and she said she never wanted to see me again. Well, now I’m far away from her sight. Mission accomplished.”

“Go back,” I repeat, trying my best to make my tone authoritative. “Your mom is really worried about you.”

“Then why isn’t she out here looking for me herself?” Lucy retorts, arms crossing.

I press my lips into a flat line, inwardly groaning at the tough teen logic.

I’m no expert on teenage-parent diplomacy. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I decide to use another way to persuade Lucy. “Go back, or you’re not going to the human world for the Halloween Party this year.”

The threat lands. Lucy huffs, pouts, and, with a dramatic sigh, turns on her heel and stomps back the way she came.

I take a deep breath and turn to face the stranger, who’s watching me with an unnerving amount of interest.

“Who are you?” I demand, feigning calm while my hand edges toward the knife at my waist.

“Revealing one's true identity to strangers in the wilderness is a risky move,” he says, dodging my question.

We watch each other for a tense moment until he finally breaks the silence. “Could you do me a favor?”

“No,” I reply flatly, “I don't even know you.”

“Please,” he pleads, with enough sincerity in his gaze to melt butter. “I’ve just been cast out by my pack, and now Lycans are hunting me.”

"They're close by?" I ask, my alarm bells tingling.

“Not far,” he nods. “If you don’t help me, they'll catch and kill me.”

Softheartedness taps me on the shoulder.

His story was my story months ago.

Catherine had helped me, maybe it is time I pass on that kindness.

“What do you need?” I ask cautiously.

“Is there somewhere safe to stay overnight nearby?” He scans the area and then fixes those piercing blue eyes back on me. “You seem to know this area well.”

I hesitate.

Do I lead him to our base? Without knowledge of his true intentions, it’s risky. What if he’s spinning me a yarn? Could he be a spy for the Lycans?

I study his face and decide he's likely not a spy.

Echo told me spies are chosen for their unremarkable appearances—easy to overlook or forget.

This guy? He is undeniably handsome, too striking to blend in.

The man has got a face you’d slap on a romance novel cover—handsome, striking, complete with blond hair，a strong nose, long lashes, and those captivating blue eyes.

His features are so intriguing that they have me gawking, and I suddenly realize my throat's gone dry.

Could it be that I'm just thirsty for a handsome face after ages without one?

I blink and swallow, trying to clear the desert forming at the back of my throat.

My eyes wander from his striking face to his clothes, and that's when reality checks back in. His outfit is way too clean and tidy—definitely not the "I just survived the wilderness" look you'd expect from someone supposedly kicked out into the wild. When Catherine found me, I was practically a mud sculpture.

Still, I can't help but cut him some slack, even with my suspicions simmering in the background.

Could it be that he was expelled recently, before his wardrobe learned what dirt is?

“Which pack were you from?” I ask, trying to get to the bottom of this mystery.

“The Silver Moon Pack,” he replies, not even batting an eyelash.

“Why did they cast you out?” I dig deeper.

“Alpha Robin’s daughter, Dorothy, wanted me to marry her. I said no, and, then, I was out on my ear,” he says with a casual shrug.

“That’s just plain unfair,” I exclaim, furrowing my brows.

He gives me a sheepish smile without saying a word.

Is he being truthful? I wonder.

If he's pulling a fast one on me, taking him to our base would be stupid move. But if he's the real deal, leaving him to fend for himself would bother me forever.

I mull over my options and settle on a compromise.

I can help him without giving away our hideout.

I could guide him to my old pack. I know Aiden, he’s likely to welcome him with open arms—or at least a cup of questionable coffee.

Meanwhile, I’ll keep a close eye on this stranger—watch how he reacts, whether with gratitude or something else—to decode his real intentions.

Decision made, I nod at him and casually ask, “May I have your name?”

There's a brief pause, before he finally replies, “Edward.”

I raise an eyebrow, curious about the hesitation over something as simple as a name.

Is he just being mysterious, or did he forget what alias he's using today? Deciding to gather more intel before tipping my hand, I plaster on my best friendly grin and say, “Alright, follow me. I’ll show you the way.”