THE BLACK ROSE

THE PACK KNOWS OF THE BLACK ROSE

CHAPTER 2: THE PACK KNOWS

The pack house smelled like old money and old blood.

Ryder Wade sat in the chair at the head of the long table and tried not to look like he wanted to burn the whole place down.

It had been four years since he last sat here.

Four years since his father told him to leave.

"Protect the pack. Protect her. Walk away, son. It’s the only way."

Protect her.

Like hell he had.

He dragged a hand through his hair and stared at the fire. The flames didn’t warm him. Nothing did anymore.

The double doors opened.

Callen walked in.

Same face. Different eyes.

Callen’s eyes were softer. Tired in a different way. Foster-care tired instead of Alpha-tired.

Ryder didn’t stand. Didn’t greet him. Twins separated at birth didn’t get hugs. They got tension.

"You’re late," Ryder said.

"Traffic," Callen said, and sat down across from him. "And I had to make sure no one followed me."

Ryder’s jaw ticked. "Did someone follow you?"

"No." Callen hesitated. "But something’s wrong in town."

Ryder finally looked at him. "Explain."

Callen pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. On the screen was a picture. Blurry. Taken from across a parking lot.

A woman.

Early 20s. Dark hair. Holding the hand of a little boy.

Curly hair. Blue eyes.

Ryder’s wolf surged forward so hard his claws pricked his palms.

He shoved the feeling down.

"Who is she?" Ryder asked, voice flat.

"Don’t know her name yet," Callen said. "She moved in yesterday. New house on Elm Street. The kid’s name is Jackson. About four."

Ryder looked at the picture again.

The boy.

The eyes.

The way he was standing.

Like him.

"Shifter pup?" Ryder asked.

"Yeah," Callen said quietly. "I could smell it. And he shifted a little in the store. Just his eyes. For a second. Then he covered it."

Ryder leaned back in the chair. The wood creaked under him.

"A four-year-old shifter pup living in our territory with a human mother."

"And no father," Callen added.

Ryder’s expression didn’t change. Inside, his wolf was tearing the walls down.

Missing.

Abandoned.

A pup. Alone.

"I’ll kill the bastard who did this," Ryder said, and meant it.

Callen watched him. "You don’t even know who it is."

"I don’t need to," Ryder said. "Any man who leaves his own kid deserves to die."

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

Four years ago he had walked away from a girl with the same dark hair.

Four years ago he had told himself it was for her own good.

Four years ago he had believed his father.

What if he was wrong?

No. He couldn’t think like that.

Ryder stood up. "We need to bring them in. For questioning."

"Ryder—"

"For their safety," he cut in. "Rogue activity has been up 40% this quarter. A lone human and a pup? They’re targets."

Callen nodded slowly. "Okay. But let me talk to her first. She’s scared. She ran when she saw me."

"Because she saw you."

Ryder’s voice was sharp.

"Because you have my face."

The room went quiet.

Callen rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. About that."

"About that," Ryder echoed. "You show up after 22 years and now there’s a pup that looks like us."

"It’s not mine," Callen said fast. Too fast. "I just met them yesterday."

Ryder studied him. His twin. His mirror.

He didn’t see a liar. He saw a man who was just as lost as he was.

"Fine," Ryder said. "You talk to her. But I’m coming with you."

Callen opened his mouth to argue, then closed it.

He knew better than to argue with an Alpha.

Even if that Alpha was his brother.

---

Later that day. Elm Street.

Ryder stood across the street and watched the little white house.

She was in the yard.

Hanging laundry.

The boy was chasing bubbles.

His chest hurt.

Which was stupid. Alphas didn’t get chest pain.

"That’s her," Callen said quietly beside him. "That’s Jackson."

Ryder didn’t answer.

He was too busy counting.

Two arms. Two legs.

Safe.

For now.

The woman looked up and saw them.

Her whole body went rigid.

She grabbed the boy and pulled him behind her.

Protective.

Smart.

Ryder took one step forward and she flinched.

Like he’d hit her.

His wolf whined.

"Let me," Callen said softly, and walked ahead.

Ryder stayed back. Hands in pockets. Face blank.

The mask he’d worn for four years.

"Hey," Callen said to the woman. "We met yesterday. At the store."

"I remember," she said. Her voice was steady. Too steady. "What do you want?"

"To talk," Callen said. "About Jackson."

Her arms tightened around the boy. "He’s fine."

"I know," Callen said. "But... can we come in? Just for five minutes."

She looked past Callen. Right at Ryder.

Her eyes widened.

Fear.

Recognition.

Hate.

Ryder’s heart dropped.

She knew him.

"Who’s that?" she asked Callen, but her eyes never left Ryder.

"My brother," Callen said. "Ryder."

The name hit her like a slap.

Ryder saw it. The way her knees almost buckled.

The way she had to look away.

"Get off my property," she said.

"Ma’am—" Callen started.

"NOW."

Ryder didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Because the little boy was peeking out from behind her legs.

And he had Ryder’s eyes.

And Ryder’s mouth.

And Ryder’s stubborn chin.

"Jackson," Ryder said before he could stop himself.

The boy looked at him.

Ryder’s wolf howled.

Mine.

The woman slammed the door.

---

Back at the pack house. Night.

Ryder was drunk.

Not on alcohol. Alphas didn’t get drunk.

On rage.

He paced in front of the fire.

"She knows me," he said. "She looked at me like I killed her."

Callen sat on the couch, watching him. "Maybe you did."

Ryder stopped pacing. "What?"

"Four years ago," Callen said carefully. "You disappeared. Right? That’s what Dad said. You disappeared for a ‘pack matter’."

Ryder didn’t answer.

"Did you leave someone?" Callen pressed. "A human?"

Ryder laughed, but it wasn’t funny. "Dad said it would put her in danger. The pack was at war. Humans weren’t safe near us."

"And you believed him?"

"I had to!" Ryder slammed his fist into the wall. The plaster cracked. "She was eighteen! I was twenty! What was I supposed to do?"

Callen was quiet for a long time.

Then: "Is there a chance...?"

"No," Ryder said immediately.

Then: "I don’t know."

Then, quieter: "God, I don’t know."

Callen stood up. "We need to do a DNA test."

"She’ll never agree."

"Then we do it without her permission."

Ryder looked at him. "That’s kidnapping."

"It’s for the pup," Callen said. "If that’s your son, Ryder, he needs you."

Ryder closed his eyes.

He could still see the boy’s face.

His face.

But smaller.

And scared.

"Fine," Ryder said. "But we do it my way. No cops. No courts. We bring them to the pack house. Tonight."

Callen frowned. "Ryder, that’s—"

"That’s what an Alpha does," Ryder snapped. "He protects his own."

He didn’t say the last part out loud.

Even if he didn’t know they were his until five minutes ago.

---

Midnight. Elm Street.

Three trucks pulled up outside the little white house.

Ryder got out first.

Six pack members behind him.

All armed.

All wolves.

He knocked on the door.

No answer.

He knocked again.

"Open the door," he said. His voice carried. Alpha command.

Still nothing.

"Ryder," Callen warned. "Don’t."

Ryder kicked the door in.

The house was empty.

Beds stripped.

Closets empty.

Toys gone.

She ran.

Ryder stood in the middle of the living room and let out a roar that shook the windows.

"SEARCH THE TOWN!" he bellowed. "FIND THEM!"

Callen put a hand on his shoulder. "We will. But not like this. You scared her."

Ryder turned on him. "I scared her? I SCARED HER? She took my son and ran!"

"You don’t know that’s your son," Callen said quietly.

Ryder grabbed him by the shirt. "LOOK AT HIM, CALLEN! LOOK AT HIM!"

Callen didn’t fight back. "I did. And yeah. He looks like us. But Ryder... if you go in like this, you’ll never get her to trust you."

Ryder let go. His hands were shaking.

"I just found him," he whispered. "And she’s already gone."

For the first time in four years, Ryder Wade looked lost.

Callen sighed. "Come on. We’ll check the bus station. The hotels. She can’t have gone far."

As they walked out, Ryder took one last look at the empty house.

At the little dinosaur backpack left on the floor.

At the single shoe by the door.

Mine.

His wolf kept saying it.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He was going to find them.

Even if he had to tear the whole state apart.

---

END OF CHAPTER 2